Special Training for the Public Matches

In the final days before the public matches, the intensity of the special training was cranked straight to the limit.

Izumo seemed to have finally torn away all pretense of "gradual progression." He started them off with relentless high-pressure drills: long-distance sprints back and forth, obstacle courses, hand seals while moving, close-quarters counter techniques, followed by continuous sparring with no breaks allowed.

Within the first ten days, several students had already gone pale from the training.

Kiba kept talking tough, but his legs had clearly grown heavy. By the latter half, even Ino's hair tips were soaked with sweat. Even Hinata, who had always been steady, was breathing much faster.

Only Ling and Sasuke remained at the very front.

Not because they were not tired.

But because neither of them was willing to slow down first in front of the other.

"Here they go again." Kiba panted as he leaned against a wooden post. "Whenever I see those two running together now, I feel like the air turns cold."

Shikamaru sat nearby drinking water and said lazily, "If you keep staring at them, of course you'll tire out faster."

"Like you haven't been watching too."

Shikamaru did not deny it.

Because no one could deny that the two of them had become the unspoken center of the entire special training class. Every comparison, every guess, every expectation was unconsciously gathering around them.

During a brief break, Ino set down her half-finished water bottle beside her. She casually swept her sweat-dampened hair back, but her gaze immediately went searching for Ling.

When she saw him still standing beside a wooden post, adjusting his breathing with barely a ripple on his face, she could not help muttering softly, "It's so irritating how he doesn't even let tiredness show on his face."

Hinata happened to be handing her a spare towel. She paused at those words and said quietly, "He... has always been very good at enduring."

Ino paused as she took the towel and turned to glance at her.

For that instant, neither said anything more, yet each saw something similar in the other's eyes.

They were both watching the same person.

The final morning exercise was "Breaking Through Moving Dummies."

The instructor controlled two weapon-bearing wooden dummies that constantly closed in from different angles. Within a set time limit, the students had to counter their moves, evade, and find openings to strike back. This exercise tested split-second judgment and the flow between movements most of all, and many were thrown into a fluster as soon as they began.

When Ling took the field, he did not rush to attack.

The first wooden dummy swung its blade down. He sidestepped and slapped the flat of the blade aside in one motion. The second dummy rushed in from behind him. He gave a short burst of force through his feet, seeming to slide half a step sideways, then turned and accurately struck the mechanism's weak point with a wooden kunai.

The movements flowed together without a break.

Most importantly, he made almost no unnecessary movements throughout.

"Clean." Izumo wrote two words on the record board.

When it was Sasuke's turn, his style was entirely different.

He was sharper than Ling. Even when countering moves, it felt as though he was actively slicing the situation apart. The two wooden dummies had barely formed a pincer angle before he used faster frontal attacks to force open a gap, then broke them down one by one.

"Sharp." Izumo wrote another word.

One was clean, the other sharp.

Iruka stood at the edge of the field, looking at the record board with an unreadable expression in his eyes. For ordinary children, excelling in even one area would have been impressive. Yet these two Uchiha Clan boys were honing completely different weapons into increasingly distinct forms.

In the afternoon, Iruka called Ling beneath the shade of a tree and asked him alone, "How much are you planning to show on the day of the public matches?"

Ling paused slightly.

The question was a reminder that it was not just about winning or losing, but also how much he revealed.

"Enough to win," he answered.

Iruka watched him for a moment, then slowly nodded. "Remember what you said today. Don't casually throw out everything you're capable of hiding."

"I understand."

Of course Ling understood.

The special training was only a competition within the Ninja Academy, but behind him were the abnormality files and that cold gaze that had never truly disappeared. Winning openly did not mean every trump card should be laid bare.

Before dismissal that evening, Izumo suddenly called everyone back to the center of the field.

"Preliminaries begin tomorrow. The public matches officially begin the day after. The top four will advance to the final key matchups."

Kiba immediately sat up straight. "It's finally here."

Ino instinctively looked toward Ling, as if trying to find a trace of fighting spirit on his face. Yet he remained calm as ever, though his gaze had grown deeper than usual.

After dismissal, she quickly caught up with Ling and stuffed a new wrist guard into his hand.

"What's this for?" Ling asked.

"I bought an extra one while I was at it." Ino spoke as if it were only natural. "If you're still using that old one on match day and it comes loose, you'll embarrass yourself—and I'll be embarrassed too."

Ling lowered his head and looked at the wrist guard, which had clearly been chosen for his size. He did not expose her lie, merely saying blandly, "Thanks."

Ino had intended to keep acting casual, but when she heard that, her eyes still brightened on their own.

Sasuke stood on the other side, looking at no one. The restrained sharpness in his eyes was almost ready to blaze forth completely.

That night, Ling did not practice Explosive Shuriken again. Instead, he went through his close-quarters combat, throwing techniques, and short bursts of explosive movement from beginning to end by himself.

The moonlight was cold and clear, while layer upon layer of scars covered the wooden posts.

He knew that he and Sasuke would sooner or later face each other head-on in these public matches.

And the key to that battle would not merely be who was stronger.

It would be who could better grasp the balance between strength and concealment.