The air was heavy.
The ground had turned silent — so silent that even the faint rustle of leaves sounded sharp, each whisper echoing as though nature itself held its breath.
Dust clung to the still air, and the scent of steel, sweat, and tension mingled like smoke before a storm.
Indra Uchiha stood calmly in the center of the field. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade, the faint gleam of steel peeking from the scabbard, as though the sword itself was thirsting for release.
His posture was relaxed, almost casual, but his very presence radiated pressure. It was a suffocating weight that seeped into the skin, pressing on the lungs of every shinobi nearby.
Not far across stood Hatake Kakashi. His single visible eye narrowed, his expression unreadable beneath the shadow of his forehead protector and the mask that covered the lower half of his face.
His body leaned slightly forward, his hand hovering near the kunai pouch at his thigh, his stance low and prepared.
Unlike countless battles before where ninjutsu and copied techniques had been his greatest weapons, here he knew those would not suffice.
This opponent — Indra Uchiha — demanded something else. Something raw. Something exact.
Indra had already displayed swordsmanship so sharp and so efficient that Kakashi understood in the pit of his gut: this fight would not be won with tricks.
This fight would be decided in the clash of speed, timing, and steel.
And they were not alone.
Only a few paces behind Kakashi, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, stood in full view, his gaze locked upon the scene. He had deliberately chosen to remain close, to see each strike and each movement directly.
His robes swayed faintly in the breeze, but his face was grim and calculating, eyes like sharpened blades behind the mask of wisdom.
Around him stood several Anbu members, silent as statues, masks concealing the unease in their hearts.
"Do not interfere," Hiruzen commanded in a low, stern tone. His voice was not raised, but it cut through the silence like steel. "No matter what you see. No matter what happens. This is necessary."
The Anbu glanced at one another. The tension in their bodies was visible even through their armor.
To stand so near, to see Kakashi clash blades with an Uchiha who radiated such oppressive might, and to do nothing — it was against their instinct as shinobi.
Yet they bowed their heads. They understood the intent of their Hokage.
This was not a simple duel. This was an examination. A dissection. A careful pulling apart of Indra Uchiha's strength.
Every swing of the blade, every shift in his stance, every flicker in his eyes — Hiruzen wanted it all. For only by understanding could he one day counter it.
I will analyze this, Hiruzen thought. I will see this to the end… and from this battle, I will decide. I will decide how Indra Uchiha can be defeated.
For a Hokage, knowledge was sharper than kunai, heavier than fire jutsu, deadlier than a thousand blades. And now, knowledge was the weapon Hiruzen sought to forge.
But in the far distance, hidden in the deeper shadows beyond the battlefield, Danzo Shimura watched. His single eye glimmered coldly, the bandages across his face shifting with the night breeze.
Unlike Hiruzen, Danzo was not looking for ways to defeat Indra. His gaze carried hunger, obsession, and venom.
"After today…" Danzo whispered, his words curling like poison, "the Hokage seat will be mine."
The silence cracked.
Steel flashed.
Indra moved first.
With a smooth, precise motion, he unsheathed his blade. The sound of metal sliding free from its scabbard echoed like thunder in the stillness. His first strike came diagonally, clean and direct, aiming for Kakashi's upper torso.
The cut was sharp, so sharp that even the wind seemed to split apart beneath its pressure.
Kakashi reacted instantly. His body shifted, sidestepping with reflexive swiftness, kunai already in hand.
The clash rang out — steel meeting steel, sparks bursting, the vibration shooting up Kakashi's arm, rattling his muscles and bones.
He gritted his teeth and pressed back, but the sheer strength behind Indra's swing pushed him to his limit instantly.
Indra's eyes, however, remained calm. Unshaken. With a twist of his wrist, his blade slid along Kakashi's kunai, redirecting the force effortlessly, then arcing upward for a second cut.
Another clash. Sparks again. The air trembled with each strike.
The Anbu nearby flinched at the force of each blow, though they held their ground as ordered. They had never seen kenjutsu like this.
Every motion Indra made was flawless. His attacks wasted no energy. His strikes carried no hesitation. It was as though each swing had already been decided before Kakashi had even chosen to block.
Kakashi's counters were sharp, precise, honed by years of battle, but even he felt himself barely hanging on. His footwork was steady, weaving left and right, his kunai intercepting slash after slash.
Yet each parry rattled his arms further, each block sent a shockwave of force into his bones.
The rhythm of the battle grew into a drumbeat.
Clash.
Clash.
Clash.
Indra pressed forward relentlessly.
His blade cut the air in seamless arcs — overhead slashes, horizontal sweeps, sudden thrusts.
