Later that day, Ryusei parted ways with Kanae.
He didn't disturb her much; she was focused now, more driven than ever, and he knew better than to interrupt when she was in that state.
Every day mattered, and the faster she made progress, the better for both of them.
With Kanae handling most of the research these days, Ryusei preferred to divide his time between training, sometimes helping with her research, and refining his own ideas.
Out of the three of them, it was actually Renjiro who had become the strongest active combatant, the one maintaining order in this sector, which was still positioned at the rear of Fugaku's southeastern front against Kirigakure.
Renjiro still liked it that way. He thrived on pressure, on constant battle. It was how he grew, how he sharpened himself.
Ryusei, by contrast, oversaw things from a distance, operating a wide sensory network of clones that fed him information across the entire front.
He issued quiet tactical directives and kept the field stable, but it was usually Renjiro who took charge when enemy elites appeared, leading strike teams, intercepting ambushes, and cutting down any Kiri shinobi who crossed into their zone.
Kanae and Renjiro were also both fourteen now, though their experience made them seem much older.
When Ryusei arrived at the outer camp that evening, Renjiro was already waiting, coming back from the last operation.
His mask was off for once, and Ryusei noticed immediately, one of his eyes was covered by a black chakra-sealed eyepatch.
Ryusei never stopped wanting to make Renjiro stronger, too.
He didn't just invest in his "women"; Renjiro mattered differently as well.
In a world where true allies were almost nonexistent, Renjiro was one of the few he could actually trust.
Maybe not completely, but enough. In some strange sense, he was the closest thing Ryusei had to a friend.
That was why, months ago, Ryusei had decided to give him that Byakugan eyeball he'd stolen from the southeastern front, which he used originally.
From the full pair he'd recovered earlier in the southwest, too, he kept one for his own training, sealed under an identical chakra-suppressing eyepatch, and gave the other to Kanae for her cloning experiments.
It wasn't out of generosity. It was logic.
Hatake-style kenjutsu, at its core, was built on precision attacks that targeted various joints, tendons, ligaments, blood vessels, nerves, and chakra flow points with speed and accuracy.
In a sense, it was the sworded cousin of Gentle Fist.
But without the Byakugan, it was still a form of blind striking.
So Ryusei finally corrected that.
With the Byakugan, Renjiro could now see everything beneath the surface.
The eye also wasn't just about perception; it was about processing power.
It gave him far more data than normal eyes could ever handle, all in real time.
Add to that the natural defensive range, the full 360-degree vision, the telescopic range, and Renjiro had become a battlefield predator.
The transplant had been performed by Kanae herself, and it had taken surprisingly well.
Within months, Renjiro's strength had surged.
His strikes grew cleaner, his reactions faster, and his spatial awareness terrifyingly precise.
But the Byakugan wasn't just an upgrade; it was an amplifier.
It accelerated his entire growth curve, making it easier for him to master new systems, especially the chakra gates Ryusei had been teaching him.
Using Ryusei's firsthand insight into the Eight Gates and guided by his Byakugan's ability to visualize his own chakra flow in real time like Ryusei, Renjiro had already learned to open the first two Inner Gates, which was his body's current limit.
He could now manipulate his body at a cellular level, releasing power with control instead of destruction.
In Ryusei's mind, it was proof that the investment had paid off. Renjiro wasn't just getting stronger; he was evolving.
Faster than anyone else his age, and stronger than nearly all Elite Jōnin. And that was exactly what Ryusei wanted.
Ryusei found him sitting on a broken log near the training field, bandaging his forearm with one hand. The air smelled faintly of ozone and blood—the usual scent after Renjiro's missions.
"Back already?" Ryusei asked, approaching with a faint grin. "I thought you'd be out there another night or two."
Renjiro tightened the bandage and looked up, his one visible eye gleaming faintly white under the fading sunlight.
"We wiped them out faster than expected. Kiri's getting sloppy. They keep sending sensory types without backup."
"Or maybe they just don't realize what they're up against," Ryusei said quietly.
Renjiro smirked at that. "You mean me or you?"
"Both," Ryusei replied simply.
They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound being the crackle of a nearby campfire.
Then Renjiro tilted his head, studying Ryusei with that new eye of his.
"You know, I still can't tell if this was a gift or an experiment," he said.
Ryusei smiled faintly. "Does it matter? You're stronger, aren't you?"
Renjiro gave a low chuckle. "Yeah. Strong enough that even you don't want to spar anymore, apparently."
