Chapter 20: The Victor
"A remarkable improvement in such a short time," Kamikawa Hiraoka conceded, his tone light and almost conversational. A relaxed smile played on his lips, a stark contrast to the tension thrumming through the arena. "But even with that drive of yours... it won't be enough to defeat me."
His words weren't delivered as a taunt, but as a simple statement of fact. This infuriated Sasuke more than any insult could. He could feel it in the exchange of blows—Hiraoka was holding back, a reservoir of untapped power lying just beneath the surface. The gap between them hadn't closed; it had become a chasm he could sense but not see the bottom of.
Without another word, Sasuke's hands flew through a sequence of seals. Hiraoka mirrored him perfectly.
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu!" they roared in unison.
Two torrents of flame erupted, colliding in the center of the field with a deafening WHOOSH. The heat washed over the spectators as the twin infernos consumed each other, leaving a cloud of shimmering, superheated air.
In that moment of visual obstruction, Hiraoka moved. As the flames died down, he was already upon Sasuke, having closed the distance in the blink of an eye. A fist, propelled by chakra-enhanced speed, slammed into Sasuke's jaw before his Sharingan could even track the movement.
CRACK.
The sound of the impact was sickeningly clear. Sasuke was thrown backward, his body spinning uncontrollably through the air before crashing heavily onto the hard-packed earth.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd of students.
On the viewing stand, Sarutobi Hiruzen's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. He watched Hiraoka, who now stood with an almost casual posture, hands behind his back, as if he had already dismissed the fight as concluded. Such control. Such power. He is ready for more than genin duties, the Hokage thought, a plan beginning to form.
Beside him, Shimura Danzo's single visible eye gleamed with a covetous light. He, too, saw the raw potential, but his vision for it was far darker.
On the ground, Sasuke pushed himself up, wiping a trickle of blood from his split lip. His entire world had narrowed to the sting of his cheek and the boy standing before him. I train until I collapse. I push myself every waking moment. All for the power to kill him... and I can't even defeat a classmate? The thought was a poison in his veins. Despair threatened to crush him, but then it hardened into something else—a furious, desperate resolve.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, his pupils were no longer black. They were a brilliant, bloody crimson, a single sharp tomoe spinning in each.
"The Sharingan!" someone whispered in awe.
Hiraoka's casual demeanor finally shifted. His eyes narrowed, his body settling into a more guarded stance. So he's finally pulling out the big guns, he thought. I have to end this quickly, and without revealing my own trump card. Revealing a Sharingan of his own now would be a death sentence, painting a target on his back for every power player in the village, especially the vulture-like Danzo.
Emboldened by the new clarity the Sharingan granted him, Sasuke launched himself forward again, his movements now a fluid, predictable pattern in Hiraoka's mind.
"It won't be that easy," Hiraoka said softly. His hands formed a single, familiar seal. "Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
POOF! POOF! POOF! POOF!
The field was instantly flooded with hundreds of solid clones, a small army that surrounded Sasuke completely.
Nara Shikamaru, watching from the sidelines, let out a low whistle. "A Forbidden Jutsu... Now this is a real drag. He's full of surprises."
Sarutobi Hiruzen showed no surprise, having been briefed by Iruka after the Mizuki incident. Danzo, however, leaned forward slightly, his grip tightening on his cane. The boy had not only mastered a Forbidden Jutsu but could produce this many stable clones. His value—and his potential threat—had just skyrocketed.
The sea of clones surged forward. Sasuke's Sharingan allowed him to see through the illusions and track the real attacks, but it was a futile defense against overwhelming numbers. He became a whirlwind of motion, dispatching clone after clone in puffs of smoke, but for every one he destroyed, two more took its place. Kicks and punches landed on his body from angles he couldn't possibly block, each impact sapping his strength and chakra.
When the last clone dispersed, Sasuke stood panting, his clothes torn, his body bruised and bleeding. He was barely standing.
Hiraoka, the original, hadn't moved from his spot. "The Sharingan is a powerful tool," he stated, his voice carrying across the suddenly quiet field. "But you're still learning to wield it. You can see the attacks, but your body can't keep up with the numbers." He raised a single hand, chakra beginning to coalesce into a sharp, crackling point of lightning around his fingertips. The air hummed with its energy.
"This ends now," Hiraoka said, his voice dropping to a deadly serious tone. "If you can stand after this, the victory is yours. But I doubt you can."
Uchiha Sasuke, battered and exhausted, could only brace himself, his single-tomoe Sharingan fixed on the gathering storm in Hiraoka's hand. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that he had lost. The final blow was just a formality.
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Is the pacing fine?