Konoha's back mountain.
From a thirty-meter cliff, water roared down like an enraged white dragon, smashing viciously into the deep pool below. The thunderous crash was deafening, and the spray rapidly cooled in the late autumn night wind, turning into fine shards of ice that cut against the skin like knives.
Hinata Hyuga stood atop a bluestone in the very center of the deep pool.
She wore a thin white training uniform, its fabric long since soaked through by the pool water and clinging tightly to her still-developing yet already curvaceous body. The water crashed down upon her head and shoulders with overwhelming force, beating alarming patches of red swelling and bruises into her pale skin.
"Hah!"
Hinata bit down hard on her purpled lips, her pure white eyes wide as veins bulged at their corners. Bracing herself against the terrifying pressure of the waterfall, she laboriously raised her arms and thrust her palms forward one after another.
Gentle Fist Technique: Eight Trigrams Thirty-Two Palms.
The moves that normally flowed effortlessly in the dojo had become incomparably sluggish beneath the crushing weight of the water. Every movement drained the last trace of strength from her muscles; every refinement of chakra came with the piercing pain of cold invading her chakra pathways.
Her legs trembled, and the bluestone beneath her feet was covered in slick moss. Several times, she nearly got swept into the depths of the pool, relying solely on the chakra beneath her feet to cling desperately to the rock's surface.
This was not training at all. This was suicidal self-torture.
Atop the canopy of an ancient tree fifty meters from the waterfall, Hyuga Xiao stood silently.
The night wind stirred the hem of his black coat. He had not deliberately concealed himself, but the Tenseigan's chakra naturally distorted