In the next instant, Shinichi swung his hand fiercely toward Isshin, who was charging straight at him!
Boom!
That tiny point of crimson at his fingertip, the moment it left his hand, was like igniting an invisible ocean of fuel in the air. In an instant, it expanded and spread, transforming into a surging crimson wave of flames several meters high and over thirty meters wide!
The flames were incomparably solid, like a tide formed of molten lava, roaring with a scorching heat that could burn everything to ashes as it swept forward along the path of his charge!
"What—what is that? Fire Release?!"
"When did he form the hand seals? Did any of you see it?"
"There were no hand seals at all! How did he release it?!"
"Instant cast? A hand-seal-less Fire Release?!"
"Impossible! His hand seals must've just been too fast!"
"Hmph! Why impossible? Don't forget Shinichi is a genius who developed an A-rank hand-seal-less ninjutsu—the Rasengan!"
The stands instantly erupted. Countless people widened their eyes, staring in disbelief at this scene that defied common sense.
For ordinary shinobi, who could release a jutsu without forming hand seals to guide their chakra?
No matter how skilled they were, there would at least be a brief sequence of seals!
But Shinichi had simply rubbed his fingers together—and waved!
In the special viewing area, Uchiha Fugaku, who had been calmly observing the battle, suddenly straightened his body. His Sharingan had already activated at some unknown moment. Three tomoe locked tightly onto the surging wave of flames and Shinichi's figure behind it. For the first time, an undisguised shock appeared on his face: 'This instantaneous conversion of fire-nature chakra and this level of shape manipulation… how exactly did he achieve it?!'
'With this level of Fire Release mastery… are you the Uchiha, or am I the Uchiha?'
On the high platform, Mitokado Homura pushed up his glasses, his gaze sharp as an eagle as he looked at the Third Hokage beside him and asked: "Hiruzen, is this the result of the Fire Release nintaijutsu Shinichi has been developing? Has it already reached the point where it can be cast instantly in combat?"
Hiruzen slowly exhaled a puff of smoke. His eyes reflected the churning crimson flames in the arena as he nodded and said in a low voice: "Mm. He calls this technique 'Dark Brush.' He abandoned the extreme difficulty of simultaneously achieving peak shape and nature transformation, and instead focuses on shaping fire-nature chakra into a highly stable form and throwing it—pursuing hand-seal-less casting, speed, and practicality."
Koharu looked at the blazing flames that seemed ready to swallow nearly half the arena. Even her usually stern face showed a trace of astonishment: "This child's talent and execution in ninjutsu development is truly…"
She couldn't find the right words, and in the end, it became nothing more than a sigh of amazement.
...
In the arena, facing the suddenly appearing, surging wave of flames, Isshin—still in the middle of his charge—seemed to show a flicker of surprise in his eyes. But it was quickly replaced by even greater excitement.
"Good! Excellent!"
Isshin burst into wild laughter. Not only did he not dodge, he raised the heavy halberd in his hands high above his head. A massive surge of chakra instantly poured into the weapon as he brought it down in a fierce vertical slash toward the roaring sea of flames ahead!
With a crashing roar!
A massive, visible crescent-shaped blade of energy shot out from the halberd, solid and overwhelming. It forcibly split the lava-like wave of fire down the middle, sending scorching flames rolling violently to both sides.
However, at the very moment the wave was split apart and the blazing currents surged outward—
A low, violent, terrifying energy—like the wrath of endless magma—erupted skyward from behind the flames, accompanied by a deep, rumbling roar like the earth itself bellowing, carrying a will to burn everything to ashes!
Shinichi's figure had, at some unknown moment, already leapt into the air by borrowing the momentum. In his right hand, held aloft—
A massive sphere of energy, entirely resembling crimson molten lava, had already formed!
Inside the sphere, endless flames could be seen, spiraling wildly, condensing, compressing, and surging—just like the Rasengan!
The terrifying heat caused the surrounding air to warp and boil violently. It radiated a blinding brilliance like a miniature sun and waves of heat so intense they stung the skin!
Fire Release: Great Flame Rasengan!
"Th-this… this is Shinichi's Rasengan?!"
"The color's wrong! Rasengan doesn't look like that!"
"It's fire! He fused fire-nature chakra into the Rasengan!"
