Chapter 6: The Sound of Shattering Chains
"Get out!" Hizashi's voice was a low growl, thick with suppressed fury. He shoved Mōri back a step, not with a ninja's technique, but with raw, physical anger. "Get out of here, before I forget myself!"
Hyūga Mōri straightened his robes, his expression one of pure contempt. He flicked a dismissive glance at Hizashi, then turned his cold white eyes back to Reitō, who had never stopped moving.
"Remember my warning, Reitō," Mōri said, his voice slick with condescension. "Stop wasting your time. The Academy entrance is in less than two weeks. You have no chance at all. You'll soon learn the unbridgeable gap between genius… and trash." With a final, mocking laugh, he turned and sauntered away, his two followers falling in step behind him.
"Bastard!" Hizashi spat the word at Mōri's retreating back, his hands clenched into trembling fists.
"Shouting is pointless." A calm, focused voice cut through Hizashi's anger. He turned, startled. The words came from Reitō, whose relentless kata continued unabated. "The only way to silence someone like that is to prove exactly who the trash is."
Hizashi stared, astonished. Had the clan's laughingstock, the boy he'd always seen cowed and silent, just said that? The fire in Reitō's movements, the utter disregard for Mōri's taunts—it was a complete contradiction to everything he'd heard.
Mōri's words echoed in the quiet courtyard: Tools. Just tools. It was the unvarnished truth of the Main Family's view. And Reitō was right. For a tool, strength was the only possible rebuttal.
For Reitō, further discussion was superfluous. Every ounce of his being was concentrated on a single goal: passing the Academy exam and securing a place in Class A. That would be his answer.
Lost in his cultivation, Reitō paid no mind to Hizashi's intrigued stare. Sweat plastered his thin clothes to his skin, each movement precise and demanding. This was the clan's so-called "tail feather"?
A spark of genuine appreciation lit in Hizashi's eyes. "Well said," he murmured. Then, louder: "Even a member of the branch family can aspire to surpass the main family. But Reitō, practicing like this—blindly—won't achieve much. Let me show you the proper way to cultivate chakra."
Reitō's hands froze in mid-motion. He turned, hope blazing in his pearlescent eyes. "You… you would teach me?"
"Of course," Hizashi said, a genuine smile touching his lips. "We of the branch family must support one another." He was deeply impressed—by Reitō's defiance in the face of Mōri, and by this raw, stubborn diligence. He wanted to see for himself if the "waste" the clan dismissed possessed any hidden spark.
Reitō stopped immediately, becoming a model of attentive silence.
"We have less than two weeks," Hizashi began, practical and direct. "Trying to master kunai techniques or significantly increase your chakra reserves is impossible. The Academy entrance exam is deceptively simple. A solid foundation is key, and with that, success is almost assured."
He paused, recalling the rumors. He knew that if Reitō had such a foundation, he wouldn't bear his current reputation.
Seeing the flicker of disappointment on Reitō's face, Hizashi quickly shifted tactics. "Don't be discouraged. Even without a strong foundation, there is a path. If you can master any single C-rank ninjutsu within these two weeks, you will pass. It's a higher bar, but a more certain one for someone starting from zero."
This was Hizashi's analysis, based on years of observing Academy results.
Under Reitō's intense gaze, Hizashi performed the Academy Three: the Body Replacement, Clone, and Transformation Techniques. His movements were fluid, economical, chakra flaring and settling with practiced ease.
"In truth," Hizashi admitted, "mastering all three to this standard is the benchmark for direct placement into Class A."
"The benchmark for Class A…" Reitō repeated, his eyes gleaming with a new, fierce light.
Seeing Reitō immediately drop into a stance to mimic the techniques, Hizashi held up a hand. "Wait. The Three are graduation-level skills. Do you think you can master them in such a short time?" He shook his head at Reitō's confused look. "I mean you should focus on just one. Master the simplest—the Body Replacement Technique. If you can perform that reliably, it will be enough to pass."
Hope reignited in Reitō. After Hizashi left, he threw himself into the practice of the single technique.
But failure met him, again and again. He would form the seals, feel the chakra stir, only to have it sputter and die at the last moment, leaving him standing foolishly in place.
Reitō was not the type to simply bash his head against a wall. He was an analyst. And now, he had the ultimate analytical tool.
He activated his Byakugan and turned his sight inward.
With each attempted jutsu, he watched the flow. He saw his chakra, guided by the seal's form, split and travel along six distinct pathways: two down his arms, four down his legs. Each time, the energy reached a specific juncture in his lower body—and was violently repelled, scattering back in a discordant rush. The blockage there was like a dam.
"So that's it," he whispered, the mystery solving itself under his internal gaze.
The next day, when Hizashi returned to demonstrate again, Reitō watched not with his ordinary eyes, but with his Byakugan active. He focused not on the external result, but on the internal chakra flow within Hizashi.
His theory was confirmed in brilliant, illuminating detail. The Body Replacement Technique required not one, but six simultaneous, precise chakra release points. Two in the hands to form the seals, and four more in the feet to facilitate the instant, short-range movement. His own legs, with their crippled meridians, were failing him utterly.
The problem was identified. The pathway was blocked. But for Reitō, a blocked pathway was no longer an end. It was a project. A challenge for his unique vision and his newfound, stubborn will. He looked at the intricate, clogged network within his own legs, not with despair, but with the calculating focus of a surgeon surveying a battlefield. The real work was just beginning.