"Uchiha Yūsuke! This afternoon's sparring class—one-on-one, do you dare fight me?!"Natsume Yō stood tall, voice ringing through the classroom like a thrown gauntlet, his expression twisted into just the right amount of "fake rage" to bait the hook.
"Hmph. If you're that desperate to be humiliated, why would I refuse?" Yūsuke sneered, agreeing without hesitation. To him, Yō wasn't even worth a passing thought.
System, Yō muttered inwardly, sliding back into his seat and ignoring the pitying stares around him. This 'One Voice to Shake the Crowd' title—does it actually boost my combat strength?
"Cannot increase combat strength," the System's monotone replied. "But it raises Host's charm and fame. Additionally, lottery draws will have doubled luck."
Yō rolled his eyes so hard it hurt. Seriously? Just say you didn't want to give me a real reward. Don't pad it out with some knockoff 'title boost' nonsense.
Around him, whispers broke out."Heh, this'll be good.""Can't wait to see Yō get smashed."
Morning theory dragged on, until at last, afternoon training arrived.
—Training Ground Five—
"Practical lesson today," their instructor barked. A scarred veteran, once a genin of the frontlines, his voice cut like steel. "Sixteen pairs. Two-on-two duels. Fight until one yields. I'll record the results. Clear?"
The class chorused back.
"First group—Uchiha Yūsuke versus Hyūga Tenshin!"
A clash of noble clans. The class buzzed—until Yūsuke raised his hand.
"Sensei, I want to switch. My opponent… is Natsume Yō."
The instructor blinked, then scoffed, giving Yō a single glance full of contempt. "Him? That's the trash you're wasting your challenge on?"
"Yes. I want him." Yūsuke's voice was flat, firm.
"Tch. Fine. Natsume Yō, quit stalling and get up here."
The crowd's laughter followed him."How many hits do you think he'll last? One? Two?""He'll probably fold before even throwing a punch.""This'll be over in seconds."
This was reality. Without strength, you weren't even treated as human.
"Come, Natsume Yō," Yūsuke called, smirking as the match began. He crooked a finger. "Show me how long you can last before I crush you. Try not to fall in one move."
"…In that case, don't blame me."
Yō exhaled, legs tensing. He launched forward like a hunting leopard, dirt exploding under his heel as he sprinted at full speed.
"In front of my Sharingan, your speed is nothing but a bad joke!"
Yūsuke's eyes spun scarlet. Crimson tomoe whirled, drawing gasps from the watching students.
Bang!
Yō's strike was caught, effortlessly blocked.
"Pathetic. Get lost!"
Yūsuke's grip snapped shut around Yō's fist, and with casual strength he flung him aside.
"Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu!"
Hands blurred through seals. Yūsuke inhaled sharply—and exhaled destruction. A roaring fireball, half a meter wide, screamed across the field.
BOOM!
The flames engulfed Yō before he could react, hurling him into the iron fence at the edge of the grounds. The crowd groaned, shaking their heads.
"It's over. The gap's too big."