Half an hour was neither long nor short.
At that moment, the grounds were so quiet that the wind brushing through the dry grass could be heard.
Everyone's eyes were fixed on the two people in the middle.
Kagami stood there, his dark blue training clothes without a single crease, his hair immaculately combed. Looking across at Uchiha Yinglang, who had just been helped up, still had a red patch on his forehead, and seemed a little unsteady on his feet, he frowned almost imperceptibly.
"Are you sure you still want to fight?" Kagami asked, his voice level and unemotional. "That was a pretty hard knock just now, wasn't it?"
Yinglang rubbed his forehead and stretched his lips into a slightly strained smile, with a trace of childish stubbornness. "Sure. I'm here already, aren't I?"
Someone at the sidelines couldn't hold back a snort of laughter, then hurriedly covered their mouth.
Kagami said nothing more. He nodded, taking the point-this kid was either genuinely stupid or playing dumb.
"Final match, number four against number seven." Tetsu Uchiha's voice was deeper than before. He glanced at Yinglang. "Say something if you can't take it. Don't try to tough it out."
"Mm-hm." Yinglang nodded, the redness still lingering on his little face, making him look rather pitiful.
"Begin."
At the command, Kagami didn't move.
Neither did Yinglang. He blinked at Kagami as though waiting for something.
Three breaths... five breaths...
People at the sidelines began muttering. "What are they doing? Having a staring contest?"
Kagami finally moved. Rather than waiting for his opponent to attack first as he had before, he simply stepped forward and walked toward Yinglang. His pace wasn't fast, but every step landed firmly, carrying an unmistakable sense of pressure.
Ten steps, eight steps, five steps-
Yinglang seemed to snap out of his fright, stumbling backward in a panic. His foot even caught on something, nearly sending him tumbling on his own.
As Yinglang took his third step back, Kagami struck.
Not a punch, not a kick. He extended his right palm and lightly patted toward Yinglang's left shoulder-with the sort of force an elder might use to pat a youngster's shoulder, utterly casual.
But Yinglang reacted as though he had seen a ghost, flinging himself sideways in a frantic scramble and rolling out of the way. His movements were embarrassingly clumsy, yet at the very instant he lunged away, Kagami's palm brushed past the fabric on his shoulder and missed.
Kagami's hand paused in midair.
He withdrew it and looked at Yinglang, who had just clambered up from the ground covered in dirt, his gaze growing a little deeper.
Just luck, he reassured himself.
For the second strike, he sped up.
Another palm strike, this time aimed at Yinglang's chest. It was thirty percent faster, and the angle was trickier too.
Yinglang seemed petrified, standing there without moving. Just as the strike was about to land-
He suddenly cried, "Ow!" and tipped sideways as though his foot had cramped.
The rush of air from Kagami's palm brushed past his chest. Another miss.
The sidelines fell silent for a moment.
Once was luck. What about twice?
Kagami stopped advancing. Standing where he was, he watched Yinglang bend over and rub his ankle, his face practically saying, "It hurts." At last, a clear trace of cold displeasure appeared on that usually expressionless face.
"Have you had enough fun?" he asked. His voice wasn't loud, but everyone on the grounds heard it.
Yinglang straightened and dusted off his hands, the pitiful look slowly fading from his face. He was still grinning, but the confusion and panic in his eyes receded completely like an ebbing tide, revealing a cool, calm light beneath.
"Not yet," he said, his voice settling too, with a child's clear ring, yet somehow unlike a child's. "We've only just started, Young Master Kagami."
Kagami's gaze sharpened.
The next second, he moved.
This time, he truly attacked. Driving off his feet, he shot straight at Yinglang like an arrow loosed from a bow. His right hand clenched into a fist, coated in chakra, and smashed toward Yinglang's face with a low rush of air-he was no longer holding back.
Cries of alarm erupted from the sidelines. If that punch landed squarely, a five-year-old's face would be split open!
Yinglang didn't dodge.
He simply stood there, watching the fist rapidly grow larger before his eyes, the wind of the punch blowing up his fringe.
Then, just as the fist came within half a foot of his nose-
He raised his left hand.
Not to block, not to parry. He merely raised his hand casually, spread his fingers, and gently closed them around that powerful punch.
Smack.
The fist struck his palm with a dull thud.
Yinglang slid back half a step, his feet plowing two shallow tracks through the frozen earth. But he held his ground. His left hand gripped Kagami's fist steadily, without budging.
Kagami's pupils contracted sharply.
He had put seventy percent of his strength into that punch. Never mind a five-year-old-even the eight- and nine-year-olds in his class would suffer cracked bones if they took it head-on. Yet this fellow, who was merely a little bigger... had caught it? And the force coming through that hand was frighteningly heavy!
