Finals Begin

In the shadows of the contestants' tunnel, Ringo listened to the uproar outside.

Tens of thousands of people speaking at once had been gathered by the circular stands into an enormous hum. The Land of Fire's daimyo sat in the central viewing stand, flanked by representatives from the Land of Wind and guests from other nations. The Third Hokage sat beside the daimyo, his pipe releasing blue smoke that stretched into a thin line in the morning light. The Kazekage sat opposite the Third, his conical hat pulled low enough to reveal only his chin.

Ringo's card slot vibrated. With its scanning range pushed to the maximum, it swept across the entire arena. Three chakra signatures in the Sand Ninja spectators' section were wrong. Gaara's was orange, carrying the scent of Shukaku, mixed with blood and sand. Three more were on the roof—the Sound Four, with one missing. The chakra fluctuations beneath the Kazekage's hat were like snakes coiling around one another. They were setting up a barrier—the Four Violet Flames Formation. Once activated, the arena would be sealed. No one could enter from outside, and no one inside could leave.

A line of text appeared in the system.

"Orange Fragments ×4, arena-wide scan. Sources: Gaara (Shukaku, orange), Orochimaru (Kazekage's seat, orange), Sound Four (roof, orange ×3), Four Violet Flames Formation barrier technique, orange. Estimated activation—midway through the finals."

This was not an exam. It was war. The Third had been right. The Sand Ninja and Orochimaru would not make their move before the finals. They needed an audience. They needed the daimyo. They needed everyone present. And now, everyone was here. The moment the finals began was the moment the war began.

"First match: Naruto Uzumaki versus Neji Hyuga!"

Hayate Gekko's voice came from the center of the arena, amplified through speakers and drowning out the crowd. Ringo stepped from the shadows of the contestants' tunnel to the entrance. His match came later. He was here to watch Naruto.

Naruto emerged from the opposite tunnel. He did not smile, wave, or shout at the audience that he would become Hokage. He simply walked, his steps steady and his fists clenched at his sides. Serious Naruto looked a little shorter than usual, his shoulders lowered as though he were pressing all the strength in his body into the soles of his feet, ready to leap at any moment.

Neji emerged from the other side. His Byakugan was not activated, and his fingers curled slightly. It was not the opening stance of the Gentle Fist. It was habit. Before a battle, he always curled his fingers—not to warm up, but to confirm that these hands were still his own, not Caged Bird's.

The two stood in the center of the arena. Neji spoke, speaking to fate. Ringo did not catch every word, but he heard the line: "A dead last will always be a dead last."

Naruto smiled. He had been called a dead last ten thousand times. By the ten-thousand-and-first time, he no longer needed to argue. Arguing was useless. What mattered was what he did next.

The battle began.

Neji's Eight Trigrams Palm sealed Naruto's chakra points. Sixty-Four Palms, every strike landing precisely on an acupoint. Naruto's chakra was like a faucet twisted shut, unable to release even a single drop.

Naruto knelt on the ground while Neji stood before him, looking down through his Byakugan.

"A dead last will always be a dead last. Fate cannot be changed."

Naruto's fingers moved. His chakra had been sealed, but his fingers could still move. His index finger wrote a character in the dirt. Not "fire"—but "one." Team 7's number one. Not his own number one, but the number one shared by all three of them.

Chakra came rushing out, squeezing through a gap in the Nine-Tails' seal. Red chakra wrapped around Naruto's body and blasted through the Eight Trigrams Palm's seals.

Neji's Byakugan widened.

Naruto climbed to his feet. Red chakra blazed around him, pushing the air aside and creating a ring of vacuum. He charged forward, burst from underground, and drove a fist upward beneath Neji's chin, punching through Revolving Heaven. Revolving Heaven had been complete. Naruto's fist passed through the gap in its rotation. It was not luck. The instant Neji activated Revolving Heaven, his Byakugan saw Naruto moving underground, but he did not change techniques. He did not want to. He wanted to see whether this dead last could truly break fate.

Neji lay on the ground, blood at the corner of his mouth and a curve on his lips. It was not a bitter smile. It was relief at last.

"Naruto, you won."

Naruto stood in the center of the arena, red chakra still burning around him. He did not celebrate. He turned toward the contestants' tunnel and raised his fist. It was not a provocation. It was a message.

"Ringo! You're next! Show them your steam!!"

The entire audience turned its gaze toward the contestants' tunnel. Ringo walked out, not quickly, each step landing on the sun-warmed dirt and leaving footprints slightly deeper than usual.

