In the autumn of Konoha's fifty-ninth year, the sky was 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 delicate features and wore a brown short-sleeved shirt and shorts. A white bandage was tied around his forehead, while his striking white pupils drew the eye.
The boy stared ahead with complete focus, assuming the opening stance of the Eight Trigrams Palm.
"Gentle Fist Art: Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms."
The moment the words fell~~~
The gray-haired boy sprang into motion, moving so quickly that he left a trail of afterimages.
"Two Palms!"
"Four Palms!"
"..."
"Sixty-Four Palms!"
His footwork was light and graceful, and his strikes flowed as smoothly as drifting clouds and running water—a truly pleasing sight.
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 wonderful rhythm utterly mesmerizing.
When the final words faded~~~
The gray-haired boy panted slightly, but a delighted smile appeared on his face.
Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms—flawless!
The boy's name was 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 that if he told them?
However, Hayato was not getting carried away.
He had originally been an ordinary civil servant from China on Blue Star. With no connections, no money, and no bright future, he had lived like a salted fish. He had thought that kind of life would continue until the day he retired.
Forrest Gump had said, "Life was like