Chapter 9: Provocation and Principle
"Very well!" Hyūga Mōri snarled, his voice thick with self-righteous fury. "Today, I will discipline you in the name of the clan, you ungrateful wretch!"
Reitō's expression turned to ice. Simultaneously, chakra coalesced within him, flowing to his limbs—a readiness that was entirely new. Today, he was not the boy who couldn't release a flicker of energy. If Mōri struck, Reitō was resolved to deliver a lesson he would not forget.
Seeing Reitō fall not into a defensive cower, but into a balanced, counter-ready stance, Mōri's rage boiled over. His fist shot forward, chakra sharpening the intent.
But the blow never landed. A figure blurred between them, a hand closing firmly around Mōri's wrist, halting his momentum completely.
"He's right. A person's fate is their own to forge." The voice was calm but unwavering. The speaker was a boy with shock of bright, golden hair. "This is the Ninja Academy, Hyūga Mōri, not your family compound. Attack him here, and you risk having your own exam qualification revoked."
"Namikaze Minato!" Mōri spat the name, wrenching his arm free. "Playing the hero again, are you? Always sticking up for the weaklings and commoners."
"Call it what you like," Minato replied, his blue eyes steady and serious. "But if you start a fight, I'll finish it. That's my principle."
Reitō studied the blond boy with keen interest. So, this was him. The future legend. Even now, his character was unmistakable—a strength that defended, not oppressed. Of course, Reitō mused, the first principle was getting into the Academy at all.
"Next candidate: Hyūga Reitō."
A chūnin examiner stepped out of the assessment room, calling his name. The impending clash was frozen. Reitō ignored Mōri's seething glare, took a steadying breath, and walked forward. As he passed Minato, the blond boy offered a small, encouraging smile.
"Good luck."
Reitō returned it with a nod of genuine respect. "You as well."
Inside the assessment room, three chūnin sat behind a table. Reitō's eyes immediately caught on one of them—the distinct Uchiha fan emblazoned on his flak jacket. So that's it, he thought. No wonder the rumors say Class A is being tailored for Uchiha this year.
The Uchiha examiner's gaze swept over Reitō, and a faint, unmistakable frown of distaste flickered across his face before vanishing behind a mask of officiousness.
Reitō began the standard introduction. "Greetings, examiners. My name is Hyūga Reitō. I am eight years old, and I will—"
"Isn't the Hyūga clan all about taijutsu and the Byakugan?" the Uchiha examiner interrupted, his tone dismissively polite. "What does that have to do with you? We are already aware of your… reputation, Hyūga Reitō. You may spare us the presentation."
He then turned to his fellow examiners, his voice dropping into a confiding, decisive tone. "I know this child. He's known as the clan's 'tail feather.' Congenitally deficient. Our Academy is not a dumping ground for defects. I move we dismiss him and proceed."
Chapter 4: Forced Opportunity
Reitō's blood ran cold, then hot. He had expected bias, but not this blatant, pre-emptive dismissal without even a chance to perform. Anger surged, but he clamped down on it. Lashing out now would only prove their point. Instead, he fixed his eyes on the other two examiners, seeking any hint of fairness.
They exchanged uneasy glances. One cleared his throat. "Uchiha Fusa-senpai, that… seems somewhat against procedure. Shouldn't we at least—"
"Against procedure?" Uchiha Fusa cut him off, his voice turning cold. "I am considering the future quality of Konoha's shinobi forces. You are both aware the situation in the Land of Rain grows more tense by the day. The other great nations squeeze them, and their hostility spills onto us. Konoha may be thrust into war at any moment."
He leaned forward, his Sharingan-less eyes boring into his colleagues. "This Academy trains the next line of defense. We need soldiers who can stand on the battlefield, not weaklings who will cling to their clan's reputation and hide behind others, reaping honors they didn't earn!" His final words were laced with contempt, aimed squarely at Reitō.
In that moment, Reitō understood perfectly. Uchiha Fusa didn't just dislike him; he saw a chance to snub the Hyūga clan by rejecting their "failure," and he would not be swayed by appeals to rules or pity. The other two examiners' resigned looks confirmed they wouldn't risk contradicting him over a branch family "cripple."
As they began to murmur assent, Reitō did something unexpected.
He laughed.
A short, sharp, derisive sound that cut through the room's solemnity.
Uchiha Fusa's head snapped toward him, his expression darkening. "What is so amusing?"
"I'm laughing," Reitō said, his voice clear and loud, "because you're so afraid of letting me take the test. Could it be you fear a Hyūga—even one you call trash—might outshine your precious Uchiha candidates?"
"What did you say?" Fusa's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, each word dripping with menace.
"Isn't it obvious?" Reitō pressed, throwing all caution to the wind. Provocation was his only remaining weapon. "The Hyūga are Konoha's foremost clan now. Not the Uchiha. You're scared that if I, a so-called 'failure,' get into Class A, it will show everyone that even the bottom of the Hyūga barrel can compete with your best. That's why you won't even let me try. It's not about procedure or quality… it's about fear."
He had chosen his gamble. Begging would have earned only scorn. This insult, this direct challenge to Uchiha pride, might just force the man's hand. It would make Fusa his bitter enemy, but Reitō was already out of options. Failure here meant not just personal disgrace, but giving the Uchiha a permanent joke to use against the Hyūga. And when he returned to the Hyūga compound, branded a double failure, the clan's own punishment would be waiting. He had nothing left to lose, and everything to force into existence.