It wasn't until the members of the Branch Family activated their Byakugan one after another that they finally noticed it—chakra cloaks in the shape of lions burning faintly around both of Hyuga Satoru's fists as he sparred with Hyuga Hiashi.
Because the chakra he released wasn't dense enough to take solid form, it was invisible to the naked eye. Only under the piercing gaze of the Byakugan did Satoru's true condition reveal itself.
"Gentle Step Twin Lion Fists!"
"That child… he's mastered more than just the Eight Trigrams Vacuum Palm!"
Seeing the astonishment written on the faces of those around him, Hyuga Hizashi couldn't help but smile with pride. His nephew's brilliance brought honor to him as well.
Outsiders often misunderstood the Hyuga clan's taijutsu—even within the clan itself, there were some who didn't fully grasp the essence of their secret techniques.
Many liked to draw a line between what they called Gentle Fist and Hard Fist.
As the name suggested, Hard Fist relied on overwhelming physical strength. The greater the force behind the blow, the more severe the injury—tearing flesh, shattering bones, crushing organs. Its principle was simple and pure. The Senju clan's monstrous strength and the basic taijutsu most ninja practiced all fell under this category.
The Hyuga's Gentle Fist, however, was different. Thanks to the Byakugan, a Hyuga didn't need raw physical might to deal devastating damage—they could strike directly at the enemy's chakra network, sealing tenketsu with precision and ease.
But this very convenience bred complacency. Some Hyuga, knowing they could harm an opponent with nothing more than a "gentle touch," neglected the training of their own bodies. The bloodline's power made them lazy.
Thus arose the misconception—that Gentle Fist and Hard Fist were opposites. In truth, the Hyuga Main Family's secret arts never drew such a distinction.
After all, the purpose of any jutsu is the same—to kill the enemy. Why fuss over whether it's done gently or with a shattered skull?
The Gentle Step Twin Lion Fists were, in fact, created by a Main Family ancestor seeking to extend the range and destructive power of the clan's strikes.
By projecting chakra outward and shaping it through transformation, this technique was a perfect example of a seal-less taijutsu. After learning it, Satoru even felt its potential for growth might surpass the Fourth Hokage's seal-less ninjutsu—the Rasengan.
Why should chakra be limited to coating only the fists? Couldn't it cover the whole body as well? Isn't the Rotation technique just a derivative of that concept?
And if chakra could envelop the entire body—why stop at shape transformation? What if one added nature transformation to it?
Wouldn't that be something akin to the Raikage's Lightning Release Chakra Mode (Lightning Release Armor)?
As he traded blows with Hiashi in the dojo, Satoru already had a rough direction in mind for his next stage of training.
As a transmigrator, if Hyuga Satoru thought he could live safely in this world just because he was born into the Hyuga Main Family, that would be nothing short of idiotic.
The ninja world was far from peaceful. Though the Third Great Ninja War was nearing its end, true peace had not arrived. The Land of Fire, the Land of Lightning, and the Land of Water had ceased large-scale conflicts, but small skirmishes and border clashes occurred constantly.
Countless ninja still died every day on unseen battlefields. In just the few years Satoru had lived in the Hyuga compound, he'd already attended more funerals of clansmen than he could count.
Even the Main Family, supposedly well-protected, had lost Byakugan bloodlines to the outside world during the war.
Satoru had no desire to see his eyes displayed as someone else's trophy.
And even if he stayed safely inside Konoha, did that mean trouble would never come knocking?
The Nine-Tails' rampage. Orochimaru's destruction of the Leaf. Pain's "lesson of universal suffering." Obito's Fourth Great Ninja War to create a world "with Rin."
And even after Naruto and Sasuke saved the world, new "aliens" emerged, intent on annihilation.
Given Satoru's age, his life was destined to be filled with disasters. If he wanted to survive them, the only thing he could rely on was his own strength.
Fortunately…
While other transmigrators might live in fear of "Konoha's Pot King"—Danzo and his secretive Root organization—Satoru didn't have to worry.
Danzo's reach would never extend to a "Hyuga Main Family prodigy."
So Satoru never held himself back. He released every bit of potential he had—all to grow stronger.
Over the years, his training was relentless. Hiashi's tutelage was strict, yes, but Satoru enjoyed the rigor—because he truly wanted to become strong.
"Laugh all you want—but I, Satoru, am really just afraid of dying."
As the spar continued, Satoru's earlier storm-like assault gradually slowed.
His chakra reserves were monstrous—perhaps due to his innate talent, or maybe some degree of bloodline regression. Whatever the case, at only five years old, his chakra capacity was immense.
To put it in perspective, his reserves rivaled Naruto's at the same age—easily a full one hundred "units."
The clan members weren't surprised. He was a genius, after all. This was exactly what was expected of him.
But massive chakra didn't mean limitless stamina. At his age, his body still had limits. As the match dragged on, exhaustion dulled his movements.
Hiashi caught the moment his strength waned, countered with a palm strike, and sent him skidding back. Both stopped simultaneously.
Breathing heavily, Satoru steadied himself, then bowed respectfully toward his father.
"Thank you for your guidance, Father."
The Hyuga valued propriety, especially in front of others. Calling the man—who was his father in this life but of similar age in his past one—didn't feel so strange anymore.
Hiashi had raised him with care; that alone was worth a son's respect. Over the years, Satoru had long accepted this new identity.
As his words fell, the Branch Family members watching from the sidelines broke into applause. Satoru's skill and talent had earned everyone's recognition.
Yet, despite the praise, Satoru's face showed only disappointment. Not even a hint of joy.
Too weak…
He couldn't even defeat his "cheap old man." Pathetic.
When he thought of Konoha's other prodigies—Namikaze Minato, Hatake Kakashi, Uchiha Shisui, Uchiha Itachi—his expression darkened further.
Minato, still a student at twelve, could already annihilate a dozen elite Cloud-nin and rescue Uzumaki Kushina unscathed.
Kakashi became a chunin at six and a jonin at twelve.
And as for the Uchiha… Shisui made his name before adulthood, and Itachi—about Satoru's age—had already seen blood on the battlefield at four. By thirteen, he'd wiped out his entire clan.
Compared to those monsters, what kind of "genius" was he?
He often felt that being called a genius was a cruel joke—a title he didn't deserve.
And yet… everyone kept calling him one.
That sense of not being worthy of his own reputation—that shame—was something few could understand.
"…"
"Stop clapping… please stop clapping…"
As the applause echoed through the dojo, Satoru's eye twitched. Inside, he was screaming, desperate to escape the embarrassing scene as quickly as possible.
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