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If one were to ask which of the Hyūga Clan's Gentle Fist forms best mirrored the overwhelming spectacle of the Eighty Gods Vacuum Attack, the answer would undoubtedly be the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms and its superior evolution, the One-Hundred-Twenty-Eight Palms. The sheer density of those palm strikes, erupting like a localized typhoon to intercept every chakra point, was the closest mortal approximation to the divine strikes of Kaguya.
Naruto understood that he was currently a long way from cloaking his strikes in elemental natures. He couldn't yet manifest the searing heat of fire or the vacuum-blades of wind at his fingertips. However, that didn't mean he couldn't begin forging the core of such an attack.
And he knew the perfect foundation: the Rasengan.
The Rasengan was the ultimate exercise in shape transformation—a technique that required no hand seals and offered infinite room for adaptation. Naruto raised his right palm, centering his breathing. Under his refined control, two opposing streams of chakra began to swirl in his hand, colliding and compressing at a high-velocity, random frequency.
A high-pitched humming, like a swarm of angry hornets, filled the room. A sphere of azure light began to flicker into existence.
Naruto had never formally practiced the Rasengan. His success today was the culmination of theory from a past life combined with the grueling physical discipline he had endured under Might Guy. Yet, as the blue sphere stabilized, a sharp hiss—pffft!—rang out. The internal balance fractured. The compressed chakra rampaged, expanding outward in a violent, miniature whirlwind.
Papers were swept off his desk, and the vase holding Ino's bellflower tilted precariously. Naruto abandoned the collapsing jutsu instantly, lunging forward to catch the glass just inches from the floor.
He sighed, looking at the disheveled room. My talent for Ninjutsu is finally showing, now that the Nine-Tails isn't sabotaging my flow, he thought. But the Rasengan is a different beast entirely. Without a mentor like Jiraiya or Kakashi, I'm stumbling in the dark.
The feeling of being stalled—of having the roadmap to godhood but lacking the vehicle to get there—left him feeling stifled. Konoha, for all its "Will of Fire" rhetoric, felt increasingly like a magnificent prison. The Anbu shadows, the quiet whispers of the villagers, and the Hokage's benevolent but absolute surveillance were the iron bars of his cage. He was a young predator being raised in a petting zoo, longing for the raw, real air of a world where he could be himself.
"When fortune smiles, heaven and earth conspire for you; when luck departs, even heroes are not free," he whispered to the empty room.
He knew he had to wait for his moment. And that moment's success relied on Wood Release. If he could achieve even half the power of Hashirama Senju, he would have the strategic capital to face Konoha head-on. He had even performed the grim calculus of facing his own teacher.
Even with Wood Release, I have zero confidence against an Eight-Gates Guy, Naruto admitted to himself. Might Guy was a man who could kick out the finale in the opening act. To survive the Night Guy—a strike that literally distorted space—Naruto needed more than just wood and vines. He needed the Flying Thunder God Technique (Hiraishin no Jutsu).
Only instantaneous, space-time displacement offered a prayer of evading a man who could walk on air and seal the very fabric of reality with his presence.
Naruto identified two critical windows to steal the Scroll of Seals:
The Mizuki Incident: The perfect opportunity to "accidentally" learn from the scroll during graduation. This was why he continued to feign a mediocre success rate with his clones in public.
The Konoha Crush: When Orochimaru's chaos would draw the Anbu away from the forbidden vaults, leaving the village's darkest secrets unguarded.
The Flying Thunder God was too broken to ignore. Even in the era of gods and aliens, it remained the ultimate "get out of jail free" card.
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