The chill of anticipation lingered in the air as Uchiha Shigure followed Hyūga Hizashi deeper into the Hyūga compound. Hizashi, his voice low and grave, had spoken earlier of "bloodline strength"—but what Shigure sensed was something even denser, a heavy scent of blood power that carried an ominous undercurrent.
So that's the strength of the Hyūga… their blood has long broken its shackles.
Shigure smiled faintly but gave no reply.
The path led them toward the heart of the Hyūga estate. Towering walls enclosed a residence unlike any other in Konoha—magnificent, austere, and brimming with the weight of centuries of tradition. The sliding doors creaked as Shigure stepped inside. Within the wide hall stood a stern figure: a broad-shouldered man with silver-gray hair, an old scar raking down across one white eye.
"Are you my grandson, Shigure?" the elder spoke at once, his voice steady but piercing. "I am the head of the Hyūga clan and your grandfather. My name is Hyūga Ieyasu."
Shigure blinked, the name catching him off guard. Ieyasu…? For an instant, a figure from the distant Warring States period flashed across his mind—a shogun who had once unified all of Japan.
But the thought faded. In this world, Hyūga Ieyasu stood not as some warlord, but as the absolute authority of one of Konoha's most powerful clans.
"The fact that you dare stand before me means you are prepared to accept blood acknowledged." Ieyasu's voice carried the gravitas of a commander, every syllable layered with the weight of heritage. He raised his chin, unflinching. "But before I recognize you, there is only one thing you must prove: your strength. Show me the Hyūga arts—not Uchiha legends, not foreign ninjutsu. Only then will you earn acknowledgement."
Shigure's brows knit faintly. "All I want is to learn about my mother. That's my truth."
"And as soon as you defeat me," Ieyasu answered sharply, cutting off his final avenue of retreat, "I will reveal everything."
It left no room for negotiation. The challenge was not only a test—it was a wall.
Shigure exhaled softly, rolling his shoulders back. "So… there's no choice but to clash. Very well."
Ieyasu gave no quarter. He barked the signal like a battlefield commander: "Are you ready? Then begin!"
"Byakugan!" The elder's veins bulged at his temples as the legendary dōjutsu bloomed into full brilliance.
But the moment his sight pierced his grandson's chakra network, his composure cracked. Ieyasu visibly flinched. Impossible… this volume…!
The chakra currents racing through Shigure's meridians raged like a tidal sea—a reserve that dwarfed ordinary jōnin, even rivaling Sarutobi Hiruzen at his prime.
And then, Shigure's own gaze ignited. The scarlet Sharingan fractured apart—not fully red, not yet—but shifting into something uncanny. The tomoe bled into the pale clarity of the Byakugan, radiant and chilling.
Ieyasu staggered, pupils trembling. This aura… ominous beyond reason. A Byakugan of such purity—it feels as though it's evolving! But… evolving into what? Is it the Sharingan advancing, or the Byakugan transcending its limit?
The confusion gnawed at even a man of Ieyasu's discipline.
Shigure smiled grimly and braced. "Come, Lord Ieyasu. Show me the true techniques of the Hyūga style!"
"Eight Trigrams—Vacuum Palm!" Ieyasu drew first blood, the thrust of his palm releasing compressed chakra that ripped the air like a spear.
But Shigure mirrored him instantly, his own Vacuum Palm surging to meet it midair. Chakra shockwaves collided and rebounded, shattering paper screens and rattling the tatami floor beneath them.
Shigure pressed forward without pause, his hand seals near-invisible in speed.
This is no ordinary child… Ieyasu's thoughts twisted in disbelief. How could one so young rival me in both Hand Seals and Taijutsu?
Their palms clashed again and again, each pushing further into the storm. But eventually, Ieyasu snarled low, closing the distance.
"You'll learn the weight of Hyūga close combat!"
His hands struck out, one after another—swift, relentless, precise.
"Two palms! Four palms! Eight… sixteen… thirty-two! Sixty-four palms!"