There was no pause between forms, only flowing death. The kenjutsu was not flashy. It was not exaggerated. But it was devastatingly efficient.
Kakashi's breathing quickened. Sparks burst again as he caught another slash. His hand trembled slightly, the kunai vibrating in his grip.
His forearm burned from the strain. His flak jacket tore under a grazing strike, the fabric fluttering as he rolled backward to create distance.
Indra did not chase.
He stood upright, blade lowered at his side, posture calm. His breathing steady. His eyes sharp and unblinking. It was as though the fight had not even begun for him.
The Anbu shifted uneasily, their grips tightening on their weapons, fighting their urge to step in. Hiruzen's face grew darker, though he remained still.
Indra advanced again. This time, faster.
The ground cracked under his step. His sword thrust forward like lightning.
Kakashi blocked, kunai catching the strike — but the sheer force sent him sliding back across the dirt, his sandals scraping, leaving grooves. Indra followed without pause. High slash.
Low sweep.
Another thrust.
Each attack faster than the last.
Kakashi deflected, leapt, spun — each time narrowly avoiding disaster. But his sweat began to drip faster, his eye darting desperately, his arms shaking under the pressure.
Still Indra pressed. Still his breathing was steady. Still his posture flawless.
"This… this is dangerous," Hiruzen muttered under his breath. His eyes narrowed. Such calmness. Such control. This is not arrogance. This is mastery.
Danzo, watching, smirked. Yes… show them. Show them the danger. Let them fear you. And then, when the fear grows, they will need me. The Hokage's seat will be mine.
The fight reached its peak.
Steel clashed again. Kakashi's kunai cracked under the force. His eye widened. "Too strong—!"
Indra's blade swept again, grazing his side, tearing deeper into his vest. Kakashi stumbled back, panting.
His chest rose and fell rapidly, sweat dripping down his face. His arms ached, his legs strained.
And Indra?
He stood calm. Untouched. Ready.
The battlefield fell silent again.
Kakashi panted heavily, kunai trembling in his grip. Indra's sword gleamed, steady as stone, his expression calm and unreadable.
The Third Hokage frowned deeply. The next round will come… I must see it. I must decide. I must prepare.
Danzo's lips curled faintly. Yes… after this, the village will beg for me.
The first round was over.
The battle was not finished.
It was only about to begin again.
The atmosphere was tense, like the silence before a storm, though in truth, the storm had already begun. Dust swirled around the training ground, disturbed by the clash of steel, by the rhythm of strikes that had echoed through the battlefield only moments ago.
Kakashi's chest rose and fell rapidly, every breath drawn with effort, his body drenched in sweat, the weight of exhaustion clear in his movements.
His Sharingan spun wildly in his left eye, but even that gift was struggling to keep up with the ceaseless precision of Indra Uchiha's kenjutsu.
Indra stood before him, blade in hand, posture unwavering. His breathing was steady, calm—completely unshaken. The dark gleam of his eyes was cold, sharp, and filled with composure.
It was as though the battle had only just begun for him, as though every exchange so far had merely been a warm-up.
His grip on the sword had not faltered once, not even for the slightest instant, and that singular fact drove a dagger into Kakashi's confidence.
On the sidelines, the Anbu remained still, silent observers under strict orders. The Third Hokage had already made it clear: no interference.
His eyes narrowed, the wrinkles of age deepening, not out of weakness but concentration.
Every strike, every block, every subtle movement of Indra's body was etched into his mind, analyzed with painstaking precision.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was already considering counters, already calculating.
To him, this was not just a duel; this was intelligence gathering, the first layer of strategy in dealing with a threat he knew was only going to grow more dangerous.
Danzo, further away, hidden in the shadows, watched with his own cold gaze.
His heart did not race with anxiety like the Anbu. Instead, it burned with greed, with ambition.
In his eyes, this battle was proof of destiny, the validation that his path would soon unfold. "After today," he whispered to himself, his lips curving into the faintest trace of a cruel smirk, "the seat of Hokage will finally be mine."
His thoughts were not clouded with admiration for Indra, nor concern for Kakashi—only the selfish, consuming obsession with his long-awaited goal.
Back on the battlefield, Kakashi shifted his stance. His body screamed at him to stop, but his spirit refused. He knew the eyes of the Hokage were on him.
He knew his comrades in the Anbu were watching. Failure was not an option, not here. He lifted his kunai once again, gripping it tighter, his muscles taut as he steadied himself.
Indra tilted his head slightly, his sword angled downward, almost relaxed, but his presence was suffocating. His silence was deafening.