"That kind of violent chakra… how is he controlling it?!"
"Shinichi can already do something like this?!"
The shocked cries in the stands instantly turned into horrified screams!
Many shinobi who had seen or heard of the Rasengan—this hand-seal-less A-rank ninjutsu—now stared in disbelief.
They recognized that distinctive rotating, compressed chakra sphere—but that blazing, violent fire-nature chakra completely overturned their understanding of the technique!
In the arena, Shinichi hovered in midair, his gaze as sharp as a blade, locking onto Isshin below, who had just split the wave of flames and seemed momentarily slowed by the sudden, searing threat.
Without the slightest hesitation, he thrust downward with the dangerous, violent crimson sphere in his hand—a fusion of ultimate fire-nature transformation and Rasengan's shape transformation!
The crimson "miniature sun" dragged a trail of distorted heat waves behind it. Like a falling meteor of fire, Shinichi descended toward the warrior on the ground!
Wherever it passed, the air crackled from the heat!
At the critical moment—
A heavy, ancient, bronze-like metallic sheen suddenly flashed across Isshin's body!
Adamant Guard!
BOOM!!!
The crimson miniature sun and the bronze body collided head-on!
A world-shaking explosion erupted, carrying scorching flames and a violent shockwave that instantly swept across most of the arena!
The sturdy barrier trembled violently, emitting a strained hum!
All the spectators were forced to squint or shield their eyes from the blinding light. Their ears were filled with nothing but that apocalyptic roar!
"!!!"
On the high platform, the Third Hokage's pipe froze mid-motion. A flash of intense concern crossed his eyes—worried both about Shinichi's hand and whether that far more powerful-than-expected jutsu might…
Tsunade's pupils shrank as she instinctively leaned forward, then cursed under her breath: "That brat! Using that move again! Does he even want his hand anymore?!"
Everyone else—whether ordinary villagers or clan shinobi—was utterly horrified, shaken by the terrifying power far beyond anything that had come before. Many were so shocked they stood up outright.
Inside the arena, as the light and dust gradually weakened—
Isshin, now like a bronze statue, was still standing firmly in place!
That crimson Great Flame Rasengan had not blasted him away. Instead, he had forcibly held it in place with a defensive stance!
The scorching flames and violent rotational force rampaged wildly across his bronze-like body, eroding it with sizzling sounds and harsh metallic screeches. The bronze sheen flickered and dimmed under the burn, turning patches of it red-hot!
He was tanking it head-on!
Relying on that unimaginable metallic body to endure a strike that could melt steel and vaporize rock!
The ground beneath his feet continuously shattered and sank—but his body stood like a mountain, unmoving even a single step!
Shinichi remained suspended in the air, his right hand pressing downward with all his strength, veins bulging on his forehead.
Two forces, unleashed in their most violent forms, fell into a brief stalemate.
A few seconds later—
BOOM!!!
A second, even more violent explosion erupted!
The clashing energy finally exceeded its critical threshold and detonated!
Both figures were struck as if by an invisible giant hand and were sent flying in opposite directions at even greater speed than before. They tore through the air and slammed heavily into the stone walls at opposite ends of the arena!
Bang! Bang!
Two dull impacts rang out, and spiderweb-like cracks spread across the walls.
The entire arena fell into silence—so quiet a pin could be heard.
Everyone stood up at once, their gazes anxiously sweeping through the dust clouds on both sides.
"H-how is it?!"
"Who won?!"
"No movement…"
After a few breaths—
"Cough…"
From the left side, a faint cough sounded through the dust.
Shinichi braced himself against the wall and slowly stood upright, somewhat unsteady. His face was slightly pale, his forehead covered in fine sweat. The sleeve of his right arm was scorched in several places, and the exposed skin of his forearm was red and trembling slightly—clearly showing the immense strain that attack had placed on him.
Almost at the same time, the dust on the right side cleared.
Isshin also stood up.
His clothes were even more damaged. All the exposed skin on his face, neck, and arms had turned an abnormal red—like metal that had just been taken out of a furnace. Wisps of white heat still rose from his body.
Yet his posture remained upright, and his gaze remained as sharp as a blade.
"ROAR!!!"
