After just two brief exchanges, Kakashi had already witnessed Hyuga Satoru unleash several Hyuga secret techniques he'd never even heard of before.
The boy's unpredictable skill forced Kakashi to raise his guard completely.
Flicking his wrist, he drew a kunai from his sleeve and dropped into a low defensive stance, eyes fixed on his opponent.
Satoru's advance was swift—blindingly so. Before Kakashi could even finish tightening his grip, the boy was already within striking range. His feet anchored firmly to the ground, Satoru's right hand formed a sword-finger and darted toward Kakashi's kunai-holding wrist.
He wasn't aiming for the torso. Satoru knew full well that, after feeling the Gentle Fist's power, Kakashi would guard his vitals at all costs. Attacking the limbs was the smarter move—the less-expected one.
To perform ninjutsu, a shinobi had to form seals with both hands. There were a few exceptions, but almost every technique required hand signs to shape and channel chakra.
Seal the meridians in Kakashi's arm, and his ninjutsu would be useless.
Their earlier brief clashes had already told Satoru enough: Kakashi's taijutsu might be sharp, but it wasn't overwhelmingly superior.
If Satoru could disable his ninjutsu, the battle would tilt decisively in his favor.
"Hmm?"
Just as Satoru predicted, Kakashi's brow furrowed the moment he realized the target of the attack.
Rather than retreat, he brought up his arm to block and simultaneously twisted his hips, launching a whip-like kick toward Satoru's midsection.
He'd already tested the Hyuga's Gentle Fist—yes, it was powerful, but not without flaws. To completely shut down an opponent's chakra network without killing intent required striking many points.
That gave Kakashi time and opportunity to counterattack.
With the difference in strength and durability between them, he was confident he could endure a strike to the arm. But if Satoru took this kick head-on, the boy would be finished.
In ninja battles, victory wasn't always about who was faster or stronger. It was about analysis, timing, and adaptation—understanding the enemy's strengths and weaknesses in the heat of combat.
Information always came first.
And this time, Kakashi was about to suffer the consequences of not having enough.
A dull impact rang out. Satoru's finger struck true, chakra bursting into Kakashi's meridian, sealing one of the key points in his arm.
But before Kakashi's kick could connect, his leg stopped short—as though slamming into an invisible wall.
What—?!
His eyes widened, and through the Sharingan's vision he saw it clearly: chakra erupting from the tenketsu around Satoru's waist, forming a dense, circular barrier of energy.
Eight Trigrams Palm: Rotation!
Before Kakashi could react, Satoru pivoted on his left foot, spinning with incredible speed.
Chakra surged from every pore, every tenketsu, creating a roaring, semi-spherical blue dome. The compressed energy expanded violently, slamming into Kakashi with crushing force.
For an instant, all he felt was weightless disorientation—then pain.
"—!"
The world spun. The ground, the sky, the watching faces blurred together.
"BOOM!"
Kakashi crashed hard, leaving a shallow crater in the packed earth.
Across the courtyard, Satoru's spinning form slowed, the chakra shroud dissipating into shimmering air currents.
He exhaled softly, lowering his stance, his calm eyes sweeping toward the crater where Kakashi was struggling to his feet.
Satoru shifted again, sliding one foot forward—his hands rising into the stance of the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms.
He knew the Gentle Fist's weaknesses better than anyone. To completely seal an enemy's chakra, dozens of points had to be struck in succession—a task few could execute under pressure.
But the Hyuga clan had a secret art to compensate for that flaw.
And Satoru had mastered it.
Right now, Kakashi stood squarely within his domain—the circle of the Eight Trigrams.
Still reeling from the Rotation's impact, Kakashi was off-balance, his reflexes dulled.
Satoru took a breath, ready to move.
But before he could strike, a golden flash cut between them.
A firm hand landed on his shoulder, stopping him cold.
"That's enough," came a calm voice.
Satoru looked up. "Lord Fourth?"
Minato Namikaze stood before him, his expression gentle but resolute.
"Sensei!" Kakashi called out hoarsely, wobbling as he straightened, relief flickering across his face.
He'd felt it—that same overwhelming pressure returning the moment Satoru had lunged again. If Minato hadn't intervened, he doubted he could have defended in time.
"The match is over," Minato said with a smile. "You've won, Hyuga Satoru."
"You've proven your talent—and your strength."
He gestured lightly. "Form the seal of reconciliation."
Turning to his student, Minato rested a hand on Kakashi's head.
"Kakashi," he said softly, "you learned something valuable today."
"In battle, never—ever—underestimate your opponent, no matter their age."
His words weren't harsh, but the kindness in them made the lesson sting even deeper.
Kakashi bowed his head, shame coloring his face beneath his mask. He hadn't lost because of weakness—but because of arrogance.
If he'd treated Satoru seriously from the start—if he'd used his Sharingan, clones, elemental ninjutsu to test and counter—the outcome might have been different.
He might not have won easily, but he wouldn't have lost so completely.
Satoru, still breathing evenly, finally relaxed. He clasped his hands together and bowed lightly toward Kakashi.
"Thank you for going easy on me, Kakashi-senpai."
"Well fought."
Kakashi raised his head, a rueful smile ghosting behind his mask as he mirrored the gesture.
The murmuring crowd around the courtyard erupted in surprise and excitement.
Even Satoru himself felt a surreal disbelief settle over him.
He had actually done it—he had defeated Hatake Kakashi, the genius jonin of Konoha.
A thrill of exhilaration surged through his chest… only to fade just as quickly, replaced by quiet clarity.
"If I can beat Kakashi now," he thought, does that mean I'll be able to survive the dangers that lie ahead?
The answer came almost instantly.
Probably not.
And yet—the fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever.
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