CHAPTER 21

Sakumo spoke slowly, his tone calm yet carrying a weight that made every word feel absolute:

"Haneda, once you reach a certain level, swordsmanship—whether katana, tantō, or blade—becomes less about form and more about will. The true battle is between spirits."

His gray eyes glinted faintly as he continued:

"If you've ever visited the Land of Iron, you'd understand—the will behind the sword outweighs technique."

He paused briefly, then added:

"Truth be told, the Uchiha Kenjutsu style is far more intricate than the Hatake style. If your goal isn't to specialize in the blade, learning Uchiha swordsmanship suits you better… especially now that you've awakened the Sharingan."

Sakumo read Haneda's hesitation and gave a faint smile.

"Of course, if you want to learn my style, I'll teach you. Kakashi is already training with me. Having one more won't hurt."

Haneda's eyes lit up, his voice unable to hide excitement:

"Really, Uncle Sakumo? You'd teach me?"

"Of course," Sakumo nodded lightly. "But before that… I need to see where you stand."

His tone sharpened slightly.

"Come. We'll test your swordsmanship first. Then, we can talk over dinner."

As he turned toward the door, his gaze flicked toward the treetops outside the window—subtle, but sharp as a drawn blade.

Far above, four masked Root operatives froze in place.

Sakumo's glance felt like a kunai pressed to their throats. Sweat prickled their skin beneath their masks.

Even Muramasa, the captain, clenched his teeth.

He saw us…

When Haneda and Kakashi followed Sakumo toward the training grounds, the Root team dared not move.

"Captain," whispered the fox-masked operative. "They're leaving. Orders?"

"…Follow at a distance," Muramasa said grimly. His voice was taut with tension.

"For Konoha. For Lord Danzō. Even if it costs us our lives, we'll uncover the bond between Uchiha and the White Fang!"

---

Hatake Clan Training Ground

The three stepped into a wide clearing surrounded by bamboo fencing. The sun hung low, painting the ground gold.

"Haneda," Sakumo said, walking to a wooden rack. He picked up two short wooden tantō and tossed one toward the boy.

Haneda caught it with both hands. The weapon was heavier than he expected, its weight close to iron. A short blade built for speed and precision—not wide slashes.

He twirled it in his grip, spinning it in a quick flourish before settling into a stance. Heavy… but manageable.

From the edge, Kakashi observed silently, his single visible eye sharp with focus.

"Ready?" Sakumo asked, voice level but eyes keen.

Haneda nodded firmly.

"Yes."

"Good. When the coin hits the ground, we begin."

He flicked a silver coin high into the air, his right hand settling on the hilt of his tantō with the ease of countless battles.

"Be warned," Sakumo said softly, his tone like cold steel, "wood or not, this will hurt if you drop your guard."

Haneda inhaled deeply, Sharingan spinning to life in his eyes. His heart thudded—not with fear, but exhilaration.

This is Konoha's White Fang…

The coin struck the earth.

Clang!

The first clash rang out like a bell. The wooden blades struck with such force Haneda's arms trembled.

Strong…! The realization hit instantly. His muscles screamed as Sakumo's raw power pressed down on him.

Haneda pivoted back, using the recoil to retreat mid-air. His fingers tightened around the hilt as chakra flowed to his arm. Twisting his body, he spun the blade in a tight arc and launched forward—accelerated by both gravity and force.

The blade hissed through the air. Sakumo tilted his head, dodging by a breath.

Haneda smirked. He'd predicted this with his Sharingan. Dropping low, he slid under Sakumo's guard and cut upward from behind—

Clack!

Sakumo twisted, blocking the strike with the flat of his blade. His eyes curved in faint approval.

"Not bad, Haneda."

But Haneda didn't pause. He unleashed a storm of slashes, wooden blade blurring. Yet—

Impossible!

Even though his Sharingan tracked every movement, his body lagged behind. Sakumo avoided each strike with minimal motion, steps light as drifting leaves.

Haneda grit his teeth, breath harsh. I can see him… but I can't keep up.

And then Sakumo moved.

One moment he was before Haneda. The next—gone.

Right side!

Haneda swung desperately—

Whack!

Pain bit across his waist. The wooden blade's blunt edge slid against his shirt, leaving a burning line. If that had been steel…

Haneda staggered back, heart pounding. Sweat streamed down his temple, dripping from his chin.

That… could've killed me.

"You react well," Sakumo said, voice calm yet edged. "The Sharingan gives you clarity—but eyes alone don't win battles."

Then he stepped forward. Slowly.

Each step heavier than the last. The air thickened. The training ground grew silent—no wind, no birdsong. Only that killing aura rolling off him like a storm.

Haneda's throat went dry. His grip trembled. So this is… White Fang.

"Show me your resolve, Haneda," Sakumo said coldly, blade rising.

"If you hesitate… you die."

Time slowed to a crawl. The blade gleamed in the dim light, descending—

"AHHHH!"

Haneda roared, surging forward. Steel met steel—

CRACK!

The force hurled him backward, sliding ten meters across the dirt before he steadied himself. Chest heaving, Sharingan spinning furiously, he glared at Sakumo.

"…Hah…hah…"

Sakumo lowered his blade, aura vanishing as suddenly as it appeared. A faint smile tugged his lips.

"That's enough."

He stepped closer, voice even:

"You raised your weapon, even under killing intent. Most shinobi break before that point."

Sliding the wooden tantō back onto the rack, Sakumo added quietly:

"You've got spirit, Haneda. The rest… comes with blood and time."

Haneda swallowed hard, his arms trembling from the impact. White Fang… is on a different level.