Breath of Water: Third Form, Flowing Dance!

On the day of the sparring match, the sky was overcast, threatening a torrential downpour.

However, this could not cool the fervor of the Uchiha. Ninjas from the clan gathered continuously by the training grounds, their expressions impassioned, their eyes bright, their banter filled with pride.

"I heard that Itachi has never failed a single mission while in the Anbu! Even the Third Hokage holds him in high regard."

"I heard that Arata single-handedly pummeled the younger generation of the Ino-Shika-Cho. When he defeated the Akimichi Clan, he even overpowered them using their own specialty: raw strength!"

Stories regarding the protagonists of the day spread one after another.

Whether it was Itachi or Arata, both were figures who suppressed the rest of their generation in Konoha. How could the clan not feel proud? How could they not be boastful?

Even the bitterness of being ostracized by the village for years was briefly diminished by the feats of these two prodigies.

"It's just that, while Arata is impressive—even capable of suppressing a combination like the Ino-Shika-Cho—he is still young. He hasn't been tempered by true fire and blood, so his combat experience must be lacking."

"Hopefully, a single defeat will smooth out some of his sharp edges."

Finally, some clansmen brought the topic back to the impending battle.

They looked at the boy standing quietly on the surface of the lake with his blade strapped to his back, their words tinged with worry.

Although both were rare geniuses, Arata's foundation and experience were ultimately insufficient. Looking at Itachi, as the son of the clan head, the resources he received were the best not just within the Uchiha, but even compared to the entirety of Konoha!

The implicit gap between them was self-evident.

"But Arata does possess two Kekkei Genkai after all, and everyone has seen his training day in and day out, rain or shine. Perhaps he can create a miracle!"

There were also clansmen who favored Arata Uchiha.

Even if the compatibility between his Ice Release and his Sharingan was not high enough to become a Kekkei Tota like that of Ōnoki, it was still enough to shock anyone.

Furthermore, it wasn't as if Arata lacked fire-style chakra; what he would achieve in the future remained to be seen!

Listening to the discussions of the clansmen around her, Izumi clasped her hands together in front of her chest, her thin lips pressed slightly together, her eyes lowered, as if she were praying for something in secret.

After an unknown amount of time, as ripples quietly spread across the calm surface of the lake, a lean figure stood upon it as well.

Before the rain could fall from the sky, Itachi had arrived!

Today, he did not wear his standard Anbu gear, but simply wore the ninja attire of the clan, no different from the clansmen surrounding them.

But for some reason, upon seeing the fan crest embroidered on his clothing, Arata felt it was somewhat of an eyesore.

Hmm.

If it were washed clean with the blood of its owner, that should be better.

"Why me?"

Itachi Uchiha, standing on the surface of the lake, asked.

Hidden deep within his eyes was suspicion; he did not believe the reason for the challenge circulating within the clan at all.

Because the other party was definitely not the type to waste time challenging others for the sake of a little fame. The only two private fights he had in the academy were because of the Sarutobi brothers and the Ino-Shika-Cho provoking him first.

However, Arata had no desire to converse with him. With a sharp "clang," the horizontal blade strapped to his back was drawn from its sheath. By the time Itachi focused, Arata was already within half a foot of him!

"Nii-san, watch out!"

A childish cry rang out from the shore.

Little Sasuke clenched his small fists tightly, his eyes filled with anger.

That big bad guy Arata is actually ambushing his brother!

Itachi Uchiha clearly had not expected Arata to be so direct. This was supposed to be a sparring match between clansmen, yet there wasn't even an opening line.

Moreover, seeing the proximity of his opponent, even someone as calm as him could not help but furrow his brows slightly.

Beyond the explosive power that defied Arata Uchiha's age, there was another point that made him increasingly suspicious: the killing intent that, while restrained, could still be glimpsed!

The eyes are the windows to the soul.

During the Third Shinobi World War and his Anbu missions, Itachi Uchiha had seen countless pairs of eyes. Hatred, pity, cunning, murderous intent—he could distinguish the emotions hidden within them at a single glance.

Just like the teammates Danzo had planted by his side; from the very first day of contact, he had glimpsed the clues of undeniable surveillance and distrust.

It was the same now. With just one look, he saw the killing intent hidden in Arata's eyes.

Does he want to kill me through this sparring match?

Whose order is this? The Council of Elders?

No, they wouldn't go so far as to want to eliminate me.

In the blink of an eye, Itachi Uchiha had already considered many things.

He knew his recent performance had already drawn reprimands from within the clan, and even his father had begun to clearly express his dissatisfaction, but he was also very clear that those old men would not lay a hand on him.

Then who could it be?

That mysterious masked man?

Just as his thoughts settled, his opponent's attack arrived.

The sharp blade easily tore through Itachi's form, yet there was not a hint of joy on Arata's face.

"Caw, caw, caw."

The raucous cries of crows lingered in his ears, as if mocking his incompetence.

"Genjutsu."

"When!"

Arata's mood dipped slightly, but he adjusted it just as quickly.

How could someone who could not even be controlled by the forbidden jutsu Impure World Reincarnation fall so easily to his surprise attack?

Itachi, having shifted his position, did not give Arata a moment to think; with a light flip of his hands, several Shuriken slid between his fingers.

Although his heart was filled with many questions, it was clearly not the time to seek answers.

At the same time, the opponent's decisive offensive and explosive power, which defied his age, posed a certain threat.

"Swish, swish, swish."

Strange whistling sounds tore through the air, arriving with lightning speed.

The world knew that the Uchiha's Fire Style and Kekkei Genkai were peerless, yet they often overlooked that Shurikenjutsu was also a mandatory course for this clan!

Arata did not use his Sharingan to discern the trajectory of the Shuriken.

He needed to reserve his ocular power to contend with Itachi's Three-Tomoe, even if he would surely remain at a disadvantage; it was still better than having none at all.

Besides, it was only a mere four-bladed Shuriken attack.

"Hoo."

After exhaling a breath, Arata held his blade horizontally before his chest, parrying swiftly just as the ninja tools were about to strike.

"Clang, clang, clang, clang."

The metallic clashing sounds rang out exactly four times, no more, no less.

The initial probe had been easily blocked.

But a hint of gravity deepened in Arata's eyes, for there were already two identical figures in his field of vision—no, that wasn't right!

He glanced toward his back.

There were three!

And these three Shadow Clones, along with the original, had surrounded him from four sides.

"Swish, swish, swish."

Without waiting for Arata to continue thinking or discerning, the fierce Shuriken arrived from all directions, sealing off every path he could use to maneuver!

Standing in the center, he was like a trapped beast!

"What is happening? Is Arata going to give up?"

Exclamations suddenly rang out from the shore.

They saw the besieged youth slowly lower his blade, as if he were about to abandon all resistance.

However, facing such a sky-filling barrage of Shuriken, giving up seemed only natural.

But was that really the case?

Was it truly going to end here?

Having steadied his breathing, Arata Uchiha suddenly turned his blade, his pupils erupting with intense fighting spirit: "Breath of Water, Third Form: Flowing Dance!"