The afternoon sun baked Training Ground Three until waves of heat shimmered above the sand, making the very air seem to twist and ripple.
Shuji stood in the center of the field, his gaze sweeping over the two people before him.
Uchiha Itachi stood straight in his dark-blue clan attire.
Sweat traced down his young but tense face, while his eyes remained fixed intently on his opponent.
At only eight years old, his slender frame looked especially small against the vast, open training ground.
Mitarashi Anko wore a faded black mesh shirt and shorts, both washed so many times that their color had begun to dull.
Strands of purple hair clung damply to her forehead.
With both hands tucked into her pockets and an almost careless slouch to her posture, she glanced at the fully alert Itachi.
“A practical combat assessment.” Shuji’s voice cut cleanly through the sweltering air.
“I want to see how well you can work together and what kind of fighting style suits the team.
Rules are simple: stop before anyone gets seriously hurt.
Begin.” Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Itachi moved first, leaving only a faint afterimage where he had stood.
Among children his age, his speed could only be described as ghostly.
Yet to Anko, his movements were still perfectly clear.
Three shuriken tore through the air with piercing whistles, each aimed at a nonlethal joint—her shoulder and knees—from tricky angles.
Anko gave a quiet snort.
Her body exploded into motion like a compressed spring suddenly released.
Her movements were swift and fluid, carrying the strange, serpentine quality of the taijutsu Orochimaru had personally taught her.
With nothing more than a precisely timed sidestep and twist, she let all three shuriken whistle past her clothes and bury themselves deep in the sand behind her.
“Fire Release: Flame Bullet!” The instant her feet touched the ground, Anko’s hands blurred through a sequence of seals.
Three condensed orange-red fireballs erupted from her mouth like cannon shells, hurtling toward Itachi in a triangular formation.
They were fast, direct, and accompanied by scorching waves of heat and dull booms as they ripped through the air, instantly sealing off his escape routes to the front.
Itachi’s pupils contracted.
He had yet to activate his Sharingan.
Faced with the sudden frontal bombardment, his feet hammered against the ground as he threw himself sharply to the right.
One of the fireballs screamed past the outside of his left arm.
The scorching wake stung his skin, while the force of the blast disturbed his balance and sent him staggering backward.
“Hmph!” Anko seized the opening before he could regain his footing.
Her right arm shot from her sleeve like a striking viper.
“Hidden Shadow Snake Hands!” Two thick gray-brown snakes burst forward with a heavy, musky stench, shooting like arrows toward Itachi’s ankles from opposite sides just as he landed from his dodge.
At the critical moment, Itachi’s eyes turned crimson.
Two black tomoe spun rapidly within his blood-red irises.
The trajectories of the lunging snakes—and even the minute contractions of their muscles—suddenly became clear in his vision, as though the entire scene had slowed.
He violently twisted his body into an awkward angle, nearly throwing himself completely off balance.
The two snakes skimmed past the outside of his calves by the narrowest margin, their cold scales brushing close enough to make the hairs on his skin stand on end.
He had avoided the attack—but his center of gravity was gone.
His body stumbled helplessly backward and to the side.
Anko kicked off the ground.
She shot toward him like a cannonball, intending to overwhelm Itachi before he could recover.
But in that split second, the tomoe in Itachi’s Sharingan spun furiously.
Instead of struggling to regain his balance and meeting her attack head-on, he used the momentum of his fall.
His body bent backward as if his spine had snapped.
Then, at the very instant Anko charged straight at him—her mental state already dulled by days of exhaustion and depression—Itachi unleashed a Sharingan genjutsu.
Anko’s fist stopped only inches from his ribs.
The sharpness in her eyes abruptly froze, replaced in an instant by bewildered terror.
A freezing laboratory tank.
Bleached-white lights.
And those cold, serpentine eyes turning away from her without the slightest hesitation or attachment…
The nightmare buried deepest in her heart flashed before her eyes.
The illusion lasted no more than an instant before Anko forcibly shattered it.
But even that fleeting mental shock was enough to make her movements falter.
She had actually been caught in the genjutsu of an eight-year-old child?!
That instant was all Itachi needed.
