"Stab!"
Steel flashed. The blade cleaved through Shinsuke's body—but instead of blood, there was smoke. A Substitution.
Before the Hanabira prodigy, Sōsui, could even react, the air behind him howled.
Whoosh—!
A barrage of razor-sharp wind blades screamed across the field, shredding the ground as they tore toward him. The C-Rank technique — Great Breakthrough — hit like a storm made of knives.
Sōsui barely had time to turn. The wind slammed into him, cutting across his side in a burst of fiery pain. He staggered, breath ragged, eyes wide with disbelief.
Before he could form seals for another Substitution, a sandbag-sized fist smashed into his cheek.
Thud!
The impact sent Sōsui flying, spinning midair before crashing into the dirt.
"Boom!"
The next thing he felt was cold metal. A kunai pressed to his throat — and Shinsuke's grinning face hovering above him.
The arena went silent.
Then, murmurs rippled through the crowd, disbelief spreading like wildfire. Just seconds ago, Sōsui had the upper hand. How had the match flipped so suddenly?
Then they noticed the ground — littered with dozens of kunai and shuriken.
It clicked.
From the very start, Shinsuke had used clones and thrown weapons to distract Sōsui. While everyone's eyes — including his opponent's — were on the chaotic melee, Shinsuke had quietly slipped away, transformed into one of the kunai scattered across the field.
When Sōsui finally lowered his guard, thinking the fight was over, Shinsuke struck from behind.
A perfect ambush.
"Winner — Amamiya Shinsuke!"
The referee's voice snapped through the silence. The Amamiya jōnin watching from the stands exhaled, pride flashing across their faces.
Victory in battle was never just about raw power. Even the great Uchiha Madara had relied on strategy, patience, and timing.
And this idiot… had all three.
"I won!" Shinsuke shouted, leaping into the air like a kid who'd just found a rare candy instead of surviving a death match.
From the sidelines, Nasha cheered him on, clapping like crazy. Even Hatake Hoshino — the golden boy of their class — gave a small, grudging nod.
On the other side, Sōsui clenched his fists, face twisted in humiliation. His clan had pinned their hopes on him. Losing to the so-called "crane's tail" was more than defeat — it was a scar.
He picked up his fallen blade in silence and walked off the stage, shoulders heavy with shame.
Up on the observation platform, Raizen watched quietly. From the way Sōsui had shown no mercy to Shinsuke, to how Shinsuke held back once victory was his — the contrast told him everything he needed to know.
The old hatred between clans hadn't vanished. It had just gone quiet.
He sighed. "Maybe I was too optimistic. The Warring States era lasted for generations. You don't erase that mindset in a few years. If this is what it's like now, Konoha's dream still has a long road ahead."
He knew the problem well — a gap between clan-born shinobi and wandering-nin, between those with names and those without. They might stand under one banner, but the cracks were still there.
While Raizen pondered, the next match began.
Hatake Hoshino stepped into the arena, facing a boy from the civilian ranks — a genius who'd clawed his way here without any clan's backing. His potential was undeniable. With the right training, he could've been a star.
But talent without resources was like fire without air.
Hoshino, with the precision and coolness that would later define the Hatake line, ended the match in minutes. His movements were clean, economical, and merciless.
The civilian boy fell.
Raizen frowned. "So much talent… wasted. The academy system needs fixing."
He tucked that thought away for later.
By the end of the round, only four competitors remained: Hatake Hoshino, Amamiya Shinsuke, Katori Shiki, and Nasha.
The semifinals were drawn.
Match 1: Hatake Hoshino vs. Nasha
Match 2: Amamiya Shinsuke vs. Katori Shiki
The first fight began under a hush.
Nasha's eyes burned with resolve. She represented every wandering-nin who'd been looked down upon. Whether Hoshino was a teammate or not didn't matter. She wouldn't show mercy.
"Begin!"
The fight was fierce — Nasha's taijutsu flowed like a dance, her shuriken strikes sharp as poetry. But Hoshino was faster. Stronger. Sharper.
Ten minutes later, Nasha hit the dirt, chakra exhausted.
"Damn it! Hatake Hoshino, you bastard!" Shinsuke yelled from the sidelines, slamming his fist into the railing.
"If you've got time to worry about others," Hoshino said coolly, "you should worry about yourself."
Shinsuke glared. "You just wait. I'll send you flying with one punch!"
Across the field, Katori Shiki snorted, stepping into the arena before the proctor even called him. "You? Beat him? Don't make me laugh."
Shinsuke froze halfway through his angry rant, realizing he'd just volunteered himself for another beating. But he couldn't back down now. Not in front of everyone.
He grinned, awkward but defiant. "Guess we'll find out."
The fight began — and to everyone's shock, Shinsuke wasn't the same fool from before.
His movements were sharper. His chakra control, steadier. He fought with creativity, using unorthodox feints and mid-combat adjustments that even Shiki couldn't predict.
Katori pressed hard, but the Amamiya clan's trademark — vast chakra reserves — let Shinsuke outlast him.
In the end, it wasn't a fancy technique that decided the match. It was grit. Timing. And a reckless kind of courage.
When the dust settled, Shinsuke was the one still standing.
"This idiot…" Raizen muttered from the stands, unable to suppress a grin. "He's really turning into the protagonist type."
That unpredictable, half-insane fighting style — flashes of inspiration in chaos — it reminded him of someone from another age.
A loud, orange idiot named Uzumaki Naruto.
And now, the final match loomed:
Amamiya Shinsuke vs. Hatake Hoshino.
The crane's tail against the academy's brightest star.
A fool versus a genius.
And for once… no one in the arena could guess who'd win.