The earth around Sasuke's ankles suddenly lost all cohesion, turning into a thick, viscous mire. With a sickening slurp, he was dragged down, the mud climbing rapidly up his body until only his fiercely glaring eyes and the top of his head remained visible.
It was the very same technique—the Headhunter Jutsu (Doton: Shinjuu Zanshuu no Jutsu)—that Kakashi had utilized to immobilize him during the initial Bell Test. A shadow of mercy, perhaps, in a clash that was meant to be anything but.
Kakashi, despite his cold promise of cruelty, had chosen restraint. Had he been truly ruthless, that underground grasp would have been a prelude to a kunai severing the boy's neck.
But Sasuke, his young mind aflame with a new, terrifying power, perceived this mercy only as weakness, as a challenge to be scorned.
"This pathetic trick won't hold me anymore!" he spat, his voice muffled by the suffocating earth.
He didn't rely on chakra to break free. Instead, he channeled the raw, refined physical power he'd gained—the hidden legacy of his 'jars'—into a specific motion: a swordplay technique centered on footwork. It wasn't a sword slash, but a concentrated, explosive stomp. He slammed his heels down, not just once, but with a rapid, vibrating impact that channeled force directly against the soil's molecular structure.
A low, subterranean boom echoed. The ground around him fractured, the compressed mud atomizing into chunks. With a roar of exertion, Sasuke exploded upward, tearing free of the earth's grip as if shrugging off a wet cloth.
Where he had been, a perfectly circular crater, easily two meters wide and deep, stood as a testament to his raw physical might.
Naruto and Sakura, watching from the sidelines, were speechless, their jaws slack. The first clash had been quick, an abstract show of speed. This was visceral. This was an undeniable, destructive display of force.
"Sasuke..." Naruto murmured, the name a mix of awe and bitter resentment. "He's really... that strong now."
Naruto clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white. The sting of inferiority was sharp, but it mingled with a desperate, burning desire—the need to surpass, to be recognized, to not be left behind by the very rival he had sworn to dominate.
Sasuke, having shrugged off the immobilizing jutsu, had no time to celebrate his liberation. The battle's true nature—the lethal dance of a seasoned Jōnin—slammed into him with renewed, brutal intensity.
The moment his feet touched the solid ground, Kakashi was on him. Gone was the playful teasing of the Bell Test; this was a war of vital points. The attacks were relentless, aimed with unerring precision at his neck, his solar plexus, his kidneys, and his joints. Every block Sasuke threw, every defensive maneuver, was met with a force that sent radiating aches deep into his muscle fibers.
But it wasn't just the strength; it was the chilling, predictive sight.
"That eye... the Sharingan!"
Sasuke knew it could see movements, track chakra flow, and anticipate. Yet, despite his own vastly improved speed, despite the bizarre, unpredictable footwork of his enhanced sword techniques, Kakashi never seemed to commit to a mistake. He always found the optimal angle, the perfect distance to evade, and the ideal moment to launch a devastating counterattack.
"You're far too slow, Sasuke," Kakashi's voice drifted on the wind, calm, almost bored. The insult was a whip-crack that broke through the young Uchiha's concentration.
In that flicker of frustrated distraction—that moment of hesitation—Kakashi struck with a simple yet brutal hand-to-hand move. A sharp, focused blow to the jaw.
The world dissolved into a dizzying kaleidoscope of color and motion. Sasuke was sent sprawling, the physical pain a dull echo compared to the deeper, corrosive agony in his soul.
Before he could even register the ground, Kakashi was on him again, a flurry of precise, bone-jarring strikes connecting with his ribs and chest. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
"Why?! Why am I still failing!" Sasuke grunted, tasting copper and bile. He tried to focus his own Sharingan, to predict and counter, but it was futile. His opponent was a wall of experience, a maestro of combat rhythm.
That man… he also has eyes... and they're so much stronger than mine.
The shame of being dominated, the haunting shadow of his brother Itachi, suddenly twisted his perception. He couldn't even break free of Kakashi's casual Genjutsu, let alone stand against the true horror that awaited him.
Then, a flicker of memory from the Jar Shop Owner, Shen Mo: "Sword intent can break all laws!"
That's it! Sasuke realized with a jolt. I'm a swordsman now, but I'm relying on mere technique and strength. I haven't awakened the spirit of the sword!
Forcing his weary muscles to obey, he roared, "The hell with technique! Wild Wind Sword!"
His body became a vortex of movement. This was no ordinary set of slashes; this was a hidden trump card, a devastating barrage of 108 rapid cuts. The steel of his blade blurred into an impenetrable wall, sweeping around him like a raging cyclone. It was less a sword form and more a tempest of pure cutting force.
Even the veteran Kakashi was forced to give ground, leaping back several meters, his single visible eye wide with genuine surprise.
A movement like this? Kakashi mentally reviewed his knowledge of known Kenjutsu styles but found no match. The sheer destructive output of the 'Wild Wind' exceeded anything a fresh Genin should be capable of. Does this mean I need to bring out a decisive jutsu to truly end this?
Kakashi hesitated, his hand twitching toward the lightning-flickering power of his most dangerous technique.
Sasuke, however, was past hesitation. Veins bulged on his neck, and his lungs sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. He held his blade aloft, not in a defensive posture, but in a strange, taut equilibrium.
The moment the breath was released, the atmosphere around the training ground shattered.
