Deep in the trees, Neji folded his arms across his chest.
"Let me make one thing clear first," he said coolly. "I've never considered you an enemy. Only as the opponent I must surpass. Nothing more."
"Competition is a good thing," Souma replied, waving it off. "Only when we push each other do we grow faster."
He smiled faintly.
"I don't see you as an enemy either. I'm not here to argue philosophy. I'm here to make a deal."
"A deal?"
Neji blinked.
All the way from the clearing into the forest, he'd wrestled with a dozen different explanations in his head. Pride, resentment, fate… how to phrase it, how not to sound weak.
And in the end?
The guy just wanted to… trade?
"I want your help verifying tenketsu positions and acupoint strikes," Souma said. "In return, I'll teach you a technique I'm certain you'll be interested in."
"A technique I'll be interested in?"
Neji frowned.
Something that would catch his interest…
Unless…
"Yeah," Souma said lightly. "You could call it a variant of Gentle Fist, in a way. I just finished putting it together."
"Gentle Fist? Impossible."
Neji's expression went cold in an instant.
In his mind, no one outside the Hyūga clan could possibly develop a Gentle Fist–type technique. It was their bloodline's exclusive domain.
"Let me give you a simple demonstration."
Souma narrowed his eyes, stepped to the side, and slapped a nearby tree trunk with his palm.
Thump.
A dull impact rang out.
Neji activated his Byakugan on reflex.
His veins bulged at his temples as his vision pierced through bark and wood—and his calm shattered.
The tree's surface only showed a tiny, needle-sized hole.
But inside?
The fibers were shredded and twisted apart, like they'd been caught in a violent vortex and torn to pieces.
If that had been a human body instead of a tree…
Organs, bones, meridians—none of it would get off lightly.
What a terrifying technique…
He stood there, saying nothing for a long moment.
Several seconds passed before he finally looked back at Souma.
"…Why?"
"Mm?"
"Why can you do this?" Neji's voice grew tight. "You're just a commoner. Your fate, your status, your path… they shouldn't allow—"
He choked on the words.
It was true. He hadn't really thought of Souma as an 'enemy' per se—more like an aberration. A mutated point in the line of destiny he hated so much.
But every time he thought he'd grasped the limits of that aberration…
Souma would step out of the shadows and redraw the boundary.
Over and over.
He couldn't make sense of it.
"'Fate,' huh?" Souma tilted his head. "If you've already accepted fate, why bother training so hard?"
"Because I—"
"What, you were going to say you're a 'born genius'? Even geniuses have to train." Souma cut him off with a shrug. "Otherwise, why aren't you still sleeping at home?"
"…"
Neji's jaw tightened.
"Anyway," Souma said, "I'm not here to make you change your worldview. Trying to 'talk someone out of their beliefs' is kid stuff. Let's just stick to the deal."
Neji fell silent again.
After a long breath, he let it out slowly.
"You want to learn point striking? But you can't see tenketsu. How do you expect to hit them?"
"I can make a rough guess," Souma answered. "Besides, there's something I want to test."
Neji stared at him for a moment.
"I don't believe you," he said honestly. "But… go ahead."
The veins at his temples bulged again.
Byakugan: activated.
Up close, it was always a little unsettling—pale eyes, vascular lines along his temples.
The first time Souma had seen it, he'd almost flinched.
Now, he was used to it.
He thought for a second, then extended a finger and tapped a point on Neji's upper body.
"How about that one?"
"…You… really know?"
Neji's eyes widened.
He'd doubted it at first. But this positioning—this angle—
For someone without Byakugan to just guess this precisely?
"How about this point?" Souma tapped a spot on Neji's abdomen.
"A bit to the right."
Souma adjusted. "Now?"
"Too far left."
"Up."
"Down, half a finger."
They repeated this over and over.
Neji reported the deviations; Souma corrected and recorded.
Before long, Neji simply turned his own body into a living diagram, pointing out exact tenketsu and double-checking Souma's approximations.
He really was a genius.
Even most Hyūga branch members at Neji's age couldn't perfectly locate tenketsu with their Byakugan yet. Only the main family typically received that level of focused training.
But Neji already could.
With his help, Souma quickly finished mapping the major acupoints he needed.
"Alright," Souma said. "Let me test another variant. Watch the effect for me."
"…Fine."
Neji nodded.
