Tetsumaru took this fight seriously. He had never sparred with anyone from the Hyuga clan before—that family kept their children under incredibly strict supervision.
Usually, when passing by the Hyuga compound, the gates were bolted shut with almost no signs of activity. It made Tetsumaru wonder how, years in the future, the young Lady Hinata managed to wander off alone often enough to get bullied.
The Byakugan was one of the Three Great Dojutsu in the "Legend of Eyes: Five Villages Brawling" (as he liked to call the series). While it eventually felt underpowered and sidelined in the main plot, it was still a constant presence. Unlike Elemental Bloodlines like Magnet Release, Lava Release, or Blaze Release, the Byakugan was a true physical mutation—a bloodline that resided solely within its specific clan.
The ceiling for the Byakugan was high, but the possibility of evolving into a Tenseigan, Jougan, or Rinnegan was practically non-existent for the average member. The Byakugan's progression was "all or nothing"—you were either a god or just another ninja. There was no middle ground.
In contrast, the Sharingan's path was perfect. Every evolution came with a clear step-up in power and a brand-new ability. It was a flawless progression system.
But the future of the "White Eye" didn't matter right now. At the Genin level and below, the Byakugan was terrifyingly strong, easy to awaken, and paired with the Gentle Fist—currently the world's most formidable Taijutsu system.
The two combatants took the field and formed the Seal of Confrontation.
Hyuga Tokuma stood with open palms, one forward and one back, taking a classic stance as his pale eyes locked onto Tetsumaru.
Tetsumaru calmed his breathing. He stood sideways, his right fist slightly extended, his left fist guarding his chest, and his right leg stepped forward.
In a Taijutsu match, Tetsumaru's advantage was his physique. His martial arts were learned from clan ninjas, which meant his skill level was the same as the Aburame's Ninjutsu and Genjutsu: absolutely mediocre.
He also had a peculiar weakness: a "knowledge barrier" from his past life.
Back then, he was a "lab dog" who hit middle age plagued by sub-health. He had practiced a few combat sports intermittently but never achieved much; in a real scrap, he still just swung "wild-swing" punches.
Yet, those fragmented memories had somehow coalesced into something useful during his training in this life. It wasn't that surprising. In his past life, he was a shut-in who learned martial arts for weight loss; it would have been a miracle if he'd become a master. In this life, the conditions were different. He lived in a war-torn world, had a hereditary combat profession, supernatural chakra, and an extraordinary body. The practical fighting styles naturally clicked.
Unfortunately, styles like Xingyi Quan, Bagua Quan, or Jeet Kune Do were evolved for mortal bodies. They couldn't quite keep up with the hyper-agility of ninja combat, and they had actually become obstacles to Tetsumaru's formal training.
They weren't "bad"—they just weren't adapted to the Shinobi World yet. He needed to adjust the power delivery, the forms, and the strikes. To do that, he'd need to be a grandmaster like Bruce Lee. Tetsumaru wasn't a grandmaster.
Tokuma lunged, leading with a left palm for a probing strike. Tetsumaru used a short "cut" with his right hand, hitting Tokuma's wrist with the back of his hand. At the moment of contact, he closed his fist, parrying the arm and using the momentum to swing a left hook.
Tokuma caught the jab with his right palm. Tetsumaru immediately felt his fist gripped and yanked to the right. He quickly raised his left hand to guard his face while bringing up his left knee to meet his elbow, forming a solid defensive frame.
Tokuma did exactly what Tetsumaru expected: he yanked the right fist to spin Tetsumaru while throwing a left elbow at his head.
Using Tetsumaru's own pull, Tokuma channeled his hip power into the strike. It was incredibly fast and powerful. The only drawback was the proximity; it was too close for a palm strike, so he had to use his elbow.
Though it wasn't a formal Gentle Fist move, the impact on Tetsumaru's left arm was massive. The force slammed his own arm into the side of his head, breaking his guard.
As Tetsumaru stumbled to the right, his bent left leg found an opening. Blinded by the blow, he kicked out toward where he estimated Tokuma to be.
Luck was on his side. He connected with the base of Tokuma's left thigh, using the force to yank his right hand free. The two boys separated—one performed a forward flip, the other a back-handspring—to create distance.
The moment they found their footing, they lunged back at each other. They used every limb—fists, elbows, knees, and feet—trying to overwhelm the other with high-speed strikes.
Tetsumaru was able to interrupt every one of Tokuma's attacks, but he was being suppressed by the relentless pressure. Slowly, the dynamic vision provided by the Slime began to lag.
