Hyūga Hizashi looked at Hyūga Akira expressionlessly.
One hand lowered, one hand raised—he assumed a textbook stance.
Veins bulged at his temples.
"Byakugan!"
Akira mirrored the posture almost perfectly.
His eyes widened.
"Byakugan!"
The two stepped forward simultaneously—
And collided.
Four hands seemed to multiply into countless afterimages, crashing together in midair.
Rapid, violent impacts echoed nonstop.
Off to the side, Nawaki muttered,
"He still hasn't paid…"
As he spoke, he grabbed Uchiha Sōsuke and dragged him backward.
The clash between the two Hyūga had already stirred violent air currents.
Pa pa pa pa pa—BOOM!
Amid the flurry of strikes, a dull heavy impact rang out.
Nawaki felt something odd.
He looked down.
A pair of confused eyes stared up at him.
Sōsuke had woken up.
Nawaki glanced at the swelling bump on the back of Sōsuke's head and awkwardly looked away.
"…I lost again," Sōsuke murmured, staring at the battle.
Two Hyūga fighting.
"Hyūga Hizashi?"
"You know him?" Nawaki asked in surprise.
Sōsuke nodded grimly.
"He was part of Team Ten two years ago. Known as one of the Hyūga Twin Stars. That team even completed B-rank missions."
"B-rank?" Nawaki frowned.
Those involved combat with chūnin—and sometimes even jōnin.
"Akira can't win," Sōsuke said through clenched teeth.
"No matter how many dirty tricks he uses, absolute strength can't be cheated."
Akira being called a genius had always been controversial.
Exams? Sure. First place, no argument.
But actual combat?
Everyone knew he used underhanded tactics.
…Still, how did I lose just now?
Sōsuke's confusion deepened.
On the field, the two fighters pushed each other back with a simultaneous clash.
Hizashi inhaled sharply.
A faint Eight Trigrams diagram appeared beneath his feet.
"Gentle Fist Art—Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms!"
A core main-house technique.
Branch members could only learn it through exceptional merit.
Yet Hizashi had access—because he was Hiashi's brother.
He stepped in instantly, fingers like blades, stabbing forward in a rainstorm of strikes.
Sixty-four tenketsu—each meant to sever chakra flow.
The barrage came like a storm.
Akira exhaled.
Then his body became… light.
"Gentle Fist Art—Willow Drift."
Under the relentless assault, Akira moved like a willow leaf in the wind.
Floating. Swaying.
Every strike missed.
"Impossible!!" Sōsuke shouted.
That was a main-house secret technique!
And since when did Gentle Fist have something called Willow Drift?!
It didn't.
This was Akira's own creation.
By regulating chakra flow through his entire body, sharpening perception, and extending Gentle Fist principles beyond the hands—
His body reacted before attacks landed.
A direct counter to Hyūga Gentle Fist.
Hizashi grit his teeth.
Chakra surged from his palms.
"Eight Trigrams—Rotation!"
Blue chakra burst outward into a hemispherical shield.
Akira had already jumped back.
"Your Rotation's sloppy," he mocked casually.
Rotation demanded extreme chakra control.
Hizashi's version collapsed almost instantly.
It wasn't even close to—
That thirteen-year-old prodigy who mastered it effortlessly.
"Still," Akira added,
"You're stronger than your brother."
Hizashi was better than Hiashi.
"Your father's judgment was questionable," Akira continued calmly.
"Putting your brother in charge."
Hizashi's heart wavered—for only a moment.
Hiashi hadn't become heir through strength.
He'd simply been born first.
"My brother just lacks experience," Hizashi replied stubbornly.
Which was true.
Hiashi had barely seen real combat.
Hizashi had lived as a shinobi for two full years.
That gap mattered.
"Still a loyal dog," Akira sneered.
He stepped forward.
This time, his hands clenched into fists.
No palms. No fingers.
Just fists.
Hizashi was caught off guard.
At close range, he couldn't activate Rotation.
He had no choice but to counterattack.
Akira's punch landed first.
Fast. Heavy. Chakra-loaded.
Hizashi's instincts screamed danger.
His attack collapsed into a guard, arms crossing.
"Crushing Fist!"
BOOM!
Hizashi flew backward.
Akira pursued instantly, feet pounding the ground.
He leapt—
Leg rising high.
Hizashi's face changed.
His arms were numb.
"This isn't Gentle Fist—this is Strong Fist!"
CRASH!
The kick slammed into him.
Hizashi hit the ground hard.
Eyes rolling back—
He lost consciousness.
[EXP +512]
Akira nodded in satisfaction.
He checked his panel.
[Chakra: 30 / 120]
Almost empty.
But—
[Experience Pool: 1965]
[Level Progress: 160 / 2000]
Enough.
With his chakra this low, continuing was pointless.
Without hesitation, Akira poured all stored experience into leveling.
"Level up."