He tried to pull his fist back. It wouldn't move. That seemingly small, slender hand clamped around his fist like iron pincers.
"You..." Kagami stared at Yinglang, his throat tightening.
Yinglang lifted his head and smiled at him. It was a clean smile, even a little innocent, but the sight made every hair on Kagami's body stand on end.
"Young Master Kagami," Yinglang said softly, so only the two of them could hear, "did you know cats always like to play for a while when they catch a mouse?"
Before he had finished speaking, his left hand twisted sharply-
Kagami felt an utterly irresistible force surge through his fist, wrenching his entire arm sideways. Thrown off balance, his body involuntarily spun with it.
He reacted extremely quickly, following the momentum into a midair flip and planting his other hand on the ground, barely steadying himself. But before he could stand firm, Yinglang had already let go and, while his balance was still unsettled, kicked the back of his supporting knee.
Thud!
Kagami dropped to one knee on the frozen earth, the impact sending pain through his kneecap.
The entire grounds fell deathly silent.
Everyone stared with mouths hanging open and eyes round, as though they had witnessed the most unbelievable thing in the world.
Uchiha Yinglang, who had scraped his way into the finals through luck, accidents, and a string of ridiculous antics... had beaten Kagami to his knees?
The roster in Tetsu Uchiha's hand fell to the ground with a clatter. He didn't pick it up, just stared fixedly into the middle of the grounds.
Kagami slowly raised his head and looked at Yinglang. The perpetually calm, unruffled mask on his face shattered. Into shock, into fury, into the cold killing intent of someone who had been thoroughly made a fool of.
"You... were pretending all along," he forced out through clenched teeth.
"That's right." Yinglang nodded quite openly, shaking out the left hand that had gripped the fist as though it ached a little. "How else was I supposed to get this far and fight you?"
Kagami slowly stood and brushed the dirt off his knee. He stopped looking at Yinglang, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath.
When he opened them again, something had changed in those usually indifferent black eyes.
Deep within them, a speck of dark red quietly appeared, then rapidly spun and stretched, forming a clear, sharp, slowly rotating tomoe.
The one-tomoe Sharingan.
"It's the Sharingan!" Cries of alarm erupted from the sidelines.
"Young Master Kagami has awakened his eyes!"
"So he really had already..."
Kagami locked those dark red, tomoe-bearing eyes on Yinglang. Under their gaze, it felt as though every movement and intention would be seen through and slowed down.
"Now," Kagami said, his voice as cold as ice, "let's see how long you can keep pretending."
He moved.
This time, his speed had more than doubled! Under the Sharingan's perception, every tiny tremor of Yinglang's muscles and every shift of his balance was perfectly clear. Like a phantom, Kagami instantly darted to Yinglang's left-the direction in which his balance had tilted slightly after his earlier exertion.
His fist shot straight beneath Yinglang's ribs.
Yinglang seemed to try to dodge, but Kagami's fist appeared to anticipate his movements, sealing off every avenue of retreat.
Thud!
The punch landed solidly against Yinglang's left ribs.
Yinglang grunted and staggered several steps sideways from the blow. Clutching his ribs, he bent over, his face paling a little.
"Heh." Kagami sneered coldly, pressing his advantage and following him like a shadow, sweeping another whipping kick toward Yinglang's supporting leg.
Yinglang barely raised his arm to block.
Smack! Shin struck arm, sending Yinglang sliding sideways. His feet scrambled, and he only just managed not to fall, but he was already in a wretched state.
The shock at the sidelines turned into a clamor of realization.
"Just as I thought! That was a sneak attack before! Once Young Master Kagami gets serious, he's no match!"
"He's even activated his Sharingan. That kid's finished!"
"This is the real gap in their strength! Pretending? You can't pretend worth a damn in front of the Sharingan!"
Listening to those voices, Kagami felt some of his bitter anger at being fooled subside. He stared coldly at the figure bent over and panting, seemingly in great pain.
This was how it should be. A mouse was still a mouse. Beneath a cat's claws, all it could do was be torn apart.
He closed in again, gathering strength in his right fist. Chakra condensed over his knuckles with a low hum. With this punch, he would put a complete end to this farce.
Yinglang was still bent over, clutching his ribs, his head hanging low and his shoulders trembling slightly, as though enduring the pain.
Kagami's fist arrived.
At the very instant his knuckles were about to touch the back of Yinglang's head-
Yinglang suddenly looked up.
Kagami's Sharingan clearly caught the movement of his head lifting, and just as clearly saw... those eyes rising to meet his.
Eyes of distinct black and white.
No, that wasn't right.
Amid that distinct black and white, deep within the pupils, a speck of dark red quietly spread, then rapidly spun and stretched, forming a... similarly clear, sharp, slowly rotating tomoe.
An identical one-tomoe Sharingan.