Bang!
The “Itachi” struck by Anko’s fist burst into a puff and became a wooden substitution log, tumbling away across the sand.
The real Itachi had already exploited the tiny opening created by his genjutsu, using the visual misdirection of the Substitution Jutsu to slip silently into Anko’s blind spot behind and to her side.
The cold tip of a kunai came to rest lightly against the clothing over her back, directly above her heart.
It did not pierce her skin.
It merely rested there—a single, unmistakably cold point.
For a moment, time seemed to stop.
Anko remained frozen in the posture of her punch.
She could clearly feel the cold metal touching her back and hear the faint, childlike panting behind her.
“That’s enough.” Shuji’s voice broke the dead silence.
Itachi immediately withdrew the kunai and stepped back.
The tomoe faded from his eyes.
His young face was flushed from the intense exertion, and his chest rose and fell slightly, but his gaze remained as composed as ever.
Without saying a word, he wiped the sweat from his forehead, walked to the edge of the training ground, picked up his water bottle, and took several small sips.
Anko slowly turned around.
Her movements were stiff, like those of a rusted puppet.
A freezing tide of humiliation and defeat swallowed her whole.
I lost…
I actually lost to…
Is this why you abandoned me, Orochimaru-sensei…?
Her head snapped upward.
All color had drained from her face, and her lips were pressed into a bloodless line.
In the end, every tangled emotion inside her erupted through her fist.
Bang!
She slammed it into a nearby training post.
A deep fist-shaped crater appeared in the hard wood.
Shuji glanced at Itachi, who was quietly drinking water, then at Anko, who stood rigid beside the post.
He did not rush to say anything.
Instead, he walked to the corner of the training ground, picked up the cloth bundle he had brought with him, and leisurely unfolded it.
There were no ninja tools inside.
Instead, several rice balls had been carefully wrapped in fresh green leaves, accompanied by a small bamboo flask of tea.
“Take a break.” Shuji’s calm voice broke the suffocating silence, carrying the casual warmth of an ordinary conversation at home.
He took out two rice balls.
One went to Itachi, who had just lowered his water bottle.
Holding the other, Shuji walked over to Anko.
He did not look directly at her.
He simply extended the rice ball toward her.
Anko’s body trembled sharply.
She did not move.
Her shoulders were as rigid as stone.
“I steamed the rice before I left and shaped these myself.
Chicken filling, teriyaki flavor.
They turned out pretty well.” Shuji spoke quietly, as if chatting about something completely mundane.
“We’ve finished fighting.
Might as well put something in our stomachs.” Anko whipped her head toward him.
The frustration and humiliation she had been suppressing threatened to spill from her eyes.
“I don’t—” She never finished.
A rich, savory aroma drifted into her nose—the comforting scent of warm rice and juicy chicken mixed with the sweet-and-salty fragrance of teriyaki sauce.
It was completely different from the stale odor of instant noodles and expired dango that lingered in her room.
The simple warmth of real food brushed unexpectedly against her nerves, which had been stretched almost to their breaking point.
The rest of her refusal lodged in her throat.
Shuji did not try to persuade her again.
He merely moved the rice ball a little closer until it rested within easy reach of her hand.
Then he sat down against the training post, unwrapped another rice ball for himself, and took a bite.
He unscrewed the bamboo flask as well, poured himself a cup of clear tea, and placed it on the ground beside him.
His movements were so natural that he might as well have been relaxing in his own backyard.
Itachi quietly ate his rice ball in small bites.
The savory chicken filling made him chew a little faster as he steadily replenished his strength.
Anko stared at Shuji’s calm profile, then at the rice ball beside her hand, still giving off an irresistible meaty aroma.
Finally, her gaze drifted toward the deep fist mark she had left in the training post.
The storm of emotion churning inside her was strangely weakened by the warmth of the food and Shuji’s almost infuriatingly casual attitude.
What remained was a deeper exhaustion and a hollow sense of confusion that had nowhere to go.
She remained silent for several seconds.
Then, with the air of someone who had simply given up fighting the situation, she snatched the rice ball from his hand and took a vicious bite, as though venting her frustration on the food.