Ryusei's grin widened slightly. "That's not fear. That's efficiency. If I hit you now, it wouldn't be training—it'd be cleanup."
"Tch. Cocky bastard." Renjiro shook his head but couldn't hide his grin.
Ryusei crouched down beside him, glancing at the faint glow under the eyepatch talisman. "How's the adaptation going?"
"Stable," Renjiro said. "At first it was… too much. Seeing through people like they're paper. I had headaches for days. But now it feels natural."
Ryusei nodded, satisfied. "Good. Keep it that way."
Renjiro flexed his fingers, cracking the knuckles one by one. "You were right about the gates, too. The first two flow clean now. Any more and I'll probably burn out."
"Two is enough for now," Ryusei said. "Also, any more, and it might actually do more harm than good for your precision style."
Renjiro snorted. "You make it sound so simple."
"For me, it is."
They both laughed quietly, the sound fading into the evening air.
For a while, neither spoke. Renjiro leaned back, his visible eye watching the horizon.
"You know," he said after a moment, "Kanae said something the other day. That sometimes she thinks you might only ever care about results. That you treat people like variables in your equations."
Yet, despite the casual tone, Renjiro meant none of it harshly.
"Don't get me wrong," he added after a short pause. "Personally, I don't mind. You made me stronger. That's more than most people ever did."
Renjiro was, in fact, genuinely very grateful to Ryusei and to himself for the choice he made that day when he killed their old captain, Okabe.
Ryusei had kept his promise since then, constantly guiding him, feeding him practical insights that pushed his growth constantly further.
The most recent gift of a Byakugan, for example, had been the turning point, transforming his Hatake style into something entirely new, an evolution he could feel in every fight.
So, at this point, Renjiro followed Ryusei not out of obligation, but from the heart, and he knew he owed him more than words could ever repay.
Ryusei didn't respond immediately. He knew Renjiro wasn't accusing him, but the words still echoed faintly.
People always mistook calculation for coldness. They wanted warmth from him when all he offered was clarity.
Ryusei gave a small shrug. "She's not wrong. But it's not the full picture."
"Then what's the rest of it?"
"I don't waste potential," Ryusei said evenly. "Not hers. Not yours. Not mine."
Renjiro studied him for a long moment before nodding slightly. "Then I'll keep making it worth your time."
Ryusei's narrow eyes curved faintly. "You already have."
The two sat there for a while longer, watching the fog roll over the treeline.
But for once, neither seemed in a hurry to move.
Ryusei couldn't help but smirk faintly at some of Renjiro's last words.
He felt mildly amused hearing Kanae's supposed "concerns" coming from Renjiro's mouth.
So that was what she had been saying behind his back. Typical.
He could almost picture it, her trying to sound composed and cold, in her usual way, while gossiping to Renjiro, teasing him by pretending she was just 'analyzing' him objectively, while secretly enjoying herself playfully.
Yet just a few days ago, that same "unmoved Hyūga" had nearly melted in his arms again after another one of those "reward" kisses he gave her whenever she made a breakthrough.
"She really shouldn't talk," Ryusei thought with quiet amusement.
"If anyone knows I don't see her as a test subject, it's her."
Still, her words stuck with him, not out of irritation, but because she'd changed so much.
Kanae wasn't the quiet, restrained girl from before anymore.
She was ambitious, restless, and her progress showed it.
Despite dedicating herself almost entirely to research lately, her combat power hadn't fallen behind.
If anything, it had sharpened in new directions, as she had already also reached the Elite Jonin level.
She had fully integrated her Yang Release parasitic overgrowth into her Gentle Fist forms and all Hyuga techniques, turning every strike into a threat not just to a target's chakra flow but to their very flesh.
More recently, she'd started training her two elemental affinities, wind and lightning, following principles Ryusei had shared with her.
However, using his own example and insights, he told her never to treat them as separate forces from the beginning.
If she learned to mold both simultaneously, even at a basic level, from the start, her coils would one day align for their fusion, the birth of a rare, combined advanced nature, easier than if she did otherwise.
And knowing her persistence, he was sure she'd get there eventually.
Still, Ryusei understood that, for now, her progress wouldn't shift his larger plans.
Her true potential lay elsewhere.
"Where she'll really shine is through the Byakugan itself."
That dojutsu, its depth, was still mostly unexplored territory.
But if his theories were right, and if she continued to evolve it the way he envisioned, then someday Kanae might wield something that no other Hyuga had directly wielded so far.