Three shuriken flew out at once, each coming from a different angle.
They weren’t especially fast—but Sasuke’s throwing technique was sharp and precise, unmistakably Uchiha. Even at his age, his control was already far beyond average.
Unfortunately for him, Tōma had seen the movement the moment Sasuke’s hand dipped toward his pouch.
Three hand seals snapped into place.
I’ve got him, Sasuke thought—then froze.
The instant the shuriken struck, doubt slammed into him.
This wasn’t Itachi.Even if he wanted revenge, hurting Fujimoto Tōma made no sense.
Had he really lashed out at someone who had nothing to do with it?
Before the thought could finish—
Poof.
Tōma’s body dispersed into smoke, replaced by a wooden log riddled with shallow cuts.
"What—?!"
Sasuke’s pupils shrank.
A substitution?
They hadn’t even been taught that yet.
He had spent the first term building stamina, practicing basic taijutsu, and refining shuriken throws at home. The only ninjutsu he knew was a Fire Style technique his father had reluctantly taught him after he failed to take first place—specifically so he could catch up to Tōma.
So when did this happen?
Where—
Pain exploded through his wrist.
A grip like iron clamped down, crushing before he could react. The next instant, the world flipped. Sasuke hit the ground hard, arms wrenched behind his back, his chest pressed flat into the dirt.
Tōma pinned him there with one hand.
"Seriously," Tōma said flatly, tapping Sasuke’s head with a knuckle. "Why did you pull out shuriken in what was supposed to be a normal spar?"
"Let go!" Sasuke growled. "I haven’t lost!"
"Haven’t?"Tap. Tap.
Another two knocks landed without mercy.
Sasuke struggled with everything he had—but the pressure didn’t budge an inch.
That was when it finally sank in.
He’d lost.
The moment his strength gave out, the pain caught up to him all at once. His head throbbed violently.
How many times did he hit me?!
"Let go," Sasuke said through clenched teeth. "I give up."
"Oh? You surrender now?" Tōma asked, knocking him once more out of habit. "Then explain. Why use shuriken?"
"Stop hitting me!"
"Then answer."
Tōma’s tone was cold now.
"What if I hadn’t dodged? What if someone else got hit? What if your shuriken killed someone?"
"That wouldn’t happen!" Sasuke snapped. "No one else could’ve pushed me this far!"
"That’s not the answer I’m looking for."
Tap.
"I’ll kill you!"
"Wrong again."
Tōma didn’t raise his voice. That made it worse.
Finally—
"I’m sorry," Sasuke muttered.
"Too quiet."
"I SAID I’M SORRY!" Sasuke shouted. "I shouldn’t have used shuriken!"
"That’s better."
Tōma released him and stepped back.
"This time, I’ll let it go. But don’t ever pull ninja tools in a student fight unless a teacher is present and allows it."
He turned and started walking away.
To him, Sasuke wasn’t even useful as training anymore.
"Sasuke," a voice called out from behind. "Why are you so strong?"
Tōma didn’t stop walking.
"Because I work harder than you."
And that was the truth. Harder—and earlier.
Sasuke lay there, staring at the sky.
"Hard work..." he murmured.
His hand drifted to his forehead—and froze.
That spot.
Someone else used to tap him there too.
Not as hard.Not like this.
"Itachi..."
He stayed there for a long time before finally standing, rubbing the swollen lump on his head, and walking home alone—to a house that no longer waited for him.
From the shadows, a masked shinobi watched everything in silence.
He hadn’t interfered.
He couldn’t.
One was under the Third Hokage’s direct observation.The other was his assigned charge.
If either got seriously hurt, he’d be the one answering for it.
Still...
That kid, he thought, watching Tōma disappear.
That substitution technique was cleaner than some genin.
No wonder the Third was watching him.
With a quiet sigh, the masked shinobi vanished, already preparing his report.