Chapter 7

The cold night arrived early. After dinner, Saitama came to the training ground alone. His shuriken sliced through the night wind and sank deep into the rings of an ancient tree.

He was waiting for his companion, warming up first.

"Didn't expect you to get here so early."

Before long, Shisui emerged from the other side of the woods.

Saitama threw his last shuriken and shook out his wrist.

At the sound, his eyes suddenly burned with excitement.

"Let me see how much you've improved lately."

"That's exactly what I had in mind, Saitama!"

The battle erupted without warning.

Clang!

The two blades collided, sending sparks flying from their edges.

Their eyes blazed as they locked onto each other.

Saitama tugged at the corner of his mouth, forcing out a stiff smile.

It really wasn't easy to keep smiling while gripping a sword hilt tightly.

Taking half a step back, he held his blade horizontally and pointed it at Shisui.

"Is that all you've got, Shisui?"

His words carried undisguised contempt.

"Take this, Saitama!"

Shisui pushed off with the balls of his feet and charged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

The long blade in his hand became the point of a thrusting spear.

Saitama didn't dare let his guard down, tightening his grip on his sword as he met the attack.

His gaze remained fixed on Shisui, missing none of his slightest movements.

He was certain Shisui must have made a breakthrough during this time.

Just as their weapons were about to collide, Shisui's expression abruptly changed.

Alarm bells rang in Saitama's mind—

Sure enough, Shisui rapidly formed hand seals with his left hand.

Whoosh!

Shisui vanished into thin air.

"Behind you!"

The blade that had been swinging forward carved a half-arc through the air, then swept upward from below with the force of his turn.

Clang!

Shisui's pupils shrank—his attack had actually been blocked!

"Body Flicker Technique?" Saitama's smile widened.

He hadn't expected Shisui to have already mastered such a ninjutsu.

"Not bad reflexes, Saitama."

Shisui secretly caught his breath. His chakra reserves limited how many times he could use the Body Flicker Technique.

Though he had blocked the ambush from behind, Saitama was still knocked back several steps.

His hasty counterattack hadn't allowed him to use his full strength, and the wrist holding his blade was now faintly numb.

After flicking his sword through a few flourishes to loosen his wrist, Saitama's fighting spirit burned even hotter.

"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"

He planted his sword in the ground and formed hand seals in one fluid motion.

A fireball half a meter across roared forth, sending waves of heat rolling through the forest.

The instant the flames closed in, Shisui's face changed in shock.

Boom!

The fireball blasted a section of tree trunk to pieces, and the remaining flames reduced it to ash.

(

"You've actually mastered Fire Release ninjutsu."

Shisui appeared several meters away in a flash, his eyes fixed intensely on Saitama. The flames still burned, and he couldn't help feeling relieved that he had used the Substitution Technique in time.

"That isn't the only surprise, Shisui!"

The corners of Saitama's mouth lifted as he looked at the completely unharmed Shisui.

"If that's the case, then I'll have to get serious!"

Shisui swiftly formed hand seals. With a poof, a Shadow Clone appeared beside him. The two exchanged a glance before charging at Saitama at the same time.

Saitama pulled the blade embedded in the ground free, utterly fearless.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The three figures clashed fiercely, and Shisui gradually gained the upper hand. Saitama's swordsmanship had been slightly inferior to begin with, and facing the clone's pincer attack made it even harder for him to defend himself.

Clang!

Saitama blocked Shisui's downward slash, but the clone on his left suddenly darted to his waist. He hurriedly twisted aside, yet the blade still sliced through his robe.

Bang!

They kicked each other at the same time and each retreated.

"How does that feel, Saitama?"

"Interesting, but if this is all you've got—"

Saitama abruptly shut his eyes. When he opened them again, two tomoe slowly spun within his scarlet pupils.

"How about now, Shisui?"

He stared at the two figures, a confident smile resting on his lips.

"Two-Tomoe Sharingan?!"

Shisui's pupils contracted sharply. Awakening a Two-Tomoe Sharingan at six years old shattered the Uchiha Clan's thousand-year history. Even without reading the secret records, he knew what kind of talent that represented.

"Don't get too cocky!"