After the brief silence, a tidal wave of uproar swept through the entire arena!
"He blocked it?! He tanked it?!"
"That level of ninjutsu… he took it with his body?!"
"What kind of monster is that?!"
"Shinichi is insane too! That attack just now was terrifying!"
"Can they still keep fighting?!"
Shock, awe, and disbelief filled the air.
Shinichi's world-destroying Great Flame Rasengan, and Isshin's absurd defensive power, were deeply etched into everyone's minds.
Just when everyone thought this brutal and spectacular battle would continue—that the two would charge at each other once more—
Clap. Clap. Clap.
Clear, steady applause rang out from the dust on the right side, breaking the silence.
Isshin walked out of the scorched ground and drifting smoke, clapping as he went.
His reddened face carried a thoroughly satisfied, exhilarated smile. His gaze burned as it fixed on Shinichi across the field—like he was admiring a peerless gem, or evaluating a worthy rival.
"Good! Good! Good! Excellent!"
The warrior from the Land of Iron shouted "good" three times in a row, each louder than the last, his voice filled with undisguised, almost feverish praise.
"Your swordsmanship foundation is solid, your transitions are flexible! Your staff techniques are well-honed, your strength overwhelming! Your physique is tough and powerful, beyond the ordinary! Your Fire Release is astonishing, innovative and unique! And your tactical thinking—free from convention, unconstrained!"
He stopped walking, no longer approaching. Standing across the ruined battlefield, his voice rang clearly through every corner as he began listing them one by one.
"Higashino Shinichi, right?"
Finally, he tilted his head slightly, looking Shinichi up and down—the boy still carrying a trace of youth, yet steady as an abyss—and laughed loudly: "You should be around twelve years old, right? Incredible! Truly incredible! To possess such comprehensive and astonishing combat power at this age, along with such profound battle wisdom—haha! I won't say there will never be another like you, but I can say none have come before!"
"Twelve? None before?"
The crowd listened in silence, many showing strange expressions.
Those familiar with Shinichi—villagers, shinobi, especially his peers—had the same thought:
This warrior was wrong. Shinichi was only ten this year. He still had four months before turning eleven.
But the moment that thought arose, it was immediately followed by even greater shock and confusion.
Twelve?
No—ten!
Ten… and "none before"?
When they thought about it carefully—setting aside age and focusing only on what they had just witnessed—facing that monstrous warrior head-on, not falling behind, even forcing out his ultimate defensive technique, and unleashing a devastating, world-shaking jutsu—
Then perhaps… that statement, exaggerated as it sounded, was actually true.
At this age, reaching this level could indeed be called unprecedented—perhaps even unmatched in the future.
"Has Shinichi really become this strong?"
"We always knew he was a genius… but it seems we've still underestimated him."
"He's only ten! Ten!"
Countless spectators came to this realization belatedly. The way they looked at that young figure in the arena completely changed.
Isshin seemed very satisfied with the effect his words had caused. His smile faded, and his expression turned solemn—almost ceremonial.
"Higashino Shinichi! I, Ashina Isshin, am willing to call you the strongest!"
The moment those words fell—
the entire arena sank into deep silence.
The word "strongest" exploded like thunder in everyone's hearts!
A young warrior from a foreign land—who had just defeated two veteran Konoha jōnin in succession, whose strength was unfathomable—was now, in front of the entire village, solemnly bestowing the title of "strongest" upon a ten-year-old Konoha chūnin!
That recognition was so heavy it was suffocating—and so glorious it was blinding.
In the arena, Shinichi's expression did not change, as if that deafening praise had stirred nothing within him.
He simply steadied his breathing, looked at Isshin, and asked calmly: "Will we continue, Isshin-san?"
"Continue? Of course we will!"
Isshin laughed loudly, his voice filled with boldness and anticipation—but what he said next stunned everyone.
"But not now!"
His eyes burned with intensity, as if he could already see far into the distant future. His tone became incomparably serious, as though he were making a sacred promise: "Your potential is limitless, like the rising morning sun—its light has only just begun to bloom, far from the moment when it will stand at its zenith and blaze in full splendor! The you of today is still far from having revealed the full extent of your talent! And my swordsmanship is still climbing toward even higher peaks!"
