Chapter 33

Whoosh! Before the hand signs were even complete, Shisui vanished from where he stood. At the same instant, Saitama disappeared as well.

"That was...?" Sen's pupils contracted sharply. He seemed to have caught a glimpse of—three tomoe flashing in Saitama's eyes?!

"How is that possible? What exactly happened during their mission..." Sen's heart jolted. The Sharingan's evolution was often accompanied by life-or-death crises or major upheavals.

Before he could figure it out, the training ground erupted with a crisp clang of metal striking metal.

"Heh." Saitama pressed down with his blade, a curve lifting at the corner of his mouth.

The instant Shisui activated the Body Flicker Technique, Saitama's three-tomoe Sharingan had precisely captured the flow of chakra, and his body instinctively replicated the technique.

"Looks like you haven't been slacking either." Shisui looked at the Sharingan in Saitama's eyes and smiled in satisfaction. He knew his friend had long been troubled by his stagnant Sharingan, but he had not expected this mission to become the opportunity for a breakthrough.

"With you chasing so close behind, how could I dare slack off?" Saitama retreated half a step to evade the slash, then swung his blade in a diagonal cut. His toes slammed into the ground, and he shot forward like an arrow.

Saitama deliberately restrained his strength in this match, relying only on taijutsu alongside Chidori Stream. The two figures constantly crossed through the field, their blades weaving a dense net of light.

Nagisa's eyes widened at the sidelines, but he could barely make out their afterimages. Without his Sharingan activated, he could only see their movements clearly during the brief pauses between exchanges.

His clenched fists trembled faintly. Nagisa's feelings were complicated at that moment. He was delighted by his companions' strength, yet secretly frustrated by the gap he could not hope to reach.

The battle ended swiftly, with Saitama winning without suspense. He could have ended the match much sooner, but he deliberately held back a little to gauge Shisui's true capabilities.

"You're pretty good, Shisui." Saitama sheathed his long blade.

"You clearly didn't use your full strength." Shisui looked somewhat dejected.

"You were already excellent." Sen walked over and patted Saitama on the shoulder as he spoke to Shisui.

Morning sunlight spilled into the courtyard.

"Morning, Granny!"

"Come eat breakfast."

Saitama's daily life returned to its usual rhythm: after eating at home, he went to the training ground. When he was in the mood, he patrolled Konoha's outskirts with the guard unit; when he was not, he sought out Nagisa or Shisui for sparring matches.

"Coming!" Saitama sat down at the table, ready to enjoy breakfast.

The classic combination of rice balls and seaweed soup never grew old for him.

He wolfed down the entire plate of rice balls, then patted his belly in satisfaction and rose to head for the training ground. Before leaving, he glanced back at Granny Xiang, who was clearing the dishes, and gently closed the door behind him.

"Morning, Saitama!"

Nagisa's greeting came from ahead. Saitama nodded in response. Lately, they had always gone to the training ground together.

"The weather's getting warmer. The day we head out should be getting close, right?"

Nagisa followed beside him, chattering away. Since his strength had improved, he had been eager to prove himself. Although Saitama had repeatedly advised him to adjust his mindset, it had done little good.

The training ground was already crowded. With the war drawing near, everyone trained twice as hard—every increase in strength meant another chance to survive.

After a simple warm-up, Saitama carried his sword toward the depths of the training ground. He had always preferred the quiet of being alone.

When the last few members arrived one after another, the entire guard unit had assembled.

"Everyone, assemble!" Sen stood in the center of the field and clapped to signal them.

The group quickly formed ranks. Because of his exceptional strength, Saitama stood at the front beside Sen. Since awakening his three-tomoe Sharingan, he had become the undisputed strongest member of the guard unit.

Twenty members stood in neat formation, their eyes fixed on Sen.

"Ahem!" Sen cleared his throat, preparing to announce something important.

"It is an honor to meet all of you. You are all the finest elites of the Uchiha Clan, selected from among hundreds. At this moment, it feels as though I am speaking with Uchiha's stars of tomorrow!" Uchiha Mori's lips curled slightly, though his tone remained steady.

The field was silent, all eyes focused on Mori. Such praise was already commonplace to them, and it would not breed arrogance. Those who could enter this place would never let outside opinions shake their convictions.