Tokuma wasn't having an easy time, either. Every move of his hard-earned Gentle Fist was being cut off. He had to use bursts of speed to maintain the pressure. To avoid being countered, he had to increase his attack speed even further, causing his stamina to drain several times faster than usual.
It was a brilliant display of skill that drew constant applause and cheers from the crowd.
After a minute of high-intensity clashing, their stamina was depleted. Their movements became sloppy and frantic. Tetsumaru was the first to slip up; a palm strike caught him square in the chest, sending him staggering back.
Fortunately, Tokuma's arms were so sore he couldn't infuse enough chakra to seal Tetsumaru's tenketsu. Had he succeeded, the match would have been over.
Both sides took the chance to retreat and catch their breath. The stands erupted in cheers.
"Impressive. As expected of Aburame Tetsumaru!"
Tokuma rubbed his sore arms and stared at Tetsumaru. "But I will defeat you. I will prove that the Hyuga is the strongest clan in Konoha!"
"Nonsense! The Uchiha is the strongest!"
Before Tetsumaru could respond, an Uchiha kid in the crowd shouted back. The arrogant boy, Uchiha Fueka, raised his chin. "Remember my name: Fueka! The final victory will be mine!"
Tetsumaru and Tokuma ignored him, their eyes fixed on each other.
"Forgive me, but in Taijutsu, the Hyuga's Gentle Fist is number one!" Tokuma shouted. He stepped forward in a strange, rhythmic pattern, closing the gap instantly.
"Gentle Fist: Eight Trigrams..." "Two Palms!" "Four Palms!" "Eight Palms!"
The Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms was the Hyuga's trump card. Every hit sealed a chakra point, and the technique had a cumulative explosive effect—the more hits that landed, the more damage it dealt. Rumor had it that during the Warring States period, a Hyuga master could reach 1,024 palms and shatter a Susanoo in one go. Whether it was true or not, the technique was legendary.
Faced with the palms, Tetsumaru didn't even try to dodge. He planted his feet, crossed his arms to guard his face, and let Tokuma hit him.
Inside his body, Tetsumaru focused everything on his Grand Circulation. He released his stored chakra in pulses that matched the rhythm of Tokuma's strikes—as observed by the Slime—using his own chakra to "counter-blast" the Gentle Fist's internal strikes.
Every time Tokuma's palm hit Tetsumaru's body, a loud, explosive CRACK rang out. After eight hits, Tokuma looked dazed. The Gentle Fist had never sounded like this before.
In the VIP stands, the experts nearly lost their eyes. You can counter the Eight Trigrams like THAT?
Wait... how does that Aburame kid have so much chakra? His signature felt barely stronger than the Hyuga boy, but that explosive burst had to be triple his normal volume.
"I thought watching these matches with sensei was a waste of time, but this is actually surprising," Orochimaru mused, his tongue flicking over his lip. "That Aburame's chakra seems on par with my own student. How curious."
On the field, the winner was becoming clear.
Tokuma was only six. He'd only started learning the Eight Trigrams and was technically only proficient in the "Four Palms" stage. Today, he'd pushed his limits and reached Eight Palms. After the eighth strike, his body was screaming in pain. His hands and feet were twitching uncontrollably, and he was forced to drop to one knee.
The moment Tokuma's offensive ended, Tetsumaru dropped his guard and pounced.
He swung his right fist, swiping Tokuma's guarding arm aside before putting every ounce of his strength into a left uppercut.
The blow caught Tokuma squarely on the chin. The force sent the boy spinning through the air until he landed outside the combat ring.
Out of bounds. The match was over.
The crowd went wild. Amidst the cheering, Uchiha Fueka jumped up and down. "Tetsumaru! Just you wait! First place is mine!"
"Fine. I'm waiting."
Tetsumaru adjusted his sunglasses. He had never liked wearing them—he thought it looked pretentious—but the facial swelling from his Grand Circulation experiment had left him with permanent, dark circles under his eyes. Since nothing he tried could get rid of them, he had to wear the shades to hide the "bruises."
He wasn't worried about Fueka. He'd seen the boy's previous matches; he was a "rookie," or at best, a "rookie with a bit of grease." He was nowhere near Tokuma's level and posed no threat.
He'd gotten lucky. The most troublesome opponent was handled. He'd fulfilled Elder Shiki's request.
"Uchiha Fueka, to the floor!" "Yamanaka Ame, to the floor!"
In the interval before his next match, Tetsumaru checked his internal state.
The news was surprisingly bad. The areas where Tokuma had landed his "Gentle Fist" strikes were a mess of meridian chaos. His chest and hands were the worst; dozens of tiny chakra pathways were snapped, and several were tangled together.
