The grass on your grandpa's grave is taller than you

There was nothing wrong with Nawaki idolizing Hashirama Senju.

The First Hokage, universally acknowledged as the God of the Shinobi World, was the ultimate object of reverence for the entire Senju Clan.

He had single-handedly founded Konoha and pacified a war-torn world. His unstoppable Wood Release had beaten the Nine-Tails into submission, and he had stood at the pinnacle of the Shinobi World for years.

No one could fault Nawaki's taste for admiring such a legend.

But Nawaki's admiration was too blind. He had taken his imitation too far, mindlessly copying even Hashirama's fighting style.

Hashirama's overwhelming strength stemmed from his absurd vitality and self-healing ability.

He could instantly heal wounds that pierced straight through his body. Even with his heart stabbed through, he could keep fighting with a smile. That came from an outrageously powerful inherited gift, not some brilliant fighting style.

Nawaki had no such trump card.

At most, his Senju blood gave him chakra reserves far beyond those of ordinary people, letting him barely imitate a fraction of that.

If he entered a brutal battlefield without scouting the terrain, anticipating traps, or paying attention to his surroundings, simply charging headlong whenever he saw an enemy...

One surprise attack from an Explosive Tag or a hidden trap would instantly blast him into a sculpture of real bones.

There would not even be an intact corpse left, only a name carved on the Memorial Stone.

"It's not that bad. I only learned it because I admire Grandpa. It's not as awful as you make it sound..."

Nawaki scratched his head and muttered a defense, a trace of defiance in his voice.

"The grass on your grandpa's grave is taller than you!"

Amamiya Maki showed no mercy, puncturing his self-indulgent sentimentality outright.

"Your grandpa could catch a Tailed Beast Bomb with one hand. Can you take an Explosive Tag with one hand?"

"Your grandpa could keep fighting with a smile even with his heart stabbed through!"

"Do you seriously have no idea what you're working with?"

[Detected: host inflicted mental pressure on "Senju Nawaki"]

[Obtained: vitality fragments ×5, pressure points +100]

The corners of Nawaki's mouth involuntarily drooped for an instant, and most of the amusement faded from his eyes.

Amamiya Maki caught that tiny shift in emotion with precision.

It was not the scolding that had hurt Nawaki. Maki had struck his most deeply hidden vulnerability.

He had always deliberately imitated Hashirama, yet deep down, he knew perfectly well that the gulf between himself and the God of the Shinobi World could never be bridged through hard work alone.

Hashirama Senju was a god who looked down over the Shinobi World, while Nawaki was just a third-year brat still practicing hand seals.

For years, he had sworn before the First Hokage's stone likeness every day that he would become a great ninja like his grandpa.

Everyone around him had indulged and encouraged him. No one had ever bluntly told him: you simply cannot do it.

But Amamiya Maki had an even bigger question.

From the start of the fight until now, Nawaki had used nothing but taijutsu to engage him, never once unleashing any ninjutsu.

With the Senju Clan's exceptional bloodline, his chakra reserves far exceeded those of anyone his age.

Even a few casual blasts of Fire Release would have cut off Maki's movement, preventing him from maneuvering with the Body Flicker Technique for so long.

During a gap between dodges, Amamiya Maki asked his question. His voice cut through the howling wind of Nawaki's punches and reached his ears clearly.

"Nawaki, why aren't you using ninjutsu to cut off my movement?"

The howling rush of his punches abruptly stopped.

Nawaki's fist froze in midair. The question had clearly caught him off guard.

He scratched the back of his head, his tone as casual as if he were explaining some minor lapse in hospitality.

"Even if this is a no-rules fight, I don't want to hurt you too badly."

"Ninjutsu's power is hard to control. It'd be awful if I accidentally blasted you and injured you."

Orochimaru, who had been watching from the sidelines the entire time, helplessly raised a hand to his forehead.

He finally understood. This boy had completely ignored his instructions.

He had clearly said this was an unrestricted, no-rules combat simulation meant to recreate a real battlefield.

Yet Nawaki had gone and added a rule of his own: stay safe and go easy.

This was a combat simulation at the Training Ground, not children playing house!

On a real battlefield, no one held back for fear of hurting the enemy.

Sunagakure's Puppeteers, Kumogakure's Lightning Release ninja, Hanzō of Amegakure-every enemy would do everything in their power to kill their opponents, without holding anything back.

Amamiya Maki laughed in sheer exasperation.

And his opponent was actually hesitating to attack because he was afraid of hurting him.

"Why the hell are you trying to be such a saint?"

Amamiya Maki spoke coldly, his voice full of anger.

"This is the Training Ground, not your living room!"

