Up in the VIP balcony, the roaring cheers of the crowd faded into a low, buzzing hum as the spectators watched Hyūga Akira casually walk off the stone platform.
Hiruzen Sarutobi took a slow drag from his pipe, blowing a thin plume of white smoke into the cool morning air. Beside him, Danzō Shimura cast a single, indifferent eye over the retreating six-year-old.
"A mediocre performance," Danzō remarked coldly, his voice devoid of any real intrigue. "He panicked the moment his skin was breached and surrendered like a common coward. A pity... for a second, I thought the Hyūga might have produced something worth noting, but he is merely another fragile Branch House servant."
With a flick of his robe, Danzō turned his back on the arena floor, completely losing whatever fleeting interest he had in the boy.
Hiruzen frowned slightly, taking another pull from his pipe. "Watch your mouth, Danzō. Main or Branch, he is a child of Konoha."
Turning his head toward a senior Academy administrator standing nearby, Hiruzen added softly, "Consult with the boy's class instructor. Offer him an early graduation option and inform him that I am willing to personally grant him a C-rank ninjutsu scroll from the village archives to encourage his growth. Even as Hokage, I will not force a child into active service if he is unprepared. Let him make his own choice."
Down on the arena floor, Itachi accepted his black forehead protector from the proctor. After receiving the applause, he quietly stepped off the platform and walked toward the Uchiha section of the stands.
Waiting for him was his father, Fugaku Uchiha, whose usually stern face held a rare, proud smile, alongside his mother, Mikoto, who held baby Sasuke wrapped gently in her arms.
"Congratulations on your graduation, Itachi," Mikoto said warmly, her eyes crinkling with gentleness. "You did wonderfully."
"Thank you, Mother," Itachi replied with a polite bow.
Fugaku nodded in approval, placing a firm, heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "A historic performance. We shall host a private feast tonight to celebrate your full ascension to a shinobi of the Leaf."
Later that evening, inside the traditional Uchiha main compound, the family gathered around a low table laden with freshly prepared dishes. As the meal progressed, Fugaku set down his chopsticks and looked directly across at his eldest son.
"Itachi... why did you request to fight that Hyūga boy today?" Fugaku asked calmly. "You could have chosen anyone from the upper classes, yet you singled out a six-year-old Branch member."
Itachi lowered his gaze, staring at the warm tea in his cup as he organized his thoughts.
"I met him briefly during the night of the Nine-Tails attack," Itachi recounted softly. "Since then, I have observed him around the Academy. While other students train openly or seek attention, he spends every free moment sitting in the library reading advanced theory, completely detached from those around him. During our match... he didn't fight with his full strength. He deliberately took a superficial wound just to construct a believable excuse to surrender."
Itachi looked up at his father, genuine confusion in his dark eyes. "I know every shinobi keeps secrets... but why hide his strength so thoroughly? Why not use that talent openly to serve and protect the village?"
The dining room fell into a heavy silence.
Fugaku sighed quietly, exchanging a brief, meaningful look with Mikoto before addressing his son. "The village is complex, Itachi... but clan dynamics are even more so. You must understand how the Hyūga operate. Their Branch family carries a heavy burden. By forcing that boy onto a public stage in front of the Hokage and the entire village, you placed him in a precarious, highly delicate position with his own clan elders."
Hearing his father's explanation, Itachi felt a sudden, sharp pang of guilt in his chest. He had merely wanted to test an equal—someone who saw the world through a mature lens like himself—without realizing the political backlash his sudden challenge might cause for the boy.
Noticing her son's flustered expression, Mikoto smiled gently, reaching over to pat Itachi's hand. "Do not beat yourself up over it, Itachi. A genius like Akira won't be treated ordinarily regardless. The Hyūga elders know talent when they see it."
Itachi let out a long, quiet sigh and nodded slowly. Letting go of his lingering heavy thoughts, he leaned over toward his baby brother, offering a finger for Sasuke to grab, a soft, rare smile returning to his face.
Meanwhile, inside the quiet Academy infirmary, a nurse finished wrapping a clean white bandage over the small flesh wound on Akira's upper left arm.
"All done," she said kindly. "Keep it dry for a couple of days."
"Thank you," Akira replied flatly, hopping off the examination table.
Just as he reached for his dark shirt, the door slid open, and his class instructor, Chunin Daikoku, walked into the room. The teacher looked at Akira with a deeply complicated expression.
"Akira," Daikoku began, leaning against the doorframe. "Lord Hokage watched your performance today. Recognizing your exceptional talent, he has authorized an early graduation option for you. Furthermore, as a personal gift to encourage your development, the Hokage is offering to grant you a C-rank ninjutsu scroll of your choice from the village repository."
Akira's face remained a mask of total apathy, not a single muscle twitching.
Internally, however, he was sneering bitterly. "A C-rank scroll? The Hokage and those old geezers really love using cheap scraps to bait kids into becoming early cannon fodder for their border patrols."
"I must respectfully decline, Sensei," Akira stated smoothly, his voice devoid of any ambition. "I feel I still have much to learn within the structured environment of the Academy. I will graduate when the standard time comes."
Daikoku blinked, clearly surprised that a six-year-old child would turn down such an immense honor from the Hokage himself. But seeing the absolute finality in the boy's pale Byakugan eyes, the teacher let out a defeated sigh.
"If that is your decision, I will convey it to the Hokage," Daikoku said.
"Thank you, Sensei," Akira said, pulling his shirt back on. "If it's alright, I am not feeling very well after the match. I would like to take leave for the remainder of the day."
"Granted. Go home and rest."
Leaving the Academy grounds, Akira didn't head straight back to his villa. Instead, he took a circuitous route through the commercial sector, dropping by his newly reconstructed property shops to inspect the daily accounts. Before leaving the market, he purchased a freshly cut, high-grade slab of deer meat for his dinner.
However, as he finally turned the corner onto the stone pathway leading to his private villa compound, his Byakugan flickered beneath his eyelids.
The news of his public match against the Uchiha prodigy had traveled fast. Standing right outside his front gate were two stern-faced Hyūga guards dressed in formal clan armor. One of them—a sharp-eyed female Chunin from the Main House delegation—stepped forward as Akira approached.
"Hyūga Akira," she announced coldly. "Lord Hiashi and the clan elders have requested your immediate presence at the main estate."
Akira paused in his tracks, holding his brown paper parcel of deer meat. He let out a low, weary sigh in his mind.
"The Uchiha brat really brought the trouble straight to my doorstep..."
Looking up at the female guard with his usual unbothered, indifferent expression, Akira nodded slightly. "I understand. Give me one minute to drop my groceries inside."