A few minutes later, Hinata and Hanabi emerged from their room.
Izayoi, who had loaded the camera with film and was brimming with anticipation, lit up at the sight. "Stunning, absolutely stunning," he praised repeatedly.
If Hinata and Hanabi in kimonos exuded the refined elegance of traditional noblewomen, their current outfits—sailor uniforms—radiated a modern blend of purity and charm. For Izayoi, it was like stepping back into the urban school life of his past world.
Hinata's gift box contained a white sailor-collared blouse, a navy blue bow, a pleated skirt, and black thigh-high stockings. At one meter fifty-five, with a figure that outshone her peers and could spark envy in many grown women, Hinata didn't look twelve in this outfit. She resembled a youthful high schooler with a striking presence, causing Izayoi's heart to race—a rare occurrence.
This was the idealized school beauty he'd always imagined!
Beside her, his little sister-in-law was equally captivating.
Hanabi wore a scaled-down version of the same outfit: a white sailor-collared blouse, a navy blue bow, a pleated skirt, and, in contrast to Hinata's black stockings, white thigh-high ones. Her waist-length hair was tied into twin tails, making her irresistibly adorable.
"Onii-chan, do I look good?" Hanabi stepped in front of Izayoi, hands behind her back, leaning forward slightly. She blinked her bright eyes and grinned.
"Super cute!" Izayoi gave a thumbs-up.
"Heehee… I think the clothes Onii-chan made are awesome too." Hanabi spun in a circle before him, then sighed with a hint of regret. "It's a shame they're so thin, and the skirt's so short. Not great for going out or fighting."
"No worries, I can improve them later. It's my first time making clothes, after all," Izayoi said with a laugh.
"I-Izayoi-kun… doesn't this outfit come with a jacket?" Hinata's voice came softly, barely above a whisper.
Standing beside Hanabi, she clutched her hands to her chest, cheeks flushed, eyes averted, her tone trembling.
This was how Hinata acted when she was shy.
Puzzled, Izayoi asked, "Hinata, does it not fit?"
It shouldn't be an issue—the measurements should be perfect.
Unless… had Hinata grown again?
"N-no, it fits perfectly… it's just… too revealing," Hinata mumbled, lowering her hands.
In that moment, the white sailor blouse, clinging as tightly as a black fishnet shirt, accentuated Hinata's figure in a way that left nothing to the imagination.
"Ahem… there's a jacket, but I ran out of materials and time, so I haven't made it yet," Izayoi said, clearing his throat.
"Mm." Hinata's face burned as she bowed her head.
"Let's move on—time for a group photo!" Izayoi quickly changed the subject, grabbing the camera with an excited grin.
Soon, they snapped a shot: the three stood side by side, Hinata and Hanabi each linking an arm with Izayoi, their other hands flashing peace signs, their smiles radiant.
Izayoi then wrested the camera from his shadow clone, dispelling it with a punch, and began directing Hinata and Hanabi into various poses, capturing photo after photo.
There was one of Hinata and Hanabi pressed close, their hands forming a heart.
Another showed them back-to-back, aiming finger guns at Izayoi.
After several shots, at Hinata and Hanabi's request, Izayoi changed into the snowman outfit and the new white robe, joining the Hyuga sisters for more photos.
This time, the photographer wasn't a shadow clone but Hinata, who had secretly been learning photography from one, alongside the clone itself.
Eventually, they moved to the dining room to cut the cake.
The camera captured more moments.
One showed the trio clinking juice glasses, their smiles curving their eyes into crescent moons.
Another had Hinata and Hanabi feeding Izayoi with forks, and him returning the favor.
There was a shot of Hanabi smearing cream on Izayoi's face, grinning mischievously, while he closed one eye, his smile indulgent.
And one of Hinata wiping the cream off Izayoi's face with a handkerchief.
At first, the atmosphere was warm, filled with precious memories.
