Minato stepped onto the training ground, calm but focused. His movements were steady, though his fingers fidgeted slightly by his side. He wasn't afraid — just alert. Out of everyone in the class, he knew only one opponent could truly test him: Akagame Shanks.
Shanks, on the other hand, stood relaxed, wooden sword slung lazily across his shoulder, that same easy grin on his face. 'He's nervous, but confident,' Shanks thought. 'Good. Wouldn't want this to be boring.'
"Final match," the teacher announced. "Akagame Shanks versus Namikaze Minato. Begin when I give the signal."
Shanks tilted his head slightly, eyes half-lidded. 'Let's make this interesting.'
The teacher's hand dropped.
The moment the word "Start!" left his mouth, a wave of invisible pressure exploded from Shanks — thick, crushing, alive.
Minato froze mid-step. His knees trembled. It felt like a mountain was pressing down on his shoulders, like the air itself had turned solid. His breath caught. For a split second, he thought his body would collapse under the sheer weight of it.
'What is this?'
He clenched his teeth, forcing his body to stay upright.
Shanks chuckled quietly. "This… is the will of a conqueror. The spirit of those who never bow to anyone." His voice was calm, but it carried the same power as the pressure itself. "When a conqueror's spirit manifests, it crushes the weak. It's called Conqueror's Haki."
Minato, still shaking, managed to smirk. "Spirit of a conqueror, huh? If I hadn't felt it myself, I'd say you're full of it."
"Maybe," Shanks said with a grin, lowering his sword. "But the fact you're still standing proves something. You've got the same fire in you. As expected of my blondie friend."
Minato couldn't help but smile. Praise didn't mean much to him — but hearing it from Shanks somehow did.
"Then let's fight."
They both moved at once.
The first clash sent dust flying. Minato's speed was incredible — each step left a faint blur behind. Shanks' wooden blade moved just as fast, intercepting each strike with ease. To the watching students, it looked like the two disappeared and reappeared around the arena, flashes of motion and sharp impacts echoing in every direction.
"Holy crap, are they even human?" one of the students whispered.
"I can't even follow them with my eyes!" another shouted.
Each strike carried intent — Minato's quick and sharp, Shanks' heavy and precise. Shuriken cut through the air; Shanks deflected them effortlessly, countering with clean, controlled swings that forced Minato to dodge rather than block.
'He's fast,' Shanks thought, parrying another strike. 'Faster than he was a month ago.'
But something changed. Minato stopped responding to Shanks' teasing remarks. His face went blank — focused, detached, almost mechanical.
'He's shutting everything out,' Shanks realized. 'He's not thinking anymore. Just moving on pure instinct.'
Shanks' grin widened. 'Interesting.'
He increased the speed of his attacks. The wooden sword became a blur, striking from angles most eyes couldn't follow. The air crackled with force. But Minato — unbelievably — kept up. Every swing, every dodge, he matched it all.
Gasps filled the crowd. Even the teacher looked uneasy.
"This… this isn't an academy fight anymore," he muttered under his breath.
Shanks pressed harder. The ground cracked under his steps. The sound of wood striking wood echoed like thunder. Minato barely managed to parry, his reflexes running far past what a normal child could sustain.
Then, after nearly a minute of relentless exchange, Minato's rhythm faltered. His body slowed. Shanks saw the shift instantly — and in that tiny opening, he stepped in and flicked his wrist, landing a clean hit to Minato's chest.
The impact sent Minato sliding back a few feet, stopping just short of the boundary line. He stood there, breathing heavily, sweat dripping down his forehead. His knees wobbled.
Finally, he raised his hand, still panting. "I… give up."
For a moment, the field was silent. Then the teacher announced, almost reluctantly, "Winner — Akagame Shanks!"
Applause erupted around them, but Shanks didn't bask in it. He just smiled faintly, walked over, and offered his hand to Minato.
"That was a good fight," he said.
Minato grabbed his hand and chuckled between breaths. "You're something else, Shanks."
Shanks smirked. "So are you. Keep getting stronger, blondie."
The crowd cheered again, not realizing that what they had just witnessed was more than a simple academy duel — it was the first clash between two future legends.