In the fifty-ninth year of Konoha, autumn 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, and his pale pupils were particularly striking.
Staring ahead with complete focus, he assumed the opening stance of the Eight Trigrams Palm.
"Gentle Fist Art: Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms."
The moment he spoke—
The gray-haired boy sprang into motion, moving so quickly that he left behind a blur of afterimages.
"Two palms!"
"Four palms!"
"..."
"Sixty-four palms!"
His footwork was light and graceful, while his palms flowed like clouds and running water. It was truly a pleasure to watch.
Thud, thud, thud...
For a moment, palm shadows danced everywhere like butterflies fluttering among flowers. Every strike from the gray-haired boy landed solidly on the wooden post, producing sounds like pearls falling onto a jade plate, their wondrous rhythm utterly captivating.
As his voice 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's name was Hyuga Hayato, and he was a member of the Hyuga Branch Family. Hayato was only twelve this year, yet he had 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.
Originally, he had merely been an ordinary civil servant in China on Blue Star. With no connections or money and no bright prospects ahead, he had lived a salted-fish life. He had thought such days would continue until retirement.
Forrest Gump had said, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You