The training hall was silent, but the tension thickened like a storm on the horizon.
Elder Takahiro said nothing when Akai accepted Neji's challenge. His face remained impassive, but unease gnawed at him—an unfamiliar, unwelcome feeling.
That brat.
Did he even grasp what he was getting into? Neji wasn't an opponent to take lightly. He never was, especially with all his genius he had showed to the clan before he was branded with the mark.
For all of Akai's unsettling calm, Takahiro couldn't shake the instinctive certainty that the boy was in over his head.
Yet Akai stood there, unruffled.
His stance was casual, almost lazy. Hands resting loosely at his sides, head tilted slightly—not in focus, but in amusement. His red-white eyes, as unreadable as ever, gleamed with something sharp. Not caution. Not determination. Just… curiosity.
Neji's irritation showed in the tightening of his jaw. "What are you doing? Get into position."
Akai blinked, then—without urgency—glanced around the hall.
Hinata had already stepped back, shoulders slightly hunched, her gaze wary.
Hiashi's stare remained locked on Akai, confusion flickering beneath his controlled exterior. Elder Genzou, typically unreadable, had gone still—watching with an intensity that suggested he too sensed something off.
Even Takahiro, who prided himself on sharp instincts, was caught off guard.
Why wasn't the boy moving?
Akai let the silence linger, stretching it just long enough to become deliberate. Then—
"Oh, right."
His voice was light, almost distracted, as if remembering something trivial.
Only then did he shift into a stance—a halfhearted, lazy imitation of Neji's own posture.
Takahiro clenched his jaw, his fingers twitching. The urge to smack the boy upside the head with the same iconic TWHACK had never been stronger.
His jaw clenched, veins nearly bulging as he resisted the well-deserved urge to deliver another smack to the boy's head. A sharp exhale flared through his nose, his patience hanging by a thread.
Neji's expression darkened.
A flicker of skepticism. A flash of offense.
"What the hell is that?" His voice was level, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
Akai only smiled.
The silence stretched, taut as a drawn bowstring. Then—
Hiashi raised his hand.
With a slow movement Neji brought his hand to a half tiger sign, veins bulging on his eyes, his byakugan was activated.
"Start." And with Hiashi's announcement, Neji lunged.
Akai's face remained unchanged.
Not confident. Not smug. Not even mildly entertained.
Just a polite, almost cordial smile—the kind reserved for casual greetings on the street.
Neji's fist shot forward, swift and precise. Every movement was honed to perfection, every strike laced with the unspoken understanding that this was no mere spar.
And yet—
Akai moved.
Not with sharp, calculated efficiency, but with something strangely… wasteful.
His dodges were exaggerated, too wide for necessity. His counters came slow, casual. A flick of the wrist. A halfhearted slap where a palm thrust should have been. Every deflection looked careless, as if he were humoring a child rather than responding to an attack.
But they worked.
The stance he had carelessly mimicked earlier was gone, replaced by something just as bizarre—if not more so.
The elders exchanged glances, quiet murmurs rippling through the hall.
Takahiro exhaled sharply, arms crossed. "Tch. The brat's just started. He barely knows how to block Tenketsu points." I suppose it was good enough he could deflect or even dodge, He left that last part unspoken aloud.
Elder Genzou's voice was measured but no less intrigued. "That… isn't how a Hyūga fights."
And then, something far more unsettling.
Akai had no visible veins on his face.
A brief, stunned silence fell over the room.
Hiashi's gaze sharpened, and without hesitation, he and the elders activated their Byakugan.
What they saw deep within Akai's body was… unnatural.
His chakra—if it could even be called that—moved like nothing they had ever encountered. A crimson energy, faint yet unmistakable, surged from his brain and fed directly into his eyes. But there were no pathways.
It flowed like mist, shifting and curling in a way that defied the structured circulatory system of normal chakra. Dark, inky tendrils coiled around it, obscuring its movement, making it nearly imperceptible—except near his eyes, where it burned unnaturally bright. This energy fueled both the Byakugan and that other eye, the one that had remained an anomaly since his birth.
Hiashi's expression remained unreadable, but his mind churned.
They knew who Akai's parents were. They had expected, at some point, that the other eye—the one that was not a Byakugan—might awaken into a Sharingan. That would have been logical. Predictable. A product of his lineage.
Yet, no tomoe had ever formed. Instead, a red eye, permanently stained like fresh blood, sat in his socket—a presence that had never flickered or changed. For years, they had dismissed it as some mutated form of the Sharingan, a mere byproduct of mixed blood.
But this?
This was something else entirely.
Genzou remained silent, his expression unreadable. Takahiro clenched his jaw but said nothing. Hiashi, ever composed, forced himself to remain neutral.
For now, the fight would continue.
Neji's strikes came fast and precise, but Akai moved through them with an almost lazy ease, his hands redirecting each attack as if he were merely adjusting the pieces of a puzzle.
Then, in the middle of an exchange, he spoke.
"Turn your killing intent down, please?"
