Chapter 24 — Chakra Current Scalpel VS Eight Trigrams Palm: Revolving Heaven
For Obuya, who was well-versed in ninja history, the name "Hyūga Tokuma" was somewhat familiar.
Although history only briefly mentioned him, anyone whose name was recorded in the annals of the ninja world could not have been weak.
Now, the two stood facing one another across the arena.
The air between them felt heavy, taut like a bowstring drawn to its limit. Even the faint wind sweeping across the stadium seemed to avoid the space separating them.
On the second-level observation platform, Rin's hands were clenched so tightly her knuckles had turned pale. Her gaze never left Obuya.
"Teacher Minato… Obuya is going to win, right?"
Her voice, though steady, carried unmistakable worry.
Standing beside her, Minato Namikaze watched the arena with rare seriousness. His usually gentle expression had sharpened.
"This won't be an easy battle," he said calmly. "The Hyūga clan's Byakugan, combined with the Gentle Fist, forms a style that is both offense and defense. It leaves almost no openings."
He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed Tokuma's posture.
"But…" A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "It won't be so simple for this Hyūga prodigy to defeat Obuya either."
The implication lingered in the air.
---
"Begin!!"
Obito jerked upright, gripping the railing as he leaned forward, unwilling to miss even a second.
Hyūga Tokuma moved first.
Veins bulged faintly at his temples as the Byakugan activated. Pale eyes sharpened, vision piercing through flesh, muscle, and bone—mapping chakra pathways with absolute clarity. He lowered his stance, arms extending into the poised, fluid posture of the Gentle Fist.
In Tokuma's vision, Obuya was already standing within his Eight Trigrams field. Every tenketsu, every subtle movement of chakra, lay exposed before him.
Obuya raised his right hand slowly, palm facing downward.
A white whirl of chakra condensed within it, spinning faster and faster until it formed a tight vortex. Then he pressed down sharply.
The vortex expanded outward in an instant.
Wherever the spinning chakra brushed against the arena floor, translucent arcs of light erupted into existence, forming a curved barrier that spread like ripples across water. In mere seconds, nearly the entire battlefield was enveloped within a semi-circular field that shimmered faintly in the air.
Gasps broke out from the second-level stands.
"What is that… a barrier?"
"He raised it alone?"
Barriers were notoriously complex. Even specialized barrier teams required multiple users working in precise coordination to deploy one of notable scale. Yet Obuya had done it with a single gesture.
Inside the barrier, Tokuma's expression shifted.
He felt it immediately—the subtle, suffocating pressure bearing down on him from all directions. But more alarming than the pressure was what he didn't see.
"What…?"
His Byakugan locked onto Obuya's chakra network.
"Why isn't his chakra flowing?"
The barrier was active, yet Obuya's internal chakra pathways remained eerily still, as if untouched by the technique he had just deployed.
"What kind of power is this?"
He had no time to unravel the mystery.
Blue lightning erupted beneath Obuya's feet.
With a sharp crack, arcs of electricity burst across the ground as he propelled himself forward, closing the distance in a blink.
---
"What nerve! Charging a Hyūga head-on?"
"Does he have a death wish? That's the Gentle Fist!"
Laughter laced with malice rippled through certain corners of the audience.
Obuya's right fist, wrapped in brilliant blue current, shot forward toward Tokuma's chest.
Cardiac Shock.
At low output, it could paralyze. At full force, it could stop a heart entirely.
Tokuma's expression did not change. His footwork shifted with surgical precision, body sliding half a step backward. The lightning-wreathed fist grazed empty air.
Simultaneously, his right palm shot forward, chakra condensed at the fingertips.
"Bang!!"
Fist and palm collided.
The impact produced a concussive burst that cracked like thunder. Lightning and chakra clashed violently, scattering sparks into the air.
Obuya's eyes narrowed.
Through the contact point, a subtle, invasive force slipped past his skin—like fine needles threading into muscle and vein. It was not explosive; it was precise. Targeted.
Gentle Fist.
Alarm flared. He disengaged instantly, flipping backward to create distance.
Mid-air, his hands formed seals with swift, practiced movements.
With a soft pop, a second Obuya appeared beside him.
They landed simultaneously.
Two identical figures stood side by side, posture, expression, and even the faint flicker of lightning perfectly mirrored.
