I’ll need to lose a few more times - Naruto: Mindfire

'So,' Satoru thought to himself, shifting into stance, 'what are the odds on how fast I lose? Ten seconds? Maybe twelve if I trip him?'

Shisui smirked softly, and then, he vanished.

Satoru barely saw it. His body reacted on instinct, diving backwards just as a heel sliced through the space where his ribs had been a heartbeat earlier. He rolled, dirt spraying beneath him, and came up in a crouch, heart pounding.

"Body Flicker already?" he muttered, forming a quick hand seal. "Not even a warm-up, huh?"

"Poof!"

A cloud of smoke erupted where he'd been standing, concealing his chakra signature for an instant. From within it, a second Satoru leapt sideways, kunai drawn; a clone, while the original darted toward the right flank, weaving through the trees.

But Shisui was already there.

"Thwip!"

A thin line of wire gleamed in the sunlight; almost invisible, the signature of the Uchiha clan's battle style. It looped around Satoru's kunai mid-swing, yanking it clean from his grasp.

Satoru clicked his tongue. "Of course, he's using wire strings. Because the universe really wants me to suffer today."

Shisui didn't answer; his form blurred again, a soft pop of speed followed by a low thud as his foot hit the earth behind Satoru. The boy spun instinctively, hurling two shuriken without aiming. They sliced through the air — whizz!whizz! — but cut only through an afterimage that dissolved like mist.

Satoru's Sharingan flickered to life, his singular red tomoe spinning lazily in his eyes. But even then, the motion was too fast; fragmented, impossible to read.

"Even holding back, he's too damn fast," he thought, gritting his teeth as another flicker appeared to his left. "I can't even read his afterimages properly."

A foot swept toward his legs; he jumped. Another blurred motion came from behind; he twisted midair, landing hard but barely avoiding a follow-up strike.

"Thump!"

The ground cracked where Shisui's heel landed.

Satoru didn't wait; he darted backwards, forming rapid hand seals.

"Fire Release — Great Fireball Technique!"

He exhaled sharply, and a ball of crimson flame roared from his mouth, heat distorting the air with a loud FWOOOSH! It surged forward, devouring the space between them in seconds.

The explosion lit the clearing, burning away the mist of dust and chakra that hung in the air. For a heartbeat, Satoru hoped 'Maybe I actually hit him.'

Then, a voice came from behind him.

"Nice try."

Satoru's eyes widened. He ducked just in time to avoid the palm aimed at his back, twisting to the side as Shisui's blow grazed his shoulder instead. The impact sent a jolt through him, numbing his arm briefly.

"Okay, that one actually hurt," Satoru muttered, retreating a few paces. He dropped a smoke bomb at his feet — puff! — and the clearing filled with thick, grey haze. The acrid scent stung his nose, but it bought him precious seconds.

He moved quickly, setting small traps along the perimeter; tripwire, shuriken launchers, simple things. They wouldn't stop Shisui, but they'd at least slow him down.

From somewhere within the smoke, Satoru's voice echoed faintly, mocking: "Come on, Shisui! You're supposed to be the fastest, right? Or are you scared of a little smoke?"

There was no response. Only the faint creak of a branch above.

Satoru stilled.

"Too quiet…" he murmured.

A whisper of movement behind him — snap! — the wire trap he'd set was cut cleanly. He barely turned before Shisui's hand shot out of the haze, grabbing his wrist. In a flash of motion, Satoru substituted with a log — poof! — appearing several meters away, panting.

His traps lay useless; his chakra reserves were already thinning.

"My eyes can't keep up…" he muttered, frustration bubbling beneath the exhaustion. His Sharingan spun faster, straining to follow the speed that danced around him.

"It's like watching lightning."

Satoru crouched low with his chest heaving. He looked around, tracing the faint afterimage lines Shisui's speed left behind. They formed a pattern; not random, but rhythmic, circling in bursts.

"Got you," he whispered.

