"Damnit, another failure. Is even a basic jutsu this hard to master?"
It was his fifth attempt at performing a clone. Hiroshi's irritation grew as he crossed his arms in contemplation. Itachi did it in one try in the anime. He was supposed to be a genius as well. What was he doing wrong? The hand seals were correct, the chakra felt stable, yet the clone always dissipated in a blink, or came out with slight deformations.
While simmering in his frustration, an idea sparked.
He pushed open his door and stepped into the hall, spotting a passing guard.
"Mind showing me your Clone Jutsu?" Hiroshi asked, his tone calm but assertive.
The guard blinked but obeyed, performing the jutsu flawlessly as an identical clone of him appeared in a burst of smoke.
"Again."
The guard performed it once more.
"Again."
The guard repeated the jutsu with the same precision.
Hiroshi watched intently through his Byakugan, tracking the flow of chakra. He carefully followed the invisible currents shaping each creation.
By the time the demonstration ended, a sharp pain pricked at his eyes — a familiar ache from overusing his Byakugan. He rubbed them, muttering, "Low chakra reserves... I need to figure out how to train the Byakugan properly, strengthen it without this backlash."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
'Take control of the chakra. Shape it gently, don't force it.'
With a surge of focus, he moved his hands through the seals. A perfect clone shimmered into existence beside him, flickering but stable.
He smiled. The first clone.
"Thank you," he said quietly, and the guard nodded before heading off on his rounds.
Back in his room, Hiroshi practiced the Clone Technique relentlessly, the movements gradually becoming fluid and natural. With each repetition, the clone lasted longer, became sharper, until finally—flawless. A perfect, stable clone exactly as it should be.
He paused and smiled before glancing at the sun filtering through his window.
There was still a few hours left in the day, time to move on.
The 8 Gates technique wasn't available to him—not yet. Too advanced and dangerous for now, but it didn't hurt to begin the physical conditioning required for it.
'If I can strengthen my body now, maybe when the time comes, I'll be ready.
He stretched his arms. Physical endurance, stamina, and strength—these were as important as mastering jutsu.
Hiroshi stepped outside into the crisp afternoon air. The village was quiet, the soft rustle of leaves the only sound accompanying his steady footsteps.
He started with a slow jog, focusing on steady breathing and rhythm. 'Endurance first,' he decided. The path wound through the outskirts of Konoha, giving him space to push his limits.
After several laps, he breathlessly transitioned into basic exercises — push-ups, sit-ups, and squats. Simple, but effective.
His muscles ached with the satisfying burn of effort—a sign that progress was being made. He trained with care, pushing his limits without crossing them
Between sets, he paused to catch his breath and let his mind wander.
Then it hit him. He blinked, slapped his forehead, and muttered under his breath. "Of course. There is a way to get stronger right now—the Rasengan. Am I dense in the head? How could I forget about that?"
He replayed the steps in his mind, recalling what he'd seen in the anime. The swirling, compressed chakra sphere formed entirely through pure chakra control, no hand seals needed. A powerful A-rank technique.
He recalled Jiraiya had trained Naruto to master the technique in three steps.
First, rotate the chakra fast enough to pop a water balloon.
Second, build the power strong enough to pop a rubber ball.
Finally, combine that speed and power with precise control to create the swirling chakra motion inside a balloon, without popping it.
Hiroshi knew mastering those steps would be grueling, but the technique's potential made it well worth the effort. He made a mental note to secure the necessary materials to begin training it as soon as possible.
Hiroshi was just finishing his thoughts on the Rasengan when a calm voice called from the doorway.
"Hiroshi."
He turned to see Hizashi Hyūga standing there, his expression steady and composed.
"Uncle Hizashi," Hiroshi greeted with a hint of surprise.
Hizashi nodded once, his eyes sharp. "The clan head sent me. You need proper training if you're going to reach your full potential. I'll be your trainer from now on."
Hiroshi's surprise gave way to understanding. Hizashi was an elite jonin, one of the clan's best. His training would be invaluable.
"Thank you, Uncle Hizashi. I'm honored you'll be training me." Hiroshi bowed lightly in respect.
Hizashi gave a curt nod and smiled. "Come. I'll show you what proper Hyūga training looks like."
He led Hiroshi out to the open training field, the air crisp and charged with anticipation.
Without wasting time, Hizashi began demonstrating the Gentle Fist in its expert form—each precise strike targeting the training dummies' chakra points with deadly efficiency.
