Hyuga Shingetsu

A new day began, the sun shining brightly.

Akashi habitually rose early, his mood pleasant.

He had been moving between his clan and the village recently, occasionally carrying out a few missions, and whenever he had free time, he intensified his training; his life was busy and fulfilling.

As for yesterday's misunderstanding, he hadn't actually taken it to heart.

So what if he wore a green bodysuit?

At most, people would make fun of his aesthetic and taste, but his skin was thick enough that he didn't care much, and besides, Hyuga Shingetsu wasn't the type to spout nonsense.

He simply treated it as a minor interlude.

After organizing his gear, Akashi walked out of the clan grounds, but when he reached the first major intersection, his footsteps suddenly faltered.

An unexpected figure entered his line of sight.

Hyuga Shingetsu.

She had actually come to the vicinity of the Uchiha clan grounds, and with one hand on her hip, she was looking around, seemingly waiting for someone.

Just as he was feeling surprised, Shingetsu's gaze shifted toward him.

"Hey, over here, it's me!"

"Shingetsu-san, good morning." Akashi couldn't avoid her, so he offered a practiced, fake smile, "Um... are you waiting for me?"

"That's right, I wanted to say 'sorry' to you."

Shingetsu's tone was flat, showing no sign of an actual apology; it was clear she rarely said those three words.

Akashi was baffled, his gaze suspicious.

"What do you mean?"

"Idiot." Shingetsu pursed her lips helplessly, "I might have been a bit heavy-handed yesterday; you don't mind, do you?"

Her explanation made Akashi chuckle.

To come and apologize for something like this—despite her haughty and arrogant appearance, she was, after all, still just a child.

Akashi shook his head: "It's fine, I can take it."

"Then let's continue today."

"Continue?" Akashi was stunned, "You mean?"

"The mountain behind the Ninja Academy, training."

Shingetsu was concise, "Your technique isn't bad, so please continue to guide me."

Technique?

Are you talking about combat skills?

Wait, you actually came here just to drag me to train, and the apology was just a prelude?

Without giving Akashi a chance to express his opinion, Shingetsu's indifferent eyes held a hint of a threat: "I know you didn't use your true strength yesterday. Don't you want to try the Sharingan against the Byakugan? Such interesting training, you'll agree, right?"

"This..." Akashi hesitated.

"No refusal means you agree."

A flash of anticipation crossed Shingetsu's clear eyes, and only then did Akashi notice she was holding a gray training uniform in her arms—she had planned this all along.

She turned around with a flourish, her long black hair whipping through the air:

"Two o'clock in the afternoon, same place, don't be late."

"Where is the apology? Why do I feel like I've been kidnapped?" Akashi rubbed his forehead.

However, Sharingan versus Byakugan did sound quite interesting.

He had indeed never seriously sparred against a Byakugan user before.

Thinking of this, a bit of anticipation inevitably ignited within him. Besides, training alone was still training, and being able to interact with someone from the Hyuga clan wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

One-thirty in the afternoon.

Akashi headed toward the mountain behind the school as agreed. Passing by the entrance of the Ninja Academy, a loud, booming voice came through the loudspeakers, causing him to stop and watch.

The content was all too familiar; wasn't that the opening of the essay he had written?

"It must be the Hokage giving a speech again."

Akashi guessed it quickly.

This was routine; the school placed great importance on students in their graduation year, arranging a special speech every month. This time it was even more high-profile, with the Third Hokage himself delivering a speech on the playground; one could tell from the applause that the atmosphere was very enthusiastic.

The content was nothing more than the usual rhetoric.

Konoha needs everyone to protect it together; if everyone contributes a little love, the village will become a beautiful paradise.

We are one big, loving family.

Young people should strive harder.

Don't be afraid of hardship or fatigue; these are opportunities for you to gain experience!

Don't ask what the village has given you; ask instead what you have done for the village.

In the end, the Third Hokage would always raise his arms high and summarize with a flourish: "Konoha belongs to us, but ultimately, it belongs to you. Work hard for the Konoha that will be yours! Perhaps the next Hokage is among you right now!"

Good heavens, the next Hokage, no less!

It was simply too heart-stirring.

In Konoha, the Hokage symbolized status, strength, and ideals. What could possibly be greater than an ideal?

This line was the most effective way to hoodwink children.

"Being uneducated really makes one easy to deceive." Akashi couldn't help but shake his head slightly.