Sweet and salty sauce burst across her tongue along with tender, savory chicken.
The satisfaction of eating something warm and substantial unexpectedly suppressed some of the turmoil in her chest.
But the shame of having her weakened mental state seen through so easily still weighed heavily on her heart.
The three of them ate in silence.
For a while, the training ground was filled only with the quiet sounds of chewing and swallowing, accompanied by the faint whisper of wind sweeping across the sand.
Shuji offered no assessment of the fight they had just finished.
He simply ate his rice ball and occasionally took a sip of tea, as though the fierce exchange and Anko’s explosive humiliation had never happened.
Once they had finished eating, Shuji gathered the wrappers, stood, and brushed the sand from his trousers.
He returned to the center of the training ground.
His gaze first passed over Itachi, who had recovered considerably, before settling on Anko.
She had finished her rice ball as well, though her eyes remained dark and complicated.
“Feeling better?” Shuji asked evenly.
Then he added, “Next, the two of you attack me together.
Let’s see what you can do.” He stood there casually, arms hanging naturally at his sides.
He formed no hand seals and assumed no defensive stance, looking as though he were merely inviting them to an ordinary practice match.
Anko’s head snapped up.
Surprise flashed through her eyes, only to be replaced by a rekindled intensity—a mixture of unwillingness to accept defeat, curiosity, and a fierce urge to prove something.
She glanced at Itachi beside her, then back at their captain, who stood in the middle of the field looking far too calm.
Itachi’s gaze sharpened as well.
His Sharingan remained inactive, but his concentration had already returned.
He looked at Anko.
Their eyes met for only a moment.
No words were necessary.
A subtle understanding formed between them, born from the simple fact that they now shared the same target.
“Fine!” Anko barked.
Rather than charging directly, her hands flashed through seals.
“Ninja Art: Snake Glare Spellbind!” Several gray-brown serpentine forms made of chakra shot forward like living creatures.
Instead of attacking Shuji directly, they twisted and circled around him, instantly sealing off most of the escape routes to his left, right, and rear.
At the same time, Anko changed seals.
“Fire Release: Dragon Fire Technique!” A concentrated orange-red stream of flame erupted like a blazing spear, screaming straight toward Shuji from the front.
The chakra snakes restricted his movement while the piercing flame attacked head-on—a textbook suppression combination.
The instant Anko unleashed the flames, Itachi vanished as though melting into the shadows.
He did not simply follow behind her ninjutsu.
Using his speed and keen perception, he circled instantly into Shuji’s blind spot from the rear flank.
His hands flickered, releasing several shuriken along strange, deceptive arcs.
Almost soundlessly, they flew toward Shuji’s knees, ankles, and other crucial points supporting his balance.
His timing was exquisite.
The shuriken arrived at precisely the moment Anko’s flames were about to reach Shuji and the chakra snakes began tightening their encirclement.
Ninjutsu suppression from the front.
A precision ambush from the blind spot.
For a pair who had barely begun working together, their coordination was remarkably sharp.
Yet Shuji’s expression did not change in the slightest.
Just as the flames were about to strike him, his hands blurred through seals.
“Water Release: Water Formation Wall!” A thick wall of condensed water surged upward in an instant, shielding his entire front.
Hissssss—!
The Dragon Fire Technique crashed into the wall, exploding into clouds of steaming white mist.
The barrier rippled violently beneath the impact but held firm against the piercing flames.
Almost at the exact moment the wall rose, Shuji shifted half a step sideways, his body seeming as light as drifting willow fluff as he used the steam to conceal the movement.
The motion was tiny.
Yet it was enough.
Itachi’s shuriken skimmed past Shuji’s feet and buried themselves deep in the sand.
At the same time, Shuji’s right hand, which had been hanging casually at his side, swept toward his rear flank.
“Wind Release: Wind Reversal!” A flexible yet powerful spiral of air instantly formed beside him.
The chakra snakes Anko had directed toward his blind spot plunged into the rotating current.
Their trajectories warped violently as though they had fallen into an invisible whirlpool.
With a series of hissing cries, the serpentine constructs were twisted apart and dispersed.
