Chapter 6: The Weight of Power
After resting in his bed for the entire morning, Hyuga Shinra finally felt the fog of exhaustion lift from his mind. His Sage Body had long since repaired the physical strain, but the mental fatigue from his first, frantic night of chakra cultivation had been profound.
At noon, he skipped cooking and treated himself to a large serving of barbecue before making his now-customary journey to the training grounds at the base of the Hokage Rock. The seclusion was perfect.
*Now that I have chakra, it's time to see what the Tenseigan can truly do,* he thought, a thrill of anticipation running through him. The area was deserted, and while a paranoid part of him wondered if the Third Hokage's Telescope Technique ever scanned this area, he dismissed it. *Surely even Sarutobi Hiruzen has better things to do than spy on a remote training ground.*
He focused, channeling chakra to his eyes. The starry blue of his Tenseigan seemed to glow with an inner light. He raised a hand, palm outstretched, toward a small stone several yards away.
"Universal Pull!" he announced, his voice echoing with a hint of theatricality.
The stone twitched, then wobbled into the air, drifting unsteadily into his waiting palm. He stared at the pebble, a wave of acute embarrassment washing over him. He had just used a technique capable of pulling celestial bodies to summon a rock the size of his thumb. Dropping it as if it had burned him, he sat heavily on the ground, grateful for the absolute privacy.
*One-tenth of my chakra... for that?* he calculated with a wry grimace. *My reserves are a joke.* It was an unprecedented feat, he supposed—using an S-rank concept to achieve a D-rank effect. In truth, this was merely a rudimentary application of the Tenseigan's gravity control, not the true "Shinra Tensei," but the principle was similar.
"It's too soon," he admitted to the silent forest. "Without the chakra to fuel it, the Tenseigan is just a beautiful set of eyes." Using his entire reserves might produce the force of a C-rank jutsu, but at that point, he might as well just use a C-rank jutsu.
Pushing himself back to his feet, he decided to test something more within his grasp. He performed a sequence of four hand seals in under a second, took a deep breath, and exhaled.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!"
A sphere of roaring flame, wider than he was tall, erupted from his lips. It streaked across the clearing and struck a thick tree trunk. The wood splintered with a deafening crack, the upper half of the tree toppling over as fierce orange flames eagerly consumed the remains.
Shinra watched, mesmerized. He had seen grander displays in animations, but witnessing the raw, destructive power of ninjutsu firsthand was a visceral, humbling experience. The heat warmed his face, and the scent of burning sap filled the air. This was real power, tangible and deadly.
After dutifully extinguishing the flames with earth and water, he moved on. He practiced his chakra control, mastering tree-walking and water-walking with an ease that bordered on the insulting—a testament to the Hyuga clan's innate precision. Then, he devoted himself to the true grind: the brutal physical conditioning outlined in the Marine Six Styles. Every muscle burn, every drop of sweat, was an investment. While other children his age played at being shinobi, he was forging his body into a weapon, driven by the chilling knowledge of the monsters that would one day walk the earth.
*Uzumaki Naruto and Uchiha Sasuke...* The thought was a constant spur. *They reached the realm of the Six Paths by seventeen. Even with my system, can I keep pace?* It was a humbling, almost shameful thought. "It's good to have a powerful father," he sometimes sighed, but he never let the envy fester. He simply trained harder.
A year passed in a relentless cycle of cultivation and exertion.
On this day, Shinra did not train. He walked into the most prosperous street of Konoha, intending to celebrate. The day before, a milestone had been reached: his chakra reserves had finally swelled to the level of a Jonin. In terms of physical conditioning, chakra purity, and overall comprehensive ability, he now stood firmly at the level of a Chunin.
A four-year-old Chunin. On paper, it surpassed even Kakashi's legendary early graduation. In a real fight, however, he knew a seasoned Chunin would exploit his lack of real combat experience. But with his unique arsenal, he was confident he could hold his own against a Jonin. The Marine Six Styles were now his to command. The Tenseigan's more utility-focused abilities—puppet control, chakra extraction, memory reading, and localized gravity manipulation—were now accessible. He hadn't tested it fully, but he was certain his repulsion ability could now deflect an A-rank jutsu. Most crucially, the Spark-Spark Fruit had begun to reveal its potential; he could achieve partial elementalization and project lasers, albeit with limited power. Their speed, however, was undeniable—a tool that could catch even a Kage off guard.
As he walked, his sharp eyes caught three distinctive figures moving through the crowd. A lanky boy with white hair, a pale boy with serpentine eyes, and a girl with blonde hair tied in twin ponytails.
*The Sannin, in their youth,* he mused, his gaze lingering for a moment too long on the girl's chest. *And Tsunade's legendary... assets... haven't quite developed yet.*
The blonde girl's head snapped around, her eyes locking onto his. Even as a young teen, she was an elite Jonin, hyper-aware of any gaze.
"Hey, you! What are you looking at?" Tsunade demanded, her tone sharp. If he had been older, a fist would have likely accompanied the question.
"Nothing," Shinra replied, curling his lip in a deliberate show of childish disdain before turning to leave.
The white-haired boy, Jiraiya, grinned, seeing an opportunity. "Hahaha! Listen to that! The kid's judging you! He thinks your chest is too small!"
The effect was instantaneous. The ground beneath Tsunade's feet cracked with a sound like thunder. The bustling street fell silent, civilians quickly scattering. Jiraiya's grin vanished, replaced by a cold sweat as he swallowed hard. Even the aloof Orochimaru twitched, taking a subtle step back.
Tsunade slowly turned her terrifying, smiling face toward Jiraiya, her knuckles cracking ominously.
"What," she asked, her voice deceptively sweet, "did you say?"