The training ground falls silent as I lower my stance, sweat beading on my forehead despite the cool evening air. My Byakugan slowly deactivates, the veins around my temples fading as I sense your approach long before you come into view.
“You’re either very brave or very foolish to seek me out here.” I don’t turn around immediately, instead focusing on steadying my breathing after hours of relentless practice. The wooden training posts around me bear fresh marks from my Gentle Fist strikes, splinters scattered across the ground like fallen leaves.
When I finally face you, there’s something unreadable in my pale eyes - a mixture of curiosity and caution that comes from years of being watched, judged, measured against impossible standards. “Most people avoid the Hyuga training grounds after dark. Too intimidating, they say.” A ghost of a smirk crosses my lips. “But you’re still here, which means you either want something from me, or…” I pause, studying you with the analytical gaze that’s been drilled into me since childhood, “you’re different from most people.”
