Chapter 16: The Prodigy and The Prodigal
Of the six jutsu Tsunade had given him, only the Lightning Style: Earth-Style Rampart was a C-rank. The rest were B-rank or higher. The two crown jewels, however, were Tsunade's signature techniques: the monstrously powerful Strength of a Hundred Technique and the legendary S-rank regeneration seal, the Creation Rebirth: Strength of a Hundred Seal. The sheer magnitude of this gift left Shinra genuinely humbled.
"I'll have to find a way to repay her properly someday," he murmured, a faint, overwhelmed smile on his face. The trust and generosity she had shown him was staggering.
"Enough thinking for now. I'll start training tomorrow. I wonder just how powerful my strikes will be once I combine the Strength of a Hundred with everything else."
The technique was an explosive, instantaneous burst of power. If he layered that on top of his already formidable physical strength, augmented it with Armament Haki, and delivered it with the speed of the Light Fruit or the Marine Six Styles' "Shave," the resulting force would definitely surpass even Tsunade's own. It wasn't an idle boast; his Sage Body gave him a physical foundation that was, in raw potential, superior. While his chakra purity was lacking, Armament Haki and sheer velocity could more than compensate.
After a night's rest, he created fifty Shadow Clones—his current limit—and set them to the task of mastering the new ninjutsu. With the clones busy, he decided to head to the main Hyuga clan training ground.
The grounds were vast, designed to accommodate the thousands of clansmen, and were always bustling with activity.
"Well, if it isn't Hyuga Teppanyaki. No more playing ninja? Actually training seriously?" Shinra greeted with a friendly smile as he spotted a familiar face.
"Hmph! I've outgrown those childish games. I'm going to become a real shinobi now," the boy declared, puffing out his chest.
"Ambitious. I'm rooting for you," Shinra said, genuinely amused. The Teppanyaki family were local legends; the boy had an older brother named Hyuga Steelplate and a father named Hyuga Alloy. Their names alone sounded incredibly durable. To defeat them, Shinra mused, I'd probably have to change my name to Hyuga Adamantium.
A ripple of excitement suddenly passed through the crowd. "The Young Patriarch is here!"
"Good morning, Young Patriarch!"
"He's so handsome! I want to marry him!" (This, disturbingly, came from a male voice.)
"Tch. A bunch of bootlickers."
"Still, he's way more impressive than that Hyuga Shinra."
Hyuga Hiashi walked into the training ground, his face a perfect mask of stern composure. For a five-year-old, his demeanor was unnaturally serious and authoritative, instantly drawing everyone's attention. Chunin and Jonin alike offered respectful greetings, acknowledging his status as the officially designated future leader of the clan.
He was a handsome kid, I'll give him that, Shinra admitted privately. No wonder he fathers beauties like Hinata and Hanabi later on.
"Hiashi," Shinra called out, "where's your brother, Hizashi? Isn't he usually with you?"
Hiashi's brow furrowed slightly. He cast a cold glance in Shinra's direction, let out a dismissive sniff, and walked away without a word. He held no goodwill for Shinra, whom he saw as a stain on the clan's purity and a living embarrassment. His sense of duty made him despise the boy even more than others did.
Watching Hiashi's retreating back, Shinra rubbed his nose. So proud. Just you wait. I'll abduct both your daughters in the future. Let's see how proud you are then. It was a petty, childish thought, but it amused him. If Hiashi had any inkling of what the five-year-old was thinking, he would have undoubtedly tried to teach him a severe lesson, pervert or not.
Hiashi walked to a specialized training post marked with human chakra points. He settled into the Gentle Fist stance, a faint, shimmering diagram of the Eight Trigrams briefly appearing around his feet.
"Gentle Fist Method: Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms!"
Sixteen precise, lightning-fast strikes echoed through the area, each palm striking a designated chakra point on the post with perfect accuracy.
"So powerful! The Young Patriarch is truly gifted!"
"To master the Sixteen Palms at his age! I'm in my twenties and can only manage the Thirty-Two Palms."
"With such talent, he will surely lead the Hyuga to become Konoha's foremost clan!" a Jonin declared proudly.
Hearing this, Shinra couldn't help but glance over. Well, he's not wrong, he thought. At the story's beginning, the Hyuga were indeed considered the strongest clan in Konoha. But it was a hollow title. In the grand scheme of things, the Hyuga were largely relegated to being elite scouts. By the end, the only truly formidable fighter from the clan was Neji, and he was dead. To be known as the "Other Dojutsu Clan" alongside the Uchiha was almost an insult. The thought made him sigh.
If I didn't have my system, he reflected, I'd probably find a remote island to hide on. The Hyuga clan's power was impressive on a village scale, but pitifully weak compared to the cosmic-level threats that would eventually emerge. Without his cheats, attaining the power of the Tenseigan would have been a pipe dream. He was self-aware enough to admit that coming to the Naruto world without an external advantage was a one-way ticket to obscurity, or an early grave.
After making a quiet loop around the training ground, and having his fill of watching the stoic young Hiashi, Shinra slipped away unnoticed—except, perhaps, by a few of the Hyuga women who had been stealing glances at him.
Back in the solitude of his home, he contemplated his next move before opening the system mall. He looked at the vast inventory of jutsu, then at his modest balance of exchange points.
"Hoarding these points until the final battle will be useless if I can't afford anything good when I get there. Better to use them now to build a solid foundation."
With that decision made, he spent 8,000 points: 3,000 on the Three Basic Jutsu (Transformation, Clone, Substitution) and 5,000 on the Body Flicker Technique. That left him with 51,000 points.
That leftover thousand is going to bother my obsessive-compulsive disorder, he thought. He spent it on a set of exquisitely crafted, razor-sharp kunai, superior to any standard issue.
For the remaining 50,000, he made a strategic purchase: Basic Swordsmanship Proficiency. He could create a solid light-sword with the Light Fruit, and it would be a waste to wield it without any formal skill. As the knowledge flooded his mind—the stances, the cuts, the parries, the footwork—he felt a new layer of versatility settle into his being. He was no longer just a brawler or a nascent ninja; he was now, fundamentally, a swordsman.