In the autumn of Konoha's 59th year, the skies were clear and the air crisp.
On the outskirts of the Death Forest.
A gray-haired boy stood before a wooden training post in an open clearing.
He had refined features and wore a brown short-sleeved shirt and shorts. A white bandage was wrapped around his forehead, while his pale white eyes drew particular attention.
The boy stared ahead in complete concentration, assuming 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, so fast that he left a trail of afterimages.
"Two Palms!"
"Four Palms!"
"..."
"Sixty-Four Palms!"
His footwork was light and graceful, and his palm strikes flowed as naturally as drifting clouds and running water, a truly pleasing sight to behold.
Tap, tap, tap...
For a moment, palm shadows fluttered everywhere like butterflies dancing among flowers. Every one of the gray-haired boy's strikes landed solidly on the wooden post, producing sounds like pearls falling onto a jade plate, their wondrous rhythm almost mesmerizing.
As his final words fell—
The gray-haired boy was slightly out of breath, but a delighted smile appeared on his face.
Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms—flawless!
The boy was named Hyuga Hayato, a member of the Hyuga Branch Family. Hayato was only twelve this year, yet he had already mastered a secret technique that supposedly only the Hyuga Main Branch could learn. Who would believe it if he told them?
Yet Hayato did not get carried away.
In his previous life, he had merely been an ordinary civil servant in China on Blue Star. With no connections, no money, and no bright prospects, he had lived like a salted fish. He had thought that life would continue until the day