Aoki 16: Chapter 16: The Sparring Begins, Obito vs.
Aoki “Huh?
You’re using standard Iron Body, Brother Makoto?” Obito froze.
“Doesn’t that mean you won’t be able to move?” “Who said that?” Makoto chuckled.
“Iron Body is a defensive technique, not a paralysis spell.
Watch closely.” The two stepped back to create space.
Obito took a deep breath and assumed a fighting stance.
He decided to use Flowing Iron Body to harden both arms, even if it was still incomplete.
“Begin!” Obito charged forward, driving a straight punch toward him.
Makoto neither ducked nor dodged, activating standard Iron Body in an instant to harden his whole body.
The moment Obito’s punch connected and slid past, Makoto instantly released the technique.
*Bang!* Immediately after, Makoto’s left fist lashed out, striking Obito squarely in the shoulder.
*Thwack!* Obito was forced back two steps by the blow.
“Wait!” Obito yelled.
“Brother Makoto, just now…
did you move?” “I was moving the whole time,” Makoto said.
“No, I mean…
you can still move while using Iron Body?” “Who made a rule saying you can’t move with Iron Body?” Makoto countered.
“Iron Body hardens your muscles; it isn’t a petrification spell.
Deciding when to harden your body and when to release it is something you have to calculate yourself!” Obito was dumbfounded.
He had assumed all along that once Iron Body was active, movement was impossible.
That was why he had been desperately training Flowing Iron Body—to fix that flaw.
Yet now Makoto was telling him standard Iron Body wasn’t a freezing spell at all.
Obito realized it wasn’t that Iron Body was weak—it was that he himself was too weak.
Five minutes later, Obito was slumped on the ground, raising his hand in surrender.
“I give up, I give up…” he gasped.
“Brother Makoto, you’re insane!
You beat me like this using just basic Iron Body!” Obito fell silent for a moment, then slowly sat up.
“Brother Makoto.” “Hmm?” “I’ve decided,” Obito said.
“I’m not going to practice Flowing Iron Body anymore.” “Oh?” “I’m going to master standard Iron Body first.” Obito clenched his fist.
“Like you said, finding the right path matters more than rushing ahead blindly.
If I can’t even use regular Iron Body properly, why am I trying to learn Flowing Iron Body?
That’s just biting off more than I can chew.” Makoto looked at him and smiled.
The Obito before him no longer carried the inferiority complex of being the Dead-last; instead, he radiated a newfound, inexplicable confidence.
“Starting today, I’m sticking to standard Iron Body until I can switch it on and off at will, just like you, Brother Makoto!” “That might take a long time.” “I’m not afraid.” Obito stood up and brushed off the dirt.
“I’m the man who’s gonna become Hokage!
How could I lack even this much determination?” Makoto stood up as well and patted his shoulder.
“That’s the spirit.” Looking into Obito’s burning eyes, Makoto suddenly felt a surge of emotion.
Obito at this stage really was…
endearingly naive.
*If only he could stay like this forever.* But Makoto knew that was impossible.
The gears of fate had already begun to turn.
Sooner or later, Obito would endure those tragic events and become the man behind the mask.
All Makoto could do was try to keep this boy smiling a little longer before those gears locked into place completely.
Perhaps in the future he might alter those painful tragedies, but that would have to wait until he grew strong enough.
*** Class 1-A’s first combat practice session was set at Training Ground 3 on the eastern side of the school.
Drawn on the ground were over a dozen white square bounds, each about ten meters by ten meters.
For six-year-old kids, that was more than enough room to go wild.
The homeroom teacher, Sensei Nakamura, stood in the center of the grounds holding a roll call clipboard and adjusting his glasses.
“Is everyone here?” He scanned the crowd.
“Today is our first combat class, and the rules are simple.
You will draw lots to determine your opponents: Number 1 against Number 2, Number 3 against Number 4, and so on.
Come up when your name is called to draw.” The students lined up, going up one by one to draw paper slips from the box.
Makoto drew Number 7.
He glanced at his slip, then looked around—he didn’t know who his opponent was yet.
Not that it mattered.
With his current level, fighting these six-year-olds was no different from playing Whack-A-Mole.
He was far more concerned about Obito.
Obito and Aoki walked up to Sensei Nakamura together.
“Sensei!” Obito raised his hand.
“Can I be paired with Aoki?” Aoki, standing beside him, nodded as well.
“I want to be paired with Obito too.” Sensei Nakamura looked at them, then down at the list in his hand.
*Two Uchihas, huh?* “Alright,” he agreed readily.
“Then you two will be Number 1 and Number 2.
You’re up first.” “Thank you, Sensei!” Obito grinned broadly.
Aoki smiled too, though it was the kind of grin that said, *I can finally beat you up fair and square.* When the two returned to the group, Obito immediately hurried over to Rin Nohara’s side.
“Rin!
I got Number 1!” he said, excitement bubbling in his voice.
“I’m in the very first match!” Rin Nohara looked at him, then at Aoki who was sneering not far away.
“Obito, be careful,” she whispered.
“Aoki is…
really strong.” “I know,” Obito nodded.
“But I’m not weak either.” As he spoke, his eyes shone brightly with a fierce determination to prove himself today.
Makoto walked over and patted his shoulder.
“Believe in yourself,” Makoto said.
“This month of training wasn’t for nothing.” Obito nodded forcefully.
“Mm!” A few nearby classmates overheard and exchanged glances.
“Did Obito take the wrong medicine today?” a spiky-haired boy whispered.
“Doesn’t he usually steer clear of Aoki?” “Who knows,” a girl with glasses shrugged.
“Maybe Makoto gave him some secret special training.” “Special training?
What can you train in a single month?” Spiky-hair sneered.
“Aoki’s dad is a Jonin who’s been training him personally since he was little.
What about Obito?
His parents are gone, so who’s teaching him?” “You can’t put it like that,” the girl with glasses said, casting a glance at Makoto Uchiha.
“Isn’t Makoto also…” “Makoto is a genius!
How can you compare them?” They weren’t talking very loudly, but Obito heard every word clearly.
He clenched his fists silently.
Over on Aoki’s side, his two lackeys crowded around him.
“Aoki, go easy on him later,” one of them teased.
“Don’t cry-baby Obito, or he’ll run off to tell the teacher again.” “Tell the teacher?” the other sneered.
“What good will that do?
Getting injured in a combat class is completely normal, isn’t it?” Aoki didn’t reply.
He just stared at Obito, a cold sneer hanging on his lips.
He had waited for this day for a long time.
As an Uchiha, Obito was a complete failure.
As a fellow Uchiha, Aoki was determined to make this trash understand his place so he would stop embarrassing the Uchiha Clan.
Obito was late to class, slacked off during training, and sat at the bottom of the rankings, yet he always put on that “I’m trying my best” front.
And what annoyed him most was that the guy actually dared to talk back to him.
Today, the opportunity had finally arrived.
In a combat practice session, he could beat him up fair and square.
Aoki had already planned it out—he would punch him over and over until Obito surrendered, until he cried, and until he never dared to talk back again.