“Ninja Art: Hidden Shadow Many Snakes Hand!” This time, eight thick, real snakes erupted forward, carrying a strong reptilian stench as they lunged at Shuji from multiple angles.
High, middle, and low—every level was covered.
Shuji remained unruffled.
As the snakes came skimming low across the ground, he leaned back slightly.
Several hand seals were already complete.
At the same time, he lifted one foot and brought it down with an almost casual stomp.
“Earth Release: Rock Pillar!” Two sharp stone spikes burst from the ground like perfectly placed traps, pinning two of the low-slithering snakes firmly against the sand.
Their bodies thrashed violently as pained hisses tore from their mouths.
And in the instant Shuji dealt with the snakes, Itachi struck again.
He exploited the distraction and closed in relentlessly.
His Sharingan locked onto the path of Shuji’s movements, while the kunai in his hand gleamed with cold light as he thrust toward the opening beneath Shuji’s ribs, exposed by his backward lean.
The timing was precise—and merciless.
Shuji reacted as though he had eyes in the back of his head.
Just before the kunai touched him, he twisted sideways at an almost impossible angle.
The blade swept past his ribs and cut through nothing but air.
Using the turn’s momentum, Shuji spun to face the pursuing Itachi.
His hands immediately formed another sequence of seals.
“Wind Release: Wind Cutter Technique!” Several invisible but razor-sharp blades of wind sliced through the air like transparent sickles, shrieking toward the joints of Itachi’s arms and legs.
The attack did not cover a wide area, but it was extraordinarily fast, and every angle had been chosen to make evasion difficult.
Warning bells screamed in Itachi’s mind.
His Sharingan flared fully to life.
Within his tomoe-marked vision, the invisible wind blades suddenly became clear, their movement seemingly slowing enough for him to read their trajectories.
They were positioned perfectly, cutting off every path he could use to dodge.
With no room to escape, Itachi bent backward to his limit and crossed the kunai in both hands in front of him.
Clang!
Clang!
Two crisp metallic impacts rang out.
The force numbed both of Itachi’s arms and drove him stumbling backward several steps before he finally regained his balance.
Deep slash marks had been carved into his kunai.
Anko seized the opening.
A fierce glint flashed through her eyes as her hands raced through another sequence of seals.
Her chakra began draining at an alarming rate.
“Fire Release: Snake Fang Barrage!” This time, she compressed her chakra before releasing more than a dozen fist-sized orange-red fireballs, each shaped like a serpent’s fang.
Rather than blanketing an area with indiscriminate explosions, the fireballs seemed almost capable of tracking their prey.
They screamed through the air from vicious angles, lunging toward vital points across Shuji’s entire body like a nest of striking snakes.
Their speed, accuracy, and destructive power were all far beyond the Flame Bullet technique she had used earlier.
Yet even against such an unpredictable barrage, Shuji remained perfectly calm.
His hands moved even faster.
“Earth Release: Earth-Style Wall!” A thick earthen wall erupted from the ground and completely shielded him.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
The fireballs hammered into the wall one after another, bursting into blossoms of flame before finally fading into thin trails of smoke.
Anko was breathing heavily now, fine beads of sweat gathering across her forehead.
Repeatedly casting ninjutsu at this pace was still too great a burden for her.
“Stop.” Shuji’s calm voice rang out.
The earthen wall crumbled away.
Shuji casually brushed imaginary dust from his sleeve, his breathing as steady as it had been before the fight began.
The rapid succession of ninjutsu and the intense exchange seemed to have amounted to little more than a warm-up for him.
“I’ve got a general idea now.” Shuji’s gaze moved between the two slightly winded shinobi.
“For the next few days, we’ll keep meeting here and work on tactical coordination.” He raised one finger.
“Of course, training like this burns through a lot of energy.
And as your captain, it’s my responsibility to take care of that…” Having already experienced this once, Itachi quietly sipped his water and waited for what came next.
Shuji smiled and looked from Anko to Itachi.
“Let’s go replenish our energy.
My treat.” His smile widened slightly.
“After burning through that much chakra…
how does some meat sound?”