The sun had dipped lower in the sky, painting the arena in hues of amber and crimson. The dust from the previous matches still lingered in the air, carried by the faintest breeze. The crowd was restless now, their voices blending into a low rumble of excitement. The proctor raised his voice:
"Day Two—Fourth Match of the Preliminaries! Hinuru Hyūga versus Inoka Yamanaka!"
A hush fell.
Two figures descended the stone steps on opposite sides of the arena floor, each radiating the aura of their respective clans.
Hinuru Hyūga stood tall, pale skin glowing under the evening light. His white eyes were already active, the Byakugan veins faintly swelling at his temples. His posture was precise, Gentle Fist stance flowing into existence with the ease of instinct. He was calm, collected, and utterly unreadable.
Inoka Yamanaka, by contrast, moved with feline grace. Her golden hair shimmered, tied neatly back, and her green eyes gleamed with confidence—no, cunning. Every step she took seemed calculated to draw eyes, to project elegance and composure. She smiled faintly, almost playfully, as though she already envisioned her victory.
The atmosphere between them was sharp, like steel drawn against steel.
The proctor cut through the tension.
"Begin!"
---
Opening Moves
Inoka wasted no time. Her fingers flickered through seals with the efficiency of long practice. "Mind Body Switch Technique!"
A pulse of chakra surged outward, invisible yet tangible. Her consciousness shot toward Hinuru, aiming to seize control of his body. The crowd leaned forward, breath caught.
But Hinuru twisted smoothly, pivoting a half-step with uncanny awareness. The chakra tether skimmed past him, severed before it could latch. His Byakugan pulsed, scanning every nuance of her technique.
Gasps rippled through the stands. Few ever avoided the Yamanaka clan's signature jutsu on the first attempt.
Inoka clicked her tongue, though her smile didn't falter. "Not stiff after all. Interesting."
Hinuru said nothing. He advanced, one palm glowing faintly with chakra, the embodiment of silence and inevitability.
---
Gentle Fist vs. Mind's Arts
Inoka pivoted on her heel, weaving another set of seals. "Mind Clone Technique!"
Illusory copies split from her form, their voices whispering in unison.
"You can't touch me, Hyūga. Which one is real?"
The clones circled him, weaving overlapping patterns. To the crowd, it was mesmerizing; Inoka's form seemed to vanish in a whirl of golden hair and pale robes.
But the Byakugan pierced it instantly.
Hinuru stepped forward, palm slicing through one clone—dispelling it in a shimmer of chakra mist—before his other hand shot forward, aimed directly at the real Inoka.
A Gentle Fist strike sank into her chest. The impact jolted her, forcing her to stagger back as her chakra stuttered and sparked.
Her smirk wavered. "Tch…"
---
The Struggle for Control
Inoka refused to relent. Her eyes narrowed, determination hardening her elegant features. She scattered chakra threads across the battlefield, forming an invisible net of mental interference.
"Mind Body Disturbance!" she cried, her voice sharp.
Hinuru stiffened as his arm jerked unnaturally toward his own chest. The audience gasped—the Hyūga heir looked as though he might impale himself with his own Gentle Fist strike.
But then…
The Byakugan veins deepened, glowing with heightened intensity. His chakra network surged, forcing the disturbance out. His body snapped back under his full control. His stoic mask never cracked.
Calmly, he muttered, "I see through you."
Inoka grit her teeth. "Damn you Hyūga…"
---
The Finishing Exchange
Hinuru slid forward. His palms blurred, each movement faster than the last.
"Eight Trigrams: Thirty-Two Palms!"
The first strike landed on her shoulder. The second, her ribs. The third, her stomach. Chakra points closed with every blow, Inoka's flow sputtering and failing.
"Eight! Sixteen! Twenty-Four! Thirty-Two!"
The final strike sent her sprawling across the stone floor, gasping for breath. Her green eyes blazed with frustration as she tried to rise—only for her body to betray her. Her chakra refused to answer.
Her smirk returned, faint but bitter. "Tch… precision over cunning, then…"
Hinuru stood motionless, hands lowering with measured calm. "Victory is determined before battle begins, when one cannot hide."
The proctor stepped forward, raising his hand.
"Winner: Hinuru Hyūga!"
---
Aftermath
The arena erupted in cheers, though a portion of the crowd remained somber. The Yamanaka clan murmured, praising Inoka's ingenuity but conceding no trick could overcome the Byakugan's all-seeing gaze once engaged.
Yamanaka Clan medics rushed to Inoka, who still smirked even as she was lifted to her feet. "Your eyes… leave no room for lies," she muttered toward Hinuru.
The Hyūga heir merely inclined his head slightly before turning his back. His pale eyes dimmed as the Byakugan receded. Calm. Unshaken.
---
Uchiha Stand – Keiji's View
In the Uchiha seating, Keiji leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he absorbed the battle. Beside him, Shiny Gengar floated lazily, smirking with wicked delight.
"That Yamanaka girl had tricks," Keiji mused quietly. "But against the Hyūga… those tricks are stripped bare."
Gengar tilted its head, chuckling darkly. "Gengengarrr… she fought with the mind. But the Hyūga? They fight with the soul's wiring. That boy crushed her at the roots."
Keiji's expression was thoughtful, almost analytical. "Hinuru's precision is frightening. One mistake against him and you lose everything. And yet… the Yamanaka heir held her ground longer than most would. That says something."
Behind them, the Uchiha elders exchanged glances. One elder muttered, "The Hyūga heir is efficient. Ruthless in his precision. A dangerous ally… or opponent."
Another snorted. "The Yamanaka are clever, but wit means little against raw insight. The Byakugan is wasted on them."
Madara himself sat with arms folded, eyes narrowed. His expression betrayed no admiration, only calculation. "The Hyūga heir fights without arrogance. That makes him twice as dangerous as a braggart."
Keiji felt a ripple of agreement in his chest, though he kept his face composed. A rival to watch. Perhaps, one day, a rival to test.
---
Evening Descent
The proctor dismissed the match, announcing:
"This concludes the second day of The Land of Fire Youth Ninja Competition. Remaining matches will resume tomorrow at dawn!"
The crowd stirred, dispersing in clusters, their voices echoing excitement, awe, or bitter disappointment. Clan banners fluttered as supporters called to their heirs.
Keiji glanced at Gengar, who grinned wide, eyes glowing mischievously. "Tomorrow," Keiji muttered, "the games change again."
The tension lingered as the arena slowly emptied, the weight of victory and defeat settling over every clan present.
And as the Uchiha prepared to depart for the evening, Keiji's mind circled a single thought:
If the Hyūga heir's eyes see everything… how will I hide what's truly mine?
The final rays of sunset cast long shadows across the stone arena. The announcer's voice echoed faintly:"Tomorrow, the final matches of the preliminaries will take place… and once they end, the true competition begins. From there, the battlefield will narrow into the Quarterfinals, where only the most determined shinobi can stand. Those who endure will clash in the Semifinals, where every strike, every jutsu, and every heartbeat will push them closer to the edge. And at last—when only two remain—the grand Final Round will decide it all. One shinobi will rise above the rest… and carve their name into the history of this tournament."
Keiji clenched his fists, Gengar floating silently by his side.
Tomorrow, the real battles would begin.
---
End of the Chapter
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