The pressure from the gathered shinobi had barely settled when it surged again.
Itsuki felt it clearly.
The weight of expectation.
The density of killing intent restrained behind discipline.
And then—
Something within him sharpened.
The flow of chakra through his coils grew smoother, more compact. His control refined itself under the invisible strain of so many powerful observers. The Sharingan adjusted, the strain behind his eyes easing slightly as though adapting to higher stakes.
His Body Flicker Technique shifted as well.
The wind-based acceleration he had relied upon until now no longer felt complete. Chakra circulated differently—deeper, more volatile.
Lightning.
It threaded through his limbs, subtle at first, then precise. Not wild. Controlled. Stimulating muscle fibers, tightening response speed, syncing breath with motion.
Wind amplified momentum.
Lightning awakened the body.
The two aligned.
So this is the next threshold.
He inhaled slowly.
If earlier he had only been confident, now he was certain.
Sarutobi Hiruzen's expression had darkened slightly.
The boy had not merely requested a jōnin.
He had escalated again.
Before the Hokage could respond, another voice cut in.
"Since he insists," Shimura Danzō said evenly, stepping forward, "we should indulge him."
Three figures appeared beside the field.
ANBU.
Masked. Silent. Their presence felt colder than ordinary jōnin—less visible emotion, more sharpened edge.
Itsuki's eyes flicked toward them.
Efficient posture.
Measured breathing.
Not ordinary squad leaders.
Root, perhaps.
Danzō's influence was unmistakable.
Hiruzen's gaze hardened. "Danzō—"
"This is what he requested," Danzō replied smoothly. "Is that not correct, Uchiha Itsuki?"
A subtle trap.
If Itsuki withdrew now, the message would linger.
If he accepted, the test escalated beyond ceremony.
He paused just long enough for the crowd to misinterpret hesitation.
Then he spoke.
"These three?"
His tone was mild.
"They seem insufficient."
A collective intake of breath rippled outward.
"If possible," Itsuki continued calmly, "two more would ensure accuracy."
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
Tsunade pinched the bridge of her nose. "Unbelievable."
Jiraiya let out a low whistle. "He really doesn't know when to stop."
Orochimaru's lips curved faintly. "Or perhaps he does."
Among the spectators, Hatake Sakumo rested a hand on his young son's head.
"Don't imitate that," he murmured.
Four-year-old Hatake Kakashi stared at the field, eyes bright. "But it's impressive."
Sakumo suppressed a sigh.
Confidence was admirable.
Provoking five jōnin was something else entirely.
Back at the center, Itsuki remained composed.
He was not blind to risk.
Three jōnin coordinating properly would overwhelm most seasoned shinobi.
Five?
That bordered on absurd.
But chakra thrummed steadily within him.
Jōnin-level reserves.
Three-tomoe Sharingan precision.
Wind and lightning interwoven through his muscles, waiting to be released.
This was no longer about spectacle.
It was calibration.
If he wished to stand above the coming storm that would one day swallow the Uchiha clan… then standing here meant little.
This was only the beginning.
Hiruzen studied him carefully.
"Three," the Hokage decided at last. "No more."
Danzō's masked operatives stepped forward.
The air shifted.
Even those confident moments ago felt the change.
Three ANBU-level jōnin would not underestimate a prodigy.
They would strike decisively.
Itsuki rolled his shoulders once.
Lightning flickered faintly beneath the surface of his skin before fading.
The wind lifted dust around his sandals.
Let them come.
If overwhelming force was the test—
He would meet it.