Hiroshi watched intently as Hizashi moved fluidly through a series of Hyūga clan taijutsu techniques, their grace and power evident even in the simplest of movements.
Hizashi paused, eyes sharp. "The Gentle Fist is more than just strikes. It is mastery over the flow of chakra and precise power combined, one of Konoha's strongest taijutsu arts, unique to our clan.
He fixed Hiroshi with a steady gaze before taking a battle stance. "Show me what you know. Attack."
Hiroshi nodded, gritting his teeth as he lunged forward, delivering four perfectly aimed palm strikes, each targeting key chakra points. Hizashi easily countered, blocking and redirecting with precision, his movements a demonstration of expert form. Then, with a calm motion, he beckoned Hiroshi closer with his fingers, inviting him to continue.
Encouraged, Hiroshi pushed himself harder. Eight strikes followed in quick succession, his breathing growing heavier as he tried his best to pierce through the impregnable defence. Hizashi met each blow, parrying smoothly, never breaking his calm stance.
Summoning every ounce of strength and focus, Hiroshi forced himself onward—sixteen precise blows, each strike sharper and more determined than the last. His arms trembled, chest rising and falling with the effort as he failed to land a clean hit.
Hizashi stepped back, a hint of approval in his expression. " Eight Trigrams: Sixteen Palms at your age. Impressive. Your potential is no joke."
A faint smirk played across his face. "Now, let me show you the real power of the Gentle Fist. Prepare to defend yourself and watch closely. First-hand experience will always trump rote practice."
He began with four palm strikes, each one precise and deliberate. Hiroshi felt the sharp sting as Hizashi's blows targeted key chakra points, momentarily disrupting his flow. Hiroshi barely managed to block one before Hizashi easily countered every move, his movements a demonstration of expert form.
Hizashi's voice was steady. "Show me what you got, I'll go faster this time."
Hiroshi tensed, bracing himself. Hizashi launched into eight palm strikes this time—harder, and much faster. Beads of sweat trickled down Hiroshi's forehead as he tried to anticipate the blows, but many landed cleanly, sending sharp jolts through his body. He could barely keep up. His defenses faltered, and his chakra points felt stinging heat as they were disrupted one by one.
"Now, sixteen palms," Hizashi said, voice calm but resolute.
Hiroshi's breath quickened, his muscles trembling as Hizashi's relentless barrage came faster and stronger. His arms shook as he tried to block, but he could no longer defend effectively. Each strike sealed his chakra pathways, and he felt his movements slow under the weight of the precise blows. The sweat continued to pour down his face, but he pushed himself to withstand the onslaught.
"Thirty-two palms," Hizashi announced, voice steady.
The attacks were untrackable now, each blow a piercing strike to Hiroshi's chakra network. His body was flooded with sharp bursts of pain and tingling numbness as more chakra points were sealed. His defenses crumbled under the relentless pressure, and he struggled to stay upright. Every muscle screamed in protest.
Hizashi nodded with approval. Then his expression shifted, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Now, prepare yourself for sixty-four palms. I'll hold back—no real harm. Try your best to keep up."
Hizashi unleashed a rapid barrage of sixty-four strikes, each landing with unerring accuracy. Hiroshi's body was overwhelmed; chakra points sealed in quick succession left him unable to move, pinned beneath the expert onslaught.
Despite the paralysis and pain, Hiroshi marveled at Hizashi's grace and control. When the barrage stopped, he gasped, breathless as he fell to the ground.
"Thank you for the lesson," Hiroshi choked out, eyes shining with newfound respect.
Hizashi chuckled warmly before releasing Hiroshi's chakra points and dusting him off. "You're welcome. My newborn son Neji is just starting life—I hope he grows up to be as humble and respectful as you are."
Hiroshi nodded respectfully at Hizashi's mention of his newborn son.
A shadow crossed his mind — the knowledge of Neji's tragic destiny, cut short far too soon. Then his thoughts drifted to his father, the clan head, and how Hizashi had to sacrifice himself in Hiashi's stead after Hinata's kidnapping..
'But Hinata isn't even born yet.' Hiroshi reminded himself. There was still time—time to change the course of things.
He glanced at Hizashi's warm smile. It was comforting, his father rarely looked at him like that. That smile sparked something deep inside him.
The thought settled in his mind—he needed to do everything he could to change Konoha's future.
"One step at a time," he whispered to himself again.