The crowd was restless.
The Daimyō sat at the head of the arena, his eyes sharp as if weighing every heir's worth. Nobles whispered behind silken fans, merchants clutched ledgers and speculated on futures, and clan heads sat with masks of steel, though their gazes were sharp enough to cut stone.
And at the center of it all, the arena floor shimmered with heat. A wide circular platform of polished stone, etched with ancient seals, awaited the heirs. It was here the Land of Fire's future would be tested.
The proctor, an aged samurai with scarred arms and the presence of someone who had seen decades of blood, raised his hand.
"Preliminaries of the Land of Fire Youth Ninja Competition… begin!"
His voice echoed like a hammer blow.
"The first match: Hinuru Hyūga versus Shigeki Kohaku!"
---
The Heirs Step Forward
Two figures emerged from opposite sides.
Hinuru Hyūga walked calmly, every step measured, his white eyes already glowing with the activation of his Byakugan. His white hair framed a face of utter discipline, no flicker of hesitation in his movements. His armor gleamed black under the sunlight, every plate designed for precision, not flair.
Shigeki Kohaku entered with a grin. His golden-brown hair glimmered under the light, tied loosely at the back. His golden-and-red armor caught the sun, painting him like a warrior aflame. His posture was casual, almost carefree, but his eyes betrayed a sharpness, a cunning readiness. A short blade rested in his hand, and with a casual spin, he flourished it, drawing cheers from the audience.
"Look at him, all confidence," one noble whispered.
"The Kohaku heir has spirit," another replied.
"But a Hyūga heir…" a merchant murmured, "that's a different battlefield entirely."
Keiji sat among the Uchiha delegation, Shiny Gengar's shadowy form curling invisibly at his side. His eyes tracked both competitors, his pulse quickening.
"Hmm," Keiji murmured, "so it begins."
---
The First Exchange
The proctor's hand dropped.
"Begin!"
Shigeki moved first. His body blurred into motion, swift as a spark leaping to flame. His sword ignited, fire chakra wrapping the steel in a burning aura. With a sweeping strike, he slashed horizontally—Fire Release: Blazing Edge Slash! A trail of flame carved through the air, forcing Hinuru to pivot backward, his movements minimal yet exact.
The Byakugan glowed, veins bulging around Hinuru's temples. His vision spread in every direction, tracking Shigeki's chakra, analyzing his flow, watching his intentions before they even fully formed.
Keiji leaned forward, eyes narrowing.
"Hyūga precision versus Kohaku unpredictability…" he muttered.
Gengar chuckled in his mind, its whisper curling like smoke: The boy with pale eyes sees everything, but the smiling one hides fire under laughter. Interesting match.
---
Dance of Fire and Precision
Shigeki pressed forward, blade a blur of steel and flame. He combined kenjutsu strikes with bursts of fire release, flames licking at the edges of his swings. His strikes were not reckless—they were calculated, each one a feint, each burst meant to drive Hinuru into a trap.
But Hinuru was water to fire. Calm, flowing, untouchable. His fingers and palms struck out in small, sharp bursts—redirecting the blade, deflecting flame bursts, always moving closer. He wasted no energy.
Shigeki feigned high, then dropped low, blade cutting for Hinuru's knee. A flaming kunai slipped from his other hand, falling toward the ground, sparking as it released a puff of flame meant to blind.
The crowd gasped.
"A feint!"
"He'll blind the Hyūga!"
But Hinuru's Byakugan saw through it all. His hand spun outward—Eight Trigrams Palm Rotation! Chakra exploded around him, a spinning barrier that deflected the sword and scattered the flames in a whirl of dissipating sparks.
Shigeki skidded back, eyes wide but still smiling. "Not bad."
---
The Gentle Fist Awakens
The Hyūga heir pressed forward. His fingers glowed faintly as he channeled chakra with surgical precision. He struck out, not for muscle or bone—but for the chakra network itself.
Gentle Fist: Chakra Point Strike!
His fingers jabbed into Shigeki's arm, and the Kohaku heir staggered as his sword arm numbed, the flow of chakra cut off. The blade dipped, flames flickering weakly.
"Tch," Shigeki hissed. He clenched his teeth and gathered chakra in his chest. With a shout, he thrust forward: Fire Release: Explosive Flame Wave! A torrent of fire surged outward in a wide blast, meant to overwhelm and burn through the Hyūga's defenses.
But Hinuru was relentless. His Byakugan pierced through the wall of flame, mapping every swirl of chakra within the blast. His steps became precise cuts into space, slipping between gaps where the fire's heat was weakest. His armor smoked, burns licking at his skin, but his eyes never faltered.
He closed the distance.
---
The Finisher
"Eight Trigrams…" Hinuru's voice cut like ice. His palms moved in a blur.
"Thirty-Two Palms!"
The arena gasped as Hinuru struck Shigeki's chest, shoulders, arms, and abdomen in rapid succession. Each strike sealed chakra points, shutting down Shigeki's flow, his sword dropping uselessly from his numbed grip. His fiery aura sputtered out, extinguished like a candle in the wind.
Hinuru's final strike landed at Shigeki's sternum, sending him skidding back across the arena floor. His body shook, his chakra sealed, his smile faint but still present even as sweat dripped down his forehead.
The proctor raised a hand.
"Winner: Hinuru Hyūga!"
The arena erupted in cheers and applause, though beneath it was awe and a tremor of fear. The Hyūga clan's precision had been displayed in its purest form.
---
The Aftermath
Shigeki staggered to his feet, clutching his side. His sword was retrieved by a clan retainer. And yet, despite his loss, the boy bowed respectfully to Hinuru, his smile never faltering.
"You're… one hell of a wall, Hyūga," Shigeki admitted. "Guess my fire wasn't enough to crack it."
Hinuru merely inclined his head, his eyes calm, his tone cold but respectful:
"You fought well. Few can adapt so quickly under fire."
The exchange earned nods from the audience. Even in defeat, the Kohaku heir had shown spirit.
But he was eliminated.
---
Keiji's Reaction
Keiji leaned back, arms crossed, mind racing.
"So that's the Gentle Fist at its core," he thought, eyes following Hinuru as he walked off the stage. "Not just a style—it's control incarnate. Every strike shuts down the enemy's ability to fight, not by breaking them… but by silencing their chakra itself."
Gengar snickered, its voice curling in his mind like a whisper from the grave. He's a dangerous one, that pale-eyed boy. Precise. Cold. But he leaves gaps—what happens when someone brings chaos he cannot read?
Keiji's lips curved faintly. "Then it'll be my job to find out."
His Sharingan pulsed faintly at the thought, as if eager for the challenge.
Around him, the Uchiha elders exchanged measured glances. Madara himself sat silent, unreadable, though his eyes were sharper than blades as he observed the Hyūga heir.
The proctor raised his voice again.
"The preliminaries continue! Next match—"
The crowd roared, but Keiji's eyes lingered on Hinuru Hyūga. For the first time since arriving at the capital, he felt a chill that wasn't from Gengar's ghostly presence.
This was only the beginning.
And already, the battlefield was filled with shadows of rivalry and bloodlines.
---
End of the Chapter
---