In the autumn of Konoha's 59th year, the air was crisp and clear.
On the outskirts of the Death Forest.
A gray-haired boy stood before a wooden training post in an open clearing.
The boy had delicate features and wore a brown short-sleeved shirt and shorts. A white bandage was tied around his forehead, while his pale eyes were particularly striking.
Staring straight ahead, the boy focused completely and assumed the opening stance of the Eight Trigrams Palm.
"Gentle Fist Art: Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms."
As his voice rang out—
The gray-haired boy suddenly sprang into motion, moving so fast that he left behind a trail of afterimages.
"Two Palms!"
"Four Palms!"
"..."
"Sixty-Four Palms!"
The gray-haired boy's footwork was light and graceful, and his palm strikes flowed as smoothly as clouds and water. It was simply a feast for the eyes.
Thud, thud, thud...
For a moment, palm shadows fluttered everywhere, like butterflies dancing among flowers. Every one of the gray-haired boy's strikes landed squarely on the wooden post, producing sounds like pearls falling onto a jade plate, their wondrous rhythm utterly mesmerizing.
As his voice faded—
The gray-haired boy was slightly out of breath, but his face bore a delighted smile.
Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms—flawless!
The boy's name was Hyuga Hayato, and he was a member of the Hyuga Branch Family. Hayato was only twelve this year, yet he had already mastered a secret technique that only the Hyuga Main Branch could use. Who would believe it if he told them?
However, Hayato was not getting carried away.
Originally, he had merely been an ordinary civil servant back in China on Blue Star. With no connections and no money, no bright future, he had lived like a salted fish. He had thought that kind of life would continue