Chapter 14 - Defeating Uchiha Makoto

Chapter 14 - Defeating Uchiha Makoto

Uchiha Makoto wrapped up his previous match with little difficulty. However, when he turned toward the final arena, he found Kazane already standing there, waiting patiently. The Hokage and the elite jōnin observed from above, their eyes filled with curiosity and anticipation.

Instead of taking a well-earned rest, Makoto immediately stepped forward, making his way toward the battlefield.

"You just fought. You're allowed to take a break," Kazane said as he watched Makoto approach. "I want to defeat you at your peak, not when you're tired."

There was no arrogance in his voice, only unwavering confidence in his own strength. He had no intention of taking advantage of Makoto's fatigue—he wanted to win fairly against the strongest student in their academic year.

Makoto scoffed, crossing his arms. He wanted to say something dismissive, maybe something like, "I don't need a break; beating you won't take much effort." But as his gaze lingered on Kazane, he hesitated.

Even he couldn't deny the battle he had just fought had taken a toll on him. His breathing was still slightly uneven, and his muscles burned from the exertion. Refusing to acknowledge this would be foolish.

With a reluctant grunt, he sat down to recover.

The audience stirred at the unexpected delay.

Thirty minutes passed, and just as some spectators started growing restless, Makoto stood up and signaled to the proctor.

"I'm ready."

The proctor nodded and raised his hand. "Hatake Kazane versus Uchiha Makoto! Begin!"

The moment the words left the proctor's mouth, Makoto moved with blinding speed. In a single motion, he flipped his hands, unleashing a barrage of shuriken.

The air whistled as eight black blurs shot toward Kazane. Four were aimed directly at his vital points, while the remaining four strategically cut off his possible escape routes.

This was the Uchiha Clan's famed shuriken-jutsu—precise, relentless, and nearly impossible to evade.

But Kazane had no intention of dodging.

"Two-Sword Style Iaido—Rashomon."

He reached for his blades, and in a single fluid motion, both wooden swords flashed through the air.

A metallic clang echoed through the arena as the shuriken, once moving with lethal force, lost their momentum and clattered harmlessly to the ground.

The crowd fell into stunned silence.

"How is that possible?" someone murmured in disbelief.

"He blocked them with wooden swords?"

"Did he use ninjutsu? But I didn't see any hand seals!"

Even among the gathered jōnin, several raised their eyebrows in interest.

The Third Hokage himself narrowed his eyes. Unlike the students, the experienced ninja watching had clearly seen the intricacy behind Kazane's technique. It wasn't some flashy ninjutsu or a trick—it was pure, precise swordsmanship.

Makoto's expression darkened.

"You… what did you do?"

He had executed that shuriken barrage with near-perfect form, yet Kazane had shut it down as if it were nothing.

Kazane didn't answer. Instead, he tightened his grip on his swords and advanced.

Makoto clenched his jaw. The way Kazane dismissed his attack, the way he didn't even consider it worth responding to—

It was infuriating.

Makoto gritted his teeth, his frustration growing with every second.

'Arrogant bastard, Dldoes he think a mere trick is enough to defeat me? Foolish.'

With a flicker of crimson, his Sharingan activated. The world sharpened, his perception accelerating as he honed in on Kazane's movements. Without hesitation, he pulled out a kunai and charged straight at his opponent.

At that moment, Kazane unleashed the strength he had honed through relentless training.

Swish! Swish! Swish!

Three wooden swords carved through the air, their rapid movements leaving behind afterimages as they bore down on Makoto with incredible force.

Even with the Sharingan enhancing his vision, tracking Kazane's strikes proved almost impossible. His blades moved at unnatural speeds, each one flowing seamlessly into the next, like an unrelenting tide.

Makoto barely managed to deflect the first strike with his kunai, the impact sending a sharp vibration up his arm. He twisted his body, dodging the second blade by a hair's breadth. But the third strike was unavoidable. Three blades were simply too much.

Crack!

The wooden sword slammed into his side, sending a wave of pain deep into his ribs. His Sharingan eyes widened as he staggered back, only to be met with another barrage of blows.

Every strike, though dulled by the lack of a cutting edge, landed with punishing force. Each impact numbed his hands, rattling his bones and making it harder to maintain his stance. His breathing grew ragged as he struggled to keep up, forced into an unsteady retreat.

Realizing he had no chance to counterattack in close combat, Makoto gritted his teeth and leaped backward.

As he landed, he hurled his kunai toward Kazane—not as an attack, but as a distraction. At the same time, his fingers blurred through a series of hand seals.

If taijutsu wasn't enough, then he would settle this battle with ninjutsu.

But just as he was about to complete his technique, Kazane was already in front of him.

Thud!

A wooden sword struck his body, but in the blink of an eye, his form flickered and disappeared—replaced by a block of wood.

Substitution Jutsu.

Kazane's sharp eyes darted around, instantly realizing the feint. A second later, the temperature around him spiked.

The air rippled with heat.

Fire roared behind him.

"Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu!"

A swirling sphere of flames exploded forth, its intense glow casting flickering shadows across the arena. The sheer heat made the air shimmer, distorting the space around it as the roaring inferno surged toward Kazane.

The crowd fell into stunned silence.

This was a C-rank ninjutsu, a technique often dismissed as basic in legend. But here, in reality, being hit by it head-on was no joke. The scorching flames could cause severe burns—or worse.

Makoto's smirk deepened as he watched the fireball rush toward his opponent.

"There's no way he can block a fireball with wooden swords."

Boom!

The explosion sent waves of heat rippling outward, forcing the onlookers to shield their faces. The intense blaze momentarily blinded the audience as a cloud of smoke and cinders swallowed Kazane whole.

"Kazane!"

From the sidelines, Kurenai Yuhi called out in alarm, her fists clenched in worry. Even a strong shinobi would struggle to emerge unscathed from an attack like that.

But then—

"Three-Sword Style—Blazing Oni Slash."

A voice echoed through the smoke.

The moment the words left Kazane's lips, a sudden shift in the air currents sent a powerful gust outward. The fireball's trajectory twisted, its flames spiraling unnaturally before being drawn toward a single focal point—

The swords.

Kazane's wooden blades, moving in perfect harmony, manipulated the air around them, redirecting the fire's path. Then, with a powerful slash, he cleaved through the flames, sending a fiery arc roaring back toward Makoto.

The jutsu had been reversed.

The audience gasped. Even the jōnin looked shocked.

Makoto's triumphant smirk disappeared in an instant.

His Sharingan spun frantically as he calculated the situation, but there was no time. His body was still recovering from the fireball jutsu—he couldn't dodge in time.

From the stands, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, watched intently, his sharp eyes narrowing in contemplation.

A pure swordsman achieving this level of control over his environment… at such a young age?

"Almost perfect…" he murmured.

Sitting beside him, Danzo Shimura's expression darkened before shifting into a calculating gaze. His fingers tapped against his knee as he spoke.

"Sarutobi, give me this child. I will mold him into another White Fang."

"Absolutely not," Hiruzen replied without hesitation.

Back in the arena, the scorching slash bore down on Makoto, his Sharingan still desperately trying to analyze an escape route. But before the flaming attack could land, a rush of water surged forth.

"Water Style: Water Formation Wall!"

The proctor intervened, raising a massive barrier of swirling water between the two fighters. The flames clashed against it with a furious hiss, steam billowing into the air as the two elements fought for dominance.

When the last ember was extinguished, the proctor finally exhaled. Even he hadn't expected Kazane's strength to reach this level.

He turned back to the spectators before raising his hand.

"The winner of this match—Hatake Kazane!"