Chapter 5

Past sparring matches had always stopped short of real harm. Today, the wind swept over the treetops, and the air gradually froze in the silence.

Whoosh!

Saitama suddenly lowered his body and sprinted forward, dust exploding beneath his feet.

This slash carried the fruits of all his training, descending in a dazzling, snow-bright arc!

Clang!

Shisui raised his blade to block, his hand going numb as his knees bent slightly.

The opening vanished in an instant, and Saitama had already retreated several steps.

"Not bad reflexes." He shook **, muscle memory making every movement as precise as a ruler-drawn diagram.

Behind Shisui's smile lay sweat and countless dawns and dusks unknown to anyone else.

A flash of cold light gleamed before his chest. "My turn!"

The gale raised by his charge swept past Saitama's ear. The two figures crossed and shifted amid the ringing of metal. Shuriken and blade light wove into a dense net, twelve sharp chimes echoing through the woods.

After the final clash, both slid back several meters, their knee guards carving deep tracks through the mud.

Shisui's swordsmanship truly was superb—after all, he had been personally taught by a famous master.

Bang!

The two figures passed each other, their leg shadows colliding before swiftly separating.

Continuing to trade blades with Shisui would not be wise. A glint flashed through Saitama's eyes as he changed tactics.

Cold light flashed, and the katana chopped toward Shisui once more!

Clang!

A kunai precisely caught the blade.

Shisui had long seen through Saitama's attack pattern—it was nothing more than rapid consecutive slashes. Though the sword strokes were fierce, they lacked any truly lethal intent.

The angles were not vicious enough, and there was still restraint in the force behind them.

The instant he blocked, Shisui predicted that his opponent would retreat. This was the perfect opportunity to counterattack—

Clang!

Saitama's blade suddenly slid down along the kunai, slicing straight at the fingers holding it! Sparks burst where they collided at the guard.

Startled, Shisui released his grip and swiftly reached his left hand toward the ninja tool pouch at his waist. A flash of cold light streaked out as a kunai shot toward Saitama's right wrist!

He was trying to force his opponent to drop the sword.

Saitama did indeed let go, his right leg whipping toward Shisui's chest like a lash.

Bang!

Shisui drifted backward with the force.

Both now faced each other with kunai in hand. That whip kick had looked vicious, but Shisui's backward lean had dispersed ninety percent of its force.

"Now neither of us has a sword. What are you going to do?" Saitama asked with a smile at the corner of his lips.

"The ninja way is far more than swordsmanship!"

Shisui held a kunai in each hand in a crossed stance, his young face carrying a resolve beyond his years.

The two figures collided once more!

"Let's stop here for today." Shisui wiped the sweat from his forehead with a bitter smile. "After so many days of training, I still couldn't beat you."

"We're both improving." Saitama kicked the katana on the ground back to him.

In the end, the contest had no victor.

An Uchiha who had yet to awaken his eyes ultimately had limits. If those blood-red eyes awakened...

Saitama suddenly froze.

Could his inexplicably vanished chakra be connected to the Sharingan?

Judging by his age, Shisui should be nearing the time of his awakening as well.

"Keep getting stronger!" Shisui sheathed his sword, his back somehow carrying a touch of steadiness.

Watching the figure gradually disappear into the distance, Saitama shook his head and chuckled.

Without guidance from a renowned master, relying on talent alone would ultimately be too slow. Fallen leaves rustled beneath his feet in the forest, like the unfinished road toward strength.

He had to complete his studies at the Ninja Academy as soon as possible and strive to become the disciple of a powerful jonin, rather than wasting time for nothing.

Until the semester was nearing its end, Shisui still did not return to school.

Saitama continued following his established training plan, steadily improving his strength.

During daily assessments, he deliberately held back, barely reaching the passing mark. He considered that enough to repay the schoolteachers' efforts—after all, they had taught their knowledge conscientiously.

The year's end was approaching, and Konoha Year 45 was about to begin.

Recently, shocking news had erupted across the ninja world: the Third Kazekage of the Sand Village had mysteriously disappeared and was suspected to have met with misfortune.

Undercurrents stirred throughout the entire ninja world.

Many years had passed since the last ninja war, and all the major hidden villages had long since recovered their strength.