It was the first jutsu Obuya had learned under Minato's guidance over the past few days of training with Rin and the others. Though he could only create a single shadow clone for now, to him, it represented a breakthrough—proof that he was evolving beyond pure physical techniques.
---
"Obuya's Shadow Clone!"
Rin's eyes lit up with hope.
But Obuya did not relax.
"So this is the Gentle Fist…" he thought. "Subtle. Treacherous."
Hearing descriptions in theory was nothing compared to feeling his chakra pathways nearly disrupted by a single touch.
From the stands, many assumed Tokuma would press forward now and unleash the famed Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms to end the fight in a decisive flurry.
Yet Tokuma did not advance.
Instead, his expression twitched.
His right hand trembled slightly at his side.
Though he had remained standing, the contact with Cardiac Shock had left his arm numb—muscles stiff, nerves sluggish as if caught in paralysis.
Inside, Tokuma's mind raced.
"The lightning didn't get neutralized…?"
At the same moment, Obuya reached his own conclusion.
"My current didn't fully stop his Gentle Fist… but his Gentle Fist didn't fully suppress my current either."
Their techniques had collided—and both had paid a price.
Without hesitation, Obuya and his clone dashed forward simultaneously, splitting their angles of approach.
Tokuma's pupils contracted.
If his other hand were disabled as well, he would lose the ability to execute precise strikes. He could not allow himself to be dragged into another direct clash.
He leapt backward, palms thrusting forward mid-air.
"Gentle Fist Technique: Eight Trigrams Aerial Palm!"
A compressed shockwave blasted forward like a column of invisible force, distorting the air as it tore toward them.
But Obuya had anticipated this from the moment he created the clone.
The clone shifted slightly, taking the brunt of the attack.
With a thunderous impact, it dispersed into smoke.
At that exact instant, the real Obuya sprang upward.
Lightning surged along his arm, intensifying, compressing, and then expanding outward. The crackling current shaped itself into the ferocious outline of a massive canine head, jaws open wide as it descended from above.
Tokuma's heart lurched.
Before he could adjust his stance, the electrified beast was already upon him.
---
"Eight Trigrams Palm: Revolving Heaven!!"
Chakra erupted from every tenketsu across Tokuma's body, spinning rapidly to form a spiraling wall before him.
The defensive current rotated violently, a dome-like vortex forming in a single direction.
Obito's face drained of color. "He mastered the Revolving Heaven?!"
Minato's gaze sharpened. "Not fully. The true Eight Trigrams Palm: Revolving Heaven is a complete spherical defense. Tokuma can only project it in one direction. Still… that level at his age is remarkable."
A piercing screech tore through the arena.
Obuya's electrified beast-fist slammed into the spinning chakra wall.
Lightning shrieked against rotation. Sparks burst outward in blinding flashes.
The two forces ground against one another, neither yielding.
On the surface, Tokuma appeared steady, the rotating defense dispersing the brunt of the lightning's penetration.
But the truth was more nuanced.
By rotating chakra efficiently, Tokuma minimized direct energy loss while steadily draining Obuya's electrical output. It was defense through redirection.
Seconds stretched.
Finally, the lightning beast collapsed, shrinking back into Obuya's arm.
Tokuma allowed himself the faintest smile.
Sensation was slowly returning to his previously numbed right hand. If he endured a few seconds more, he could counterattack decisively.
Victory was within reach.
Then his smile froze.
Obuya's right hand, no longer shaped into a beast, extended forward calmly.
Between his fingers flickered a thin, precise blade of chakra—compressed into the shape of a scalpel, crackling with concentrated electric current.
A technique refined not for blunt force, but for piercing precision.
"Sizzle—!"
The chakra current scalpel stabbed forward.
Instead of colliding head-on with the rotating wall, it slipped into a narrow seam between currents—drilling through the spiral's rotation with surgical exactness.
The barrier shuddered.
Then it broke.
The electrified scalpel pierced into Tokuma's chest.
Lightning erupted across his body. Muscles locked. Smoke rose from scorched fabric as sparks danced wildly over his frame.
His eyes bulged.
"Cough—!"
Blood sprayed from his lips as his body convulsed.
For a heartbeat, the entire arena fell silent.
The reversal had come too swiftly, too cleanly.
Those who had already assumed Tokuma's victory stood frozen, unable to process what they had just witnessed.