Shuriken training.
Not exactly his forte.
Or rather, it wasn't that Satoru couldn't use shuriken—it was just that he'd never really practiced. And whose fault was that? Certainly not his! The training schedule for it always clashed with something way more important: limited-time dango specials.
There were priorities in life.
And if you asked Satoru, properly timing a visit to the sweets shop before everything sold out was a true test of a ninja's abilities. If anything, he'd been training his speed, stealth, and strategic planning. Unfortunately, the Academy didn't seem to agree.
But hey, shuriken was just throwing sharp metal at a target. How hard could it be?
Satoru had faith in his vague muscle memory and his, let's say, above-average reflexes. So, when he spotted Sasuke struggling with his own shuriken practice, he figured it was the perfect time to show off a little.
Grabbing Sasuke by the collar with one hand, he hoisted the kid off the ground effortlessly.
"Yo, little Sasuke!" he greeted with a bright grin. "Wanna see your second brother's invincible shuriken technique?"
"Bastard! Let me go!" Sasuke scowled, flailing his arms until Satoru finally dropped him.
Landing back on his feet, Sasuke dusted himself off and eyed his older brother warily. "You… actually know how to use a shuriken?"
Now, see—that was just uncalled for.
The skepticism in Sasuke's tone stung more than any thrown projectile ever could.
"Hey, hey, hey! What's with that face? Of course, I do! Who do you take me for?" Satoru puffed out his chest, crossing his arms confidently. "Today, I'll show you my invincible shuriken technique—patented, perfected, and ready to blow your little mind."
Sasuke hesitated, still unsure if he should trust his second brother.
On one hand, Satoru was ridiculously good at taijutsu and Fire Style, and even the Academy teachers admitted he had talent. On the other hand, he had never once seen his second brother pick up a shuriken.
But trust won out in the end.
"…Fine. Let's see it," Sasuke said, arms crossed.
"Now that's what I like to hear!" Satoru beamed.
Sasuke took a step back, giving him space. His eyes locked onto Satoru's form, studying the way he positioned himself, waiting for something—anything—to be impressive.
And then…
Thwip-thwip-thwip-thunk!
Silence.
Sasuke's expression slowly twisted into pure, unfiltered disbelief.
Nine out of ten shuriken completely missed the target.
The tenth?
Firmly lodged in the middle of Satoru's forehead protector.
…
"…Huh?"
Sasuke blinked.
He blinked again.
No, the scene in front of him didn't change.
Satoru just stood there, grinning like an idiot, with a shuriken firmly stuck in his head. A single drop of blood trailed down his forehead.
Sasuke took a deep breath, rubbed his temples, and slowly exhaled.
"Second brother," he finally said, "was that… your invincible shuriken technique?"
Satoru, still smiling, gave him a thumbs-up. "Yup!"
Sasuke closed his eyes. Counted to five. Opened them again.
"…Are you serious?"
"Haha! Just a mistake, just a mistake! Happens to the best of us," Satoru said, waving his hand dismissively as if his forehead wasn't currently hosting a weapon.
"You—!"
Sasuke's patience snapped. "You just said it was invincible!"
"Well, yeah! Invincible in spirit!"
Sasuke groaned, rubbing his face. "Unbelievable…"
Meanwhile, Satoru's brain was running damage control at high speed.
Okay, okay—no need to panic. This was just a minor setback. His plan to graduate early wasn't going to be derailed by a couple of rogue shuriken!
More importantly, he needed to maintain his cool older brother image.
He slowly reached up, fingers carefully wrapping around the shuriken embedded in his forehead protector. With a casual tug, he yanked it free.
Squelch.
More blood trickled down.
Sasuke's eye twitched.
"Second brother, you—"
"Haha!" Satoru laughed, flipping the shuriken in his fingers and striking a dramatic pose. "Sasuke, you just don't understand! This—this is called performance art!"
Sasuke took a very slow, deep breath.
"…Your head is bleeding."
"Pfft. Bleeding? Me? No way!"
"Second brother."
"I said no way."
Sasuke deadpanned. "You literally have blood on your face."
"It's fine!" Satoru insisted. "I'm fine! This is nothing! Just—just a little sugar drop, you know?" He clapped his hands together. "That's right! I must be low on sugar! Need some dango, stat!"
Sasuke wasn't convinced. He looked around, debating whether to call their father or Itachi.
"Maybe we should get a medic-nin—"
"NOPE." Satoru cut him off immediately.
Sasuke narrowed his eyes. "But—"
"Listen, Sasuke." Satoru suddenly put both hands on his little brother's shoulders, staring at him with all the intensity of a man fighting for his life. "We do not tell Father or Itachi about this, understand?"
Sasuke blinked. "Why?"
Satoru's expression darkened. "Because if we do, I won't just need a medic—I'll need a funeral."
Sasuke thought about it. Their father's stern face. Itachi's judging stare.
…Yeah. That tracked.
"…Fine."
"Great!" Satoru clapped his hands together. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go—uh—not pass out from blood loss."
As he walked off, head still faintly throbbing, he couldn't help but think…
Man. Maybe he should have gone to shuriken practice instead of chasing after dango.
…Nah. Dango was still worth it.