“Shino, Sasuke, and Naruto.” Iruka called the st three names.

  The training field had already turned into a small cauldron of voices. Kunai stuck crookedly into the targets, some still trembling in the wood; children talking loudly, ughing at their own attempts—and, amid all of it, that growing sense of anticipation, as if each group called was a promise of spectacle.

  Shino walked forward normally, unhurried, expressionless. He was always the same: restrained, silent, as if even his movements were carefully conserved.

  Sasuke followed right behind him, carrying that natural air of superiority, as though the ground belonged to him and the rest of the world merely occupied space by permission. He barely gnced at the targets—it seemed he had already decided he would hit them.

  Naruto also walked calmly, hands light, body rexed, as if this were just another ordinary training session. Inside, however, he registered everything: distance, the faint wind, the target’s height, the position of the sun, and, most importantly, Sasuke’s gaze. There was something dangerous about it—it wasn’t just pride. It was the need to confirm, to prove.

  “You can do it, Naruto!” Ino shouted, eager to show her support.

  As if that had been a trigger, several girls began shouting as well—half cheering for Sasuke, half for Naruto. The noise rose quickly, a disorganized but lively chorus.

  ‘The girls in this world really have a lot of energy,’ Naruto thought, almost amused.

  The three took their positions and waited for Iruka’s signal. The line behind them tightened; people stretched their necks; Kiba already looked ready to celebrate something without even knowing what; Shikamaru watched with practiced boredom, but even he was paying attention.

  “Begin.”

  Shino went first.

  He held the kunai as if it were an extension of his hand—no pose, no drama. His arm moved in a simple, clean arc. The bde cut through the air with a short whistle and embedded itself close to the center.

  It was the best throw so far.

  “Good,” Iruka nodded sincerely.

  Shino didn’t celebrate. He simply took half a step back and returned to his pce, as if hitting the target were the natural consequence of doing the basics right.

  Sasuke went next.

  From his posture alone, it was easy to tell he had done this many times before. Feet firmly pnted, shoulder aligned, elbow at the right height. He took one breath and threw.

  The kunai struck the center.

  A perfect hit.

  Iruka didn’t even have time to say anything before several cssmates exploded with excitement. Some shouted his name; some girls nearly jumped in pce. This was a world of ninjas—of course children admired strength, and Sasuke carried “strong” like a bel.

  “That’s enough!” Iruka shouted, cpping his hands and cutting through the excitement with authority. He looked at the target, then at Sasuke, and finally at the st one. “Naruto.”

  When his name was called, Naruto already had a kunai between his fingers, spinning it casually as if it were just a toy. His body looked far too rexed for someone about to be evaluated, and that alone was provocative.

  He raised his hand and threw—casually.

  No held breath. No pose. No dramatic stare.

  The kunai hit the center of the target.

  Another perfect hit.

  For a second, there was silence—that brief moment when everyone needs to confirm it with their own eyes. Then the crowd erupted again, louder than before, as if the entire field had decided to turn into bleachers.

  Sasuke looked at Naruto, who was already walking back to his spot. His eyes showed something hard to define: irritation, disbelief… and a kind of reluctant recognition, as if a piece of the world had shifted without asking permission.

  Sakura approached him, trying to start a conversation, anxiety and admiration mixed on her face. “Sasuke, you were—”

  “Don’t bother me.”

  She didn’t even get to finish before being shut down.

  Sasuke walked away, but his eyes were still on Naruto, as if the name “Naruto” had become a personal problem.

  And Sakura was left behind… again.

  “That was amazing!” Ino ran over, practically bouncing with excitement. “How did you do that so casually?”

  Hinata also approached timidly. She didn’t ask anything, but her expression revealed curiosity—and careful attention, as if she were trying to learn without getting in the way.

  Naruto shrugged, as if it were obvious. “I just train every day. If you train too, you’ll be able to do it.”

  Ino opened her mouth as if to argue, but stopped halfway. The sentence had been simple—no mockery, none of that *you can’t do it* tone. It sounded more like an observation than advice.

  The two listened and began to reflect, until Ino broke the silence with a look of realization, as if she had discovered the secret of the world.

  “I’ve got it! Let’s start training together after csses every day.”

  She said it like it was a brilliant pn—and the way she looked, she genuinely believed she had just saved the future.

  This time, Naruto couldn’t help letting out a small ugh.

  “Hey! Why are you ughing?” Ino shot back indignantly, crossing her arms, though she couldn’t hide the blush rising to her cheeks.

  “Sorry,” Naruto said, still smiling faintly. “It’s just that you were really cute just now.”

  Ino froze.

  The word lingered in the air for a moment and seemed to hit her like a kunai—not in the body, but straight in the heart. Her blush deepened, and she lowered her gaze as if that could erase the shyness she felt.

  Hinata watched the exchange with her head slightly tilted, as if analyzing something new and complicated. A single, simple, honest question crossed her mind:

  ‘Is this what I look like when I’m embarrassed?’

  She lightly touched her own face, as if testing the temperature.

  Naruto noticed the gesture and held back a ugh. Hinata was like thin gss—any touch could shatter her.

  ---

  After some time, the fights finally began.

  They weren’t very interesting—after all, they were just six-year-old children. Some fought as if they were arguing over a toy; others froze on the first move and forgot what to do with their hands. There were stumbles, shoves, and even victories achieved through sheer persistence.

  And the pairings were a bit unfair as well.

  All the cn children faced civilians and won. Not necessarily because they were “better” at that moment, but because they had already heard instructions at home, had already seen real training, had already grown up with bodies used to obeying basic commands. The difference was clear—and cruel at the same time.

  Sakura fought another girl and managed to win, though with some difficulty. She left the match breathing hard, sweaty, eyes shining as if it were proof that she could do it—but even so, when it was over, the first thing she did was look around, searching for Sasuke.

  And Sasuke, as always, wasn’t looking at her.

  Naruto watched long enough to understand the css’s pattern: who advanced on instinct, who hesitated, who had courage, and who only had desire. Iruka observed carefully, stepping in whenever a child got too carried away and patiently expining the difference between “fighting” and “getting hurt.”

  By the end, the field was marked with footprints, fttened grass, and that familiar electric energy that comes when everyone has fought—or watched someone fight—and now only the main course remains.

  Only two people still hadn’t fought.

  Iruka checked the list, then raised his voice.

  “Final match… Naruto versus Sasuke.”

  The crowd erupted in appuse.

  This time, the noise was different. It wasn’t just excitement. It was anticipation. As if, even without being able to expin it, the children understood that this match carried weight.

  Sakura looked worried, as if she wanted Sasuke to win but also feared something might go wrong. Ino… kept her usual excited expression, as if this were the best event of the year.

  “You have to win, okay?” Ino said, sounding more like a demand than encouragement.

  Hinata didn’t say anything, but she agreed with Ino, nodding like a little bird pecking—quick, shy, determined.

  Naruto smiled calmly. “Don’t worry. I won’t lose.”

  He didn’t say it as bravado. He said it as a fact.

  After that, he walked toward the fighting area.

  The space was simple: a rectangle of packed dirt, surrounded by children, with Iruka in the center as the judge. Naruto entered and stopped, keeping his hands loose and his posture rexed.

  Sasuke entered from the opposite side.

  This time, Sasuke didn’t look just confident. He looked… bothered. As if the kunai in the center of the target had opened a wound in his pride that he hadn’t known existed.

  As they took their positions, Naruto met Sasuke’s gaze.

  Neither of them spoke, because the winner wouldn’t be decided by words… but by fists.

  (Early access chapters: see the bio.)