After drawing number fifty-one, Hyūga Shigeo could simply step back and wait until the finals.
He returned to Nara Shikaku's side.
"Sensei!"
"Mm, sit." Shikaku patted the seat next to him, studying this boy who was four years older than his own son. After a pause, he asked softly:
"Do you notice anything strange about today?"
Although the atmosphere in the arena was lively and everything looked smooth on the surface, Shikaku's instincts told him something was off.
Shigeo glanced around the venue and replied calmly:
"Iwagakure wants me dead. But… mantis stalking the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Today isn't something they alone can decide."
This made not only Kakashi and Guy raise their eyebrows in shock, but even Shikaku himself looked startled.
"You mean… there's something more?"
He scanned the crowd again, but aside from the tense expressions on the Iwagakure ninjas, nothing unusual stood out.
Kakashi frowned, while Guy blurted out, wide-eyed:
"What are you two even talking about?"
"Sensei, just wait. Whatever it is, it'll reveal itself soon enough." Shigeo tilted his head lightly toward the three adults. He was certain: Uchiha Obito was here. And a man like him wouldn't back down just because someone had called him a "pervy old man" in the street.
The matches began. One-on-one duels raged across the arena, the cheers of the crowd rising like waves.
Among the young fighters, Uchiha Itachi's skill shone brightest. His calm precision made him stand out even though his Sharingan had not yet awakened, and the name "Uchiha" quickly spread across the spectator stands.
Up on the highest tier of the stands, a man cloaked in black shifted his gaze away from Kakashi and fixed on Itachi.
His eye deepened. That boy… is strong.
Back in the arena, ninjutsu clashed — earth walls shaking, water techniques flooding, flames roaring, puppets tearing through the air. The battles were not only fierce, but merciless. More than ten of the contestants were already injured after just twenty rounds.
By midday, twenty-five fighters had qualified for the semifinals. After a short rest, they drew lots again, clashing fiercely until only twelve remained. By evening, the finalists were chosen.
The organizers wasted no time: the grand finale would be fought immediately.
Even the hosts had been swapped out four or five times, their voices hoarse from nonstop announcing. But the crowd's passion had only grown hotter. The betting lines exploded — with odds like 1:100, 1:20, and 1:10, fortunes could be made or lost in an instant.
Many favored Itachi. If Shigeo's two first-place wins had been chalked up to sheer luck, Itachi's two second-place finishes had been achieved with undeniable skill. People were confident the Uchiha would break through this time.
After the intermission, the final free-for-all began.
When the thirteen contestants, including Hyūga Shigeo, entered the arena, the audience erupted.
"Kick that blind brat out!"
"He doesn't belong in the finals!"
Shigeo's presence had always stirred controversy. To the majority, he was just "lucky" — not deserving of a place among true fighters.
The jeers grew louder, swelling into a chant that shook the stadium:
"Throw him out! Throw him out!"
Even some of his fellow Konoha genin smirked at the scene.
"See? We told you. Everything should be fair. You can't keep relying on back doors and dumb luck. The crowd knows what's real."
Shigeo clenched his fists, his chest tight with anger. In a sudden burst, he leapt onto the central podium, grabbed the microphone, and shouted:
"Why should I be thrown out? I'm going to take first place! I have real ability — can't you see that?"
The answer was a storm of shoes, rags, and even a child crying as he pointed:
"You're nothing! You're a fraud!"
Even Deidara, standing among the finalists, nodded coldly.
"That's right. You're a petty coward — sneaking up to steal my gold chest. That's all you are."
The host rushed forward and snatched the mic back.
"Return to the arena — the match is starting!"
Shigeo wiped his cheek, where a dirty sock had struck him, and returned to the field.
If not for his promise to the Third Hokage — to win this tournament as repayment of his debt — he wouldn't have put up with this humiliation.
Back in the ring, Itachi patted his shoulder and murmured:
"This is the price of acting weak. You should've crushed them from the start — make them wet themselves in fear. Then no one would dare to jeer."
Shigeo's face was tight with fury.
"Itachi, you know it. I'm taking first place. This victory is mine."
Itachi snorted.
"Then prove it."
The signal was given.
"Begin!"
The crowd roared even louder:
"Kick him out! Kick him out!"
Spurred on by the jeers, nine of the twelve fighters rushed Shigeo at once.
Only Itachi, Yugito, and Fū held back — they were his allies of sorts.
But nine others unleashed a storm of jutsu together.
Earth, water, fire… and rare kekkei genkai like steel release and storm release.
The techniques clashed, chakra colliding violently — water against fire, lightning entwined with earth. The arena filled with deafening crashes and choking dust.
Spectators leaned forward, some laughing cruelly:
"He's finished. That kid is done for."
(End of Chapter)
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