The sudden conclusion of the battle left the onlookers thoroughly stunned and bewildered.
Hanekawa had precision-targeted his Genjutsu directly at Asuma, so from the crowd’s perspective, the match had played out in a completely bizarre fashion.
Asuma had simply ground to a halt, standing frozen on the spot, while Hanekawa calmly walked up with a kunai to secure an effortless victory.
The spectators had envisioned two likely scenarios: either an overwhelming victory for the Hokage’s son, or a grueling, evenly matched show of hidden strength.
Nobody had anticipated a result like this.
“He’s so strong!” Rin Nohara exclaimed in sheer amazement.
In the shinobi world, aside from Kekkei Genkai, medical ninjutsu and Genjutsu carried the absolute steepest learning curves.
For Hanekawa to execute functional illusions this early made him a prodigy among prodigies.
Kakashi Hatake offered a subtle nod in agreement.
His interest was officially locked in now.
Previously, after consistently dismantling Asuma, he had found no local competition and was already mentally preparing to graduate early.
But now, he had a fresh objective: thoroughly defeat Hanekawa before stepping out into the field.
“It’s just a basic illusion!” Obito Uchiha snapped, thoroughly disgruntled by the look of pure admiration on Rin’s face.
“No Genjutsu means anything in front of the Sharingan!” “Awaken your eyes first, then talk,” Kakashi thrown a flat reply.
“I am definitely gonna awaken them!” Obito roared, his face flushing a furious crimson.
Unlike the Byakugan, triggering the Sharingan required an extreme baseline of innate emotional trauma and talent, and he currently showed zero signs of opening his eyes.
“I believe in you, Obito,” Rin quickly stepped in to soothe his pride, offering a gentle smile.
“Your raw potential isn’t lower than theirs.” “Hehe!” Obito immediately executed a total 180, his fierce scowl melting into a dopey, infatuated grin.
“Let’s go,” Kakashi retracted his gaze, turning on his heel.
“Dinner is on me, Rin.” Obito instantly turned to stone.
He had completely forgotten about their prior wager.
Damn it!
He wailed internally, a profound weight of emotional damage settling over his heart.
This was an absolute, flawless defeat on all fronts.
“Obito,” Rin called out gently, looking back over her shoulder.
“Come eat with us.” “I don’t mind,” Kakashi added indifferently.
“Rin!” Obito was moved to tears by her kindness, instantly sprinting to catch up.
As the schoolyard crowd dispersed, Kurenai Yuhi rushed forward, her tiny face flushed a bright apple-red with absolute excitement.
Who on earth said Genjutsu-specialists couldn’t stand tall?
Illusionists were the absolute best!
“Hanekawa!” Hanekawa snapped out of his thoughts and smiled warmly at her.
He had actually been hyper-focusing on a brand-new trait notification that had materialized in his field of vision.
[E-Rank Talent Trait: Shippuden.] [Trigger Condition: Defeat a young Asuma Sarutobi.] [Effect: Wind Style affinity is increased by 10% on top of your existing foundation.] This particular trait was entirely outside his calculated blueprints.
He hadn’t realized he could extract elemental modifiers by altering the fates of key canon characters.
Although a 10% modifier was minor, it provided immense strategic inspiration.
If I thoroughly dismantle Kakashi Hatake, will I extract a Lightning Style affinity?
If I defeat a stronger, older version of Asuma down the line, will the Wind Style modifier scale higher?
“Asuma,” Hanekawa called out, shifting his face into a look of absolute sincerity.
“You are incredibly formidable.
If you had maintained your stance for just a moment longer, my meager chakra reserves would have completely bottomed out, and I would have lost the match.” This was, of course, an absolute lie.
He needed Asuma to continuously throw himself into rematches to serve as a high-value farming node for system traits.
The absolute best way to ensure that consistency was to offer him a lingering shred of hope—making him believe that victory was just a fraction of extra effort away.
Asuma froze on the dirt.
What is this kid doing?
Actively showing humility?
But…
his fierce pride absolutely refused to accept charity!
“I will be back!” Asuma barked.
Casting a final, burning glance toward Kurenai, he whipped around and stormed away.
Ultimately, it was a world where only he walked away with injuries.
Today, my hands shake with fury; today, my heart bleeds with grief.
Asuma maintained a sullen silence the entire walk home.
He kicked open the front door, aggressively swapped into his house slippers, and marched straight toward his bedroom, completely ignoring the living area.
“Asuma,” Hiruzen Sarutobi’s voice boomed from the couch.
“Where are your manners?” Asuma didn’t even lift his head, entirely freezing his father out as he kept walking.
“…” Hiruzen’s face completely stiffened.