"Today's battle was exhilarating beyond words, but it still left me wanting more! Let our true battle be reserved for the future!"
"When I ascend to the summit of the Land of Iron, achieve the ultimate peak of swordsmanship, and become the strongest in the Land of Iron!"
Isshin's voice suddenly rose sharply, carrying the resolve to cut through everything and the spirit to challenge the whole world: "When you have endured every trial, shine with boundless brilliance, and become the strongest in the Land of Fire!"
"Then let us meet again here in Konoha—or atop the snowy plains of the Land of Iron—and decide the victor!"
"And when that time comes, let us use our full strength to determine…"
Isshin enunciated every word, his voice echoing across the silent arena: "Who is the strongest in the ninja world of this age!"
Who was the strongest in the ninja world of this age!?
At those words, everyone in the arena fell into deep silence and shock. What this warrior from the Land of Iron had said was wildly arrogant—one could even say outrageously conceited.
And yet, looking at his resolute, confident face and that utterly convincing presence, for some reason, everyone felt he had the right to say it.
With the strength this young warrior had displayed, he would inevitably one day stand at the summit of the Land of Iron, becoming its strongest samurai—perhaps even the strongest samurai in all of history.
And what about Shinichi?
For a moment, everyone present turned their eager, burning gazes toward the boy standing in the arena.
"I look forward to the day it comes!"
With those words, under the watchful eyes of the entire crowd, Isshin said no more. He turned around, hoisted the halberd onto his shoulder, and strode toward the passageway he had entered from. His departing figure was unrestrained and resolute. He truly stopped there and left just like that.
All he left behind was a crowd of stunned spectators, and a black-haired boy standing amid the ruins, still surrounded by the lingering heat of battle.
Inside the arena, after a brief moment of silence and bewilderment, it was as if a keg of gunpowder had been ignited.
"Shinichi! Shinichi!! Shinichi!!!"
"Amazing, Shinichi!!!"
"You're our pride!!!"
"The future strongest in the ninja world!!!"
Cheers, applause, and whistles exploded like a tidal wave, instantly swallowing the entire arena!
The roar of voices nearly seemed ready to blow the roof away. Countless people waved their arms excitedly, faces flushed red as they poured all of their shock, pride, and ecstasy into their cries for the boy in the arena.
"This is great! Shinichi is too strong!"
Kurenai leapt to her feet in excitement, grabbing Shizune's hand tightly. Her beautiful crimson eyes brimmed with joy at sharing in his glory, and with amazement at her companion's overwhelming strength.
Shizune also revealed a sincere, relaxed smile.
Even though the outcome had not been the overwhelming victory she had predicted before, being able to fight a deep and unfathomable opponent like that to such an extent—to the point that the battle ended in a draw—and even receiving from him the recognition of being "the strongest," along with such a solemn invitation to a future battle—was itself an unimaginable victory!
As she looked at the figure in the arena, now beginning to nod slightly toward the audience in acknowledgment, her heart filled with pride—and memories from their three years at the Ninja Academy began surfacing in her mind one after another.
Back then, they had been desk mates.
Every morning, when she walked to the school gate with her schoolbag on her back, she would unconsciously glance toward the training grounds, because there would always be a boy there, carrying an enormous stone on his back and running lap after lap along the track.
Back then, Shizune didn't understand.
Why would someone carry something that big, that heavy, and run so many laps with it? No one was watching. No one was checking. It might even make everyone laugh at him.
Then why did he do it?
Even for physical training, there was no need to carry such a gigantic rock, was there?
The same was true at noon.
The moment the lunch break bell rang, the classroom would explode like a kicked-open beehive. Some people ran off to the grounds beside the field to play and fool around. Some crowded into the shade of the corridor, chatting and eating snacks. Others lay sprawled across their desks catching up on sleep.
Shizune and a few girls would gather near the window, lunchboxes spread all over the table, chattering away about what had happened between so-and-so from this class and that class.
But while she ate, the corner of her eye would always drift outside.
Because beneath that cherry blossom tree by the training field, her desk mate, Higashino Shinichi, would always appear there right on time, gripping a sword and swinging it through the air again and again.
When spring's lingering snow had only just melted and the cherry blossoms were about to bloom, he was there.
When the summer sun was so intense the leaves curled from the heat, he was there too.
