The villagers bristled. Again with his father's name. Again with his arrogance.
Kurenai's lips trembled...not with fear, but with disappointment. So this is the man I grew up with… leaning on his father's shadow, unable to stand on his own. How pathetic.
Arata's expression didn't change. His eyes locked with Asuma's, sharp as steel.
"Even if the Third Hokage himself stood here, he would not be permitted to harass women in the street. And you...his son...certainly won't."
The words struck like a hammer. The crowd erupted with murmurs.
"That's right!"
"Even if you're Hokage's son, that doesn't give you the right."
"Harassing women, threatening Guards....shameful!"
For once, the villagers' voices carried strength.
Years of frustration with Asuma's behavior boiled over, and now, emboldened by Arata's stance, they spoke.
Asuma's face darkened. The heat of humiliation rose in his chest, twisting with fury.
"This is all your fault…" he muttered, eyes narrowing into slits as he glared at Arata.
In a swift, practiced motion, he drew two short blades from his waist.
Chakra flared, coating the metal in a sharp blue glow.
The villagers gasped, recoiling. Mothers pulled children back, men stepped away. The aura of danger radiating from the weapons was undeniable.
These weren't ordinary kunai.
They were chakra blades....steel forged to channel energy, capable of cutting through stone like paper.
Kurenai's eyes widened. "Asuma! Have you lost your mind? Those weapons could kill! You would draw them against a fellow Konoha shinobi?"
But Asuma ignored her, his focus fixed entirely on Arata. His pride screamed for blood.
"Don't interfere. Once I deal with this Uchiha, I'll confess again."
Kurenai's lips parted in disbelief. Confess? After this? What woman would accept a man who threatens violence in the same breath as love? You're delusional, Asuma.
Arata exhaled slowly, his muscles tensing. He hadn't intended to escalate the situation, but Asuma's pride had twisted this into something far more dangerous.
His gaze sharpened, and in his eyes, crimson light swirled.
Two tomoe spun within the Sharingan, locking onto every twitch of Asuma's body, every flicker of chakra.
"You would draw your blades here, in the middle of the village?" Arata's voice was low, steady. "Is this what the Hokage's son has become?"
Asuma's teeth ground together, rage boiling over. He hated it....hated being measured against his father, hated the disappointment he saw in people's eyes.
"Shut up!" he roared, blades gleaming as he lunged forward.
The tension snapped like a bowstring. The villagers cried out, some stumbling back, others shielding their eyes from the flare of chakra.
And at the heart of it all, Arata's Sharingan spun brighter, crimson tomoe dancing in anticipation.
The storm was about to break.
Asuma Sarutobi narrowed his eyes, the glint of his chakra blade catching the sunlight as he stared at the boy before him.
His gaze was sharp, hostile....like a predator toying with prey.
"So… this is the famed Sharingan?" His lips curved into a mocking smirk. "
A mere two tomoe, and you think you can lecture me? Presumptuous."
The disdain in his voice was palpable.
Without another word, Asuma lunged forward. His movements were sharp and fluid, the momentum of a seasoned shinobi behind every step.
The chakra dagger in his hand sliced the air, aimed mercilessly at Arata's arm.
But Arata's scarlet eyes spun, capturing every detail....the subtle shift of Asuma's shoulder, the twist of his hips, the angle of his strike. The Sharingan illuminated it all with startling clarity.
Fast… but I can see it.
Steel clashed against steel as Arata raised his kunai to intercept.
Sparks flared from the collision, scattering like fleeting fireflies.
Asuma's brow furrowed. "You… kept up?" His tone carried both irritation and curiosity. For someone so young to parry him, it could only mean one thing....the Sharingan's terrifying perception at work.
So it really is as they say… That eye can read movements like an open book.
But the thought of it only soured his expression further.
The Uchiha… always a danger to the village. Their power is a threat that refuses to bow to control.
His irritation turned to aggression. With a swift motion, Asuma raised his leg and drove a brutal kick toward Arata's chest.
The Sharingan caught the movement instantly, but Arata's body....still weak, still unrefined...lagged behind.
His eyes screamed the warning, but his muscles couldn't obey in time.
The impact landed squarely, knocking the breath from his lungs.
His body was hurled backward, slamming into the dirt with a painful thud.
"Pathetic." Asuma sneered, his voice dripping with scorn. "Is this the strength of the Uchiha clan?
Nothing but empty pride. Best remember....don't meddle in matters that don't concern you.
Especially not with the affairs of the Sarutobi."
But as Asuma's words echoed, something else resounded within Arata's mind.
[ System notification: Pain detected. Accelerating training efficiency. ]
[ Strength +2. Speed +2. Constitution +2. ]
A sudden warmth surged through his body, flowing from his core like a river of fire and ice intertwined.
The throbbing pain dulled, replaced by a strange buoyancy, as if invisible weights had been lifted from his limbs.
His breaths came easier, steadier. His muscles hummed with newfound vigor.
Arata blinked in disbelief. What… is this?
His system...the strange gift that had followed him into this world...wasn't just strengthening him over time.
It was healing, reinforcing, adapting him in the heat of battle.
The ache in his chest lessened, his body felt lighter, sharper, faster.
Even the sting of Asuma's kick faded like a bad memory.
So it works like this… If I endure, if I take the hits, I can grow stronger mid-fight.
The realization nearly made him laugh. It was absurd. Dangerous. But also… intoxicating.
Does that mean… as long as I don't die, being beaten down will only make me stronger?
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