Chapter 17: The Price of Pride
"This is my assessment report," Reitō stated, his voice frigid. "Why would I give it to you?"
Hyūga Mōri's lips twisted into a mocking smirk. "Why? Because I am of the Main Family. Your results don't just represent you; they reflect upon the Hyūga clan as a whole. It is my right—my duty—to know."
He said it as if quoting an undeniable law of nature, his posture radiating a sense of inherent superiority. He raised his voice, ensuring the entire corridor of watching children could hear. "Furthermore, I explicitly warned you not to disgrace our clan by showing up here. You disobeyed. So, I'll be merciful. If you've somehow scraped into Class B, your punishment will be lighter. If you're in Class C, or if you've failed…" He let the threat hang, his eyes glinting. "...you will crawl back to the compound today. And this time, there is no one here to intercede for you."
"If I still refuse?" Reitō cut in, his interruption sharp as a blade.
His direct defiance didn't just surprise Mōri; it sent a ripple of excited murmurs through the crowd.
"A branch family member actually talking back to the Main House?"
"Heh, probably pushed too far and finally snapped. Just wait, he's about to learn why that's a mistake."
The watching Uchiha children wore expressions of delighted anticipation, savoring the internal strife of their rival clan. Even those unfamiliar with the intricacies of Hyūga politics could sense the power imbalance and were betting on the established "genius," Mōri.
"Hyūga Reitō," Mōri hissed, his anger making his voice tremble. "Say that again."
Reitō didn't raise his voice. He simply met Mōri's glare, his pale eyes utterly calm. "Hyūga Mōri. Not every member of the branch family will kneel to your commands. Be careful… or you'll be the one left embarrassed."
"What?!"
Mōri's initial shock rapidly boiled over into incandescent rage. This branch family waste, this tool, had not only disobeyed but was now publicly lecturing him? The humiliation was intolerable. It burned away his last shred of restraint.
One thought crystalized in his mind: I will break him.
"Then learn your place!" Mōri snarled, and without further warning, his palm shot forward in a textbook Hyūga strike, chakra sharpening its edge to a stinging point aimed at Reitō's shoulder—a strike meant to numb and subdue.
Bam!
The sound of impact was crisp. Reitō hadn't dodged. He had simply, casually, brought his own forearm up in a perfect, economical block. The two chakra-imbued limbs collided, and the force dissipated evenly. Mōri's strike was halted completely, effortlessly.
"You… you dare to fight back?!" Mōri spluttered, more shocked by the effective defense than the defiance itself.
"I'll beat the defiance out of you, you trash! I'll purge this disgrace from the Hyūga name!" Blinded by fury, Mōri failed to process the critical detail: his full-power strike had been neutralized with apparent ease.
At that moment, Reitō's eyes changed. Veins spider-webbed around his temples, and his pupils seemed to sharpen, drink in the light.
"Byakugan."
The sight of the activated dōjutsu, even a flawed one, gave Mōri a split-second of pause.
It was all the opening Reitō needed.
"Body Replacement."
There was no blur, no dramatic leap. One moment Reitō was before him, blocking his strike. The next, he was simply beside him, having repositioned without any visible transition. Mōri's Sharingan-less eyes couldn't track the movement at all.
Swish!
Reitō's leg swept out in a low, devastating arc. It wasn't a Gentle Fist technique, but it was guided by an internal vision that saw every imbalance, every point of structural weakness in Mōri's stance. The kick connected precisely behind Mōri's knees with a sickening crunch of stressed joints and ligaments.
"Gah—!"
A cry of pure, shocked agony ripped from Mōri's throat as his legs buckled utterly. He crashed to the hard wooden floor of the hallway, landing in an ungainly heap, the pain in his knees radiating up his spine.
A collective, sharp intake of breath echoed through the corridor.
What?!
Impossible!
Every onlooker stood frozen, eyes wide, minds struggling to reconcile the scene. The Hyūga clan's hailed genius… taken down in one fluid, brutal motion by the clan's supposed "tail feather"?
For a long moment, the only sound was Mōri's ragged, pained breathing.
Then, it was broken by laughter.
"Hah! Hyūga Mōri! The great Main Family prodigy—beaten by your own clan's garbage? That's the funniest thing I've seen all year!"
"Look at him! He can't even stand up!"
The Uchiha children howled with glee, their mockery filling the hall, turning Mōri's personal defeat into a public spectacle for their rival clan.
Scarlet with a mixture of agony and soul-crushing shame, Mōri tried to surge back to his feet, to reclaim some shred of dignity. But as he pushed himself up, a new, terrifying realization dawned. From the knees down, his legs were… nothing. A void. He could feel the polished wood beneath his palms, but his legs were distant, unresponsive logs. The shock of the impact, guided by Reitō's precise knowledge of the body, had temporarily severed the neural and chakra connections.
He stared down at his own useless limbs, the Uchiha's laughter ringing in his ears, the cold gaze of the branch family boy upon him. The world he knew—a world of inherent superiority and unchallenged command—had just been shattered as easily as his stance. The victory wasn't just physical; it was absolute, and it echoed in the deafening silence of his own helplessness.