Souma crooked a finger.
Thin, glimmering chakra threads burst from his fingertips—dozens at once—shooting toward Neji like a cloud of invisible needles.
These weren't refined enough to cut.
They were just solid and numerous.
They peppered Neji's body in a rapid barrage.
Some points got brushed once or twice.
Others were swarmed with over a dozen hits.
In an instant, eight tenketsu closed.
Neji staggered, eyes wide.
"You can use chakra threads… to hit acupoints?"
Now he understood Souma's idea.
Even if you couldn't perfectly see every tenketsu, you could still approximate most of them. And with a large enough number of "shots," random distribution plus rough positioning—
"What's so surprising?" Souma asked blandly. "You Hyūga have Byakugan handed to you from birth, and yet you cling to the same old forms and don't innovate at all."
He shrugged.
"Anyway, thanks for your help."
Neji's lips moved, but no words came out.
He wanted to argue.
To tell Souma he didn't understand the burden of the clan, the weight of tradition.
But when he thought about it…
The Hyūga had been using the same Gentle Fist patterns for generations.
No new forms.
No new ideas.
Just the same old Eight Trigrams Two Palms, Four Palms, Eight Palms, Sixteen Palms…
His fist clenched so hard his knuckles whitened.
Souma turned to leave—then paused.
"Oh, right. I demonstrated it once already. You've memorized it, haven't you?"
"…"
A faint blush crept across Neji's face.
"No?"
Souma sighed. "Then watch one more time. It's not that complicated. First, compress chakra to a very high density and drive it in. Once it's inside, force it to expand and spin."
As he spoke, he shaped a tight ball of chakra in his palm, pushing it forward slowly in the air, outlining both the motion and the flow.
Neji watched intently, then nodded.
"I've got it."
"Great. Try it once."
Souma stepped back.
Neji focused, simulated the principle in his mind… and thrust his palm at a nearby tree.
Boom!
The chakra detonated in a messy blast against the bark.
Neji stared at the ugly, shallow crater, expression stiff.
"Keep practicing," Souma said. "Worst-case, fall back on what you just did—charge the chakra in and let it explode outright."
He was patient about it.
But in the end, he couldn't resist grumbling:
"And seriously, what's with your Hyūga forms—Two Palms, Four Palms, Eight Palms… You've got all those fancy numbers. Maybe try optimizing the power sometime?"
"I…"
Neji's hands trembled.
He was so angry his whole body was tight—
And yet, he had no rebuttal.
Which just made him angrier.
"Anyway," Souma said, waving over his shoulder, "we'll work together again if there's a chance."
He headed back in the direction of Rock Lee and Mami.
Neji tried the technique a few more times.
Each failure frustrated him more.
What kind of "genius" are you supposed to be?!
He fumed silently.
But after sulking a bit, his thoughts gradually cleared.
He suddenly realized what Souma's real message had been.
The original move was too hard.
Mastery difficulty: at least A+.
But did a Hyūga like him really need to duplicate it exactly?
No.
He didn't need to copy Souma's version.
He just needed to absorb the idea and turn it into something that belonged to him.
For example…
What if he merged the concept of compressed, explosive chakra into the Eight Trigrams?
Rather than trying to recreate Souma's vortex palm exactly, he could—
Enhance the power of the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms.
Neji's mindset shifted in an instant.
Outside, Souma was guiding Lee and Mami.
Compared to Neji, those two were… challenging, to put it kindly.
Their talent in pure Taijutsu was extraordinary.
Their talent for comprehending abstract principles… nowhere near Neji's league.
Their learning curve looked more like they were trying to climb a cliff with their teeth.
Fortunately, Souma wasn't going to be their stand-in instructor for long.
By afternoon, Might Guy would probably be back on his feet.
Souma perched on a tree branch between drills, writing out his reports.
By dusk, he walked Lee and the others to the hospital to visit Guy.
After that, he headed straight for the Hokage's office with the documents in hand.
Two reports.
Both crucial.
Especially the Gentle Fist–type technique.
Souma had a small plan—
He wanted to use this technique as a lever to pry open the doors of the Hyūga clan.
For all their rigidity, the Hyūga were still a great clan, with deep foundations in knowledge and training.
Even if they didn't trade him any secret techniques outright, just having access to their perspective and resources would give him plenty to work with.
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