At dusk, long shadows divided the training ground into a checkerboard of light and dark.
Three figures darted past one another, the rush of fists and the snap of clothing cutting through the air without pause.
Naruto Uzumaki stood alone in the center, facing Hinata Hyuga and Hanabi Hyuga.
Unlike her older sister Hinata, whose slight hesitation always left something in reserve on both offense and defense,
five-year-old Hanabi displayed an entirely different style.
She was tiny, but her movements were astonishingly sharp.
Chakra wrapped her little palms. Every thrust was swift and precise, aimed straight at Naruto's joints and pressure points. Her footwork was nimble as a leopard cub's, carrying the fearless ferocity and single-mindedness of youth.
Her eyes shone, her lips pressed tightly together, as though she regarded this spar as some solemn trial. Her attacks came in relentless waves, without mercy.
Naruto, meanwhile, used no ninjutsu.
He relied solely on the most basic taijutsu to dodge and weave, using straightforward punches and kicks to block, break down, and redirect the Gentle Fist attacks coming from both sides.
His movements seemed neither as quick as Hanabi's nor as disciplined as Hinata's techniques, yet every shift carried his vital points just out of reach, and every block precisely dispersed the sharpest force of their blows.
His gaze followed the sisters' movements closely, especially the paths of invisible chakra as their palms swung, the subtle changes in the angles of their fingertips, and the painstakingly honed coordination between their footwork and palm strikes.
He was observing.
Hinata's Gentle Fist was balanced and composed, like a murmuring stream following its established course. Every strike carried the deep heritage of the Hyuga Main Family, but her gentle temperament tempered its aggression, making it more like a demonstration that stopped short of causing