"Huh? Neji, why is your face so red?"
"Don't tell me you're shy?"
Noticing the blush on the boy in his arms, Ren raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised.
In the original story, early Neji was a cold, prideful, tight-lipped prodigy.
Even if he was "hard on the outside, soft on the inside," he shouldn't be this easy to fluster, right?
The next second, Ren understood.
This wasn't shyness.
It was rage.
"SHUT. YOUR. MOUTH!"
Neji roared, his small face turning boiling red.
He didn't like Hinata.
And he also didn't like touchy-feely guys.
With that, he struck—straight out—
Gentle Fist!
Smack!
A palm landed. Neji disengaged and retreated cleanly.
"Oh, so it's embarrassment rage, huh?"
Ren brushed at his sleeve like nothing happened.
That Gentle Fist hit didn't even break his defense.
"N-No… no effect?"
Neji froze.
That palm had been aimed precisely at a chakra-flow joint point!
Even adults would feel nasty after taking that cleanly—pain, numbness, disrupted flow.
Yet Ren looked completely fine.
Neji's expression shifted.
Veins burst at his temples, spreading like a web.
Byakugan—activate!
The next instant, his gaze locked onto Ren like fire.
And then Neji's raised hand… stopped dead.
"H-How is that possible?!"
In his vision, Ren's chakra circulation was perfectly unified—smooth, round, seamless, like a single whole.
That level of refinement was something only experienced jōnin usually reached.
"…No. Did I see wrong?"
He snapped his gaze toward the clan head.
No—Hiashi's chakra looked the same.
"How can Uchiha Ren possibly be at the same level as the clan head?!"
Neji was stunned, both hands hanging midair in Gentle Fist posture, unsure how to proceed.
Against a "complete" chakra system like that, his current Gentle Fist couldn't pierce through and disrupt flow.
So…
He'd have to use that.
After a short hesitation, Neji closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
His brown hair tufts swayed lightly.
Chakra gathered thicker between his palms.
"That stance…"
"It looks like the Gentle Fist—Eight Trigrams style…"
At the edge of the courtyard, Hiashi and the elder widened their eyes again.
They exchanged a look, shocked.
That was a technique only the main house was supposed to possess.
Since when could the branch family use it?
"No one taught him… did he figure it out himself?"
Hiashi's gaze flickered.
There was no anger—only surprise and a sharp, complicated kind of joy.
Looking at small Neji, Hiashi saw echoes of Hizashi in his features.
Then he looked at his own timid, soft-spoken eldest daughter.
Hiashi fell silent.
"Maybe… Hinata really isn't suited to inherit the main house."
"If Hanabi takes over, then Hinata…"
Slowly, his eyes drifted back to Ren.
A cold gleam gathered there—unreadable, calculating.
In the courtyard, Neji changed.
Chakra surged in his palms.
His Byakugan flared, veins bulging hard around his eyes.
His vision seemed to pierce through Ren's body, pinpointing sixty-four chakra points with perfect accuracy.
"Complete or not… if I keep striking the same point repeatedly, it'll work eventually!"
He muttered, then shouted:
"Gentle Fist Art—Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms!"
In the next instant, his hands became afterimages.
Pa-pa!
Palm strikes fell like raindrops.
The first two went for Ren's collarbone—trying to cut chakra flow into the arms.
Pa-pa-pa-pa!
The next four hammered the chest—attacking lung meridians.
For a normal person, even breathing would become a luxury.
That was only the opening.
As Neji rotated faster and faster, his strike rate exploded.
Eight palms!
Sixteen!
Thirty-two!
His small hands poured down like a storm, slamming the same spot on Ren's back again and again.
One strike not enough? Two.
Two not enough? Four.
He believed that under continuous, high-frequency pressure, even an adult ninja would crack.
Finally—sixty-four palms complete.
The chakra he'd packed into his fingertips detonated outward.
BOOM!
Cracks spiderwebbed across the courtyard floor.
Dust and debris blasted up, swallowing the scene.
"D-Did it work?"
Neji panted, eyes fixed on the center of the dust cloud.
Unlike him, the downed Hyūga youths lit up with excitement:
"Sixty-Four Palms?! He secretly mastered it!"
"Yes! Every hit landed!"
"Hah! I've wanted to punch this Uchiha forever!"
Only Hinata looked worried, staring into the dust.
She wanted to step forward—but didn't know what to say.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then the dust thinned, revealing a clean, handsome face.
"Tch… Neji, it's a shame you didn't become a massage therapist."
Ren rolled his neck and shoulders. His whole body crackled.
Crack-crack-crack.
Feels good.
After that set, it wasn't just "joint stiffness"—even years of sleeping weird and shoulder tension felt "fixed."
So good. Too good.
Ren stretched lazily, glanced at the "conversation failed" prompt, and stopped wasting time.
He raised a palm toward Neji and smiled.
"Eight Trigrams… Air Palm."
BOOM!
A projectile of compressed air shot out like a cannonball.
With his Byakugan active, Neji saw it clearly—so clearly he even tried to dodge.
But the moment he moved, a terrifying force slammed into his abdomen.
His body launched.
Straight up—then down hard.
THUD!
Dust rose again, even thicker this time.
And now every Hyūga youth fell silent.
Not "quiet"—dead silent.
Even the dumbest among them could understand what they'd just witnessed.
Gulp.
Gulp.
Only swallowing sounds remained in the courtyard.
"Hm?" Ren smiled and swept his gaze across the whole group.
"You guys… want to try again?"
His voice wasn't loud. His body wasn't tall.
But not a single boy dared meet his eyes.
They all lowered their heads, faces flushing.
This time, it wasn't admiration—
It was humiliation and anger.
Ren nodded, satisfied, then beckoned to Hinata.
"Come."
"A-Ah…"
Hinata startled. Her dreamy smile hadn't even faded before Ren tugged her closer.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He dragged little Hinata over to Neji, bent down, and looked him in the eyes.
His three-tomoe Sharingan glowed with eerie red light.
"Neji."
"She… is your little sister."
He patted Hinata's small hand, then turned and walked away.
Unhurried. Casual.
Like none of this mattered.
Like the whole courtyard of defeated Hyūga boys was nothing more than scenery.
At the gate, a new prompt flashed in front of Ren.
He finally couldn't hold it back.
He shoved a hand into his hairline, bent forward, and burst into wild laughter.
"Hahahahaha!"
Through his laughter, he glanced back at the red-faced Hyūga youths and muttered:
"Next week…"
"I'll be back."
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