Chapter 9: The Stepping Stone
Masaki Uchiha. A recognized genius of his Uchiha generation. If Namikaze Minato was the undisputed top of their class, Masaki was a solid contender for second. Against Minato's overwhelming pressure, Masaki could hold his own for several exchanges. In shurikenjutsu, he was arguably Minato's equal. He was aggressive, cold, and notoriously merciless in spars, viewing them as genuine combat.
Pairing Shinra with Masaki Uchiha wasn't just targeting; it was a public execution order.
And Shinra had no choice but to accept. This was the harsh reality of the academy's power structure.
Masaki himself reacted with clear disgust when his name was called alongside Shinra's. He frowned, his lip curling in a sneer of utter contempt. Fighting this nobody was beneath him, a waste of his valuable training time. He didn't even glance at Shinra as he swaggered to the center of the training circle, his posture lazy, his eyes already looking past his supposed opponent.
The crowd's gaze—a mixture of mockery, pity, and schadenfreude—settled heavily on Shinra.
Shinra observed it all, a faint, almost predatory smirk touching his lips. A simmering battle intent, long suppressed, began to rise in his chest.
What no one knew was that Shinra felt not a shred of fear. He almost wanted to laugh.
Today, when everyone believed he would be crushed, was the day he would stop hiding.
From the moment this match began, Shinra would officially step onto the stage reserved for geniuses. And Masaki Uchiha, the proud scion of the famed clan, would make for a perfect stepping stone.
Of course, the prerequisite was that Shinra had to win. A notion that everyone, including Kushina, considered as likely as the sun rising in the west.
But was it truly impossible?
"Hmph." Shinra let out a soft, dismissive snort and took a decisive step forward.
At that moment, Kushina snapped out of her stunned worry and grabbed his wrist tightly. "He's setting you up! Shinra, don't go! Just forfeit! I know your shuriken skills are decent, but that guy, Masaki, he's…"
"It's fine."
Shinra's smile remained bright and unshaken. He reached out and gently patted the top of her head, cutting off her frantic warnings. "Don't worry."
His touch, his tone, carried an unfamiliar, inexplicable authority that momentarily stunned Kushina into silence.
By the time she recovered, Shinra had already turned and taken his place, standing calmly across from Masaki Uchiha.
"Don't worry, I'll be here to intervene," Miyamura-sensei said, his voice dripping with false concern. "Or… perhaps you should listen to Kushina. You can forfeit now. No need to get hurt."
His strategy was transparent: by offering the 'out,' he made refusing it an act of supreme arrogance, setting Shinra up for a more humiliating fall.
What Miyamura didn't expect was Shinra's reaction.
The boy turned his head and looked directly at him. And smiled.
It was a confident, strangely knowing smile that held a glint of pure mockery.
For a split second, the chunin instructor felt a chill. This calm, this unnerving poise… it wasn't the look of a doomed child.
"Thank you for your concern, sensei," Shinra said, his voice clear and unwavering. "But… no. May we begin?"
He shifted his gaze, sharpening his focus on Masaki Uchiha.
A stunned silence gripped the spectators. No one had expected Shinra to actually go through with it. To willingly face Masaki Uchiha?
"Hmph! Arrogant fool. Since you're seeking a beating, I'll oblige you!" Miyamura thought viciously, his momentary unease replaced by anger. "Begin!" he barked.
Masaki Uchiha's lazy indifference evaporated the instant Shinra took his stance. Anger flashed in his dark eyes. This waste, this chakra failure, dared to stand against him instead of bowing out? The insult burned.
His expression shifted from boredom to cold malice. He unhurriedly drew a single training kunai from his pouch, its edge dulled but the weapon no less deadly in skilled hands. He ran his tongue over his lips, his smile turning vicious.
Then, without warning, without ceremony—
Swish!
He moved. It was so fast most of the watching students barely registered the motion.
The kunai left his hand not as a thrown weapon, but as an extension of a lethal intent. It became a black streak, a bolt of shadows aimed not to wound, but to kill the match—and Shinra's confidence—in one blow, heading straight for his throat.
The fight had begun. Not with a clang of metal, but with the silent, deadly whistle of Uchiha superiority cutting through the air.
(End of Chapter)
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