He formed hand seals rapidly, weaving three in quick succession. A clone burst to life beside him — poof! — mirroring his stance. Together, they launched a simultaneous assault: a kunai feint followed by a massive fireball aimed at the expected angle of attack.

"FWOOOOOSH!"

The explosion consumed the space ahead, scorching bark and filling the air with heat and smoke.

For a moment, there was silence. The smoke swirled, curling into the sky.

Satoru stood panting, one hand on his knee, lips curling into a small, triumphant grin. "Ha! Got you this time—"

But the world rippled.

The smoke froze midair. The heat vanished. The trees around him shimmered like reflections on water. The dirt beneath his sandals wavered; the sensation of gravity itself began to fade.

Satoru blinked.

"What… the hell…?"

The sounds of the forest died one by one — the cicadas, the breeze, even his heartbeat. The world turned muffled, muted, as though he were underwater.

He took a step forward — and the ground melted. His foot sank into it like rippling glass.

"Genjutsu," he realised instantly. His Sharingan whirled frantically, trying to pierce through the illusion, but the distortion deepened, wrapping tighter around his mind.

Somewhere outside the dream, Itachi landed softly in the real clearing. Satoru stood frozen mid-step, expression dazed, his eyes unfocused.

"How long has he been under?" Itachi asked quietly.

Shisui appeared beside him, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. "A while," he admitted. "He's still trying to figure out why the fire stopped moving."

Itachi's gaze softened with faint amusement. "You didn't even need eye contact, did you?"

Shisui shook his head. "Nope. Just timing and focus."

Itachi hummed in quiet acknowledgement. His eyes lingered on Satoru's still form, the faint red glow of his Sharingan flickering unevenly. "He's fighting it," he said softly.

Inside the illusion, Satoru's vision trembled; reality cracked at the edges. His chakra surged wildly, his tomoe spinning faster until his skull throbbed with pressure.

'Break. Come on, break!'

With a sharp crack! The illusion shattered; glass shards of false light scattering into nothing.

He gasped, stumbling forward as the real forest slammed back into focus. The air rushed into his lungs; the hum of insects returned. His knees nearly gave out from the shock.

"Finally," Shisui said cheerfully, hands on his hips. "I was starting to think you liked it in there."

Satoru glared up at him, breathing hard. "Why the hell would you use genjutsu in a spar?!"

"What?" Shisui asked, feigning innocence. "They teach genjutsu in the academy too."

"Not that kind of genjutsu!" Satoru snapped, his voice cracking between outrage and disbelief.

Shisui shrugged, smirking. "Guess you just weren't paying attention in class."

Itachi, standing nearby, finally spoke; calm, unhurried. "Satoru."

Satoru turned to him, still rubbing his temple. "What now? You want to critique my suffering, too?"

Itachi's eyes narrowed slightly, his tone soft but carrying weight. "Your eyes."

Satoru blinked. "My—?"

He caught his reflection in a puddle near the burnt patch of earth and froze. His Sharingan stared back, deeper red than before. Two tomoe now spun in each eye, steady and alive. The air around him seemed sharper; every flicker of chakra shimmered like strands of colour in motion.

Shisui whistled. "Well, would you look at that… second tomoe, huh? Guess I did you a favour."

Satoru stared, "A favour? You nearly broke my brain!"

Itachi's lips curved in the faintest smile; rare and genuine. "You adapted well," he said simply. "That kind of awakening doesn't come without pressure."

Satoru groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Only I could awaken a tomoe out of sheer irritation."

Shisui clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. "You're welcome."

They began walking back; the forest light softened, the tension easing with every step. Shisui hummed a tune under his breath, while Itachi walked quietly beside them, thoughtful as ever.

Satoru, trailing slightly behind, glanced once more at his reflection in the faint shimmer of a creek they crossed. The eyes staring back were different now; clearer, sharper, heavier with understanding.

He exhaled slowly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

'Still… if awakening my Sharingan comes from losing, he thought, maybe I'll need to lose a few more times.'

Chapter 47 - I’ll need to lose a few more times