Chapter 78: Chapter 78

Students from both the first and second year classes had gathered at the academy’s training grounds.

Although this was officially called a friendly match, no one expected it to be “friendly.” These were aspiring shinobi, and every one of them was here to win.

The air was tense, competitive sparks flying.

All except for one.

Hinata stood quietly among the crowd, her gaze drawn to a figure standing on the opposite side with the second years. The moment she saw him, her heart clenched.

Neji had already noticed her.

He frowned slightly—disappointed.

He had expected something different from her after hearing she’d become the top student in her year. But seeing her timid expression, it seemed she hadn’t changed much at all.

Frankly, he wasn’t even interested in facing her.

What Neji did care about was something else entirely.

He, like Uchiha Sasuke, believed that only the strongest deserved to fight each other.

The Hyuga and Uchiha clans—Konoha’s two great dojutsu bloodlines—had long been rivals in both open competition and subtle rivalry.

And more often than not, the Uchiha came out on top. So much so that people had begun to silently accept them as the number one clan in the village.

Neji himself didn’t care much for that label. But the Hyuga elders? They certainly did.

If he were to lose to Sasuke today, he knew he’d never hear the end of it.

But Neji wasn’t worried.

He wouldn’t lose.

“Hinata.”

Kitazawa stepped forward, gently patting her head. “If you’re feeling nervous, use the method I taught you.”

Hinata blinked in surprise, then nodded silently.

’Rice ball, rice ball…’ she repeated in her mind. Almost instantly, a sense of calm settled over her heart.

Just then, the chatter around them died down.

All heads turned.

Four figures were approaching from the far end of the field.

At the front—Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage himself.

Flanking him were two masked ANBU, and walking beside him was a younger shinobi in a jonin vest.

His spiky, pineapple-like hair was unmistakable. Scars lined his cheek and forehead.

“Oh no,” muttered Shikamaru, snapping out of his lazy daze the moment he recognized the man. “Why did my dad have to show up too?”

Ino chuckled beside him. “You’re in trouble. If you mess up, there’s no escaping your dad.”

Shikamaru sighed dramatically. “It’s not my dad I’m worried about… it’s my mom.”

In the Nara household, it was his mother—Yoshino—who laid down the law. She had rules for everything he and his father said or did. She was, frankly, terrifying.

That’s why Shikamaru’s greatest dream was simple: marry a normal, quiet woman.

“Go get ’em, Shikamaru.”

Choji gave him a supportive slap on the back.

“Ugh…” Shikamaru groaned. ’This was going to be such a drag.’

Mizuki, standing nearby, clenched his fists unconsciously.

’He really came… the Hokage actually came!’

Jealousy flared inside him like a wildfire.

But he quickly masked it with a bright, practiced smile as he and Kitazawa stepped forward to greet their honored guests.

“Hok—” Mizuki started, hoping to take the lead as the teacher representative—

—but he was cut off instantly.

“Kitazawa,” Hiruzen said, smiling warmly. “I brought along another referee. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all, Hokage-sama,” Kitazawa replied with perfect courtesy. “We’re honored to have both you and Shikaku-sama here.”

The jonin beside Hiruzen was indeed Nara Shikaku—Konoha’s sharpest strategist and, of course, Shikamaru’s father.

A crowd had also begun to gather around the training grounds—several other academy teachers had shown up to watch, including Kurenai.

None of them had expected the Third Hokage himself to attend.

That, along with the friendly way he addressed Kitazawa, instantly changed the way many viewed him.

Now, no one dared underestimate him.

Mizuki watched Kitazawa laugh and chat with the Hokage, his jaw clenched so tightly it hurt.

’Damn it!’

’Those should’ve been my connections. My privileges.’

“Looks like it’s time,” Hiruzen finally said, checking the position of the sun. “I’m looking forward to your performance.”

“Hokage-sama! We won’t let you down!” Mizuki declared loudly, faking enthusiasm.

He might have hated the favoritism Hiruzen showed Kitazawa, but he wasn’t stupid. In the ninja world, power—and connections—were everything. You never disrespected the village leader.

As Hiruzen made his way to the observation area, he turned to Shikaku.

“So, who do you think will win?”

Shikaku raised an eyebrow. “Hard to say.”

“Oh?” Hiruzen looked amused. “I thought you’d bet on second years.”

Shikaku folded his arms. “Shikamaru told me about First Year Class A’s special training. Sounds promising.”

He smirked faintly. “They might just surprise us.”

Hiruzen chuckled. “Well then… let’s see what these kids are made of.”

He had only caught glimpses of Class 1A’s training through watching Uzumaki Naruto, but the full scope of their regimen remained a mystery.

Judging by the standard expectations for an academy instructor, Kitazawa’s teaching methods already far surpassed what was allowed—perhaps even bordering on unorthodox.

But that was exactly the kind of ninja Hiruzen admired: principled, ambitious, and bold.

“The first event is Chakra Form,” Kitazawa announced, standing before the students. “Put simply—it’s the demonstration of Ninjutsu power. The stronger the jutsu, the higher your score.”

