Now that they'd earned enough money, it was time to spend it where it mattered.
For Hinata, the entire purpose of making money was to brute-force her way to power through sheer financial investment. Sasuke and Naruto probably didn't know what "pay-to-win" meant, but their goal was the same.
One word summed it all up: get stronger.
The method was as crude as it was brutal—push the body past its limits through agonizing ordeals, then repair and reinforce the damage with expensive medicinal compounds. Strictly speaking, it was extremely effective. Its only drawbacks were twofold: first, the pain and physical toll were staggering, beyond what anyone without ironclad willpower could endure. Second, the cost of herbs and equipment was astronomical.
"We've all passed the first gate of the South Dipper Sacred Fists, but only we know how much we've actually improved. So I'm keeping my promise—the second gate starts now."
Hinata frowned at the equipment laid out before her. It was roughly fifty thousand ryō worth of gear purchased from various markets. Simple in concept, really.
"Pots?? And... is that iron sand?"
Naruto circled the three massive iron cauldrons with a baffled expression. These heavy-duty cooking vessels were designed for preparing large quantities of food—each one big enough to chop Naruto up and stew him whole.
But instead of ingredients, the cauldrons were filled to the brim with fine black iron sand. The dark granules looked almost like a solid mass, giving off the dense, heavy feel unique to metal.
"The South Dipper Sacred Fists combine taijutsu and ninjutsu, with the early stages emphasizing physical conditioning. This iron sand is for tempering our fists to the next level."
Hinata scooped up a handful and nodded with satisfaction. Money well spent—the sand's grain was extremely fine, which would produce better training results.
"But can just punching an inanimate object really make you stronger?"
Sasuke's brow furrowed. He didn't think much of these iron sand cauldrons. But having survived the electric-chair ordeal in the first phase—and feeling a genuine improvement in his chakra control and ninjutsu execution afterward—he was willing to reserve judgment.
"Don't underestimate them. The manual is crystal clear: once you pass the second gate—meaning you can strike the iron sand without injuring your hands—you'll have the raw power to kill with your bare fists. Besides..."
Hinata stepped back and pointed to the apparatus beneath each cauldron. "This isn't ordinary iron sand. Each cauldron has been modified to match a different elemental attribute."
Just as she described, each of the three cauldrons had additional equipment installed underneath. The center cauldron sat atop a small fuel-oil burner. Once ignited, it would heat the entire vessel—iron sand included—to temperatures capable of charring human flesh within minutes.
The left cauldron was wired to a simple diesel generator. One flip of the switch sent a thousand-watt current surging through the sand.
The right cauldron's setup was more complex. Beside it sat a modified diesel-powered mixer—the kind normally used for cement—with its blades buried in the sand at the bottom. When activated, the blades churned the iron sand into a grinding, rotating maelstrom.
"You won't be punching ordinary iron sand. Each cauldron has been augmented with a physical analogue of a chakra nature. For the Flame-Slaying Fist, you strike sand heated until it can char bone. For the Thunder-Burial Fist, you punch sand carrying high-voltage current. For the Wind-Sacrifice Fist, you hit sand in constant, grinding rotation—like wind made solid."
Hinata surveyed the three cauldrons. Even she felt uncertain.
The core concept was sound—this was a legitimate iron-palm training method. Practitioners tempered their hands by striking iron sand, progressively building the toughness and power needed to shatter stone with bare palms.
And because the Naruto world had chakra, Hinata had added these elemental modifications. She could already handle red-hot charcoal barehanded without burning herself, thanks to the protective sheath of chakra coating her hands.
So heating the iron sand was simply the next evolution. The same logic applied to Sasuke's and Naruto's cauldrons.
Sasuke could endure five hundred volts because his body had learned—through the agony of repeated electrocution—to use chakra to resist external current. Naruto could leap across a twenty-meter waterfall because he'd instinctively mastered the art of distributing chakra throughout his body to ride air currents.
This advanced training would teach them to concentrate chakra specifically in their hands, building devastating offensive power.
But sound theory didn't mean zero risk.
Iron sand might technically be "sand," but it possessed the hardness and sharpness of metal. Driving a fist deep into it required explosive force and physical toughness beyond imagination.
And Hinata had made these cauldrons far worse than ordinary iron sand.
Take her heated cauldron. Stick a raw chicken leg in and pull it out, and the thing would come out crispy on the outside and tender on the inside. The temperature of heated iron sand was leagues beyond charcoal—and the sand would cling to skin, inflicting sustained burn damage. Without concentrating chakra at extreme density across the palm's surface, even withdrawing the hand wouldn't stop the burning.
Sasuke's electrified cauldron was equally savage. Though this phase didn't require prolonged exposure, the instant a hand touched that high-voltage sand, the limb would go numb and limp. Even if you blocked the initial shock, you'd have no strength left to actually drive your fist through the hard-packed iron sand—unless you could completely nullify the electricity.
Naruto's rotating sand cauldron looked safest but was anything but. Fine iron sand spinning at high speed generated terrifying cutting and friction forces. Brief contact might be harmless, but sustained contact would let the sand burrow into skin and muscle, grinding flesh and bone to nothing before you even noticed.
Burning, paralysis, shredding—the quintessential traits of fire, lightning, and wind. Hinata understood perfectly well that this phase of training was exponentially more dangerous than the first.
"I see... No wonder it's a sealed, forbidden technique. This level of difficulty is on a completely different plane from ordinary ninjutsu."