Two flashes of cold light struck toward Saitama at once. Under the dynamic vision granted by the Two-Tomoe Sharingan, every movement's trajectory was perfectly clear.

Clang!

Saitama precisely parried the original's attack, then spun and lashed out with a roundhouse kick behind him, the whistling air piercing his ears.

Boom!

White smoke rose into the air.

Shisui's clone behind him was shattered by Saitama's roundhouse kick, dissolving into a plume of smoke!

Clang!

Their blades collided, scattering sparks. Saitama's Sharingan had already locked onto Shisui's real body, his scarlet eyes reflecting every minute movement his opponent made.

Using the force of the clash, the two leaped backward, their shoes plowing deep furrows through the sand.

"The warm-up's over, Shisui."

Saitama ran his thumb over his blade's edge, his fighting spirit scorching the air.

A kunai spun through Shisui's palm in a blur, yet he felt pressure unlike anything before. Those blood-red eyes seemed capable of seeing through the future. Every move he made felt as though he were willingly stepping into the trap of Saitama's predictions.

Only twenty percent of my chakra remains...

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the blood in his mouth, then he suddenly smiled in resignation. The gap between them had long since widened; he simply hadn't wanted to admit it.

"Fire Release: Explosive Flame Dance!"

Saitama formed hand seals so quickly they left afterimages, and a sea of flames instantly swallowed half the training ground. Amid the heat-distorted air, Shisui used the Body Flicker Technique to reach the treetops, though the edge of his clothes was still scorched black.

That kind of chakra reserve...

The Sharingan looked even more uncanny in the firelight. Shisui kicked off the tree trunk hard enough to shatter it and dove down, his kunai stabbing straight for Saitama's throat—

"Too slow."

As Saitama spun aside, his steel boot smashed heavily into Shisui's wrist. The ninja tool flew from his hand and buried itself in a tree trunk ten meters away, humming as it trembled.

The ring of metal clashing fell like a downpour. Having lost his primary weapon, Shisui retreated step by step. Every block left his palms numb. After their final exchange, he staggered to one knee, his kunai blade covered in jagged chips.

"Do you still want to continue?"

Saitama's sword tip hovered three inches before Shisui's brow. Sweat dripped from his chin onto the heated blade, hissing into white vapor.

Saitama's stamina was absurdly strong. Even while fighting intensely with his Sharingan active, he wasn't even out of breath.

Shisui lowered his hands and smiled helplessly.

"Alright, I surrender!"

He accepted the loss wholeheartedly. After all, Saitama had even used the Sharingan.

As his gaze fell on Saitama's scarlet eyes again, Shisui couldn't help feeling a little envious.

The Sharingan provided an enormous boost to taijutsu. If he had possessed one too, the outcome might have been uncertain.

This was probably the "talent" Saitama was always talking about!

"Shisui is strong too. Without the Sharingan, I definitely couldn't have beaten you!"

Saitama recalled Shisui's sharp swordsmanship and its tricky angles. Without the Sharingan's insight, he wouldn't have been able to defend against it at all.

"The Sharingan is part of a ninja's strength. I truly lost this time."

After saying this seriously, Shisui walked aside and picked up his sword.

"When did you awaken it?"

He was curious. Saitama hadn't awakened it during their last fight, yet this time he had directly reached two tomoe. That wasn't the usual growth path of the Uchiha Clan.

"Not long after our last battle. It was already two tomoe when I awakened it. Maybe that's just talent."

Saitama showed no humility whatsoever, smiling as he looked straight at Shisui.

Shisui ignored the provocation in his eyes.

He had underestimated Saitama's talent. If the clan learned that Saitama had awakened a Two-Tomoe Sharingan at this age, who knew how they would react.

Especially those people in the guard force who called themselves geniuses...

The corner of Shisui's mouth lifted slightly as he suddenly looked forward to the day Saitama graduated and joined the guard force.

"Let's head back. It's getting dark."

After clearing away the traces of their battle, Saitama used earth to smother the remaining flames from his Fire Release.

The winter night had grown deep, and the cold was intensifying.

Though he didn't fear low temperatures, he still needed to digest the insights he had gained from battle. There was no need to keep freezing here.