Not a physical explosion, but a seismic shift in energy. Kakashi wasn't the only one who felt it. High up on the Hokage monument, the faces of Sarutobi Hiruzen, the Third Hokage, and Tsunade, the legendary Sannin, tightened with alarm.
In their eyes, Sasuke was no longer a boy, nor a ninja.
He was a White Jade Sword.
His clothes and hair lifted, not from wind, but from the sheer, uncontrolled power radiating off him. His entire being was now enveloped in an aura of chilling, razor-sharp intent that seemed to cut the very air. The soft, youthful features of his face were suddenly overlaid with a terrifying, ethereal sharpness.
"The ultimate skill... is he going for the kill?" Shen Mo, standing casually at the edge of the clearing, murmured to himself.
Tsunade, her gaze locked on the boy, didn't even look at the merchant. "Ultimate skill? That level of spiritual focus… it's insane."
Kakashi became hyper-vigilant. His Sharingan was now tracking the massive, spiraling surge of Chakra flowing uncontrollably from Sasuke's reserves, all of it pooling into the katana clutched in his hand.
It was no longer Sasuke wielding the sword. The sword was demanding the boy's strength.
"This… what is this?" Sasuke muttered, the realization dawning with a sickening sense of vertigo. Before he could voice his fear, the blade, now a beacon of raw, untamed energy, began to pull his entire body into the air.
He was lifted, chakra coiling around him like a green serpent, ascending in perfect alignment with the sword. The boy and the blade were merging, becoming a singular, irresistible projectile.
Kakashi felt a prickling sensation on his skin—the absolute certainty of being targeted by a lethal force that transcended mere physical attack.
"What is this damn technique?" he hissed under his mask, his patience finally snapping.
His right hand shot forward. A thousand birds shrieked within his palm—the high-pitched, electric roar of Chidori. The time for holding back was over. He had to meet this devastating attack with an equally devastating response.
Sasuke, now entirely consumed by the technique, knew the name with a terrifying finality:
"The Sky Fairy's Descent!" (Tenkuu no Yousei)
Every last drop of his chakra, every fiber of his physical stamina, was being violently siphoned away, compressed, and hurled forward.
To the outside observer, it was a blinding spectacle. A column of light, bright as a rainbow and sharp as diamond, plunged from the sky directly toward Kakashi's position. It was an arrow of pure, irresistible Sword Intent.
"Stop!" Sarutobi Hiruzen cried out, his old heart seizing in his chest.
He saw the trajectory, the sheer power. Kakashi could survive this collision, but the backlash, the kinetic force, the sheer spiritual drain on Sasuke… the boy would be utterly obliterated.
The distance was too vast, the speed of the attack too great. The Hokage couldn't form the necessary hand seals in time. He could only watch in horrified helplessness as the inevitable collision neared—the roaring arrow of Sword Intent meeting the shrieking torrent of Kakashi's Chidori.
Naruto and Sakura shielded their eyes, the light becoming painfully intense, the twin roars of the sword and the lightning merging into a deafening wall of sound.
In the instant before destruction, a calm, clear voice cut through the cacophony.
"Enough is enough."
The volume was faint, yet it eclipsed the thunder and the shriek.
In a horrifying, beautiful moment of stasis, everything stopped. The whistling tear of the sword-light, the deafening crackle of the lightning—all sound, all motion, vanished into absolute silence.
Naruto peeled open his eyes.
Sasuke and Kakashi were suspended mid-air, frozen. Sasuke, a screaming arrow of white light; Kakashi, a pillar of blue lightning, their respective attacks inches from contact. They were trapped in a perfect, impossible tableau.
Shen Mo had finally moved.
He stood with his arms folded casually across his chest, a subtle, almost invisible verdant aura—the color of activated trade points—enveloping him. Without an ounce of visible effort, without a single hand seal, an unseen, incomprehensibly powerful force had clamped down on the two Jōnin-level combatants.
With a barely perceptible flex of his fingers, the sword-light and the lightning torrent buckled, then shattered, dissolving into harmless specks of energy.
What kind of power is this? Sarutobi Hiruzen wondered, his expression a mixture of profound shock and political alarm. To halt two S-rank techniques—one nascent, one master-class—at the point of impact with such effortless control... it defied all known laws of Chakra manipulation.
Shen Mo ignored the Hokage's bewilderment. He simply sighed, a sound of gentle finality, and then gave a slight, dismissive wave of his hand.
Sasuke's frozen form instantly broke free, not with a crash, but with the softness of a falling feather. He was guided gently to the ground, staggering slightly before collapsing onto his knees, gasping for air. The immense consumption of his chakra and stamina left him utterly spent.
Shen Mo stepped toward the boy, his voice calm and clear. "Sasuke, you have utterly lost this battle."
The Uchiha boy couldn't even manage a retort, his head bowed in defeat.
The Jar Merchant simply raised his hand, placing a single finger on Sasuke's forehead. A soft, green glow emanated from the touch.
In an instant, Sasuke felt a profound warmth surge through his body. His utterly depleted Chakra reserves immediately refilled. The crushing fatigue in his muscles vanished. He was whole again, as if the battle had never happened.
Beside them, the Third Hokage's visible eye twitched once more. A power that could freeze high-level combatants, shatter their attacks, and then instantly restore their entire life force...
The Jar Merchant's presence in Konoha was rapidly becoming the single most significant, and most terrifying, variable in the entire Elemental Nations. Sasuke stood up, the weight of the loss still crushing, but the undeniable, miraculous feeling of restored power confusing his youthful rage. The game was over, but the nature of the power that ended it was the real story.