When autumn came and all the cherry leaves had fallen, leaving behind only bare branches, he was still there.
And when the winter wind cut painfully across the face, in the midst of the driving snow, he was still there.
Occasionally, other students passing by would stop to take a look and comment a little.
"Isn't that Higashino Shinichi from Class Two?"
"He does this every lunch break."
"Doesn't he get tired?"
"Who knows?"
Shinichi never explained. He simply swung that sword again and again, turning the entire noisy lunch break into a training session that belonged to him alone.
Back then, Shizune still didn't understand.
She only felt that there was something strange about this desk mate of hers. He never seemed anxious, never flustered, never tried to prove anything to anyone. When others praised him as a genius, he only smiled politely. When others doubted him, he didn't rush to argue back.
Just like that rock. Just like that sword. He carried it. He swung it.
Three years.
More than a thousand mornings and nights.
Today, standing at the edge of an arena filled with a thousand people, looking at the boy in the center of it, Shizune suddenly understood.
He had only ever been doing the same one thing—doing what he believed he ought to do—from the age of six until now.
And he would continue doing it.
"Hmph. Not bad."
Tsunade had her arms folded, but the corners of her mouth curved ever so slightly upward. She cast a glance at the two girls beside her—one excited, the other lost in thought—and deliberately put on a stern face.
"See the gap now? From today on, the two of you had better keep working hard too! Don't let that brat leave you too far behind!"
"Yes, Tsunade-sensei!" Kurenai immediately straightened her posture and responded loudly, an even fiercer fighting spirit igniting in her eyes.
"Understood!"
Shizune also quickly came back to herself and answered loudly.
Up on the high platform, the Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, gently stroked his chin. The fine wrinkles on his face seemed to relax by quite a bit, and his eyes were filled with unconcealable gratification and pride.
This match, full of twists and turns, had ended in a way that far exceeded even his best expectations.
Not only had the village's honor been preserved and a hefty reward obtained, but one brilliant new star of Konoha had also, in the most shocking manner possible, won the recognition of the entire village and the respect of a powerful opponent.
Beside him, Utatane Koharu, who had always been known for her stern seriousness and severity, now wore a rare smile on her cold face. That smile carried relief, amazement, and a trace of complicated emotion.
Turning her head slightly, Koharu said to the Third Hokage in a low voice: "Hiruzen, I think I finally understand now why you value this child Shinichi so highly—one could even say you've indulged him."
She recalled how, over the past few years, the Third Hokage had practically granted Shinichi everything he asked for.
Special approval for the Shadow Clone Technique, access to the ninjutsu library, early graduation, arranging Maruboshi Kōsuke as a teammate to protect and support him, having Enma guide his training and even his contract, tacitly allowing him to develop dangerous jutsu and fully supporting his treatment after he was seriously injured because of it…
Even when choosing an instructor for the boy, Hiruzen had deliberated over it again and again, discussing it with her and Homura many times. In the end, they had originally settled on Minato, intending for him to become the child's instructor.
It was only because Tsunade—who, since the last great ninja war, had been constantly dispirited, indifferent to the outside world, and had even abandoned her duties as a ninja—suddenly stepped in, that Hiruzen changed the choice at the last moment.
But no matter what, the degree of trust and investment Hiruzen had poured into this child had exceeded even what he gave his own son, Asuma. Because of that, Koharu had privately expressed dissatisfaction more than once, believing Hiruzen had been too biased and too indulgent.
"This child's talent, judgment, and rate of growth have all far exceeded our original assessment." Koharu looked at the boy in the arena, who was calmly accepting the cheers of the masses, and continued in a complicated tone: "What's even rarer is that he isn't some brute who pursues strength blindly. He has his own path and his own way of thinking. He knows how to treat his comrades well, care for his fellow villagers, and, when it matters, stand up without hesitation to defend the village's honor. Even when faced with praise from a powerful enemy, he can still remain calm. That temperament, combined with this talent…"
She paused, then finally let out a quiet sigh. In that sigh, there was no trace of dissatisfaction left—only recognition and anticipation.
"You were right, Hiruzen. Your investment in him and the care you've put into nurturing him now seem, perhaps, to have been one of the wisest decisions we've made for Konoha's future. In the coming unrest, he may become an important pillar in stabilizing the situation."