After dinner, Saitama sat cross-legged on the tatami, inexplicably restless.

Recently, his strength had hit a bottleneck, and he could not find any direction for a breakthrough.

This body possessed exceptional talent, yet there had still been no sign of his eyes awakening.

Did he really have to go through ** first?

He rubbed his sore eyes, unable to make sense of it—his strongest-talent promise upon transmigrating should have allowed his bloodline limit to awaken naturally.

Suddenly, a burning sensation came from his eye sockets. The chakra he had just refined within his body was being frantically devoured by his eyes.

Saitama's heart pounded wildly, and he immediately focused all his attention on circulating his chakra refinement technique.

Time passed. He maintained his cultivation posture for over an hour, his eyes continuously absorbing energy like bottomless pits.

"I can't give up!" he gritted out, enduring the scorching heat until tears streamed down his face.

When his pupils contracted violently, his vision suddenly became several times clearer.

As the amount of chakra being absorbed gradually decreased, a piercing pain suddenly struck—

The chakra within his body returned to its stable circulation, and the devouring sensation vanished completely.

Saitama was certain: the Sharingan had awakened!

He walked to the mirror. Two black tomoe had appeared distinctly within his scarlet pupils.

The boy in the mirror had bangs hanging lightly over his forehead, a trace of confusion on his pale face. At the edges of his crimson pupils, two tomoe had appeared symmetrically.

"Two tomoe upon my first awakening?"

"Not bad."

The corner of Saitama's lips lifted, and his blood-red eyes returned to black.

The chakra within his body flowed freely, and controlling the two-tomoe Sharingan did not hinder him in the slightest. With this level of chakra reserves, he had at least reached the standard of a chunin.

His talent truly was extraordinary—without any special trigger, his awakening had gone so smoothly. At this rate, opening the Mangekyo Sharingan in the future would not be difficult either. As long as he accumulated enough chakra, everything would naturally fall into place.

The title of "strongest talent" was indeed no empty claim.

At that thought, blazing fighting spirit rose in the boy's chest. Given time, even facing Madara Uchiha head-on and sweeping across the ninja world would not be a delusion.

The awakening of his two-tomoe Sharingan had finally shown Saitama the path forward amid his confusion. Tonight's gains were more than enough, and the boy was thoroughly satisfied.

As a member of the Uchiha Clan, Saitama had long seen the coming predicament. The resentment between Konoha and the Uchiha Clan grew deeper by the day, and the Nine-Tails incident would ignite the conflict completely. Only two paths lay before him: follow Shisui and Itachi in protecting Konoha, or lead the clan in overthrowing the regime.

But Danzo in the shadows and the Third Hokage in the open had long since strangled any room for choice. Saitama knew that he was destined to stand with his clan. There was simply no possibility of mediation in this fight to the death.

Still, it was too early to think about such things. His most urgent task was to improve his strength.

After awakening the Sharingan, Saitama's chakra grew even more rapidly. In class, the teacher lectured passionately on the theory of ninja tool throwing, while the students in the front rows were forced to endure the spray of his saliva. Meanwhile, Saitama, seated in the last row, was quietly cultivating.

Iruka beside him listened attentively, lowering his head from time to time to take notes.

"Next class, we'll move to the training ground. Today's schedule includes combat drills."

The teacher closed his textbook and made the announcement. Theory ultimately needed to be verified through practice, and with undercurrents stirring in the ninja world, starting practical combat early was not necessarily a bad thing.

"Understood."

"Finally, we can stretch our legs."

The students were eager to give it a try.

"Let's go," Iruka called softly to his companion.

Iruka lightly patted Saitama, who was resting with his eyes closed. Though he did not know what Saitama was doing, it did not seem as though he was sleeping.

"Mm."

This time, the practical training did not use the wooden shuriken from before, but real metal ones.

The students' enthusiasm surged once again.

"There will be a shuriken-throwing test shortly. You can prepare yourselves first."

After saying that, the teacher stepped aside and allowed the students to practice on their own.

Saitama casually picked up a shuriken, slipping a finger through the hole in its center and spinning it idly.

"Hey, Uchiha!"

A white-eyed boy walked up to Saitama.

His pale eyes were especially clear, yet he looked up at Saitama with an arrogant expression despite being slightly shorter.

