Days at the Ninja Academy passed with apparent normality, but for Matsuri, every second in the courtyard and classroom was calculated down to the millimeter.
Following his encounter with Shisui in the forest—which served as a brutal reminder of the abyssal distance between his mental theories and the lethal reality of a shinobi master—Matsuri redoureed his focus on his nighttime training. He knew the clock of destiny was ticking. Meeting the Uchiha prodigy meant that the tension within the rival clan was at its boiling point.
At the Academy, however, he needed to maintain the disguise of an ordinary student, even though his reputation was quietly shifting.
Ever since his clinical three-second victory against Kiba Inuzuka during the first sparring session, the gazes directed toward the masked, pink-haired boy were no longer filled with empty curiosity, but with caution.
And there was one specific gaze weighing on him with the intensity of sharpened blades.
Sasuke Uchiha.
Sitting a few rows ahead, the heir of the Uchiha clan kept his arms crossed over his chest, his dark eyes fixed on Matsuri's back while Iruka explained the basic theory of shurikenjutsu.
Accustomed to being the absolute center of all technical attention, Matsuri's silent opposition deeply troubled Sasuke's pride. The Uchiha mentally replayed the way Matsuri had handled Kiba: no wasted energy, no brute punches, simply using the opponent's weight and momentum against them. To Sasuke, who viewed the world through an incessant quest for power to match his older brother, that cold efficiency was abnormal for a boy of civilian origin.
How did he do that without using strength? Sasuke thought, narrowing his eyes. He doesn't have a famous clan, he doesn't have a bloodline... yet his movements seem to calculate every centimeter of space.
That afternoon, during the physical conditioning class in the outdoor courtyard, their silent rivalry found a gap to manifest.
Iruka had divided the class into blocks for agility tests on an obstacle course. The exercise required jumping over wooden palisades, climbing rope nets, and maintaining balance on narrow logs.
Sasuke completed the course with enviable speed, setting the best time in the class so far, and landing on the ground without losing his breath. He glanced sideways, expecting to see the reaction of his peers, but his eyes found Matsuri preparing at the starting line.
Beneath the dark mask, Matsuri took a deep breath, passively activating his Nature Breathing. He closed his eyes for a second, controlled-oxygenating his lungs to stabilize his heartbeat, and focused on his body's central axis.
"Go!" Iruka signaled with the flag.
Matsuri shot forward. Unlike Naruto, who ran with raw, disordered explosive energy, or Sasuke, whose movements were filled with refined athleticism, Matsuri's run looked like a calculated choreography.
He applied the logic of Jo-Ha-Kyū that he had studied in his memories and trained with Shisui: he started with firm strides, accelerated fluidly around the turns, and used the minimum possible effort to clear the obstacles. When jumping over the palisade, he wasted no extra momentum; he harnessed the torque of landing to propel his next step, exactly as the principle of Mai dictated.
He crossed the finish line one second below Sasuke's time.
The courtyard murmured in surprise. Kiba chuckled, shaking his head, while Sakura flashed a proud smile toward her twin brother.
Sasuke felt a chill of pure irritation run down his spine. The Uchiha's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. It wasn't childish envy; it was the shock of seeing his academic supremacy threatened by someone starting from the absolute bottom of civil society.
As soon as class ended and the students began to scatter, Sasuke deliberately walked over to the path Matsuri was taking to return the equipment.
"You're fast for someone without a last name," Sasuke said, his voice cold and sharp, blocking Matsuri's path. The Uchiha's dark eyes sparked with a veiled challenge. "But speed without ninjutsu is useless against someone who masters a clan's true strength."
Matsuri stopped. He looked at Sasuke from over his mask, maintaining the absolute calm guaranteed by his breathing. He knew exactly what the young Uchiha was feeling: isolation, the pressure of a name, and the desperate search for validation in the face of the abyss forming within his family.
"A clan's power can open doors, Uchiha," Matsuri replied in a low, controlled voice, echoing a maturity terrifying for his apparent age. "Clearing doors is one thing, but when you're knocked flat on your back, a last name won't pull your body back up. Only what you've learned to do on your own will."
Before Sasuke could formulate a sharp response to counter the philosophical provocation, Matsuri stepped to the side, bypassing his classmate with light and silent steps, leaving the Uchiha heir stranded in the middle of the courtyard with words trapped in his throat.
Watching from afar, leaning against the Academy wall, Iruka sighed, scratching his head with a tense smile.
These kids... the teacher thought. The future of this village is going to be extremely loud.
[Author's Note] Hello everyone, I hope you are enjoying Matsuri's journey! Writing and planning each chapter takes a lot of time, dedication, and effort (even more so dealing with hand pain from the keyboard!). If you like my work, believe in the potential of this story, and want to encourage me to keep posting frequently, please consider supporting me with any amount. Every bit of help makes a huge difference and motivates me a lot! ☕ To support (PIX[Mercado Pago] or PayPal): [email protected] Thank you so much for reading, commenting, and for all the support! ❤️