Silence.
Training Ground No.
3 was so quiet that even the sound of a pin dropping would have been deafening.
No one dared to breathe.
Every gaze was locked onto the intertwining figures of light and shadow at the center of the field.
The silver short blade streaked through the air like a soul-seeking meteor, perfectly sealing the final blind spot where Ryū could have escaped with the Substitution Technique.
At the same time, Kakashi Hatake surged forward like a cheetah bursting from cover, his hand already reaching for his prey’s throat.
Path blocked.
Movement predicted.
Finishing blow.
A genius’s combat instinct was on full display.
This was a flawless killing sequence—an unavoidable death trap.
Off the field, Nohara Rin covered her mouth, unable to watch any longer.
For the first time, genuine fear appeared on the face of the usually loud and fearless Obito.
Even Uchiha Nao, who had been watching with folded arms, unconsciously tightened her grip so hard that her knuckles turned pale.
It’s over.
That thought arose in everyone’s mind at the same instant.
But just as Kakashi’s cold fingertips were about to touch the skin of Ryū’s neck— Everything changed.
“Bang!” “Bang!” “Bang!” Three bursts of white smoke exploded simultaneously, without warning, at three completely different positions!
At Kakashi’s feet.
Against the tree trunk to his left.
Beside the rock to his right.
As the smoke cleared, three figures identical to Ryū appeared.
These were not afterimages.
They were solid, fully formed clones—products of a max-level Clone Technique.
Even more terrifying, each of them already held a kunai gleaming with cold light.
The three blades formed a perfect triangle, sealing Kakashi’s advance, retreat, and evasive paths from above, left, and right.
This had been a trap.
A trap of mutual destruction that Ryū had been quietly laying since the very beginning of the battle, hidden within countless substitutions and movements.
Kakashi’s pupils shrank to needle points.
A chill shot from the soles of his feet straight to the crown of his head.
In an instant, he understood Ryū’s true intent.
If he continued the strike, he would indeed severely injure Ryū— But his own neck, heart, and side would be pierced by the three kunai at the same time.
Trading injury for life.
What ruthless resolve.
This lunatic.
In a split second, Kakashi’s combat intuition and survival instinct overpowered everything else.
He abandoned the attack.
Forcing his momentum to twist, his waist and core erupted with explosive strength.
With a movement utterly impossible for an ordinary person, he twisted mid-air, half-turning his body.
At the same time, he reached out and caught the White Fang short blade as it fell back toward him.
“Clang!
Clang!” Two sharp metallic sounds rang out.
With precise wrist movements, he deflected the kunai coming from above and from the left.
But the third— He was too late.
“Ssshh—” A soft slicing sound followed.
The kunai from the right grazed past him, carving a deep wound along his arm—deep enough to expose bone.
Blood surged out instantly, staining his white sleeve crimson.
Kakashi staggered back half a step before regaining his balance.
He looked down at the blood soaking his arm.
When he raised his head again, the indifference that usually filled his eyes was gone—replaced by disbelief.
Across from him— Kazama Ryū was still standing exactly where he had been.
He hadn’t retreated even half a step.
The violent blade wind from Kakashi’s charge had torn open his clothes, revealing a shallow pale mark across his chest.
Other than that, he was completely unharmed.
Without anyone saying it aloud, the outcome had already been decided.
The two stood facing each other, separated by distance, both breathing unevenly.
One gasped from extreme chakra consumption.
The other breathed rapidly from violent mental strain.
“T-the match is over!” The instructor finally snapped out of his shock and flashed forward to assess their injuries.
After confirming that Ryū had suffered nothing more than torn clothing, he inhaled deeply and shouted at the top of his lungs: “Draw!” The word Draw thundered across the training ground.
For a brief moment, there was silence.
Then the entire place erupted.
“A draw?!
Did I hear that right?
Kakashi was actually forced into a draw?” “Just now—those three clones attacking together—was that really the Clone Technique?!” “Unbelievable… Kazama Ryū completely outplayed him.
He never planned to win—he aimed for mutual destruction to force Kakashi to retreat!” In the crowd, Yuhi Kurenai’s crimson eyes shimmered with shock, admiration, and something she herself hadn’t yet recognized.
Beside her, Sarutobi Asuma glanced at her expression, then at Ryū’s impossibly calm figure on the field, and felt jealousy burn fiercely in his chest.
He looked as if he wanted to swallow Ryū whole.
A civilian orphan, relying solely on the Three Basic Jutsu and ordinary ninja tools, had forced a draw against Konoha’s most dazzling genius—someone trained in the Hatake blade techniques and elite methods.
That fact slammed into everyone’s hearts like a massive stone.
Kakashi stared at Ryū for a long moment.
There was no arrogance left in his gaze, no frustration at failing to win.
Only seriousness.
Recognition of a worthy opponent.
“You’re strong,” he said.
Ryū nodded calmly, offering no extra words.
He turned and walked off the training ground, leaving behind a slim yet unyieldingly upright figure.
From this day forward, the phrase “civilian genius” would no longer be a joke.
It would be permanently etched into the minds of everyone in this year’s Ninja Academy.
… Inside the Hokage’s office, smoke curled through the air.
Hiruzen Sarutobi set down the crystal ball that had been replaying the final moments of the duel.
That had not been a simple contest.
It had been a carefully constructed psychological battle aimed squarely at a “genius.” From beginning to end, Ryū had never intended to defeat Kakashi.
He had aimed to create a situation where Kakashi could not defeat him.
The final mutual-destruction trap had forced Kakashi into a dilemma.
Either both would be injured— Or Kakashi would withdraw, resulting in a draw.
“This child…” Hiruzen picked up his pipe, took a deep draw, and slowly exhaled.
The smoke blurred his aged face, but it couldn’t conceal the sharpness in his eyes.
“It’s not just his technique.
His heart… is too calm.” So calm that he didn’t resemble a child at all.
More like cold iron buried deep underground—unmoved no matter how turbulent the world above became.
He then spoke toward an empty corner, his tone less like an order and more like quiet contemplation.
“Bring me all of Kazama Ryū’s files,” Hiruzen said calmly, authority resonating in his voice.
“Not just his academy records.
I want his parents’ origins, his grandparents’ names, and whether there have been any questionable contacts with outsiders within three generations.” In wartime, even the smallest anomaly could ignite disaster.
“Yes.” A shadow peeled itself away from the ceiling without a sound, then dissolved back into darkness and vanished.
Hiruzen stood and walked to the window, gazing out over the bustling village of Konoha below.
Yet his eyes seemed to pierce through the surface prosperity, seeing the shadows of war lurking beneath.
An hour later, a thick scroll appeared silently on his desk.
Hiruzen sat down and read it slowly, page by page.
Kazama Ryū, six years old.
Father: Kazama Makoto, Konoha Chūnin, killed three months ago at the Battle of Mount Kikyo.
Mother: Kazama Hui, civilian.
Three generations of ancestors—ordinary villagers or genin.
A background as clean as fresh parchment.
No suspicious ties.
No questionable history.
Simply the most ordinary seedling nurtured by Konoha’s soil.
And yet— This ordinary seedling had shown something that even bloodline geniuses might lack.
A mind far beyond his years.
A precise grasp of human psychology.
And the composure to plan calmly even when facing death.
Hiruzen set the scroll down and lifted his pipe once more.
In the chaotic times ahead, these traits were worth more than any bloodline limit.
Konoha needed sprouts like this.