Yet, his gaze still swept over the main gate. The more he understood this place where he had once been taught, the more absurd it seemed.

The Ninja Academy was equivalent to a reserve military training center.

It stood on equal footing with the Police Force and the Medical Department, serving as one of Konoha's vital institutions.

It had been founded by Senju Tobirama.

Before this, ninjas relied on family-inherited training methods and had no need for schooling.

The establishment of the Ninja Academy was, without a doubt, a revolution.

First, it broke the monopoly of the elite, allowing commoners to learn ninjutsu, which garnered massive support from the populace and unified their hearts.

Second, Konoha's effective combat strength increased rapidly.

The key to winning the two Great Ninja Wars was Konoha's massive reserve of talent.

Third, by encouraging various clans to cast aside their prejudices and integrate into the Konoha collective, it built bridges between families. Relationships like master-disciple and classmate served well to maintain the stability of internal development.

It was truly a move that achieved multiple goals at once.

Although the surface benefits were numerous, the major clans understood the situation clearly.

The Ninja Academy also had fatal flaws; for instance, to accommodate students of varying talents, the teaching level was set to a baseline, which was undoubtedly a quagmire for true geniuses.

Furthermore, the thinking of the students trained there would be influenced, leaning more toward the village system and diluting the concept of clan loyalty.

This was something the various clans were unwilling to see.

But at the same time, upon graduation, they were immediately led by excellent jonin instructors, and their promotion paths were clear.

Those who came out of the Ninja Academy were often promoted much faster.

The pros and cons were laid out clearly on the table.

After weighing the options, many clans were willing to send some of their children to school to gain access to the village's official resources.

Akashi was one of them.

He had been sent to school at five, barely able to run steadily, and it was hard to imagine that in a few years, he would have to go to the battlefield to wield a blade and kill.

The teachers defined this as "glory."

Yet everyone accepted it, even competing over who graduated at a younger age, the younger the prouder.

Is this education?

Nonsense.

In an absurd world, anything outrageous could happen; weren't there plenty of examples right beside him? Akashi gave a soft scoff, quickly letting it go.

?

A moment later.

In the small grove, the sound of panting was intermittent.

Akashi activated his Sharingan and engaged in a fierce, passionate battle with Hyuga Shingetsu, trading three hundred blows.

Compared to the Strong Fist, the Gentle Fist Style was more technical. When combined with the terrifying insight of the Byakugan to strike at acupuncture points, the damage caused was not necessarily inferior to the Strong Fist.

However, it wasn't easy to make him suffer an injury.

Thanks to the help of the Seedling within his body, the Gentle Fist Style's attacks on his meridians and acupuncture points failed to cause any chakra disruption, and the damage to his physical body was negligible.

The Sharingan, conversely, recorded every movement in a timely manner.

The Gentle Fist techniques that the Hyuga clan took such pride in were being slowly digested and absorbed.

Akashi had no intention of competing for victory against her, so he simply feigned defeat.

The battle ended, and Shingetsu was very satisfied with the result. At the same time, she highly praised Akashi's performance, feeling somewhat unfulfilled, and they agreed to fight again another day.

As evening fell, the two parted ways and headed home.

The streets were bustling with activity.

From far away, one could see the flickering neon signs and the clamor of the crowds. Unfortunately, most of the popular spots were places he was too young to enter.

Many of these businesses were owned by wealthy, powerful clans and managed by retired jonin, generating substantial income.

The gambling dens, in particular, never closed.

Tsk tsk, so much for the three prohibitions of the ninja?

No wonder so many transmigrators fancy the girls of the Hyuga Clan; they are beautiful, gentle, and wealthy, enough to save one decades of struggle!

Should I marry into the family?

Akashi thought wildly as he walked through the front door.

Under the veranda, his old man sat cross-legged, eyes closed in meditation, when his ears suddenly twitched at the sound of the door opening: "Where did you go today?"

"The back mountain of the Ninja Academy, training."

"With whom?"

"With..."

Akashi hesitated, unable to get the words out; in front of his father, his confidence took a hit.

"It was someone from the Hyuga Clan, wasn't it?" Munakata Uchiha seemed to see through everything, "Someone saw you walking with that girl from the Hyuga family."

"Let me explain..."

"No need to say more."

Munakata stood up and gave Akashi a slight nod, "As expected of my son!"

???

Akashi was filled with question marks; it seemed things were heading in a strange direction.