After returning to the village, Hyuga Satoru once again plunged himself into his grueling training regimen.
During the mission outside, he had felt a deep, gnawing anxiety—an awareness that powerful enemies lurked somewhere in the world, while he was wasting time on incomplete, inconclusive missions. The thought filled him with frustration.
His understanding of this world went far beyond that of those around him. He didn't fear the emergence of strong foes. What he feared was being too weak to face them when the time came.
That was why he pushed himself so relentlessly—to ensure that when that day arrived, he wouldn't regret every moment of idleness.
He would give everything he had to become stronger.
Even if one day he fell in battle, he would do so without regret.
To have given his all—that alone was enough.
At Training Ground No. 3 of the Hidden Leaf Village, Satoru was sparring with Might Guy.
If joining a squad had brought him any tangible benefit, it was this—the change in his training partners.
In the Hyuga compound, he had always sparred with fellow clan members. Their taijutsu was all founded on the Gentle Fist, and while the opponents might change, the movements never truly did. Their fighting styles were predictable, patterned, and familiar.
But once he began training with Guy, everything was different.
Might Guy was the very definition of Hard Fist—his attacks were wild, powerful, and full of motion. Even though he held back his strength against Satoru, his fighting rhythm was completely unlike that of any Hyuga. Every bout with him was fresh and exhilarating.
Guy's taijutsu was among the best in all of Konoha. Even compared to the elite clans, there were few who could surpass him in pure close combat.
And through every exchange, Satoru was learning—not just the physical movements, but Guy's unique sense for rhythm and battle.
Thud!
A heavy impact echoed across the training ground. Guy lunged forward with explosive speed, sweeping his leg low. His kick slammed into Satoru's shin, knocking him off balance. Before Satoru could recover, Guy's hand blade came slashing toward his midsection.
Just before the blow landed, Satoru vanished in a flicker of light—using the Flying Thunder God Technique to teleport several meters away.
But even that wasn't enough to escape completely. The residual shock from Guy's strike sent him tumbling across the grass, rolling several times before he managed to stop. Dust and bits of grass clung to his clothes, leaving him looking rather disheveled.
Guy, however, didn't press the attack. Standing tall, he waved his hand in encouragement.
Continue.
When sparring with Guy, Satoru never used Gentle Fist. The goal wasn't to defeat Guy or to prove his own superiority—it was to refine his body. To force it, through countless repetitions, to remember pain, danger, instinct.
To teach his muscles to react before his mind did.
If he could make that reflex second nature, then even against someone like Uchiha Obito, his body would move on its own—instinctively dodging and countering before his brain even processed the threat.
At the edge of the field, Uchiha Shisui and Aburame Shibi sat cross-legged on the grass, watching the match. Between them lay a tray of tea and small cakes.
Since their failed mission, nearly a month had passed without any new assignments.
Both Shibi and Guy were jonin, while Shisui was a chunin. Under the shadow of the Third Great Ninja War, they had all once been extremely busy—spending most of their days on missions, and the rest recovering at home or in the hospital.
But since forming a squad with Satoru, they had experienced something rare: a stretch of calm, uneventful days.
Once a team was officially formed, the Hokage's office typically wouldn't separate its members for ad hoc missions unless absolutely necessary.
And despite the lull, none of them grew distant. In fact, the downtime brought them closer—Satoru often invited Guy and Shisui to spar, and after a month of near-daily training, the four of them had become quite familiar with one another's abilities.
"Satoru's stamina really is incredible," Shibi said, sipping his tea as he watched. "He's been sparring with Guy for ages and still doesn't look winded."
"This kid… he's something else."
A ninja's endurance was far beyond that of ordinary people—that was common sense. But for someone Satoru's age to possess this level of stamina was nearly unnatural.
Even Shisui and Shibi couldn't match his endurance. In their squad, only Guy could keep up with him.
"People call him a prodigy," Shisui said quietly, "but I don't think anyone besides us really understands how much effort—and how much pain—he puts in behind that title."
There was a hint of sorrow in his eyes as he watched Satoru fight.
After spending so much time together, Shisui had come to view Satoru like a younger brother. His relentless drive didn't make Shisui think him talented—it only made him worry how much weight the boy was carrying.
He believed Satoru's pressure came from the title of genius, from the expectations of the Hyuga clan's honor—not realizing that Satoru's struggle came from something much deeper: his desperation to survive.
"Hard work pays off," Shibi murmured. "Learning that technique is proof enough, isn't it?"
As if on cue, Satoru and Guy exchanged a flurry of blows. Then, with a sharp retreat, Satoru pulled back several meters, hands clenched into fists.
A surge of chakra erupted from his body, spiraling outward in a miniature cyclone.
"Eight Gates Released Formation—Gate of Opening!"
The air around him trembled. Chakra whipped outward in a wave as Satoru's figure blurred—and vanished.
Guy grinned. He had expected this. Straightening his stance, he released his own full strength and clashed head-on with Satoru's afterimage.
The Eight Gates!
This was the fruit of Satoru's month-long training.
He had become fascinated by the technique after reading about it in the sealing scrolls—and once his friendship with Guy deepened, he openly expressed his desire to learn it.
Guy, ever passionate and open-hearted, hadn't hesitated. Since Satoru already understood the theory, Guy taught him everything he knew, guiding him through the brutal regimen required to awaken it.
The Eight Gates technique functioned by opening specific chakra nodes throughout the body—releasing the natural limiters that constrained one's physical potential.
For someone from the Hyuga clan, whose training centered on controlling chakra flow through the body, the process was seamless.
And Satoru's body, as it turned out, was far stronger than he had ever imagined.
In just over a month, he had successfully opened the First Gate—the Gate of Opening, freeing the brain's natural restraints.
As for the remaining gates—Satoru believed he could open them too.
But Guy was adamant: at Satoru's age, pushing beyond the Rest Gate could permanently damage his body, draining his potential. He forbade it outright.
And so, for now, Satoru treated the Gate of Opening as one of his regular battle techniques—a foundation for future growth, and a step toward the strength he sought.
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