In the audience, gasps of disbelief echoed as Neji Hyuga staggered back, clutching his right arm. His expression was tight with both pain and confusion.
"How is this possible?" Tenten exclaimed, gripping the railing. "Neji… injured? And it looks like his chakra is sealed!"
Shikamaru leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "That white-haired ninja isn't just skilled—he's precise. To dodge Neji's attacks and counter like that... It's not just luck. That's the kind of move you attempt only if you're either completely confident in your abilities or utterly reckless."
"He's not reckless," Shikamaru continued, watching Satoru closely. "He's reading the fight like a book. It's unsettling."
In the arena, Neji glared at Satoru, his voice cold but tinged with suspicion. "This is the Gentle Fist. How do you know it? That's a secret technique of the Hyuga clan!"
The question hung in the air. For the Hyuga, the Gentle Fist was sacred—taught only to family members, with its secrets fiercely guarded by the Caged Bird Seal. The idea of an outsider wielding it was incomprehensible.
Satoru tilted his head, his expression unbothered. "Didn't you just teach me?"
The casual remark struck like thunder. Neji's face darkened, disbelief warring with anger. "Learned it… in battle? Impossible! Gentle Fist requires the Byakugan to fully utilize its potential!"
From the audience, Hyuga Hiashi's sharp gaze focused on Satoru. Could this outsider have stolen a Byakugan? He activated his own Byakugan, peering at Satoru's bandaged eyes, but what he saw left him stunned: no signs of a Byakugan.
Hiashi's voice was low but clear. "He doesn't have the Byakugan. And yet…"
Tenten, overhearing, turned to Shikamaru. "If he doesn't have the Byakugan, how did he do it?"
Shikamaru nodded toward the arena, his expression serious. "That's what's so terrifying. He's not relying on Hyuga techniques or bloodlines. He's using pure skill and observation to replicate what he sees."
Neji was trembling with rage. "You're mocking me! No one can replicate Gentle Fist by watching it!"
Satoru's pale blue eyes glinted with amusement. "Believe what you want," he said lightly. "But I don't need your Byakugan. My own eyes… they're enough."
Neji activated his Byakugan fully, focusing on Satoru's chakra network. What he saw was not the chaotic swirl of stolen techniques or forced mimicry—it was calm, composed, and deliberate. Satoru's chakra flowed with precision, like the work of a seasoned master.
"How…" Neji muttered, his voice faltering. "How can this be?"
Suddenly, Neji regained his composure, pushing his doubts aside. It doesn't matter how he does it. Victory is all that counts.
He surged forward, unleashing a barrage of strikes with deadly precision. Palm after palm, the air around Satoru turned into a whirlwind of chakra and force.
Satoru's lips curled into a faint smile. "Not bad," he murmured, sidestepping the storm with uncanny grace. Then, with no warning, his chakra surged.
The white-haired ninja spun on his heel, releasing a burst of chakra that expanded outward in a perfect dome.
"Rotation!" gasped Neji, recognizing the technique instantly. But before he could react, he was thrown back by the force.
Neji hit the ground hard, his body skidding to a halt. His eyes were wide with disbelief as he stared at Satoru, who stood calmly in the center of the arena, the energy from his improvised Rotation dissipating into the air.
In the audience, the reaction was explosive.
"How is that possible?!"
"That technique is exclusive to the Hyuga clan!"
"Did he really just copy it on the spot?"
Hiashi's voice cut through the chaos. "Impossible," he muttered, shaking his head. "Rotation is not just a technique—it's a culmination of our clan's teachings, passed down orally. No outsider could learn it, not even with decades of practice."
"But he did it," Shikamaru said, his tone steady. "He used Neji's own technique against him."
Tenten was still staring in disbelief. "Could he… be from the Hyuga clan after all?"
Shikamaru shook his head. "If he were, don't you think the Hyuga elders would have reacted by now? Besides…" He paused, then added thoughtfully, "Did you notice something about the way he performed it?"
"What do you mean?" Tenten asked, frowning.
"When Satoru used Rotation, the rhythm, angle, and execution—it all mirrored Neji's style perfectly. It wasn't just a generic version of the technique. It was as if he had become Neji for that moment."
Back in the arena, Neji's mind raced. How did he replicate it so perfectly?
Satoru's calm voice interrupted his thoughts. "Ready for the next round, genius? Or are you finally starting to understand what 'fate' really means?"
Neji gritted his teeth, struggling to stand. The white-haired ninja wasn't just fighting him—he was dismantling everything Neji believed about destiny, the strength of his bloodline, and his place in the world.
Satoru's faint smile widened. "Let's keep going. I'm just getting warmed up."