"Need something?"

Saitama knew that the Uchiha and Hyuga Clans had never gotten along, but he had not expected someone to provoke him so directly.

His expression remained calm. He did not understand why this Hyuga clansman had come looking for him.

"Do you dare compete in the test later?"

Tokuma Hyuga raised his chin and challenged Saitama.

"Whatever you want. Just don't cry afterward."

Saitama felt that he had kept too low a profile at school if even someone like this dared to provoke him.

"Teacher, please let Uchiha Saitama and me take the test as a pair!"

The teacher looked at this Hyuga student in surprise.

Then, thinking of the rivalry between the two great clans, he understood.

There was no harm in testing them together, so he nodded in agreement.

After all, neither side was easy to offend.

In the teacher's eyes, Uchiha Saitama was nothing special, merely an ordinary student from the Uchiha Clan.

Yet Tokuma Hyuga, who had gained a modest reputation, had challenged him.

In truth, Tokuma Hyuga had wanted to challenge Uchiha Shisui, who had displayed astonishing talent at the start of the school year. Unfortunately, Shisui had recently taken leave and had not returned.

So he settled for the next best thing, choosing another Uchiha in the class who was close to Shisui as his opponent.

Tokuma Hyuga was brimming with confidence. Since childhood, aside from practicing the Gentle Fist, he had trained most often with kunai and shuriken.

Before long, the teacher gathered everyone and began the test.

The first pair was Saitama and Tokuma Hyuga.

"This test has ten targets: two stationary targets at ten meters, three moving targets; two stationary targets at fifteen meters, two moving targets; and finally, one moving target at twenty meters."

"A perfect score is ten points. One point for each target hit."

After announcing the rules, the teacher signaled for the two of them to begin.

Saitama reached toward the ninja tool pouch at his thigh, his gaze locking onto the targets ten meters away.

Ever since awakening the Sharingan, his powers of observation and dynamic vision had improved enormously.

Even without activating the Sharingan, they had already reached the limits of human capability.

Saitama slowly took two shuriken from his ninja tool pouch. His feet planted firmly on the ground, his body sinking slightly as he adjusted into the optimal stance to exert force.

Clang!

Clang!

Two crisp metallic impacts rang out in quick succession. Tokuma Hyuga, standing beside Saitama, struck first, accurately hitting the two nearest stationary targets.

"Hmph!"

Tokuma Hyuga turned his head, a disdainful smile on his lips.

"As expected of a genius from the Hyuga Clan!"

"Truly worthy of an heir from a prestigious clan!"

The watching students broke into exclamations of amazement.

Tokuma Hyuga's two throws had nearly struck the bullseyes simultaneously, his movements clean and decisive. Even the instructor beside them kept nodding, clearly impressed by the Hyuga boy.

Saitama's fighting spirit was stirred by the provocation, and he immediately threw with a standard motion.

Clang! Clang!

Both struck the bullseyes as well!

"This Uchiha is impressive too!"

"Could it have been luck? We've never seen him this good before."

"Keep watching and we'll find out."

Amid the students' murmurs, Saitama decided not to give his opponent another chance to show off. He drew five shuriken from his ninja tool pouch at once and threw them in an instant, every one striking the bullseye precisely!

Tokuma Hyuga's expression changed drastically—five shuriken launched at the same time, all hitting their targets, including three moving targets. Such skill was far beyond anything he could achieve.

Refusing to be outdone, Tokuma Hyuga decided to focus first on the three moving targets. He carefully took out three shuriken, lightly rubbing them in his palm as he concentrated fully on his targets.

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

Clang!

The training ground suddenly fell into an eerie silence. Tokuma Hyuga looked around in confusion and discovered that everyone was staring open-mouthed in Saitama's direction.

It turned out that just as Tokuma Hyuga was preparing to throw, Saitama had already launched three shuriken in succession. The shuriken collided with one another in midair before ultimately pinning themselves simultaneously into two moving targets fifteen meters away and one moving target twenty meters away.

Tokuma Hyuga's lowered hands still gripped his shuriken, his knuckles white from excessive force. Only then did he understand the meaning behind Saitama's earlier words: "Just don't cry afterward!"

A powerful sense of humiliation surged through him like a tide.