It was one thing for his son to disrespect him in private, but today, they had a highly prominent guest sitting right across the coffee table.
He felt a profound urge to introduce the boy to a standard household disciplinary belt.
“Old man, it is an absolute luxury to witness you getting completely shut out like that.
Truly rare,” a sharp, highly amused chuckle echoed through the room.
“Pardon the display, Tsunade,” Hiruzen said, rubbing his temples to mask the immense awkwardness.
As the universally revered Professor of the Leaf, losing face so spectacularly in front of his star student was deeply bruising.
“It’s nothing, kids during their rebellious phase are always like that,” Tsunade said, shifting her weight on the cushion.
“But from where I’m sitting, it looks like Asuma ran face-first into a wall out there.” Hiruzen recalled his son’s rigid posture and tense expression just now; something was indeed fundamentally off script.
Turning his head slightly toward the shadows, he commanded, “Hare, run a quick intelligence sweep on the Academy.” Since Tsunade was his personal disciple and well-versed in village dynamics, he didn’t bother hiding the deployment.
“How are Minato’s injuries looking?” Hiruzen asked, utilizing the window to address administrative matters.
“The structural damage has been entirely stabilized,” Tsunade said with an authoritative, confident smirk.
“With me handling the medical matrix, you don’t have a single thing to worry about.” “That goes without saying,” Hiruzen sighed, his brow furrowing.
“But I hadn’t anticipated Minato sustaining injuries of that gravity.” “When a Nine-Tails Jinchuriki suffers a baseline containment breach, the resulting raw chakra spikes can shred anything in the vicinity,” Tsunade shook her head.
“We have the Flying Raijin Technique to thank for keeping the tactical fallout contained.
Otherwise, the structural damage to the perimeter would have been catastrophic.” A wave of lingering dread washed over Hiruzen’s features.
If Kushina’s volatile chakra footprint had breached the village proper, the casual casualties would have been catastrophic.
Tap, tap.
A soft knock cut through the air.
The Anbu operative, Hare, slid into the room and respectfully proffered a detailed information scroll—containing the precise, real-time breakdown of Asuma’s schoolyard activity.
Hiruzen unrolled the parchment with a stroke of intense curiosity.
Let’s see what kind of trouble the boy managed to find.
Given Asuma’s high-tier lineage and private tutoring, he logically shouldn’t be encountering any physical bullying within the Academy grounds.
Hiruzen suddenly let out a soft gasp of pure disbelief.
He actually suffered a total tactical defeat at the hands of Hanekawa?!
This was entirely absurd.
Asuma’s raw talent wasn’t top-tier, but it was exceptionally solid.
More importantly, he possessed a massive six-month head start under the direct guidance of a Special Jonin.
Hanekawa, by contrast, had been introduced to chakra for exactly one week.
The sole structural explanation was that the orphan boy was a once-in-a-generation, monstrous natural prodigy when it came to the mechanics of Yin Release.
Furthermore, Hanekawa’s psychological architecture seemed remarkably refined; after securing a high-profile victory over the Hokage’s son, he hadn’t indulged in arrogant bragging, but had actively moved to soothe his opponent’s broken pride instead.
Hiruzen’s heart violently stirred.
This was a flawless operational window—a perfect tactical bridge to repair his fractured relationship with his second son.
“Old man, are you done scanning the data?” Tsunade extended a hand, her curiosity piqued.
Hiruzen casually glided the scroll across the table into her palm.
“An Academy novice successfully casting functional Genjutsu?” Tsunade scanned the report, her eyebrows arching in genuine surprise.
“It seems the village has birthed another formidable prodigy.” “Indeed,” Hiruzen stood up, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
“I shall go check on Asuma.” “Mmh,” Tsunade tossed the scroll back onto the table.
“I’ll head to the kitchen to see what kind of culinary masterpiece Lady Biwako is whipping up for dinner.” Hiruzen pulled up before his son’s bedroom door, rapping his knuckles firmly against the wood.
“Asuma.” “I’m not here!” Asuma’s muffled voice barked back, still trapped in a state of profound emotional depression.
“Do you have no desire to thoroughly dismantle Hanekawa in a rematch?” Hiruzen paused, delivering the ultimate tactical bait.
“I can personally instruct you in the core mechanics of Genjutsu Dissipation.” The air outside the room fell completely dead silent.
A brief moment later, the door was violently pulled open.
Asuma stood there with a stiff, rigid face, glaring up at his father.
“Start talking!” Watching his son’s competitive fire instantly re-ignite, the corners of Hiruzen’s mouth curved into a wide, deeply satisfied smile.
Hanekawa truly is an exceptional, good kid.