The request was spoken with an almost casual air, as if he were asking Neji to adjust the volume of his voice.
Neji's jaw tensed. His stance tightened. His next strike came sharper, more focused.
Akai tilted his head. "Ah… looks like you don't want to do that. Well, in that case—why not turn it further up instead? Maybe I'll see something interesting…"
It was infuriating.
A flicker of irritation ignited in Neji's chest.
This bastard—was he testing something?
His frustration seeped into his movements, making his strikes faster, heavier. But no matter how much he adjusted, no matter how much intent he poured into his attacks—Akai remained calm. Detached.
As if none of this was personal.
As if he was the one observing Neji.
This bastard—was he testing something?
His frustration seeped into his strikes, making them faster, stronger. Yet, no matter how he adjusted his intent, Akai remained frustratingly calm.
Akai's mind, however, was elsewhere.
So… anger passively activates Lapse like that. Fear can generate Cursed Energy too, but it doesn't trigger Lapse the same way…
Akai's thoughts drifted, analyzing, dissecting.
In that moment of distraction—
Neji struck.
A jab—two fingers aimed straight at his tenketsu.
"Ah—"
Akai barely reacted.
Neji's fingers struck with precision, each hit landing in rapid succession—closing chakra points, sealing his energy flow with practiced efficiency.
It should have hurt.
It should have shut him down.
Yet—
Neji's eyes widened.
"Got you!"
He straightened, exhaling, his stance easing.
"It's over," he declared with finality. "Your chakra points are—"
And then, he froze.
"…?!!"
Something was wrong.
Neji's Byakugan told him the truth—Akai's chakra points had been sealed. His pathways had been blocked.
But then—
The blockages… vanished.
His chakra points reopened, one after another, like nothing had ever happened. The energy beneath Akai's skin pulsed and flowed, undisturbed, untouched.
The elders tensed, their Byakugan still active, watching every shift in his chakra network.
"What did he do…?"
A flicker of red.
For just a moment, they saw it—something red, seeping over the closed tenketsu, dissolving the restrictions as though they had never been there.
Behind them, Hinata clutched the sleeve of her clothes, watching in silent confusion.
"…What's happening?" she whispered, so softly that only Genzou heard.
But Akai wasn't listening.
He was elsewhere—deep in that feeling.
That trance.
So…
The Addition of Cursed Energy and Chakra isn't useless after all.
Originally, he thought it was.
The first time he combined a positive and negative number, it broke his own finger. That failure had made him consider medical ninjutsu.
But what if… he lapsed it?
What if he forced positivity and negativity to neutralize each other?
Wouldn't that make it zero?
Nullification.
A technique that canceled itself out entirely.
A Nullification Cursed Technique.
If he were to develop more techniques based on this principle in the future—
That would be their name.
A shivering smile.
For just a few seconds, Neji hesitated.
That expression on Akai's face—it wasn't mocking, nor was it filled with condescension.
It was… happiness.
Not the arrogant satisfaction of someone proving a point, but the pure, unfiltered joy of discovery. As if he had just grasped the meaning of life itself.
What…? Neji thought, his brows furrowing.
Akai exhaled softly.
"Thanks," he said, voice strangely warm. "It was wonderful, Neji."
Neji stiffened.
There was nothing inherently malicious in those words.
Yet, to his ears, they sounded utterly menacing.
"What is he thanking me for?"
Then—
A blink—
And the world shifted.
—
Neji's breath hitched.
For a moment, everything felt wrong.
Akai wasn't standing where he was before.
He felt bigger—no, not in power, but in presence.
In the mere fraction of a second that Neji had blinked, the space between them had collapsed.
Akai was already in front of him.
Not moving. Not dashing.
He was just there.
"How—!?"
Neji flinched—his stance faltered—
A single jab landed.
Sharp. Precise.
His body reacted instantly, instincts and training screaming at him.
"He—he's trying to block my tenketsu!"
Neji sprang back, pressing his unblocked left hand to his right shoulder—the brachial plexus.
"Disperse it. Reset the flow. There, it should be—"
But—
Nothing changed.
His chakra wasn't returning.
His Byakugan flared as he scanned his own body—
And what he saw made his blood run cold.
There was no blockage.
Not a single chakra point was sealed.
But a bright crimson haze sat on his brachial plexus—
A gas-like anomaly that nullified the chakra flowing through it.
Not stopped. Not sealed.
Simply… erased.
"What… what did he do!?"
He pressed. And pressed again.
Each time, his fingers struck the same point, chakra flowing into it in measured pulses—an attempt to shake loose the so-called "blockage."
Nothing.
It didn't do much.
Neji barely had time to process this before Akai moved again.
This time, there was no hesitation. No wasted motion.
A single hand rose—
A swift strike followed—
Not a palm.
Not a Gentle Fist technique.
A simple, deliberate karate chop.
"What kind of technique—"
Sharp pain exploded at the base of Neji's neck.
A breath hitched in his throat—
"Kh—!"