Although most members of the guard unit were only twelve or thirteen, their minds were far more mature than those of their peers, and they saw things more clearly as well.

"One week from now, many of you will head to the battlefield. This is your own choice!" Mori's gaze swept over Nagisa, Saitama, and the other members who had volunteered for war. His voice was low and forceful.

"Everyone present possesses exceptional strength, at the very least far beyond ordinary ninja. You may be called gifted! But the battlefield is no game. Do not think that completing a few missions means you can come and go freely there!" Mori abruptly raised his voice, every word ringing like steel.

"I will not waste more words. Nearly ten members of the guard unit will be joining the frontline forces this time. I hope every one of you returns safely. The Uchiha Clan needs you!"

"Do you understand?"

"Yes!" everyone answered in unison. Saitama, standing at the front of the formation, gave a slight nod.

Mori stared at the youths before him, fully aware that stepping onto the battlefield meant facing death. Those who returned alive would likely be few. Even he himself could not claim with certainty that he would emerge unscathed—the battlefield was always full of uncertainty.

"Continue training. Dismissed. Saitama, come with me."

Mori beckoned for Saitama to follow. The two headed toward the office building.

"Something up?" Saitama skillfully brewed two cups of tea and placed one at the edge of the table.

"We're leaving soon, so I wanted to talk to you."

Mori accepted the cup and took a shallow sip before continuing. "The situation is still fairly stable for now. Hidden Mist Village does not seem to have decided to officially go to war yet. We will most likely just be facing them off on the front line, so the risks are relatively manageable." Saitama sat down, his thoughts racing.

"Even so, minor skirmishes will be unavoidable."

"I heard the Iwa ninja in the northwest are getting restless too?" Saitama watched Mori's face, his tone casual.

"That's right. Konoha is indeed being attacked from both sides now. But that has little to do with us. That is something the Third Hokage should worry about."

"The clan head plans to hold a secret family meeting and has specifically invited you to attend. This will also be your first time taking part in such a meeting, a good chance for the clan members to get to know you." Mori rubbed his teacup, his tone calm.

"When?"

"Eight tonight, at the clan shrine." Mori lowered his gaze to the ripples in his tea, his expression indifferent.

"Understood." Saitama nodded faintly. He had to attend an occasion like this. If he wanted to establish himself within the clan, these people were impossible to avoid.

Though he had gained a little fame in the clan through several accomplishments, most people had heard his name without ever seeing him in person. Tonight might be his chance to step into the inner circle.

Saitama's gaze passed over the faint smile at Mori's lips, and he let out a low laugh as well.

"I'm suddenly feeling fired up."

"Sometimes, it's hard to believe you're only eight years old." Mori took another sip of tea.

"Then just don't treat me like a child?" Saitama shrugged carelessly.

Children in the ninja world matured early to begin with, but with Saitama's build, no one would have guessed he was a boy not yet ten.

"If there's nothing else, I'll go make preparations." He stood and waved.

"Mm." Mori remained seated, drinking tea without seeing him off.

After stepping out of the room, Saitama's pace noticeably quickened. Tonight would be his first time directly facing the clan's entire upper echelon, and he understood better than anyone the weight of that meeting.

"Saitama, what did Mori want with you?" Shisui stopped him in the corridor.

"The captain gave me some instructions. He wants me to go somewhere tonight." Saitama was vague. Since it was a secret meeting, there was no need to say more.

"Come on, help me test a new move." As expected, Shisui did not press further. He grabbed Saitama and pulled him toward the depths of the training ground.

"Sure." Though their strengths were far apart, sparring with Shisui always gave him new ideas. Saitama never refused such matches.

When Nagisa joined the sparring as well, Saitama stepped aside to watch the two exchange moves. As the sun climbed higher, he hurriedly finished lunch and decided not to return to the training ground that afternoon—he had arranged to meet Kakashi in the woods.

Whenever he thought of Kakashi, Saitama could not help laughing. Since their parting at the barbecue restaurant, Kakashi had never come to meet him. Then, when Saitama went to the shopping district to buy fish the day before yesterday, he happened to find Kakashi frozen at the entrance of a shop—the genius jonin had forgotten his wallet and had been detained by the new shop owner for trying to dine and dash.

Saitama casually paid for Kakashi. Kakashi thanked him on the surface, but inwardly planned to repay the money next time. Just as he was about to leave, Saitama stopped him and suggested they spar and exchange pointers.