But gradually…
There was a photo of Hanabi, face smeared with cream like a kitten, playfully biting Izayoi's hand while Hinata gently bopped her head with a fist.
Another caught Hinata with a piece of cake accidentally smushed on her face, her smile tight, her gentle gaze turning sharp in an instant.
Then came a series of cake fight snapshots.
The final image showed Izayoi's triumph: he sat in a chair, laughing heartily, while Hinata and Hanabi looked ruefully at their sailor uniforms, freshly changed into but now smeared with cake. The dining room behind them was a chaotic mess.
That day, Hinata and Hanabi played until past nine, bathing at Izayoi's house and changing back into their usual clothes before heading home.
"My reputation's still not enough," Izayoi murmured, standing on the balcony, waving goodbye to the Hyuga sisters. He watched their retreating figures, along with the guard trailing them—silently protecting the girls while ensuring the young ladies didn't stay out all night. "Don't worry," he said softly. "It won't be long before no one can stand in our way."
…
June 23, Year 60 of Konoha.
At the Naka River in the outskirts, two shouts rang out.
"Fire Release: Majestic Dragon Flame Technique!"
Two massive fire dragons, one from the left, one from the right, collided above the river, bursting into a brilliant display of fireworks.
Beneath the spectacle, two boys of starkly different heights clashed fiercely in taijutsu on the water's surface.
On the riverbank, a Byakugan-wielding girl in a white outfit with petal patterns held a camera, angling for shots of the taller boy's dynamic poses.
Bang!
Normally, with his two-tomoe Sharingan active, granting keen insight, Uchiha Sasuke could hold his own for dozens of exchanges, only faltering as stamina waned.
But today, after just a few rounds, Sasuke's spinning tomoe widened in shock. His handsome face contorted as Izayoi's fist connected, sending him flying backward.
The punch wasn't particularly powerful, and Sasuke's resilience had improved—he wasn't knocked out instantly.
On any other day, he'd have sprung back up to attack.
But this time, Sasuke sat on the water, staring at Izayoi, eyes wide. "Was that… Lightning Release?"
Just moments ago, Izayoi's speed had surged to a level where the Sharingan could track it, but Sasuke's body couldn't react in time. Against that straightforward punch, he'd been utterly defenseless.
"To be precise, it's Lightning Release nature transformation," Izayoi lied smoothly. "I'm working on a new ninjutsu I developed. Hinata got me a scroll on cultivating Lightning Release nature transformation, and I discovered by chance that its chakra can stimulate cells, boosting physical speed dramatically."
In truth, Izayoi's shadow clone had crafted Kurosuki Raiga into a human puppet. Using the Tenseigan to observe Raiga's lightning blades and studying the human body, Izayoi had easily mastered the technique.
Since awakening the Tenseigan, Izayoi had grasped at least six nature transformations.
He was perfecting his ultimate technique.
Compared to that, using Lightning Release chakra to stimulate cells was a trivial skill.
Sasuke, of course, didn't know this. His focus wasn't on the nature transformation either. Stunned, he said, "You developed your own ninjutsu?"
"Want to learn it?"
"Your ninjutsu?"
"Dream on. I'm talking about the Lightning Release chakra cell stimulation technique," Izayoi said, rolling his eyes. "If you hadn't already mastered tree-climbing and water-walking, and didn't have the lightning affinity, I wouldn't even consider teaching you something this dangerous."
"I want to learn. Teach me."
Sasuke stood, nodding eagerly, practically reaching out like a chimpanzee, oblivious to the concept of politeness.
Unlike Naruto, Sasuke had no fated rivalry with Izayoi. Over the years, Izayoi's strength had thoroughly impressed him.
Whether with one tomoe or two, Sasuke couldn't beat him.
Both had remarkable chakra reserves, but Naruto, the class dunce, wasn't even in the same league as Izayoi.
In Sasuke's heart, Izayoi was the first friend he'd truly acknowledged.
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