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Pat*eon : Belamy20
Naruto: Uchiha Shiroge Rebellion
Hyūga Hizashi's brows snapped together. His Byakugan calculated the exchange in a heartbeat: his pressure-point strike might wreck the samurai's kidney, but that monster haymaker would smash his own skull at the exact same moment and knock him out cold.
In a flash he yanked his right hand back, arched his upper body like a reed bending in the wind, and exploded chakra through his feet to retreat.
But the instant Hizashi committed to that backward lean—old force spent, new force not yet gathered—
Isshin's right side, the one that looked wide open after the punch, suddenly relaxed. His sword hand opened.
Clang.
The katana hit the ground with a soft ring almost lost in the noise.
The next heartbeat, his empty right palm flipped and the ugly, short-barreled pistol reappeared like a magic trick—cold metal gleaming.
The black muzzle was already aimed dead-center at Hizashi from less than fifteen feet away while the Hyūga was still mid-retreat, body momentarily stalled.
Every heart in the stands clenched.
Not this shit again?!
"Dirty bastard!"
"Shameless! Pulling that again?!"
"No honor at all!"
"Jonin Hizashi, watch out!"
Shocked curses and roars detonated across the seats.
Hizashi's Byakugan saw everything: the hammer cocking, the powder flash igniting inside the barrel.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Seven muzzle flashes spat fire in rapid succession. Seven bullets tore through the air at blinding speed, stitching a lethal curtain straight at Hizashi.
At the exact same instant, Isshin's foot slammed the ground again. Stone shattered. The massive samurai charged like a raging beast, riding right behind the bullet storm.
What the hell kind of gun fires that fast?!
The same thought that had hit Kawano yesterday flashed through Hizashi's mind.
But he proved exactly why he was a Hyūga clan jonin. He killed the backward lean, hands blurring into a storm of afterimages.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Seven soft but crystal-clear impacts overlapped into one.
Hizashi's palms wove a dizzying web of pale-blue chakra—flicking, guiding, pinching, cradling. Every single bullet was caught: pinched between fingers, clamped in palms, or balanced on open hands.
Bare-handed bullet catching.
The whole thing happened faster than most eyes could track, yet looked effortless.
He flicked the rounds aside. They clattered across the stone with metallic pings.
"He caught them! He actually caught them bare-handed!"
"Holy shit, that's insane!"
"That's a Hyūga jonin for you!"
The stands erupted in stunned cheers. The jaw-dropping display even drowned out the fresh wave of rage at Isshin's dirty trick.
But the real danger had only just begun. Catching the bullets had cost Hizashi a fraction of a second and a sliver of focus.
Isshin's hurricane of fists and kicks was already on top of him.
Hizashi's face hardened. His hands turned to open palms again. Gentle Fist flowed—blocking, redirecting, parrying, guiding—deflecting every brutal punch, elbow, and knee.
The sharp crack of palm against fist filled the arena. The two figures blurred and clashed at blinding speed, the fight turning vicious.
The longer they traded blows, the more frustrated Hizashi grew. Every time he tried to break the samurai's rhythm with a clean Gentle Fist strike, the man answered with reckless, "I'll trade hits" savagery that forced Hizashi to stay on the defensive.
This guy's taijutsu is monstrous too?!
The crowd could barely keep up.
"His punches are so fast—so heavy! Hizashi's having to dodge the worst of it!"
"Yeah, but so what? Hizashi caught his bullets! Gentle Fist will—"
The confident shout never finished.
"Ugh!"
A short, pained grunt cut through the arena.
In the middle of another blistering exchange—bodies close, techniques spent—Isshin's right leg suddenly stomped down like a street-brawler cheap shot, crushing the toes of Hizashi's forward foot.
He stomped on his toes?!
A move straight out of a playground fight, completely beneath two elite taijutsu masters—yet it worked instantly.
"Cheap shot!"
"How the hell do you stomp on someone's toes?!"
"That's kid stuff! So damn shameless!"
The stands lost it. Villagers were stunned by the sudden shift from high-level combat to playground dirty tricks, then exploded with fresh disgust.
Isshin didn't care. He only needed that split-second opening.
His eyes flashed. The instant Hizashi's rhythm broke from the pain, the samurai's right leg—still planted on those toes—didn't even retract. The knee snapped up like a cannon shell, driving straight into Hizashi's lowered, wide-open midsection with unstoppable force.
If it landed clean, the fight's tempo would belong to Isshin from then on.
In that critical moment, Hizashi's chakra detonated like a bomb.
Gentle Fist: Rotation!
Chakra erupted from every point on his body in a dense, pale-blue storm. His feet spun at insane speed in a tiny circle.
The surging chakra spiraled outward, forming an impenetrable, high-speed rotating sphere that swallowed him whole.
Isshin's savage knee slammed straight into the sudden absolute defense.
BOOM!
The impact sent chakra exploding outward. Rotation's insane spin and counter-force kicked in at full power.
Isshin felt the violent twisting rebound shoot up his leg. His massive frame staggered back several steps, momentum broken, body momentarily frozen with a wide-open guard.
"YES! It's the Hyūga clan's Rotation!"
"Hah! That's absolute defense! No matter how strong he is, it's useless!"
"Hyūga jonin, baby!"
Cheers and relieved shouts rolled across the stands.