After saying that, Koharu once again turned her gaze toward the arena, looking at that boy whose expression remained calm, yet who naturally inspired goodwill in people.
Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, back to a summer morning four years ago.
That morning, she had left home and passed by the Ninja Academy. It was still early, and there were not many people on the street. From afar, she noticed several people gathered near the school gate. She hadn't paid much attention at first—only, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something moving…
It turned out to be a child carrying an enormous stone on his back.
That stone was so huge that at first glance it felt absurd. Pressed onto the child's back, it looked like a heavy mountain. The rough rope cut deep into his shoulders, so deep it had already damaged the clothes he was wearing.
There were a few parents at the school gate seeing their children off, and two villagers passing by. They had stopped there, whispering among themselves.
"What is he carrying?"
"A rock, I guess? That thing is way too huge. This is ridiculous."
"That child does this every morning. I've seen it several times already."
"What's the point? He's so young—he'll ruin his body training like that."
"Exactly…"
Faced with everyone's murmuring, the child never turned around.
He did not slow down, nor did he speed up. He simply kept running steadily, as tough and unyielding as a reef battered by the waves.
Koharu stood there, watching that child enter the school gate. His back was completely hidden by the giant stone. All that could barely be seen were two thin little legs, taking step after step, steadily landing on the ground.
Only later did she learn that this child was named Higashino Shinichi—the same restless, unruly child she herself had once spoken of on the opening day of school.
Mitokado Homura pushed up his glasses. The gaze behind his lenses was equally full of admiration as he said: "And not only that. In today's match, the talent and potential he displayed—and that final recognition from the warrior, who called him the strongest—will greatly boost the village's morale during this period of war preparation and help unite the people's hearts. Its value is far greater than simply completing an S-rank mission. The money spent on that Land of Iron warrior's commission was well worth it, and Konoha has gained far more."
As he spoke, he too turned his gaze toward the calm, composed boy in the arena, and couldn't help but recall that day four years ago when he had passed by the Ninja Academy.
It had also been summer.
At one in the afternoon, the sunlight was scorching beyond measure, the cicadas were deafening, and even the leaves of that old cherry blossom tree on the training field had curled from the heat. All of Konoha seemed asleep.
Homura had taken a shortcut past the outer edge of the school. As he passed by the training field, however, the corner of his eye caught a trace of movement, and he stopped.
Beneath the cherry blossom tree beside the empty training ground, there stood a child.
That child held a katana in his hands.
He raised the blade, then brought it down.
He sheathed it, raised it, and brought it down again!
Homura stood at the far edge of the shade, watching him swing that sword.
Once, twice, three times, countless times…
Homura did not count them carefully. He simply watched that child repeat the monotonous motion over and over again.
From the school buildings surrounding the training field came the faint sounds of other children laughing and playing. It was lunch break. Some were napping at their desks, some were gathered in the cool shade of the corridors chatting, some were sharing snacks brought from home.
Only this one child stood beneath the blazing noon sun, on that empty training ground, swinging his sword again and again.
Homura watched for a while, then left.
Later, he passed by a few more times. Sometimes it was cloudy, sometimes sunny, sometimes blazing hot, sometimes pouring rain—but without exception… that child was always there.
And later still, when that child revealed his self-created ninjutsu, the Rasengan, at the entrance ceremony, Homura felt overwhelming shock—and only then learned that this child was Higashino Shinichi.
Listening to the words of his two old friends, the Third Hokage merely smiled faintly. His gaze remained fixed on Shinichi, as though he were looking upon the inextinguishable, ever-brightening fire of Konoha's future.
His thoughts, too, drifted back to that rainy night four years ago…
A moment later, he came back to himself, took a draw from his pipe, and slowly exhaled.
This farce had finally ended in the most perfect way possible.
And with the strongest's promise made by that foreign warrior—
everyone knew that today's exchange match, full of twists and shocks, had truly come to an end with the departure of that foreign warrior who had stirred up the winds and clouds.
But the name Higashino Shinichi—and that invitation to the "future strongest battle in the ninja world"—had already been branded into that afternoon, deeply engraved into the hearts of countless Konoha villagers and shinobi!
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