Chapter 9
"You're finally here, Uchiha Makoto."
"Sorry to keep you waiting. This is Tenten—she wanted to come along and listen too."
Neji Hyūga frowned for a moment before his expression steadied.
"It's fine. She's my classmate as well."
He rose from under the tree, his pale eyes fixed on Makoto. They stood facing one another as Neji asked plainly:
"I want to know what you were thinking during the fight."
Uchiha Makoto paced slowly around the tree trunk as he began to explain his method of victory.
"The Clone Technique is something every Academy student learns. I only combined it with Transformation at the right moment."
Neji's memory replayed the spar in the Academy yard—his opponent disappearing after the shuriken throw, and the sudden appearance of Makoto behind him.
"So that's it… just as I thought."
"Exactly," Makoto continued. "That first shuriken wasn't meant to hit you, only to distract. I've trained to polish the three basic jutsu until they're second nature. Even if your Byakugan can see through a clone, when I transformed into a shuriken, I slipped past your guard from behind."
Neji's brows furrowed. He had guessed something similar, yet doubt remained.
"But you were clearly struck by my Jūken before. The Gentle Fist forces chakra directly into an opponent's tenketsu—your chakra flow should have been sealed."
That was something Makoto could not reveal. His strange recovery came from the "Kojiki," the mysterious cheat-like power inside him. In truth, when Neji's palm had landed, he had cursed himself for charging recklessly. But then, a warm current had surged through his body, flushing through his tenketsu and restoring his chakra flow as if nothing had happened.
Name: Uchiha Makoto
Bloodline Limit: Sharingan (One Tomoe)
Ninja Rank: Academy Student
Known Jutsu: Fire Release: Phoenix Sage Fire Technique, Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique, Clone Technique, Transformation Technique, Substitution Technique, Rain-Cloak Concealment, Shurikenjutsu
On the pages of the "Kojiki," the names of the gods faintly glowed, as though angered by Neji's attempt to seal their vessel.
Makoto, however, masked the truth. He smiled lightly and offered Neji a plausible answer:
"Yes, your strike hit me. But you said it yourself—Jūken disrupts the chakra network. What if I force extra chakra into circulation, overwhelming the block and restoring flow? My body takes damage, but the chakra keeps moving. That's enough for me."
Neji's lips pressed thin. If Gentle Fist could be countered that easily, the Hyūga would not have been feared for generations. Still, he recognized the explanation as a way of preserving face. He did not press further.
"Makoto Uchiha… do you have something you want to ask me in return?"
He had understood from the beginning: the reason Makoto had sought him out after class was not just to gloat, but to question him.
"Neji, I've noticed something. Whenever a bird passes overhead, your eyes follow it with longing."
Makoto's tone was calm but probing.
"I wondered why someone called a genius, someone stronger than most at our age, would say in his self-introduction that his only goal is 'to become a powerful shinobi.' Combined with that gaze at the sky, I realized it's the look of someone yearning for freedom."
He stepped toward the quieter training ground at the edge of the forest. The Academy yard was already empty, so no one would overhear. Neji followed reluctantly, his jaw set. Tenten trailed behind, anxious and silent.
"I think we're alike, Neji," Makoto said. "That's why I wanted to understand you better—and maybe even build trust between us."
"Before our spar, I looked into events in the village. Two years ago, during the incident with Kumogakure, a Hyūga shinobi named Hizashi Hyūga gave up his life. If I'm right, he was your—"
"Don't say another word!"
Neji's face twisted with fury. The veins around his eyes bulged as his Byakugan activated in full, his voice trembling with rage.
"What could you possibly understand? You, born under the full sun of the Uchiha name—what do you know of a bird trapped in a cage?"
He lunged forward, Jūken chakra lancing from his palm.
"Stop pretending you're anything like me! What right do you have to pass judgment on my life? Don't talk down to me!"
Makoto's own eyes spun red, his Sharingan snapping open. He had expected this reaction. With its heightened perception, he slipped past Neji's thrust, watching the chakra streams burst from his opponent's fingertips.
"Body Technique—stomach strike!"
Timing his counter, Makoto drove a sharp punch into Neji's abdomen, forcing the Hyūga prodigy back a step as his breath hitched.
A mouthful of saliva splashed from the corner of Neji's mouth.
"How can this pain compare to the humiliation of the cursed seal of the Hyūga Branch House, the so-called bird in a cage!"
Surprisingly, Neji didn't care about the sharp pain in his abdomen—despite Uchiha Makoto putting real force into the blow—he resolutely continued to press forward with Jūken strikes.
Uchiha Makoto was irritated that he could not recklessly use ninjutsu in this situation. Although the strange power of the Kojiki in his body shielded him from the worst effects of Neji's Gentle Fist by restoring his chakra flow, the physical ache remained.
He could only rely on his slightly stronger physique, combined with the reflexes granted by his single-tomoe Sharingan, to clash head-on with Neji Hyūga. The two exchanged blow after blow, a pure contest of taijutsu without flashy jutsu to intervene.
"Is this your rage, Neji? It feels so powerless!" Makoto taunted through clenched teeth.
"Come again! If your power is only words, then all you show me is helpless fury! Where is your conviction?"
Even though Neji's Gentle Fist targeted chakra points precisely, Makoto's abnormal recovery gave him an unfair edge. Combined with his cheat-like stamina, Makoto overwhelmed Neji's offense, seizing victory in a straight physical exchange.
The fight ended with Makoto lowering his head into Neji's with a headbutt, followed by a final heavy punch that drove the wind from Neji's chest. Neji collapsed, his body too battered to rise again.
Makoto brushed a bruise at the corner of his mouth and spat blood to the side.
"Fate is in your own hands, Neji."
"The cursed destiny of the Hyūga Clan will one day be changed by us. Stand with me, Neji."
"I will become Hokage! With that strength, we can break your shackles and reform the clan system itself."
Uchiha Makoto deliberately framed his ambition as tied to Hokage, a mantle that Konoha revered, wrapping his personal plan in a symbol of legitimacy.
But he reminded himself: now was not the time to openly confess all. The village was full of watching eyes—Anbu, teachers, even rival clans—and any loose word might expose him.
Makoto bent down, extending a hand to the fallen Neji. His Sharingan dimmed back to black as he met Neji's gaze with rare sincerity.
Tiantian, who had been watching from the side, was utterly dumbfounded. She had never imagined Uchiha Makoto would fight Neji so fiercely.
She had almost run to call Nishio Yutaro for help, but Makoto's earlier glance stopped her in her tracks, leaving her frozen with worry.
After a long silence, Neji finally lifted his hand, grasping Makoto's. That small gesture eased the tension that had been pressing on Makoto's chest.
"Please continue to exchange with me in the future, Neji," Makoto said.
Neji, pulled to his feet, said nothing. He understood the meaning behind Makoto's words but, true to his pride, refused to offer friendliness after such a humiliating loss.
"You… are you alright?" Tiantian finally managed to voice her concern, eyes still darting between them.
Makoto forced a smile in her direction, signaling that he was fine, though the sting in his split lip twisted his expression in pain.
"Let's go. It's time to return," Makoto said, his tone calm and commanding.
The three of them, by silent agreement, fell into step together as Makoto naturally took the lead.
...
"Hahaha! Crane tail, crane tail!"
"Shorty!"
"Look, his eyebrows are like caterpillars, so weird!"
Back on the playground, the group of students that Makoto and the others had passed earlier was still lingering, mocking and jeering at another classmate.