After getting Genta off the ground, He looked furious, but it wasn't Kaen he was angry at. It was himself. I tried to comfort him with a casual, "Don't worry, you'll get him next time," but it didn't lift his mood. Instead, He asked with a strange, unreadable tone, "How did he awaken his Sharingan so early?"
I started to sweat. Kaen had used his Sharingan openly, so it should be fine to talk about it... probably. But I didn't want to risk it, so I said, "Let's ask your father once we get home."
Genta just nodded, then lowered his head, holding his neck where the cut was. The blood had already dried, since the cut was shallow, just a warning slice. Still, the damage to his pride ran deeper.
After parting ways with Shizuru and Sena at the Academy gates, I stopped by a snack stand and bought two skewers of freshly grilled dango, each coated in a thick layer of golden syrup that smelled like toasted sugar. I didn't even haggle with the old merchant, which probably startled him more than it did Genta. I handed him one skewer and kept the other for myself, figuring we could share something sweet after everything. His eyes widened like I'd grown a second head.
With his mouth full of dango, Genta mumbled, barely understandable, "Who are you and what did you do to Noa?"
I looked to the side in the classic tsundere motion, muttering something under my breath. He chuckled at my reaction, and I felt relieved. Genta bounced back fast. One of the good things about him.
Once we reached the compound, instead of crashing at my place like he usually did, Genta grabbed my sleeve and dragged me toward his own home. He didn't go there often unless something important came up.
He knocked on the door, and a few seconds later, Takemura opened it. The old man looked confused at first, his eyes flicking between us.
"You usually stick around Noa's place till nightfall. Sometimes you don't even bother coming home," he said with a raised brow. "What's got you suddenly feeling nostalgic for your old man?"
Then his gaze dropped to the cut on Genta's neck.
The air changed.
Confusion vanished. Takemura's eyes widened, then narrowed sharply. A quiet fire burned behind them as his voice tightened.
"Who did this to you?"
Genta's face darkened. He looked away and muttered, "Kaen Uchiha. We had a spar today."
"He has awakened his Sharingan," he said, hesitating. "You all warned me about the Sharingan, told me how to deal with it… but it didn't help much. It felt like he could see through everything I did. It was much stronger than I expected. Stronger than what you told me."
His hand brushed the cut on his neck before continuing.
"I did manage to hit him," he continued. "I used a misdirection like you taught me and caught him off guard, but it didn't make a difference. He barely even flinched."
Genta's voice lowered. "It was like I was the only one struggling while he stayed two steps ahead."
Takemura let out a long sigh, then stepped aside to let us in. He waited until the door clicked shut behind us before he spoke again.
"That's the Sharingan for you."
He crossed his arms, and his tone shifted into something like instructor mode, his gaze flicking toward me. "The Uchiha bloodline limit. A dojutsu. You already know this, Genta, but I'll explain it again for Noa's sake. It doesn't just enhance vision. It lets them see chakra, copy movements, and predict motion faster than most shinobi can react. How dangerous it depends on how far their eyes have developed."
He paused, then gave a slight nod.
"That Kaen kid's Sharingan… it's sharper than most at that stage. You've trained to counter it, but he's clearly ahead of the curve. His talent's real."
Genta's arms dropped to his sides. His jaw tightened.
"So, what am I supposed to do? Just accept that I can't hit him?"
Takemaru shook his head.
"No. The Sharingan is powerful, but not unbeatable. There are ways to deal with even gifted kids like Kaen, depending on your level."
He held up a hand.
"Start with the basics. Elementary methods rely on movement. Sudden shifts in direction, broken rhythm, misleading body language. Make yourself unpredictable. It can buy you moments, and moments matter."
Then he added,
"Intermediate strategies? Use weapons. Throwing tools from blind angles, wire traps, smoke bombs. Anything that forces their attention elsewhere or clouds their vision. Push them hard enough and they won't have the luxury to read every move."
His tone turned sharper.