Saitama's name had recently spread through a small circle, and even Minato Namikaze had mentioned him to Kakashi. This rising talent, said to have "talent that rivaled or even surpassed Kakashi's," quietly stirred Kakashi's competitive spirit.

After agreeing on a time, the two went their separate ways. Though he had failed to buy the fish he wanted, running into Kakashi was still an unexpected gain.

Their meeting place was a small forest outside Konoha Village, set for two in the afternoon. Saitama headed over half an hour early, strolling along at his leisure. Since his opponent was Kakashi, rushing would not help anyway.

He had heard Kakashi was about to be promoted to jonin. The technique called Chidori should already have been completed, so this was a perfect chance to see it for himself.

A gentle breeze brushed through the forest, which was brimming with life in the spring. Saitama lazily leaned against a large tree, settling into a comfortable position as he waited.

As expected of Konoha's famous King of Tardiness. Saitama had deliberately delayed until quarter past two, yet Kakashi was nowhere in sight. Bored, he picked at his fingers and occasionally glanced down the forest path.

Creak—

It was not until half past two that the silver-haired figure finally arrived.

"Did you get lost on the road of life?" Saitama straightened up with a grin.

"Haha..."

Kakashi's mask hid his expression, but he still awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

"Here, the money from last time." Kakashi handed him a stack of bills.

"Thanks." Saitama casually stuffed the money into his pocket.

"How are we exchanging pointers? Just spar directly?" Kakashi got straight to the point.

"No rush. Let me show you something good first."

"Fine."

Kakashi took several steps back, standing with his arms folded in confusion. He had assumed this so-called exchange would just be a fight.

Seeing Kakashi settle into an observing stance, Saitama walked to the center of the clearing. Blinding lightning suddenly burst from his palm—

Crackle!

Azure arcs of electricity danced in his palm. Saitama lowered his center of gravity, concentrating fully on maintaining the chakra output. Displaying Chidori before its creator this time, he had come well prepared.

Seeing that familiar mass of lightning, Kakashi's pupil abruptly shrank.

"I heard you created a ninjutsu too?" Saitama maintained the Lightning Release form, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Kakashi stared at the lightning in Saitama's palm. His hands rapidly formed seals, and he assumed the same starting stance. Blue-white lightning flickered between his fingers, but it was noticeably dimmer than the dazzling sphere in Saitama's hand.

In the forest clearing, the two stood in mirrored postures. Chakra howled around the silver-haired ninja like a storm, making the short blade at his waist ring in the wind; the Lightning Release in the black-haired youth's hand, however, was condensed as though solid, scorching marks into the very air.

"How long have you been working on this technique?" Kakashi's single eye narrowed slightly beneath his mask. Saitama's control over Lightning Release chakra alarmed him. That effortless change in form even surpassed him, the technique's creator.

"It gradually took shape on the battlefield." Saitama closed his fingers. The lightning sphere seemed to be kneaded by an invisible hand, finally turning into scattered sparks that vanished into the evening light.

Kakashi's Lightning Release, on the other hand, was like a wild horse that had broken free of its reins. When his chakra ran rampant, the veins in his arm bulged. By the time he finally calmed the chaotic current, his forehead protector was already soaked with sweat. "I only completed this technique last week..." His voice carried confusion. "Where did you hear the name 'Chidori'?"

"Just something I heard." Saitama smiled and changed the subject, his sleeve brushing past blades of grass charred by electricity.

By the time the setting sun stretched their shadows long, the spar ultimately never took place. Saitama's insights on chakra form transformation gave Kakashi much to think about, while the creator's unique perspective also benefited Saitama greatly. When they parted, the silver-haired ninja was still standing there, fine sparks occasionally flashing from his fingertips.

"Braised fish?" Saitama's throat bobbed as he pushed open the door. A clay pot on the stove bubbled with steam, and a golden-scaled perch lay in the dark sauce.

Uchiha Kaori tapped the edge of the pot with a wooden spoon. "Last time, someone couldn't tear his eyes away from the freshwater fish stall..." Before she finished, Saitama had already efficiently laid out the bowls and chopsticks. The old woman could only shake her head at the boy's wolfish eating, yet she still placed the fattest piece of fish belly into his bowl.