Year 59 of Konoha, a crisp autumn day.
On the outskirts of the Death Forest.
A gray-haired boy stood before a wooden training dummy 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, and his pair of pale eyes drew attention.
The boy stared straight ahead with complete focus, assuming the opening stance of the Eight Trigrams Palm.
"Gentle Fist Art: Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms."
As his voice rose~~~
The gray-haired boy suddenly sprang into motion, moving so quickly that he left behind a blur of afterimages.
"Two Palms!"
"Four Palms!"
"..."
"Sixty-Four Palms!"
The gray-haired boy's footwork was light and graceful, his palm strikes flowing as smoothly as drifting clouds and running water. It was a feast for the eyes.
Thud, thud, thud...
For a moment, palm shadows danced through the air like butterflies flitting among flowers. Every one of the gray-haired boy's strikes landed squarely on the wooden dummy, producing sounds like pearls falling onto a jade platter, their wondrous rhythm utterly engrossing.
As his voice fell~~~
The gray-haired boy was breathing a little heavily, but a delighted smile appeared on his face.
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 supposedly only the Hyuga Main Branch could learn. Who would believe it if he told them?
However, Hayato had not become arrogant.
Originally, he had merely been an ordinary civil servant in China on Blue Star. With no connections and no money, he had lived a dead-end life like a salted fish, believing that such days would continue until the day he retired.
Forrest