His shouts cracked through the hall with thunderous rhythm, a symphony of Hyūga mastery. By the final blow, all sixty-four strikes had landed, his fingers sealing Shigure's tenketsu and shutting down entire rivers of chakra within his body.
Shigure's knees buckled, his body collapsing against the floorboards. His chest burned, his breathing shallow.
"It's over," Ieyasu declared harshly, though beneath his stern expression flickered a glint of grandfatherly pride. "Grandson, you fought well. But once the Sixty-Four Palms are delivered, not even prodigies can fight on. Train. Challenge me again when time makes you stronger."
For a moment, silence filled the hall, broken only by Shigure's labored breaths.
Then—
Blue light erupted.
Chakra surged violently from his body like an awakening beast, bursting through every sealed gate at once. Sparks of bright blue flame licked the air around him as if his core could not be constrained by acupoints meant to tame lesser warriors.
What—?! Ieyasu staggered back in shock, the foundations of his belief shaken. The Sixty-Four Palms were unbreakable. Unquestionable. But against this boy, they cracked like thin ice over a raging ocean.
Shigure rose slowly to his feet, shoulders squared and steady. "Lord Ieyasu," he said, his tone cool, "acupressure doesn't work on me."
He thrust his palms forward again. Dozens of Vacuum Palms screamed out, shattering railings and splitting stone tiles on impact.
Faced with the barrage, Ieyasu narrowed his eyes and released his trump card. "Return to me—Kaiten!"
His chakra burst outward in a spiraling wall of blue, a flawless sphere that repelled every incoming strike.
"This is the Hyūga's greatest defense," Ieyasu said firmly, standing behind his protective dome. "Kaiten is reserved for the clan's most brilliant heirs. Your strikes cannot pierce what is perfect."
Shigure tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Kaiten…? Yes. I have learned that too."
Ieyasu froze. "…You… what did you say?"
Shigure clasped his hands, his chakra already adjusting into the perfect flow. Without waiting for his grandfather's reply, he spun.
The chamber shook.
His rotation expanded into something colossal. Chakra poured outward in an overwhelming wave, far denser than anything the Hyūga patriarch had faced before. The blue dome stretched not two meters but ten, larger than any Kaiten ever displayed.
"No… impossible. Such magnitude—it isn't Kaiten, it's Daikaiten, the Great Whirl!"
The spiral pressure pressed against Ieyasu's body. His heart thundered. Is this really my grandson…? At five years old—mastering the Hyūga's highest secret, and amplifying it beyond recognition? Perhaps even greater than the heirs of the clan's strongest lines…
But his conviction would not falter. Not yet. Not when his pride and his clan's honor hung in the balance.
"Good… very good!" Ieyasu roared. "Then witness my own Daikaiten!"
He spun with ferocity, summoning his life's worth of chakra into a dome, the protective sphere whirring like a typhoon. For an instant, grandfather and grandson were matched—two blue storms colliding in vicious contest.
The sound shook the entire compound. Walls cracked. Tiles split. The earth itself beneath the estate trembled from the impact.
But the victor was never in doubt.
Shigure's Kaiten swelled greater still, unfathomable chakra feeding its spin. Ieyasu's defenses cracked, seams appearing before the inevitable. Finally, the older man was blasted backward, flung across the chamber in the wake of his grandson's storm.
And yet in the final second, Shigure ceased rotation. He blurred forward, Flash Step propelling him across the distance to catch his grandfather before he struck the floor. Gently, he set him down on the mats.
The hall was silent again… until Ieyasu's rough laugh broke the tension.
"Good!" he wheezed, clutching his ribs but smiling fiercely through the pain. He lifted a trembling hand to Shigure's shoulder. "Good grandson… you gave your grandfather a fine thrashing for our first meeting!"
Shigure exhaled, allowing his chakra to fade at last, while thoughts of his mother—and the answers still waiting to be revealed—burned brighter than ever.
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