"Who do you think you're sparring with? I'm your opponent, not the Three-Color Dango you pop into your mouth!"

"If you can't bring yourself to go all out against me now, how will you deal with real enemies on the battlefield? Win them over with your loving heart?"

"If you show your enemies mercy, they won't show you any! They'll just step over your corpse and keep advancing!"

Sure enough, someone who had always lived sheltered beneath a halo did not even understand the most basic laws of the battlefield.

He did not know much about the commoner rules, either.

Today, as his junior, Maki had to teach this golden boy a proper lesson.

Even a lion used its full strength to hunt a rabbit.

An opponent was an opponent. Strong or weak, they deserved your full effort.

The Konoha Commoners did that very well.

They would not cower because you were strong, nor would they stop because you were weak.

As the saying went, there was no stopping short on a battlefield, no holding back in a spar, and certainly no "be more careful next time."

There were only two outcomes: life or death.

At that moment, Amamiya Maki made his decision.

Nawaki had no idea that Maki had already successfully created his own Rasengan beneath the waterfall.

Of everyone present, only Orochimaru knew.

Orochimaru would not let it slip.

It was the only trump card Maki currently had that could break through Nawaki's defenses and make him remember this lesson for good.

He had only one chance.

So he had to time a point-blank burst perfectly and smash it into his face.

He would make Nawaki understand one thing completely: being softhearted on the battlefield was asking to die.

Showing kindness to an enemy meant being cruel to yourself.

Nawaki was holding back against his junior now. On a real battlefield, that softness would be a fatal weakness that cost him his life.

Amamiya Maki used the Body Flicker Technique to dart backward and create distance. The instant he regained his footing, Nawaki was already in front of his landing point.

He bent slightly to steady his center of gravity. From the corner of his eye, he saw that his heels were less than a hand's breadth from the edge of the deep pit.

One more step back would put him against a solid tree trunk, leaving him no room to dodge.

The branches and leaves overhead kept swaying from the aftershocks of their earlier clashes, shedding withered yellow leaves.

A dead leaf brushed his nose and drifted slowly into the pit at his feet.

Trapped, Amamiya Maki settled on his final approach in an instant.

Chakra rapidly gathered, spun, and compressed in his palm.

A yellowish sphere of chakra swiftly took shape. Even beneath the blazing midday sun, its light was dazzling.

He had pinpointed an opening.

Nawaki's full-force punches had an enormous range of motion and terrifying power, but each heavy blow left a brief gap as he pulled back.

The gap was short-more than one beat, less than two.

But for Amamiya Maki, with his dynamic vision and Body Flicker Technique, it was more than enough.

Enough to close in. Enough to drive the Rasengan straight into Nawaki.

The next instant, Nawaki's right fist swept sideways, trailing a savage gale.

The tremendous wind pressure bent the nearby shrubs before the fist even reached them, its force terrifying.

Amamiya Maki did not retreat. Instead, he moved forward against it, taking a step into the rush of the punch.

He dropped low and slipped precisely beneath Nawaki's armpit.

A thunderous crash rang out as the old tree behind him took the punch head-on.

Its bark burst apart, and wood chips sprayed like sharp shrapnel. One fragment flew past Maki's ear, carrying the faint, bitter scent of pine resin.

At the same time, he clearly heard the faint scrape of Nawaki's joints as he drew his fist back.

Now!

Amamiya Maki immediately used the Transformation Technique to turn his Shadow Clone into a kunai, then raised his hand and hurled it straight at Nawaki.

The kunai traced a sharp silver arc through the air. A strip of cloth Maki had just torn from his sleeve was tied to its tail.

The cloth gave the kunai a greater sense of weight and heft as it fell, making the feint look utterly real.

Nawaki suspected nothing and instinctively raised his hand to respond.

He brought his right index and middle fingers slightly together, habitually preparing to knock the kunai away.

It was an instinctive response honed through countless repetitions, polished to perfection and requiring no thought.

But this time, the trap was already in place.

In a flash, the airborne kunai burst back into a Shadow Clone, which lunged straight at Nawaki's face.

Nawaki instinctively raised his arms to block, and the clone completely obscured his vision.

In that fleeting blind spot, Amamiya Maki's real body rushed in from the side.

Chakra burst beneath his feet. A sharp crack sounded as he pushed off the hard earth, accelerating to his limit.

Dazzling yellow light flared once more in his right palm.

By the time Nawaki noticed the rush of air coming from his side, it was already too late.

From the corner of his eye, he could only catch a glimpse of the real kunai spinning toward the ground.

The next second, the rapidly spinning Rasengan struck the left side of his abdomen dead-on.

Amamiya Maki precisely controlled both its force and the point of impact.

"Rasengan!"