"What?!"
"He deflected an Uchiha's Great Fireball with Wind Style?"
"Such precise chakra control—and impeccable timing!"
A wave of astonished gasps erupted from the audience and around the arena.
As the saying goes, the layman watches the show, the expert watches the technique.
Most of the crowd were family, friends, or curious villagers—not ninja. To them, Kiyohara's move looked like magic: a puff of wind neutralizing an enormous fireball? Impressive.
But among the Genin, the mood was different. They frowned in silence.
In the ninja world, the power of a jutsu boiled down to two things:
Chakra output.
Understanding of the technique.
The more mastery over a jutsu, the more powerful it became.
To use a C-rank Wind Style so skillfully as to redirect the signature Fire jutsu of the Uchiha clan?
That required exceptional understanding.
Even the stone-faced proctor, a seasoned jonin with a scar across his eye, raised an eyebrow.
Frankly, by normal standards, someone like Kiyohara should have been promoted directly—no test needed. But perhaps Lord Hokage wanted to see the full extent of this candidate's potential.
From what the proctor had already seen?
Even if Kiyohara lost, he deserved promotion.
"I see... recommended by Jōnin Namikaze Minato himself. No wonder the application was full of praise," he thought, nodding subtly.
In the stands, Kurenai and Genma both exhaled in relief—surprised and impressed by Kiyohara's performance.
Back on the field, Uchiha Tekka looked visibly stunned.
He hadn't expected his Great Fireball to be so easily deflected.
But he was no amateur.
His hesitation lasted only a split second.
His hands moved fast, fingers dipping into his pouch—
"Tch... not bad. You actually redirected my Great Fireball like it was nothing."
Swish—swish—swish!
Several shuriken flew from his hands, slicing through the air toward Kiyohara.
"Among you civilians, you're one of the better ones."
His fingers twitched again—subtle, but sharp.
Glinting in the sunlight were wires, trailing from the shuriken.
"Uchiha Style: Manipulated Shuriken Technique!"
But Kiyohara was ready.
He'd been expecting this.
Every Uchiha worth their fan crest used two things: Fire Style and manipulated shuriken.
"Wires, huh?" he thought, catching the glimmer of a thread in the air.Faint, almost invisible—easy to miss unless you were looking.
He wasn't going to be caught off guard.
"Lightning Style: Ground Surge!"
With a sharp breath, Kiyohara channeled his chakra, formed seals—and unleashed it.
Sizzle! Crack!
Blue lightning snaked across the ground like a living serpent, racing directly toward Tekka's feet.
It moved far faster than the shuriken in the air.
Tekka's eyes narrowed. He instantly abandoned the wire control and leapt back.
The lightning snapped at his heels, missing by inches.
Without his manipulation, the shuriken faltered and fell, their threat neutralized.
"The Sharingan's coming out," Rogue Kiyohara murmured, floating behind.
He'd fought the Uchiha before. He knew the signs.
"Once he activates even one tomoe, your physical attacks and thrown weapons won't land. The dynamic vision is just too sharp."
"I know." Kiyohara nodded grimly.
And sure enough—
Tekka's eyes began to change.
A black tomoe bloomed within each crimson eye.
One-tomoe Sharingan: activated.
Kiyohara felt it instantly.
Tekka could now read his movements in slow motion.
Anticipate muscle tension. Predict flow. React before an attack even launched.
Tekka pulled a kunai from his pouch and charged.
Clang!
Their blades collided, sparks flying.
Kiyohara blocked the slash, black kunai clashing against Tekka's.
Scrape! Screech!
Tekka reversed grip and slashed again.
Kiyohara blocked again—but now, he was on the defensive.
Before, he could barely keep up. But now?
Now he was slowly losing ground.
He frowned, looking for an opening.
"This ends now!"
Tekka spotted a tiny gap in Kiyohara's defense.
He lashed out with a sweeping kick toward Kiyohara's legs—while his other hand stealthily tossed a shuriken to block Kiyohara's natural dodge path.
Perfectly coordinated.
'I need to jump!'
"Possess me—make the jump higher!" Kiyohara suddenly said inwardly.
In normal combat, he couldn't use his body at full potential.
But with Rogue Kiyohara possessing him?
He could force the muscles to 100% output—bypassing natural human limitations.
"What're you trying to pull?" Rogue Kiyohara asked, curious.
He'd expected Kiyohara to just tag out and let him fight.
But Kiyohara had a plan.
"The Sharingan's strength is also its weakness," Kiyohara thought.
Its dynamic vision made it too sharp—so much that the user relied on it.
They formed habits, expecting to read every move.
But if the body suddenly did something that defied all logic?
Like, say—doing the impossible?
"Now!"
Kiyohara didn't dodge the sweep. He leaned into it.
Almost as if he were about to let himself be struck.
To Tekka, it looked suicidal.
But then—
Kiyohara leapt backward.
Right into the path of the waiting shuriken?
No.
"Boost me!"
Possessed by Rogue Kiyohara, his body twisted midair, unleashing a full burst of latent power from his core.
He launched upward—clean over the shuriken, mid-flip, like gravity didn't apply.
And just as he soared—
Kiyohara took back control.
Fighting through the muscle strain, he flung three shuriken, already gripped in his right hand.
His left hand blurred into a one-handed seal:
"Lightning Style: Thunder Flow Technique!"
Crackle!
Electric chakra surged out from his palm, racing along the thin copper wires attached to each shuriken.
Three arcs of blazing blue lightning burst forward—
Not aimed at Tekka directly, but his left, right, and above—boxing him in.
"What the hell kind of move was that?!"
Tekka's Sharingan locked on.
But for once—it didn't matter.
"How did he even jump that high? That wasn't human—is he trying to ascend to heaven?!"
The expression on his face said it all.
Confusion.
Disbelief.
He had relied too much on what his eyes told him—and now he was trapped.