Early the next morning, Aokawa asked Fu to train him.
As a Quincy, his ranged game was strong, but his melee was a liability. He needed the Hyuga staple to cover his blind spots.
They arrived at the public training grounds. It was crowded. Konoha was a military dictatorship; even in peace, everyone trained like war was tomorrow. The air smelled of sweat and dust.
Aokawa and Fu claimed a wooden post in the corner.
But Aokawa's attention drifted to the opposite side of the field.
Two Uchiha.
An older man and a young boy.
The man held three kunai between his fingers. With a casual flick, he launched them.
Then, faster than the eye could track, he threw three more.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The second set hit the first set in mid-air. Sparks flew. The collision altered the trajectory of the first set, sending them curving around obstacles to hit blind targets dead center.
Uchiha Shurikenjutsu.
It was flashy. Arrogant. Beautiful.
The young Uchiha boy clapped, his face glowing with pride.
Fu noticed Aokawa watching. He scoffed.
"Using the Sharingan's kinetic vision to calculate ricochets. It's a parlor trick."
Fu stared at the Uchiha from a distance, his voice calm but edged with rivalry.
"Don't be envious. In pure insight, the Byakugan is superior to the Sharingan. With a little geometry, we can do the same."
"Watch closely."
Fu drew a handful of kunai.
He threw them. No fancy poses. Just efficient movement.
Clang! Clang!
The metal collided in mid-air. The trajectory shifts weren't as graceful as the Uchiha's arcs, but they were brutal and precise.
Thunk! Thunk!
They hit the hidden targets on the back of the post.
Fu turned to Aokawa, a rare smirk on his face.
"I figured that out when I was a Genin, just to shut up an Uchiha classmate. We don't lack the eyes; we just lack the desire to show off."
He patted Aokawa's shoulder, turning serious again.
"But tricks are just icing. For a Hyuga, the Gentle Fist is the cake."
"Master it, and you are guaranteed Special Jonin status. Even without talent, you will reach Chunin like me."
Aokawa nodded.
Fu was right. Gentle Fist had a high floor. It made you a nightmare for 90% of ninjas.
But it had a low ceiling. Against Tailed Beasts or Susanoo, poking holes in meridians was like trying to stop a tank with acupuncture.
Unless you were Kaguya using the Eighty Gods Vacuum Attack.
Otherwise, without sage mode or tenseigan, Gentle Fist peaked at Elite Jonin.
"Listen well," Fu began his lecture.
"The core of Gentle Fist is injecting your chakra—molded into microscopic needles—into the opponent's tenketsu. You shut down their chakra network or rupture their organs."
"The problem is hitting those tiny points in a chaotic fight."
"That is why we have the Eight Trigrams style."
"The Branch House is limited to the Thirty-Two Palms."
Fu took a stance. The air around him shifted.
"Watch."
He moved.
Two Palms. Four Palms. Eight Palms...
His hands were a blur. The wind generated by his strikes whistled like a blade. Every hit was precise, landing on the wooden post with a dull, heavy thud that echoed internally rather than shattering the surface.
Aokawa watched with his Byakugan active.
His predecessor had been dense, but Aokawa's spiritual energy was off the charts. He saw everything. The chakra molding. The footwork. The rhythm.
He absorbed it like a sponge. His body twitched, mirroring the movements.
Fu finished the set and exhaled.
"How much did you catch?"
"I think... I saw it all. But understanding it is different."
"Good. Rote memorization is death in combat."
Fu hesitated, glancing around to ensure no one was listening.
"The Thirty-Two Palms is a castrated version. The full technique is Sixty-Four Palms."
"If you contribute to the clan, the Main House might grant you the next thirty-two strikes."
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"Like me. I earned the right to learn the Sixty-Four Palms."
"Once you master the Thirty-Two... I will find a time to 'practice' the Sixty-Four Palms in front of you."
He emphasized the word.
"Remember. You 'watched' me do it. I never taught you. Private instruction of Main House secrets is forbidden."
Aokawa raised an eyebrow.
A loophole.
"Understood."
He spent the rest of the day drilling the Thirty-Two Palms until his arms felt like lead.
As the sun set, the blue text appeared.
[You have trained diligently and earned a favor.]
[...]