In the stands, he saw Hinata. With his eyes, not through the card slot's scan. She stood at the railing in the front row. She wore a light purple casual outfit, the same as last night, with her hair tied up to reveal her ears. Her ears were red, but her expression was not nervous. She raised a fist. She was not cheering for him—she was telling him she was ready. She was more confident than when she had stepped onto the field herself.

Ringo reached the center of the arena. Hayate Gekko coughed and opened the roster.

"Third match: Ringo versus Temari."

Temari emerged from the Sand Ninja tunnel with the Three-Star Fan resting on her shoulder, its ribs reflecting a metallic gleam in the sunlight. It was a special Hidden Sand alloy, lighter and harder than iron, its edge thin enough to cut chakra. She lowered the fan from her shoulder and planted it on the ground, habitually assessing her opponent's height, weight, and position—determining how strong the first gust should be.

"The Steam Ninja." The corner of her lips lifted. It was curiosity, not contempt. "I watched your preliminary match. Your steam is strong, but Sandstorm is not ordinary sand. Every grain is wrapped in Wind Release chakra. The impact of your steam will be dispersed by the sand particles. It isn't suppression—it's decomposition. Your steam can't break through Sandstorm."

Ringo did not answer. He lowered his head to look at the card slot. The system displayed Temari's chakra analysis: Wind Release, wind as the primary affinity, Sandstorm covered a fan-shaped area, there was an interval between each swing of the fan, and behind her was a blind spot—the weakness was the fan, not the sand.

He raised his right hand. Golden steam rose from his palm. Jiraiya's Stabilization Pouch hung on his chest. The Sage Technique Fragment in the corner gave off a faint warmth, while the Sound Wave Fragment glowed quietly beside the Steam Fragment. They coexisted—they were not fighting.

Temari opened her fan. One star. Sandstorm surged forth, a gray wall of sand bearing down on him.

Ringo did not retreat. He took a step forward, spreading his steam. The steam collided with Sandstorm, slowing the grains of sand as the two forces consumed each other. Temari's brow twitched. The second star opened. Sandstorm doubled in thickness, and its advance speed increased by thirty percent. Sound waves from Ringo's left hand curved around from the side, pierced through the gaps in Sandstorm, and exploded beside Temari's ear—a buzzing roar.

She could no longer hear the sound of Sandstorm. All she could hear was the buzz.

Temari opened the third star. Black sand at full force. Ringo passed through the edge of the black sand, and steam exploded from his right hand—silver-white, striking directly at her face. Temari twisted aside, exposing the blind spot behind her. Steam from his left hand arrived, brushing across her back from the side. A small patch of her clothes scorched, and a faint red mark appeared on her skin. It was not a serious injury—it was a warning.

Temari stopped. Three independent attacks had reached her from three directions at once. She closed her fan.

"I surrender."

Ringo withdrew his steam. The card slot trembled. "Sandstorm Fragment, purple, dropped. Automatically collected."

It was not defeat. It was surrender. A fragment dropped through surrender carried more weight—not beaten out, but acknowledged.

He turned around. In the front row of the stands, Hinata stood at the railing with both fists raised. She was not celebrating for him. She was telling him she had seen it—seen him hold back. Holding back was harder than landing a hit. Hitting was instinct. Holding back was a choice.

He placed the fragment into the card slot. The purple fragment sat beside the Wind Cutter Fragment, giving off a faint resonance. He had enough materials to advance Wind Release. Not now. In the stands and on the roof, three people wearing conical hats were connecting the barrier's lines.

The Four Violet Flames Formation was nearly complete.

He looked up at the Kazekage's seat. Orochimaru sat there, his conical hat obscuring most of his face and revealing only his chin. That chin was sharp, and the corner of his mouth curled upward. It was not a smile. It was anticipation. He was anticipating the expression on the Third Hokage's face when he saw his student standing beside his corpse.

Ringo lowered his head and looked at the card slot. Twelve white cards, nine purple cards, six gold cards, one orange card. There was also the recording, "Important Memory: Team 7's Oath," the word "Protect" on the wooden post, Hinata's fist before the railing, and Naruto's words from moments ago.

He raised his right hand. Golden steam rose from his palm, shining in the morning light. It was not a weapon. It was a signal. A message to the people in the stands, the people on the roof, and Orochimaru sitting in the Kazekage's seat: I am not a contestant—I am Ringo, the Synthesis Ninja.

It was not about protecting Konoha—it was about protecting the people within Konoha. Not one person, but three. Team 7 would not fall.