Instructor Fujino Daikichi took a deep breath, centering himself, and called out the names of the two students stepping forward.
"Hyuga Kojunmiko versus Yuto Kamikawa! Begin!"
The two immediately clashed in fierce hand-to-hand combat. The sound of flesh striking flesh echoed across the training ground in sharp, rhythmic bursts.
Fujino nodded slightly. At this stage, before most students had learned ninjutsu, battles relied on physical prowess and shuriken accuracy. These two had solid foundations—nothing exceptional, but competent.
A moment later, Yuto pinned Kojunmiko's arm against his own neck, forcing a submission.
"Kamikawa Yuto wins," Fujino announced flatly.
From the sidelines, Hyuga Seiran watched in silence. He still hadn't tested his exact combat abilities, but he remembered last night's clash with Rin Uchiha well enough. The memory lingered—electricity still tingling in his palms.
"Next match," Fujino called out. "Hyuga Iroha versus Aoki Yamashiro."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"It's Hyuga Iroha! Yamashiro's done for."
"Yeah, she's a real Hyuga prodigy. Not some pretender."
Aoki Yamashiro stiffened at his name but walked forward anyway. He knew the odds. Hyuga Iroha was top-tier in their class—second only to Kakashi and Rin Uchiha. Beating her was a fantasy.
The match proved it instantly. Iroha activated her Byakugan, her eyes blooming white and veined, and struck with brutal precision. A single palm to Aoki's chest sent him flying backward like a discarded rag doll.
"That's the Gentle Fist?! That's incredible!"
"Did you see that? I couldn't even follow it!"
Aoki struggled to his feet, gasping. His chest throbbed where she'd struck, and his chakra felt stiff, congealed—disrupted by her technique. He stared at Hyuga Iroha in shock, wiping his mouth.
"Is that... the Gentle Fist's power?"
Hyuga Iroha smiled, chin raised, basking in the crowd's admiration. "Of course. The Gentle Fist's strength is undeniable. Not everyone in the Hyuga Clan masters it."
Seiran frowned slightly at her words. True, a Hyuga with the Byakugan and Gentle Fist techniques held massive advantages over ordinary ninjas at this stage. But he could already see the ceiling they'd hit.
The Sharingan could copy almost anything. Other kekkei genkai offered more versatility. The Gentle Fist was powerful now, but only now. Time would reveal its weaknesses.
The real problem was the Hyuga Clan itself. Bound by tradition, refusing to innovate, never producing a single Kage-level powerhouse in generations. That was why Seiran kept his distance from the clan's politics and training methods. The path he wanted to walk diverged sharply from theirs.
Fujino called several more names. Seiran watched Kakashi dismantle his opponent with pure physical skill—cleaner, more efficient than Iroha's flashy performance. The White Fang's student had clearly been trained differently. Better.
As expected of the top rookie, Seiran thought with genuine respect. Hatake Sakumo has left him far ahead of his peers.
He quickly calculated: Based on Kakashi's chakra reserves, mine are approximately 1.2 times his. The constant activity of my biomagnetic field gives me a significant advantage in capacity.
A voice cut through his thoughts like a knife.
"Hyuga Seiran versus Hyuga Iroha! Begin!"
Seiran looked up and met Iroha's cold gaze across the training ground. Her eyes narrowed with interest.
"Whoa! Two Hyugas going at it!"
"Who's your money on?"
"Iroha, obviously. Seiran's been daydreaming all day. When's he ever taken anything seriously? How could he beat her?"
Beside him, Anko Mitarashi tugged anxiously at his sleeve.
"Hey, Seiran. Don't get cocky. If you can't win, just forfeit. Losing to Hyuga Iroha isn't shameful. Getting hurt would be."
Seiran rolled his eyes.
"You have that little faith in me?"
From the crowd, Rin Uchiha's eyes flashed sharply. She locked onto him, and unlike the others, her expression held no doubt. She knew what he'd been hiding.
The two reached the center of the training ground and formed their opposition seal.
Hyuga Iroha regarded him coldly. "Seiran, I've noticed you never come to the clan training grounds to practice Gentle Fist. Let me show you what the Hyuga are truly capable of—"
"Skip the speech," Seiran cut her off smoothly.
Her expression darkened. She inhaled sharply.
"Byakugan!"
Veins bulged around her eyes like roots pushing through soil. Her pupils bloomed pure white, that eerie Hyuga stare fixed on him.
"Aren't you going to activate your Byakugan?"
"No need," Seiran shrugged.
"Arrogant!" she spat.
A palm wrapped in wind chakra struck out. Seiran turned slightly, and the blow whistled past harmlessly.
"Luck?" Iroha frowned, but struck again—faster this time. Seiran dodged without seeming to move, simply shifting his weight.
"How are you so fast?" she demanded, genuine shock crossing her face.
Even at half-speed, she realized he was dodging on pure physical reaction alone. No Byakugan. No chakra enhancement. Just instinct and speed.
The contempt in her eyes faded, replaced by wariness.
"You've surprised me," she admitted quietly. "But can you dodge this?"
Seiran raised an eyebrow.
"Gentle Fist... Eight Trigrams... Thirty-Two Palms!"
Iroha shifted into a flowing stance, hands becoming a blur as she charged forward, her aura blazing. The technique was typically reserved for chunin-level shinobi. For her to master it now proved she truly was a prodigy.
Seiran sidestepped the onslaught, moving with calculated precision. Surprise flickered across his face—genuine this time. She was faster, stronger than he'd expected.
Good, he thought with appreciation.
But that single word seemed to ignite something in Hyuga Iroha. Her face flushed red as she attacked harder, teeth gritted.
"You dare humiliate me?!"
Her anger fueled her strikes, but her stamina was already fading. The Thirty-Two Palms was her limit. Once this combination exhausted itself, she'd be vulnerable. Completely exposed.
But if she stopped now, she'd give him an opening.
I can't stop. If I do, I lose.
After dodging another palm strike, Seiran turned sideways. A flash of blue electricity crackled in his right palm as he struck her chest with thunderous force.
Lightning exploded on impact. Hyuga Iroha's body flew backward like a broken kite, slamming hard against the ground. She skidded backward, gasping.
Silence fell.
Anko Mitarashi froze completely.
Rin Uchiha's eyes widened. That technique... the same one from that night. The palm strike to the chest, sending her into the icy waters of the Naka River.
Fujino Daikichi's jaw dropped so wide he could have swallowed an orange.
Hyuga Iroha struggled to push herself up. Her chest burned where the lightning had struck, her muscles trembling uncontrollably. She wiped blood from the corner of her mouth and glared at Seiran, teeth gritted.
"Damn you! You were playing with me the entire time?!"
She couldn't comprehend it. The clan member she'd always looked down on was far stronger than her. After their last encounter, she'd talked big, felt confident. Now it was like a slap in her own face.
The clown had been her all along.