A rare glint of fervor sparked in Sasuke's dark eyes. The Uchiha clan's second young master showed no trace of fear—or perhaps the beginner-level electric chair had already fried his brain.
"Ehh~ Doesn't look that hard... Just punch your fist into the sand, right? Is that really worth training for?"
Naruto scratched his whisker marks with open disdain. Konoha's crown prince was simply too slow on the uptake to realize how dangerous this was going to be.
"Heh heh heh... Think it's easy or impossible, I don't care. The second gate requires driving your fist deep into the iron sand to pass. Let's see how we all do."
Hinata rolled her wrist and lit the fuel burner beneath her cauldron. Hungry flames roared from the nozzle, licking the heavy iron base, and within ten minutes the sand had taken on a dull, ominous darkness. As metal, it betrayed no visible sign of danger—but its temperature had already reached bone-charring levels.
"Tch."
Sasuke snorted at Hinata's challenge and flicked on his generator. Whatever this training was, you had to try it to know.
Naruto eyed his own cauldron with a frown. He found this kind of training mind-numbingly boring. But Hinata and Sasuke had already committed, leaving him no choice but to join in.
It should be over pretty quick, right? The ever-optimistic Naruto reassured himself as he started his mixer.
Reality proved, as always, that when you tempted fate, even surviving didn't mean you'd come out unscathed.
Moonset, sunrise. Konoha's second morning arrived swiftly, villagers trickling through the streets for their various purposes. Students gathered at the Ninja Academy gates—but today was different. Iruka stood at the classroom door, fuming, ready to intercept.
"Finally caught you! If you'd skipped again today, I was going to hunt you down one by one!"
He glared at the five students lined up before him, steam practically shooting from his nostrils. "Hinata! Sasuke! Naruto! Shikamaru! Choji! What do you have to say for yourselves?!"
"Iruka-sensei, you're such a nag~ We're here today, aren't we?"
Naruto spoke first, and Iruka nearly blew a gasket. "Fine! Then you can all stand in the hallway! I'll give you a special makeup lesson after class!"
He slammed the classroom door shut, leaving five bewildered faces staring at each other in the corridor.
"Knew this would happen..."
Shikamaru stifled a yawn. Dark circles ringed his eyes like raccoon markings—bearing an uncanny resemblance to his future brother-in-law Gaara. He'd clearly pulled an all-nighter.
"...Barbecue... apparently doesn't agree with me after all..."
Choji clutched his stomach, his face an unhealthy shade of greenish-white. Shikamaru supplied the context with a flat aside: "Barbecue is fine. But you inhaled twenty kilograms of it in one sitting. The fact that you survived without dying on the toilet is proof you've got an iron stomach."
Indeed—flush with yesterday's windfall, Choji had celebrated with a barbecue feast of epic proportions. Eating twenty kilograms of grilled meat in one go had landed him in Konoha Hospital that same evening, where he'd spent the night on an IV drip before being discharged.
Shikamaru and Choji exchanged a glance, then simultaneously turned to examine the other three.
"Hold on—you three are awfully quiet today."
Shikamaru raised an eyebrow and studied Naruto. Normally the dead-last would've jumped at the chance to pile onto Choji, but today he was uncharacteristically silent.
And on closer inspection, something was very wrong with his complexion. An unnatural grayish pallor hung over his face, and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
"Hey! Naruto, are you okay?"
Choji had noticed too. Whatever was going on, it was clearly caused by severe pain.
"I'm fine... just... my hands still hurt a little..."
Naruto forced a smile, teeth chattering faintly as he answered. Only now was it apparent that both his hands were wrapped in thick bandages. Sasuke and Hinata beside him—same thing.
"...Don't worry. It's only temporary pain... Though if I'd known we'd be standing in the hallway, I wouldn't have come to school today."
Hinata murmured, equally ashen. The three of them were, without question, paying the price for yesterday's nightmare training.
She'd braced for it, but she'd still underestimated the sheer agony. Even pouring every ounce of chakra into protecting her hands, her fingers had been badly burned. The medicinal compounds she'd applied to patch the wounds helped somewhat, but the residual burns still throbbed with relentless, searing pain.
Sasuke and Naruto were no better off. The drugs accelerated tissue regeneration, which meant faster healing—but also meant the agonizing process of new flesh replacing damaged tissue was compressed and intensified.
"I'm... fine..."
Sasuke got the words out in a death-gray whisper. Then the world tilted. Darkness swept across his vision. The dark-haired boy swayed once on the spot and crumpled to the ground.
"Hey! Sasuke? Are you all right?"
Choji gaped at the fallen boy. Beside him, Naruto wobbled, then managed a thin whisper: "...Hah... that stuck-up jerk... couldn't keep it together, huh..."
The words barely left his mouth before his own vision went black. He toppled backward with a dull thud. He'd been at his limit too.
"Wait! Naruto?!"
Shikamaru's alarmed shout rang through the corridor. All traces of laziness gone, he rushed to catch Naruto, then bellowed at Choji: "Choji! Grab Sasuke—we need to get to the hospital!"
Hinata watched the scene from where she stood, a faint, breathless laugh escaping her lips. She fought to stay conscious, leaning against the wall behind her, but her own overtaxed body slowly slid down the surface until she sat on the floor.
As consciousness began to fade, she murmured with fierce, spiteful satisfaction:
"Well? You two... think you can..."
"...beat me?"