Then, silence.
His vision blurred. His legs wavered.
"I… lost…?"
And in the next instant—
Neji collapsed, unconscious.
.
.
.
Akai blinked down at Neji's unconscious form, his crimson eye seem bored.
Tilting his head, he muttered absently, "Ah… he's really out. That wasn't supposed to happen."
His voice carried no concern, only idle curiosity, yet the air in the room had grown unbearably thick. The midday heat pressed against the room, but the tension made it feel colder.
The elders stood rigid, their faces drawn, while Hiashi's sharp gaze flickered between Akai and Neji, searching for an explanation.
This wasn't the result of a clean strike or chakra exhaustion—Neji had simply fallen. And Akai, with his usual detached air, had made it happen.
Crouching beside Neji, Akai reached out and tapped his forehead. Once. Twice. A light, absentminded gesture, like a child checking if a broken toy would start working again.
Nothing.
Akai exhaled, watching with mild interest as caged birds began to manifest around Neji. They were remnants of his lingering cursed energy, taking shape for mere moments before crumbling apart.
With a lazy flick of his finger, he erased them all. Some barely had time to solidify before vanishing, while others fully formed only to shatter under his touch, dissolving into nothing.
The silence that followed was heavy. Then, at last, Hiashi moved. His steps were slow, measured, his posture composed—but his presence carried the weight of a storm barely restrained.
His voice was calm. Too calm.
"What exactly did you just do?"
The words were structured like a question, but Akai knew better. This wasn't curiosity. It was a demand.
Blinking, he turned to Hiashi, genuine confusion flickering across his face. What was he talking about?
"What do you mean?" Akai asked, tilting his head slightly.
Before Hiashi could respond, a sharp voice cut through the tension.
"Brat!"
Elder Takahiro's voice boomed as he strode forward, his usual theatrical outrage in full force. But there was something different this time—something edged with urgency rather than mere bluster.
"Stand up and explain yourself!"
Akai's gaze flickered toward them, his mind momentarily drifting away from their tense expressions to something far more curious—none of them had their Byakugan activated anymore. The realization settled in, standing out more than their demands or reprimands.
Then, without warning, Takahiro seized Akai's wrist in a rough, unrelenting grip. His fingers dug into Akai's skin as his Byakugan flared to life once more, veins bulging at his temples. His sharp, pale eyes scanned the flow of chakra within Akai's body, probing for an anomaly, for an answer.
"Do it again, boy!" His voice cracked like a whip, thick with expectation.
Akai's brow arched slightly. "Again? You mean…?"
Takahiro's grip tightened further. "The red chakra—show me again."
Understanding dawned on Akai like a slow, creeping dawn.
They hadn't seen it before.
Were they attempting to decipher his technique?
Or were they trying to grasp something deeper—the so called Cursed Energy?
A thrill ran through him. His curiosity, always insatiable, stirred once more. And as it always did, it overrode everything else. A quiet, almost amused smile played on his lips.
Fine. He would indulge them.
With a flicker of intent, he generated a lapse. From his palm, cursed energy unfurled like thick, ethereal smoke, a deep crimson hue curling into the air like tendrils of something ancient and unnatural.
The shifting ink-like veins at its edges pulsed with an eerie, uneven rhythm, writhing as they stretched outward. The smoke wove around Takahiro's arm, licking at his face, creeping into his field of vision—
Yet, Takahiro didn't react.
His expression remained still. His posture unshaken.
No widened eyes. No flinch. No recognition.
Akai's smile wavered, ever so slightly.
So… they really can't see it.
Takahiro stood firm, his Byakugan straining as he scrutinized Akai's chakra network. His patience was thinning.
"Why are you silent? Show me properly!"
Akai considered his options. The Byakugan could only perceive chakra, not cursed energy. But if that was the case… what if he simply subtracted the chakra to it?
Without a word, he made the adjustment. The cursed energy in his palm dimmed—lessening just enough, fine-tuning the balance—
And then—
"Ah…"
Takahiro's breath hitched. His pale eyes widened ever so slightly.
The once-invisible smoke now had form, twisting and curling before him. Even under the noon sun, the crimson smoke shimmered like a mirage, a stain upon reality itself.
Across the room, Genzou and Hiashi reacted instantly, their Byakugan flaring to life. And then, they too saw it.
Akai tilted his head, watching their reactions with mild interest. He wasn't waiting for their approval, nor did he care for their opinions. The only thing that mattered was the result. The experiment was a success.
Just like his fight with Neji.
Just like when he protected Hinata.
It was never about conviction. Never about sentiment. He simply wanted to see what would happen—to observe, to understand.
A small smile tugged at his lips. But before he could reflect any further—
"How… how in the world do you have the Kyuubi's chakra?!"
Takahiro's voice rang out, shattering the silence.
Akai's expression blanked.
…Huh?
A misunderstanding? Things were about to get complicated.
It's like, his training arc went wrong.
.
.
.
To be continued.