Chapter 11 — Eight Trigrams Palms Revolving Heaven
"Hyūga Ritsu, surrender now," the tall, stern-faced man warned, voice flat as iron. "If you give yourself up, only you will be punished. If you keep resisting, your parents, your friends — everyone connected to you — will be held accountable."
He stepped forward like a judge passing sentence. His name was Hyūga Masamune — a Main-house elder, a jōnin, and the de facto strongman of the Main House despite being under thirty. Among the six elders, his rank and influence came second only to the clan head.
"You little upstart," another elder spat, tone dripping with contempt. "Don't think a few flattered words about talent make you special. The Hyūga have produced geniuses for a millennium. Plenty like you have come and gone believing they could change the world. Where are they now? Who has ever truly overturned the Main-and-Branch order?"
Old Hyūga Atsushi, years past seventy but still hale in posture, looked down at Ritsu with that privileged, ancestral disdain. Likewise, the other septuagenarian elder, Hyūga Mizuki, sneered at the three youths who stood behind Ritsu. "Takuma, Akiha, Arima — what folly is this? Move away from that criminal's side, or are you planning to share his punishment?"
They expected fear. They expected desertion. Instead, the three stood their ground, unflinching — a small, stubborn line behind Ritsu. They had no intention of abandoning him.
Ritsu glanced at Shunsuke — the elder who'd rallied the Main House — and then turned to the gathered crowd. "Shunsuke," he asked lightly, "would you care to speak again?"
Shunsuke, red with fury, bellowed for Ritsu to kneel and confess. His threats rang loud but lacked the weight of conviction. The words sounded hollow from a man who had never truly bled for the clan.
Ritsu straightened. The polite smile faded from his lips as his voice hardened like winter ice. "Have you finished?" he said. "Then allow me to speak."
He stepped forward and addressed the compound, his words ringing clean and cold: "Your good life — built on sucking the blood of our Branch families — ends today. I will challenge you. I will defeat you. And when I become clan head, the Main-and-Branch system will be gone. From that day on, every Hyūga will be family. Like the Uchiha: merit rises, the strong shelter the weak, and the weak respect the strong."
His voice carried across the courtyard and into every ear. Among the spectators, reactions fractured into disbelief, hope, anger, and fury. Some hearts warmed at the daring; others bristled at the audacity. Many who had long suffered in silence felt something new stir beneath their ribs.
Masamune snorted in contempt. Without hesitation he moved — palm raised.
[Eight Trigrams Vaccum Palm]
It was the Hyūga Gentle Fist's highest-level ranged strike: compressed chakra fused with air to form a pressure shell, a concussion so violent it could shatter stone. On flesh it crushed organs and splintered bone. It was one of the few Hyūga techniques designed to strike from distance — terrifying, precise, absolute.
Masamune was not alone. Shunsuke and Hyūga Taiga, another Main-house jōnin, surged forward in perfect sync and unleashed the same technique. Their coordination spoke of planning and command — a practiced counter to any rebellion.
"Everyone's chakra flow told me exactly what you were going to do," Ritsu said, shifting into stance.
He did not look afraid. The Byakugan's white glare flickered; a cold smile traced his lips.
Ritsu pivoted on his right leg, left leg extending outward as chakra surged from every tenketsu in his body.
In an instant, his entire frame began to spin like a top, chakra roaring out from his network of meridians. The rapid rotation shaped into a shimmering, hemispherical barrier of energy — a translucent dome that pulsed with violent motion.
The incoming Eight Trigrams Vacuum Palms struck the barrier — and dissolved on impact. Not even a ripple remained.
"Rotation?"
"That's… Rotation!?"
"But that's a Main House secret technique — the so-called 'Ultimate Defense!' How could Hyūga Ritsu possibly use it!?"
The Branch members watching from the perimeter broke into gasps, disbelief and awe flooding their faces.
Even the Main House couldn't maintain composure.
"That brat—how does he know Rotation?"
"Who the hell taught him!?"
"No one would dare teach a Branch member such a secret art… he must have stolen it! The little thief must have stolen the Main House's technique!"
Hyūga Shunsuke's teeth ground audibly, his face contorted with rage.
Eight Trigrams: Palms Revolving Heaven — the pinnacle of Hyūga defensive arts, a technique said to render its user untouchable. For generations, it had been guarded as a Main House exclusive. Its mastery required perfect chakra control and balance; even among the Main House, few succeeded.
Shunsuke himself had spent a full year training it in his youth — and failed.
And now, before his eyes, a Branch-born youth executed it flawlessly.
Jealousy seared through him like acid.
"Stolen, you say?"
The chakra barrier dissipated, leaving Ritsu standing firm upon the courtyard floor — a crater ten centimeters deep carved beneath his feet from the sheer force of the rotation.
He lifted his gaze, eyes glacially calm.
"I understand," he said lightly, "that your rotted brains can't comprehend what true genius looks like. Explaining it would be a waste of breath. So—save your whining. If you have any real techniques left, bring them out."
He raised his left hand and crooked a finger — a silent dare.
Masamune's expression darkened. "Shunsuke. Taiga. Together."
The three elders' chakra flared like blue fire. Masamune stepped forward first, forming two luminous lions' heads of compressed chakra that coiled around his hands like living beasts.
He kicked off the ground, launching himself at Ritsu — the air shattering in his wake — and thrust both palms toward the young man's chest.
Gentle Step Twin Lion Fists.
A high-level technique, equal in status to Rotation — another secret reserved solely for the Main House. Unlike standard Gentle Fist strikes, the Twin Lion Fists utilized chakra shape transformation, amplifying both range and destructive power.
Even the faintest brush of those chakra lions could crush bone and rupture internal organs.
But—
Ritsu caught the attack head-on. His voice was calm, almost curious.
"Hmm… not as hard as it looks."
Chakra surged once more through his tenketsu, and brilliant azure flames spiraled around his own hands. Two fierce lion heads took shape — identical, yet brighter, sharper, and far more alive.
The air between them howled.
The old world and the new collided — and the clan watched, wide-eyed, as the prodigy they had scorned now wielded their sacred techniques better than the Main House itself.