Of course, this was "bad" by Tetsumaru's standards. To a regular Medical Ninja, it was just some superficial redness—practically uninjured.
Through Insight, Tetsumaru's standards for chakra flow and smoothness were four or five orders of magnitude higher than the village's. A single chakra channel in the village's textbooks was split into a dozen sub-channels in Tetsumaru's mind.
His meridian micro-surgeries were designed to optimize flow (determined by width and smoothness) and durability (determined by the "braided" structure of the micro-channels). This optimization was what allowed his chakra to grow faster than a Senju's. Today, he'd used less than five percent of his total capacity. It was a good thing his Grand Circulation could suppress the fluctuations; otherwise, he'd be in a lab by sunset.
But his surgeries had a weakness. Because his body was constantly undergoing these "procedures," he was always covered in internal "wounds." He was vulnerable to impact. He'd paused his experiments for the exam to let everything heal, but the fight with Tokuma had still caused significant damage.
My meridians aren't tough enough. I need to prioritize durability in the next phase of optimization, he noted, pulling out a small notebook and jotting down his observations.
By the time he finished his notes, the match in the ring was over. Fueka had used a spinning back-kick to knock a girl with a short ponytail out of the ring.
The girl, Yamanaka Ame, stood up and dusted herself off without a word. She walked back to her parents in silence.
The girl was a fighter—low on talk, high on action. Her fists had spent the entire match aiming for Fueka's face. Her sheer, relentless aggression had actually overcome her inferior physical stats, and she'd suppressed Fueka for most of the fight until her stamina gave out.
Even though she lost, the ninjas in the crowd gave her a round of applause. Tetsumaru liked her spirit, but his "ideal type" was long black hair; blondes weren't his cup of tea.
Fueka looked miserable. One eye was swollen like a peach, the other was black and blue, his lip was split, and both nostrils were bleeding. The physical damage was minor, but the humiliation was extreme. He'd been beaten into a different face by a girl.
Fueka looked around for someone to vent his anger on and spotted Tetsumaru sitting cross-legged on the sideline.
"Aburame Tetsumaru! Come and duel me!!"
His desperate howl echoed across the exam grounds. Tetsumaru ignored him. In an exam, the proctor was law; volume didn't mean a thing.
The proctor waited fifteen minutes for them to recover before calling the final match.
"Both sides... to the floor!" "Seal of Confrontation!" "Begin!"
After having his wounds treated and—more importantly—getting a lump on his head from his dad for his behavior, Fueka had calmed down.
Not that it mattered. Unlike the fight with the long-limbed Tokuma, Tetsumaru just had to "A" (auto-attack) his way to victory.
Fueka lunged with a punch. Tetsumaru didn't block, parry, or dodge. He just punched back. Because he was faster and had longer arms, his strike landed first. He hit Fueka squarely in the nose, sending blood flying.
In fighting, there's a saying: "An inch longer is an inch stronger." And if you're faster on top of that, it's a slaughter.
Fueka was knocked back, his form breaking. His own punch didn't even touch Tetsumaru's clothes. This happened seven or eight times in a row. Fueka finally realized that the gap was too large; he had to gamble.
The Uchiha performed a series of back-flips to create space, then sprinted forward with everything he had. He jumped and spun in mid-air.
"KONOHA GREAT WHIRLWIND!!"
He actually shouted it out. Uchiha really are the kings of Chunibyo, Tetsumaru thought.
The moment Fueka spun around with his back to him, Tetsumaru lunged. He kicked Fueka squarely in the rear, sending him flying out of the ring.
"Aw, man... he lost."
Uchiha Tora and the others shook their heads. They knew it wasn't Fueka's fault; the gap was just too big. Even Fueka's "desperation move" looked like a joke in front of Tetsumaru.
That evening, Tetsumaru discovered the biggest loss of the day.
The Slime was dead.
After the exam, the Slime had refused to eat. Once darkness fell, it began to shiver uncontrollably. By midnight, its internal fluids began to leak. Its pupil dilated, and within two minutes, the adorable creature had dissolved into a puddle of translucent goo.
Tetsumaru could do nothing but watch. His whole body trembled with grief—and financial pain.
90,000 Ryo! Gone!
Using Insight, he analyzed the remains. The Slime had died of multi-organ failure and membrane rupture.
Clearly, the Slime's durability wasn't up to combat standards. The chakra shockwaves from the fight with Tokuma had caused its cellular membranes to rupture.
The Gentle Fist's chakra vibration had literally shaken it to death.
Faced with a drained bank account, Tetsumaru's "Eye of Truth" project was officially on hold. He'd have to wait until his wallet "healed" before he could try to breed a tougher Slime.