"Wind Style: Vacuum Sphere!"
The final ANBU jōnin reacted the moment his two comrades fell.
He inhaled sharply and expelled a compressed sphere of cutting wind. The projectile twisted through the air, nearly invisible, sharp enough to bore through thick timber.
Most genin wouldn't even see it.
Itsuki did.
The three tomoe in his eyes spun steadily.
Wind Release might appear transparent, but it was still chakra. And chakra left a signature—flow, density, distortion.
Nothing cast by a shinobi was ever truly invisible to a fully awakened Sharingan.
"You think I can't see that?" Itsuki murmured.
The air cracked again.
"Wind–Lightning Body Flicker."
Thunder split the field as he vanished.
The Vacuum Sphere tore through empty space where he had stood, gouging a trench into the earth behind him.
Itsuki burst forward through the attack's blind angle, lightning racing along his limbs. His body moved with surgical precision, weaving between residual currents of wind.
He closed the gap instantly.
His foot drove into the jōnin's abdomen.
The impact bent the man double.
Before he could recover—
Itsuki stepped in.
One punch.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Each blow landed in the same region—precise, efficient, exploiting the momentary loss of breath.
The sixth strike sealed it.
The ANBU jōnin collapsed, body slamming into the dirt.
He did not rise.
Silence followed.
Three ANBU-level jōnin.
Defeated.
Itsuki stood alone at the center of the field, lightning fading from his skin as the dust settled.
If this had been a real battlefield, he knew the outcome would have been even faster.
Speed like that did not require fists.
It required a kunai.
He slowly lifted one hand.
Extended a single finger toward the sky.
Somewhere on the sidelines, Kazuma's expression darkened instantly.
Don't—
"My grandfather once said," Itsuki began calmly, "jōnin are only as strong as the standard they're measured against."
He paused.
"And today, that standard wasn't very high."
The words hung in the air.
Arrogant?
Yes.
Incorrect?
No.
Tsunade blinked. "He's talking about us too, isn't he?"
Jiraiya scratched his cheek. "That includes most of the people standing here…"
In Konoha, rank and strength were not always equal.
A shinobi could reach jōnin in ability yet remain lower in official position. Others held rank through leadership and experience rather than overwhelming combat power.
Hatake Sakumo stood among them—undisputedly Kage-level in skill, yet officially still a jōnin.
Rank was structure.
Strength was something else.
Orochimaru's gaze gleamed with interest.
"At this age… and already capable of overwhelming coordinated jōnin-level opponents. Fascinating."
On the Hyūga side, Hiashi stared in stunned silence.
His father spoke quietly beside him.
"Never judge a battle before it ends."
The lesson was clear.
At the front, Sarutobi Hiruzen exhaled a slow stream of smoke.
He had seen this posture before.
The finger to the sky.
The calm declaration.
The deliberate escalation.
Once at the Academy.
Now here—before clan heads, advisers, and ANBU.
He was not merely confident.
He was deliberate.
"This boy…" Hiruzen muttered softly. "He truly doesn't know restraint."
Yet even he could not deny what had been demonstrated.
Three jōnin.
Neutralized decisively.
The early graduation examination was no longer in question.
The only uncertainty now—
Was how far this would go.