No taunts, no wasted words, only the chilling calm of someone who knew he had the upper hand.
The ground beneath them bore the scars of their previous exchanges—slashes cutting into stone, dust clouds rising where strikes had missed, and faint traces of chakra lingering in the air like static.
Yet the battlefield itself seemed to bend around Indra's composure.
Kakashi lunged forward once more. His movements were sharp, desperate, but still fueled by skill honed through years of combat.
His kunai slashed in a diagonal arc, aimed at Indra's torso. Indra moved fluidly, sword rising with no hesitation.
The clash of steel rang out again, sparks scattering like fireflies in the fading light.
Kakashi immediately shifted, twisting his wrist, turning his attack into a feint before thrusting his kunai toward Indra's throat.
But Indra was ready. His blade intercepted, sliding against the kunai with perfect control, redirecting its path without resistance.
His wrist flicked subtly, the edge of his blade coming dangerously close to Kakashi's shoulder.
Kakashi pulled back in the nick of time, his breath sharp as he narrowly avoided being cut down.
The exchange continued, steel against steel, every impact echoing like a drumbeat of war.
Yet with each passing second, the difference grew clearer. Kakashi's strikes carried desperation, a frantic need to create an opening.
Indra's counters, on the other hand, were effortless, each motion executed with chilling precision, as though he had seen the outcome before it even began.
Hiruzen's eyes narrowed further. His pipe, long extinguished, remained clenched between his fingers.
He knew strength when he saw it, and he also knew obsession when he saw it. Indra's kenjutsu was not merely skill—it was an extension of will, sharpened by a focus that bordered on terrifying.
He fights as though the sword itself is alive, Hiruzen thought grimly.
No wasted movements, no hesitation… he is dangerous, more dangerous than most would realize until it is too late.
Danzo, watching from afar, gritted his teeth, though not from fear—his eyes were filled with the cruel gleam of desire. "Kakashi is faltering," he muttered under his breath. "Soon, the Hokage's faith in him will shatter. And when it does, when doubt spreads, my chance will come."
The battle pressed on. Kakashi's arm trembled with every strike, but he refused to back down.
His kunai slashed horizontally, aiming to catch Indra off guard. Indra stepped forward instead of back, his blade rising in a swift arc, knocking Kakashi's weapon upward.
In that instant, Indra's free hand struck forward, his palm colliding with Kakashi's chest.
The force of the blow sent him stumbling back, air rushing from his lungs as his body scraped against the dirt.
He coughed, his vision blurring for a moment, but he forced himself to remain standing. His knees wavered, yet he refused to fall.
His Sharingan spun again, locking onto Indra's form, trying desperately to predict his next move.
But Indra had already closed the distance again, his footsteps deliberate, unhurried.
His blade gleamed under the sunlight, held at the ready, his expression unchanging. Kakashi raised his kunai once more, his hand trembling but steady enough to fight.
The clash resumed, louder than before. Each strike of Indra's sword carried crushing weight, each defense of Kakashi's kunai felt like trying to stop a tidal wave with bare hands.
The ground cracked beneath their movements, their speed creating gusts of wind that whipped against the faces of the silent Anbu.
Minutes dragged like hours. The rhythm of the battle was relentless, and the difference between the two became undeniable. Kakashi's breaths turned ragged, his body sluggish, his reactions slower than before.
Indra, on the other hand, remained calm, unshaken, his blade still moving with that same lethal precision.
At last, Kakashi staggered backward, his chest heaving, sweat dripping into his single visible eye.
His grip on the kunai weakened slightly, though he refused to let it drop. His entire body screamed in protest, his lungs burned, yet he stood firm, refusing to yield.
Indra did not falter. He stood tall, his blade angled downward once again, his stance composed as though he had not exerted himself in the slightest.
His gaze pierced Kakashi, cold and unwavering, a silent declaration that the battle was not over, that it was only beginning.
The silence that followed was heavy, pressing down on all who watched. Kakashi's ragged breaths were the only sound that broke it, his chest rising and falling like a man on the edge of collapse.
Indra, however, stood calm, his presence like an unbroken storm. He shifted his blade slightly, preparing once more.
The Anbu exchanged uneasy glances but remained still, bound by their orders.
Hiruzen exhaled slowly, his mind already racing through possibilities, already planning for the future.
Danzo's lips curled into a shadow of a smile, convinced that every moment brought him closer to his dream.
The battle was not over. No—it was about to begin anew. Another round was coming, fiercer than before.
And as Kakashi straightened his stance once more, kunai trembling in his hand, and Indra raised his sword with flawless composure, the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
The true test of will and strength was far from finished.
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End of Chapter
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