"Advanced counters are where it gets interesting. High-speed jutsu like False Darkness can strike before their eyes catch up. Genjutsu works too if your control is good enough. Environments that mess with line of sight or sensory perception also help. The goal is to overwhelm, not just outthink them."
Takemaru crossed his arms, giving Genta a nod.
"You already tried misdirection. That means you've been paying attention. Keep at it."
He glanced again at the dried cut on Genta's throat. His voice lowered slightly.
"But never take the Sharingan lightly. You were lucky to face one in a safe environment. Anywhere else, that could've been the end for you. Those eyes were made for war. The Uchiha don't awaken them unless something breaks inside. And once they do, every fight changes."
Genta didn't reply. He just stood there, jaw locked and eyes burning.
And for the second time today, I started sweating.
Takemura wasn't one to let us stew for long though. "Alright," he said, clapping his hands together, "Since someone in your class awakened the Sharingan, we're going to start a specialized training against it. It'll help with your taijutsu too. Sudden movement drills, pressure response, baiting counters. Get ready."
Me and Genta groaned at the same time, already regretting the suffering to come.
------------------------------------
The end of our third year crept closer. Seiji-sensei made it pretty clear, even to the most clueless students, that graduation was right around the corner. Soon, we'd be official genin. Assigned to mentors. Some would specialize in different fields, like tracking, sensing, or even police work. Kaen was probably already marked for that last one.
As for me, I knew what I wanted. Where I was heading. You don't get stronger without risk. No pain, no gain.
With the year nearly done, me, Genta, Shizuru, and Sena decided to treat ourselves. We went to one of the most famous sweet stalls in Konoha. The guy running it had been making treats for decades and swore every mochi was infused with love and chakra or some nonsense.
We loaded up.
I got an assortment of skewered dango, sweetened red bean mochi, and a small box of sakura cookies that looked too perfect to eat. Genta stacked his arms with cinnamon rice puffs and honey-glazed yatsuhashi. Shizuru picked out delicate sugar-coated jellies that looked like glass marbles. Sena, in her usual classy fashion, got a neatly wrapped package of yuzu-filled pastries.
Then we made our way to a quiet park in the outskirts, the kind with shaded benches and old trees that rustled even when there wasn't wind. We spread out on the grass, sweets in hand, backs pressed to the cool ground.
The air was clear. The sun was warm. Birds were chirping somewhere in the distance.
After a while, Sena broke the silence.
"The time has come," she said, voice soft. "We're finally going to become official Konoha shinobi."
Everyone went quiet.
It was a fact we'd all known, but hearing it out loud made it feel heavier. Real.
Shizuru was the first to respond, her voice barely above a whisper as she lay flat on the grass. "We might not end up on the same team. Might not see each other often at all."
Genta groaned, tossing a rice puff crumb at her. "Thanks for the optimism."
She smirked but didn't push it.
I kept watching the clouds drift overhead. The breeze rolled past me gently.
Sena, sitting properly with her knees tucked to the side, looked toward the old wooden bench beneath the maple tree. "Even if we end up on different squads, we should still meet. Once a month. Same place, same time. We'll send word if someone's on a mission, but otherwise, no excuses."
"Same bench?" Genta asked.
"Same bench," she confirmed, pointing to it like she was issuing a mission order. "No one gets to say they forgot. No excuses."
I scoffed. "Bold of you to assume I won't ghost all of you once I'm the strongest shinobi in the village."
Shizuru and Genta both smacked me in the shoulder. Shizuru muttered, "You're not even going to pass the etiquette portion of the final exam."
"That's not real," I said immediately, alarmed.
"It is," Sena replied with no hesitation.
I stared at them. Betrayed. Genta laughed so hard he choked on a puff of cinnamon.
We joked for a while after that. But something in the air had shifted. Our laughs were still genuine, but quieter. Like we were trying to stretch the moment, knowing it wouldn't last.
Still, we made the promise. Right hand over heart. Once a month. Same bench. No matter what.
Because right now, we were still together. And we all knew that things were about to change. Maybe forever.