The First Great Shinobi War had begun.
Konoha was besieged on all sides, the other four great nations seeking to exploit the death of Hashirama Senju. His presence had once acted as a deterrent, his strength unmatched. But now, with his passing, there was no longer a single figure powerful enough to keep them at bay.
Tobirama Senju, the new Hokage, was a brilliant tactician, but he was not his brother. He lacked the sheer overwhelming strength that had once made Konoha untouchable. The Land of Fire, with its fertile lands and abundant resources, had always been a prize in the eyes of the other nations. Now, they moved in unison, like wolves sensing weakness.
Among those called to defend the village was Hiroshi Hyuga, Indra's father. Alongside him, 400 Hyuga shinobi were deployed to the frontlines.
Only the elderly, the wounded, and the young remained behind.
-----
The night before his departure, Hiroshi knelt before his son in their private training hall. His normally composed expression was unreadable.
"Indra, in times like these, strength is not just a necessity—it is a duty."
Indra met his father's gaze. "I understand, Father."
Hiroshi studied him for a long moment before speaking again.
"I want you to refine your chakra control. It is the foundation of all techniques. Without it, you will never reach your full potential."
Indra absorbed the advice, already forming a plan.
His father smiled slightly, then stood.
"Train well, my son."
And with that, he was gone.
-------
Within months, the first waves of injured shinobi returned from the battlefield.
Indra watched as they limped back into the village—some missing limbs, others bearing deep scars across their bodies. Some were too mentally broken to even speak.
This was not like the stories he had read in his past life. This was war in its truest, most brutal form.
This world doesn't just kill—it devours.
Watching these shattered warriors only strengthened his resolve.
Indra immersed himself completely, refining his chakra control, pushing his body, and sharpening his mind. If he wanted to survive in this world, he couldn't afford to be complacent.
His first challenge was the Leaf Sticking Exercise.
It seemed simple at first. Place a single leaf on the forehead and hold it there with chakra. In reality, it was anything but.
The moment Indra tried, the leaf slid off almost immediately. His chakra control was unstable—too weak at times, too strong at others. If he tried too hard, he would push the leaf away. If he relaxed too much, it would fall.
Balance. Control. Precision.
The first few days were frustrating. His concentration wavered frequently. He found his mind drifting—to the war, to his father, to the countless what-ifs that plagued him. Each distraction caused the leaf to fall.
But Indra wasn't one to give up.
Every day, he sat cross-legged in the Hyuga training hall, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. He focused, feeling his chakra rather than forcing it. Slowly, the leaf stayed longer and longer—ten seconds, then a minute, then five. After a week, he could hold it without thinking.
Good. Now let's push further.
He placed another leaf on his left shoulder. Then his right. Then on both hands. Controlling multiple points required even greater focus, but he adapted. Soon, his entire body was covered in leaves, each one held in place by a carefully controlled flow of chakra.
He experimented with different shapes and sizes, learning to maintain chakra flow regardless of how the leaf moved. Wind? No problem. Sudden movements? He adjusted. By the end of the second month, he didn't even have to think about it anymore—his chakra control had become instinctual.
With his foundation set, Indra moved on to Tree Walking.
This exercise built upon the lessons of Leaf Sticking but introduced a new challenge—constant adjustments. Unlike the leaves, where chakra remained steady, walking up a vertical surface required continuous chakra modulation.
His first attempt was disastrous.
He ran at the tree, focused his chakra—and promptly slammed face-first into the bark before sliding down.
Too little chakra.
On the second try, he overcompensated, pushing too much chakra into his feet. The moment his foot connected, it rebounded violently, launching him backward.
Too much chakra.
It was an infuriating process. Every step required precise control—sticking just enough to stay attached, unsticking just enough to move forward. He tried again and again, falling repeatedly. The bark scraped his arms, his legs ached, and his patience wore thin.
But he refused to stop.
Each failure was a lesson. He learned to focus on his breathing, to distribute his chakra smoothly rather than in bursts. After a week of effort, he managed ten steps up before falling. After two weeks, he could make it to the top of the tallest tree in the compound.
By the end of the month, he no longer even needed to think about it—his feet stuck and released automatically, allowing him to move freely across walls, ceilings, and even upside down.
This is how a shinobi should move.
One evening, as he practiced in the compound, he noticed Asahi watching him. She had been standing there for several minutes, her gaze filled with quiet determination. Without a word, she stepped forward and attempted it herself.
Like him, she struggled at first. But after watching him fail and succeed, she adapted quickly. Within weeks, she too could scale trees with ease.
The final stage of chakra control training was Water Walking.
Unlike trees, which provided a solid surface, water was constantly shifting. This required continuous chakra modulation, never too little or too much.
They chose a small pond near the Hyuga herb gardens as their training ground.
Indra took a deep breath, focused his chakra into the soles of his feet, and stepped onto the water.
For a single glorious moment, he felt weightless, the surface of the pond holding him up—until his chakra wavered.