Stepping over dead branches and fallen leaves, the two left the Uchiha Clan's private training ground.

In the distant clan compound, the lights still shone brightly!

Through his fight with Shisui, Saitama realized he had many shortcomings.

His fighting methods were too limited, and he lacked any overwhelming advantage. In the end, he had only barely won by relying on the Sharingan.

The New Year was approaching, and goose-feather snow began falling over Konoha.

This was the first snowfall in Konoha that Saitama remembered.

A timely snowfall promised a good harvest—Konoha had the same saying.

Snowflakes drifted through the air, yet they did nothing to dampen Konoha Village's festive New Year atmosphere.

The snow lay thick in the streets, but vendors' cries and passersby's laughter continued one after another.

Saitama strolled leisurely through the streets, stepping on the soft snow. With some rare free time on his hands, he decided to treat himself well.

"Father, they're selling masks over there!"

A childish voice rang out. Saitama followed the sound, and his gaze fell on an adult man who seemed vaguely familiar.

—Uchiha Fugaku, the current clan head of the Uchiha Clan!

And the little boy standing beside him was naturally Itachi Uchiha.

It was currently the end of Konoha's forty-fourth year. Itachi, born in Konoha's forty-third year, was only a little over one year old. Even after the New Year, he would only be two—a delicate, adorable little child.

Saitama stopped and quietly observed the father and son from a distance.

Fugaku picked up a mask and gently said to Itachi, "If you like it, you can pick one."

His expression was kind, with a faint smile on his lips.

Itachi nodded and walked up to the stall on his short little legs, carefully selecting a mask.

During that interval, Uchiha Fugaku seemed to sense something and turned his gaze toward Saitama.

His eyes paused briefly on the Uchiha Clan crest on Saitama's clothes before he studied Saitama with a hint of curiosity.

Faced with the clan head's gaze, Saitama lowered his head slightly in respect before turning and leaving.

The relationship between this father and son seemed more harmonious than he remembered.

The snow continued to fall in thick flurries, dyeing all of Konoha Village pure white.

Not long afterward, Saitama entered a barbecue restaurant.

He hadn't eaten barbecue in a long time and had been craving it badly. Since he had some free time today, he came to this restaurant he often visited.

Eating alone had its own unique flavor.

Saitama never felt lonely. For someone with a strong enough heart, solitude felt more like enjoying a carnival.

He skillfully ordered a few side dishes, then started with two jin of meat.

He was at an age when he was still growing, so he couldn't neglect his stomach. Otherwise, it wouldn't be fun if people laughed at him for being short like that "young master."

At six years old, Saitama was around one meter tall, which wasn't short among children his age.

Shisui was about the same height, though he was much slimmer.

The meat and side dishes at this restaurant came in generous portions, tasted excellent, and were reasonably priced.

Saitama chose a quiet corner and sat down. No one would disturb him there, so he could enjoy his meal in peace.

He laid slices of fresh, tender meat across the grill. The fat sizzled, filling the air with fragrance, and Saitama's lips curled upward on their own.

This was what a comfortable life meant—no worries about food or clothing, free and carefree.

If only the burden on his shoulders were a little lighter, it would be perfect.

But wasn't life exactly like this? Without pressure, where would motivation come from?

Under the flames' scorching heat, the chunks of meat gradually turned an appetizing golden brown as Saitama carefully sprinkled the seasonings evenly over them.

Urged on by the high temperature, the rich aroma instantly spread through the air.

After eating his fill, Saitama did not slack off.

At the start of the new term, he planned to apply for the graduation assessment. Though he was full of confidence, he still needed to prepare thoroughly.

After bringing several skewers of grilled meat back for Granny Xiang, Saitama entered the snow-covered forest with his ninja tools.

The branches were weighed down with snow, and the cold seeped into his lungs, yet it could not shake his resolve in the slightest.

Only such a harsh environment could forge true strength.

Kunai, shuriken, swordsmanship, ninjutsu, taijutsu, genjutsu—Saitama honed each skill one by one amid the ice and snow.

Chakra surged through his body, while his energy and stamina seemed inexhaustible.

Within the extreme environment, Saitama continued to push past his limits.

His thirst for strength became motivation, driving him to improve relentlessly through pain.