The air between them was thick enough to cut. Satoru's Sharingan spun lazily, three tomoes catching the afternoon light, while Riku's two tomoe blazed with barely contained fury.
Kana's smile had frozen on her face, her eyes darting between the two Uchiha like a girl watching a bomb with a sputtering fuse. She knew Riku's temper; she had seen it explode before, in training, in arguments, in moments when his pride was wounded.
This was worse. This was public.
Mariko had shifted her weight, her hand drifting toward her kunai pouch, her body coiled to intervene. Ren looked exhausted; his shoulders slumped, his eyes half-closed, as if he had already accepted that disaster was inevitable.
Riku studied Satoru with narrowed eyes. His Sharingan traced the older boy's chakra pathways, cataloging, assessing.
'Three tomoe,' he noticed. 'He has three tomoe already.'
The realisation irritated him; his own Sharingan had only two, and he was older, more experienced, better trained. But Sharingan evolution alone did not determine victory. Combat experience, clan training, raw skill; those mattered too.
He was the strongest genin among the Uchiha of his age group. Only Itachi surpassed him, and Itachi was a freak of nature, a prodigy who made everyone else look ordinary.
He had expected more from Satoru based on the rumours. The boy who had turned down the Uchiha, who had chosen the Yamanaka, who had supposedly developed original techniques that made jōnin take notice. But standing here, facing him, Riku felt nothing.
No pressure, no presence, no overwhelming sense of danger. Satoru just looked... ordinary. Like any other genin, standing in any other registration line, waiting for any other Exam.
'He doesn't radiate anything,' Riku thought. 'Itachi and Shisui walk into a room, and you know. Your instincts scream at you to run, to hide, to surrender. This one... nothing.'
His confidence solidified. He opened his mouth to accept the challenge.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Miyake Shun's grip was light but firm; the kind of touch that was impossible to ignore without looking weak. "This isn't the place," Shun said calmly. His voice was soft, almost gentle, but there was steel beneath it.
"The Exams are tomorrow. Do not waste your energy on a fight that will not count."
Riku's head snapped toward his teammate, his Sharingan blazing. He wanted to argue, to shake off the hand, to prove that he was not afraid of some half-breed orphan who had crawled into the Yamanaka clan. But Shun's expression was unreadable, and his grip did not waver.
'He is right,' Riku admitted to himself. 'Fighting here would make me look immature. It would give Satoru exactly what he wants; a reaction, a spectacle, a reason to claim superiority.'
He turned back to Satoru, his jaw tight. "With all your arrogance, I genuinely hope we get matched during the Exams." His voice was low, controlled, but the threat beneath it was unmistakable.
Satoru's expression shifted; disappointment, confusion, a theatrical tilt of his head. "So you are not curious enough after all?" He sighed; a long, exaggerated exhale. "That is unfortunate."
He paused, as if remembering something important. "If you had accepted the demonstration, I could not promise you would remain in perfect condition for the Exams. So perhaps you made the correct decision after all." He smiled; thin, insincere.
"Good instincts."
Riku's Sharingan spun faster. His chakra surged, pressing against his tenketsu, begging for release.
'He is doing it on purpose,' Riku realised. 'He is pushing every button, testing every limit, trying to make me snap.'
He forced his anger down. He forced his Sharingan to deactivate. He forced a smile onto his face, tight and brittle.
"We will see. In the Exams."
He turned and walked away, his fists clenched at his sides. Kana hurried after him, shooting Satoru a look that was equal parts exasperation and warning. Shun followed at a more leisurely pace, his expression unchanged.
Team Two lingered for a moment longer. Daisuke chewed his chips thoughtfully, his sharp eyes moving between Shun and Riku's retreating backs. Team five also left, with Ren purposefully dragging Satoru away.
"That was an incredibly tense introduction."
Emi sighed; a long, tired exhale. "Working with knuckleheads like those two sounds exhausting. I am glad we have each other."
Ryo, the Yamanaka, was silent. He studied Satoru with an expression that was difficult to read; curiosity, perhaps, or wariness.
'Was he always this arrogant?' Ryo wondered.
He had barely interacted with Satoru inside the clan compound; the younger boy kept to himself, training alone, studying alone, eating alone. Ryo had assumed he was shy, or awkward, or simply focused on his goals. But this... this was something else. Socially abrasive. Deliberately confrontational.
'I do not know if I want to interact with him more,' Ryo thought. 'Or less.'
"We do not need to worry about those two," he said aloud. "We only need to focus on ourselves and our own team."
Emi nodded. Daisuke shrugged.
Ren waited until they had crossed the plaza and entered the shadow of the village gates before he stopped walking. He turned to face Satoru, his expression deeply concerned.
Satoru already knew what the issue was. He could see it in Ren's eyes, in the set of his jaw, in the way Mariko was staring at him with that mixture of exasperation and disappointment.
"Riku started it," Satoru said quickly, his tone defensive.
Mariko's eyebrows rose. "You also provoked Hoshino earlier. And the girl from the Hyūga clan. And pretty much everyone we have interacted with today."
"That situation was different." Satoru crossed his arms. "Hoshino crossed a line first. She questioned my decision to join the Yamanaka. She insulted my clan and my choices. I may have gone too far afterwards, but I will not apologise for defending myself."
Ren ran a hand through his hair. "And Riku? What was his crime? Asking who you were?"
"He was dismissive. Arrogant. He looked at me like I was something he had scraped off his sandal." Satoru's voice was flat, but there was heat beneath it. "He expected me to be impressed by his Sharingan, by his clan, by his lineage. I simply reminded him that he is not as special as he thinks."
Ren's jaw tightened. "You should know better than to escalate situations constantly. Especially with another Uchiha. You are not in the orphanage anymore, Satoru. You have a team, a clan, a reputation. You cannot afford to make enemies before the Exams have even begun."
Satoru's expression hardened.
He had spent years in the orphanage, wondering why neither clan wanted him. Wondering where he belonged. Wondering why he was unwanted. He had watched other children get adopted, get claimed, get taken home to families that actually wanted them. And he had waited. And waited. And waited.
Now that he had finally chosen a clan, people still criticised the decision. People still questioned his identity. People still looked at him like he was something less than a full member of the village.
"Both incidents are examples of microaggressions," Satoru said. "Hoshino questioned my clan affiliation. Riku dismissed me because I did not meet his expectations of what an Uchiha should be. They are not attacking me directly; they are attacking my identity, my choices, my right to exist as I am."
Ren's brow furrowed. "That was not Riku's intention. You are overreacting, reading too much into it. He was just being an arrogant jerk. There are plenty of those in the village. You do not need to fight every single one."
Satoru stopped walking. His voice was quiet, almost too quiet. "Overreacting?"
Ren met his gaze. "Yes. Overreacting."
Satoru stared at him for a long moment. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered behind his eyes; hurt, perhaps, or disappointment.
He turned away. "Kana was right. We should rest before tomorrow's journey."
He walked away before Ren or Mariko could respond. His footsteps were steady, unhurried, but his shoulders were tense, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.
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