He plunged straight into the water.
Spluttering, he pulled himself to shore, coughing up water as Asahi burst into laughter. She covered her mouth, trying to hide her amusement, but her shaking shoulders betrayed her.
"Not a word," Indra muttered.
The first few days were filled with failure after failure. He either sank instantly or used too much chakra, causing the water to explode outward in ripples.
It's like balancing on an invisible thread.
Little by little, he learned to adjust. He listened to the ebb and flow of the water, feeling the natural movements and adapting to them. Instead of trying to overpower nature, he flowed with it.
Asahi soon joined him, determined to keep up. She fell in just as much as he did, and soon their training sessions turned into playful competitions—who could stay on the longest, who could run the farthest, who could perform a Gentle Fist strike while balanced.
Some days, when training became too exhausting, they would simply play in the water, splashing each other or chasing fish across the surface.
For the first time since the war began, Indra felt something he hadn't in a long time—peace.
This is what childhood should feel like…
Despite the looming war, despite the knowledge of the battles their parents were fighting, these moments made everything feel normal, even if just for a little while.
And as weeks passed, their bond deepened—not just as training partners, but as friends.
-----
A year had passed since Indra and Asahi began their intense training, and in that time, their skills had grown far beyond what was expected of children their age.
The war continued to rage, and while they were sheltered from its horrors within the Hyuga compound, the sight of injured shinobi returning home, some missing limbs, others bearing wounds that would never heal, served as a grim reminder of what lay ahead.
Indra refused to be weak. He pushed himself harder than ever before, incorporating new methods into his training to prepare for the future.
It started as an experiment.
Water Walking had forced Indra to control his chakra constantly, adjusting with every ripple and disturbance in the water. He realized that adding Gentle Fist training on water would push his control to an even higher level.
Balancing on the surface of the pond, he faced Asahi.
"Let's spar here," he suggested.
She raised an eyebrow. "Here? On water?"
He smirked. "If we can fight here, we can fight anywhere."
Asahi grinned, taking her stance. "Alright. Let's see who falls in first."
Their first attempts were chaotic. The moment they moved, the water beneath them rippled violently, making them lose balance. Indra lunged forward with a palm strike, but the shifting water threw off his aim. Asahi sidestepped—only to miscalculate the next step and fall in with a loud splash.
The next day, they tried again.
Slowly, they adapted. Indra learned to read the water's movements, using it to his advantage rather than fighting against it. He noticed that staying light on his feet, minimizing unnecessary movements, helped maintain stability.
Asahi, on the other hand, focused on footwork. She practiced short, controlled steps rather than large movements, allowing her to remain steady even when the water shifted unpredictably.
After weeks of training, their sparring sessions became fluid, almost dance-like. They moved swiftly across the pond, landing precise strikes while maintaining their balance.
They had reached another level.
Realizing that chakra control alone wouldn't be enough, Indra began physical conditioning to build endurance.
At dawn, he ran laps around the Hyuga compound, increasing the distance each week. At first, he struggled to complete even two laps without his legs burning. But he refused to stop. Every morning, he pushed himself harder, forcing his body to adapt.
Asahi, not one to be left behind, started running with him.
"You're not leaving me in the dust," she huffed as they sprinted side by side.
"Then keep up," Indra challenged.
They incorporated bodyweight exercises into their routine—push-ups, squats, and agility drills. Their bodies grew stronger, more resilient.
By the end of the year, Indra could run multiple laps without breaking a sweat, and his stamina during sparring sessions had doubled.
Through relentless training, Indra's Gentle Fist improved. At first, his strikes were strong but lacked precision. His Byakugan, still developing, could only see chakra points faintly.
But as his chakra control improved, so did his ability to target the enemy's chakra network with pinpoint accuracy.
One day, as he practiced, his movements became instinctual—his arms traced a familiar circular pattern, his strikes forming a perfect eight-trigram rotation.
He had unknowingly replicated the foundation of the Eight Trigrams techniques.
Excited, he trained further, refining his speed and accuracy. Soon, he could strike multiple chakra points in succession, disrupting an opponent's chakra flow entirely.
I'm getting closer… but I still have a long way to go.
With his father at war, he had no formal teacher to guide him through the advanced forms, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he fully mastered the techniques of the Hyuga Clan.
The constant use of chakra in training had a side effect—his reserves grew.
Chakra wasn't just something one was born with—it could be expanded through consistent usage and refinement. The more he pushed himself, the greater his stamina became.
By the end of the year, he could feel it—his chakra levels were no longer that of an average academy student. He had reached a level comparable to a lower Chunin.
Not enough… but a good start.
He wasn't satisfied. He knew that in a few years, he'd have to face true monsters on the battlefield. He had to keep growing.
The year of training had changed him and Asahi.
They weren't just children anymore. They had pushed their limits, honed their skills, strengthened their minds—and now, it was time for the next step.
The Ninja Academy.