He looked across the assembled students. “We’ll go in turns by class. Class 2A will begin.”

“Mizuki,” Kitazawa gestured.

Mizuki, sparing him a cold glance, stepped forward. “Kojima Hide,” he called out in a measured tone.

Kojima Hide moved confidently to the center and formed hand signs.

“Water Release: Water Bullet Jutsu!”

A water orb the size of a clenched fist shot out from his mouth and splashed onto the ground.

Kitazawa raised a brow.

Well-prepared, are we?

Though the jutsu was rough around the edges, it was still a legitimate Water Release Jutsu—a rarity for students at this level.

Mizuki smirked smugly. But Kitazawa remained unshaken.

“Chiho,” he called.

A small girl hesitantly stepped forward and performed a basic Clone Jutsu, her hands trembling slightly.

Compared to the watery spectacle Kojima Hide had delivered, it seemed underwhelming.

Mizuki’s snort of derision didn’t go unnoticed.

Watching from the sidelines, Hiruzen Sarutobi rubbed his temples. The ninjutsu from both sides looked clumsy to his seasoned eyes.

“Hyuga Neji,” Mizuki’s tone lifted noticeably.

Neji stepped forward, calm and poised. He dropped into the stance of the Hyuga Clan and executed a seamless sequence of Gentle Fist strikes.

Hiruzen’s eyes narrowed with interest.

The rhythm… the precision…

He could almost see the shadows of the Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms within the form—a technique traditionally passed only to the main branch.

“Uzumaki Naruto,” Kitazawa said next, turning to his student.

Kitazawa felt a jolt of confidence. While Neji’s performance was crisp, it lacked the explosive flair that could captivate an audience. And this was still a show.

“Finally! My turn!” Naruto cheered, flipping theatrically into the center.

Kitazawa and Hiruzen both flinched.

He was wearing that same garish green jumpsuit again.

“How… intriguing,” murmured Shikaku with a thoughtful smirk, adjusting his collar.

He couldn’t reconcile the boy before him with the legacy of the Fourth Hokage.

Hiruzen braced himself—he swore if Naruto used that technique, he’d be giving both Kitazawa and Kakashi a long, stern lecture.

Thankfully, Naruto played it safe. He demonstrated Taijutsu—loud, wild, but energetic.

Hiruzen exhaled a long sigh of relief.

If the boy had used Sexy Jutsu, the Hokage himself would’ve been publicly implicated. After all, half the village already whispered that he was Naruto’s guardian.

“Tenten,” Mizuki called.

Kitazawa immediately understood.

Neji may have been the top student in Class A, but Tenten wasn’t far behind.

To Kitazawa, she was always two things: a rich loli and an absurdly llucky person. The kind of girl who could trip and stumble across a Six Paths Ninja Tool.

She stood tall in the center and unrolled a summoning scroll.

With a dramatic spin, she unleashed a torrent of kunai and shuriken that glittered as they rained down around her.

The crowd gasped in awe.

In terms of pure spectacle, she had just blown Neji’s Gentle Fist out of the water.

“Nara Shikamaru,” Kitazawa called casually.

“Such a drag…” Shikamaru sighed, slouching forward.

With a reluctant glance at his father on the sidelines, he performed a Clone Jutsu—flawless and precise, far better than his usual.

“If this kid had any motivation, he’d have learned the Shadow Imitation Jutsu by now,” Shikaku muttered.

“He’s still young. Let him be a little lazy,” Hiruzen chuckled, his mind drifting to his own rebellious son, Asuma—off wandering the Land of Fire as a Guardian Ninja.

One by one, the remaining students took the stage.

Hinata and Rock Lee showcased their Taijutsu.

Sakura, Ino, Choji, and the rest displayed basic Ninjutsu like the Clone Technique.

“I suspect First Year Class A will dominate the Chakra Control event,” Hiruzen observed.

As a Ninjutsu expert, he could easily discern the finer details—even from simple techniques. Both Sakura and Ino had remarkable chakra control for their age.

But beyond them, the class’s overall finesse stood out.

“Still, I think Second Year Class A will take this round for Chakra Form,” Shikaku noted. “Their Ninjutsu skill level is higher.”

“Not necessarily,” Hiruzen said with a smile, eyes gleaming. “Look—First Year Class A’s ace has arrived. Uchiha Sasuke.”

“The younger brother of the Anbu prodigy, Uchiha Itachi?”

Shikaku’s interest piqued immediately.

“Yes,” Hiruzen said quietly. “Fugaku really did raise two exceptional sons.”

Sasuke strode to the center of the field, expression calm and unreadable.

Without hesitation, he formed hand seals. His Chakra flared wildly.

“Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu!”

A massive blaze erupted—an eight-meter-high fireball tore into the sky.

Gasps echoed across the training field.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd.

Sasuke’s lips curled upward ever so slightly.

As he scanned the faces frozen in awe, he felt it—the sweet taste of dominance.

He was the center of attention.

And he liked it.

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