Chapter 3: Silent Strength
The days blurred together as Arata pushed himself harder. He practiced the Body Flicker over and over, feeling the rush of chakra through his veins each time. It was tough, but he was getting better—quicker, smoother. One afternoon, while catching his breath, a thought hit him. The hand seals... they were just a way to guide the chakra, right? To make it flow in the right order.
"What if," he muttered, staring at his hands, "I skip the seals? With my inner vision, I can control the chakra myself." He closed his eyes, focusing inward. He saw the paths, the four points in his feet where the chakra needed to burst out. No seals this time—just his will pushing the energy along the route.
Boom!
He blinked, now standing across the yard. No hand signs, but it worked. He stood there, stunned, then burst out laughing. "I did it! Seal-less ninjutsu!" He knew from stories that even top ninjas needed at least one hand for most jutsu. Only bloodline limits let some skip seals altogether. But him? A kid with messed-up eyes? This was huge.
His inner vision wasn't just a quirk—it was something special, maybe even better than a normal Byakugan. "This could change everything," he whispered, grinning. "Higher-level stuff, instant release... it'll be my secret weapon." For the first time, he felt like he belonged in this world, like he had a real shot.
A week flew by in sweat and sore muscles. Arata could pull off the Body Flicker without thinking now. "With my chakra reserves, I can do it six times flat out," he figured, wiping his forehead. "More if I train up my chakra. But the exam's tomorrow... guess that's it for now."
Something else bugged him, though. His body had taken a beating from all the training—bruises, cuts, the usual. Like the gash on his arm from a bad landing earlier. But when he checked it later, the scar was almost gone. "That healed fast," he said, poking at the faint line. Normally, it'd take days.
He thought back: after getting hurt, he'd focus chakra there without thinking, and it'd feel better. "Is it my inner vision speeding things up?" To test it, he made a small cut on his arm—nothing bad, just enough to see. Then he guided chakra to wash over it, again and again. The bleeding stopped quick, the skin knitting together right before his eyes.
His heart skipped. "Whoa... like some kind of super healing." It reminded him of stories about medical ninjas, how they boosted cell growth. Maybe his vision did that too. Ecstatic, he bandaged the spot and got back to practice, feeling unstoppable.
The next morning, Konoha's Ninja Academy buzzed with energy. Kids and parents crowded the grounds, chatter filling the air. Arata wove through the groups, his stomach twisting with nerves. These were the hopefuls, same age as him, all chasing the same dream.
"Assessment starts soon! Akimichi, Nara—hurry up!" a boy called, rushing past Arata with two friends in tow: one chubby, one skinny.
The skinny one shrugged. "Relax, Yamanaka. We'll get in fine."
He glanced at Arata, spotting the white eyes. "Hyuga kid, huh..."
Yamanaka rolled his eyes. "Duh. But I'm aiming for Class A. Don't drag me down, you two."
The chubby one chuckled. "Class B's good enough for us Ino-Shika-Cho. Heard Class A only takes twelve this year—too much hassle."
"Yeah," the skinny one agreed. "And I don't wanna deal with those pink-eyed Uchiha snobs."
They kept walking, joking as they went. Arata smirked a little. So these were the parents of the next generation's trio? Made sense—their laid-back vibe carried on.
From their talk, he picked up that Uchiha were the big shots this year. Most kids were settling for Class B to avoid the heat. But Arata? No way. Even against Uchiha geniuses, his inner vision and seal-less tricks gave him an edge he couldn't ignore.
Inside the exam room, the line of kids stretched long. Everyone eyed each other, the air thick with tension. Arata scanned the crowd—some looked cool as ice, like they owned the place. Especially the Uchiha ones, with their clan symbols and smug grins that screamed "back off."
"Arata?" a voice snarled from behind.
He turned. Hyuga Mori stalked toward him, his two buddies trailing like shadows. The room's eyes shifted their way, especially the Uchiha kids, who leaned in with grins like they smelled blood.
"I told you," Mori hissed, grabbing Arata's arm, "show up here, and I'll snap your legs."
Snickers rippled from the Uchiha side. "That's Hyuga Arata? The Hyuga clan's loser?"
"Hah, their trash is here to embarrass them?"
Mori's face reddened, his grip tightening. The mockery stung him too. "Get out now, or else."
Arata met his glare, calm but firm. His face hardened. "My life's mine to decide. I'm not quitting. Let go."
Mori blinked, caught off guard by the steel in Arata's voice. His hand dropped without thinking. Then rage hit—he'd been backed down by the clan's joke? Unacceptable.
The Uchiha whispers grew. "Did the branch kid just boss the main family around?"
Their eager faces said it all: Hyuga drama was prime entertainment.
Kids started filing in and out of the exam room. One came back quick, head down—failed. But eyes stayed glued to Arata and Mori.
"Say that again," Mori growled, his face dark.
Arata ignored him, turning away. That lit Mori's fuse. "Fine! I'll teach you a lesson right here, you ungrateful brat!"
Arata's expression iced over. Chakra stirred inside him—he wasn't helpless anymore. If Mori swung, he'd regret it.
Mori lunged, fist raised—but a blur stopped him cold. A blond boy planted himself between them, blocking the way.
"Back off," the boy said. "This is the academy, not your clan's playground. Mess around, and you'll get booted from the exam."
Mori snarled. "Namikaze Minato? Always playing hero, huh? Stay out of it!"
Minato stood firm, his blue eyes steady. "If you start something, I'll finish it."
Arata watched Minato, impressed. The future Fourth Hokage, already standing up for the little guy. Cool.
"Next—Hyuga Arata!"
A chunin poked his head out, calling his name. Arata brushed past Mori, ignoring the glare. As he passed Minato, the blond flashed a grin. "Good luck."
Arata smiled back. "You too."
The exam room held three chunin examiners. One caught his eye—an Uchiha, his Sharingan hidden but his clan vibe clear. No wonder Uchiha dominated Class A talk.
They sized him up, the Uchiha one frowning like Arata was dirt. Arata knew the drill: show your stuff, get judged.
"Hello, examiners. I'm Hyuga Arata, eight years old, and I—"
The Uchiha cut him off, waving a hand. "Hyuga means taijutsu and Byakugan. But you? I've heard about you—the clan's failure, born weak. We don't take trash here. Send him packing."
The other two shifted, glancing at each other.
(End of Chapter)
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