"You'll have to wait until you've reached Genin rank first. Right now, defeating me is impossible. "Naruto grinned, hands tucked behind his head as if the words weren't even meant to sting.
"Hmph. We'll see about that." Sasuke's tone wasn't angry—just steady, cold, focused.
They'd known each other long enough to understand each other's limits. Sasuke knew well that Naruto's strength wasn't something ordinary students could touch. If this had been the old him, maybe he'd have been jealous. But not now.
Because he'd seen it—Naruto's training. That terrifying, relentless grind where Naruto pushed himself until his limbs trembled and his breath came out in broken gasps. It wasn't training anymore; it was punishment dressed as discipline. Even someone like Sasuke, who burned with vengeance, had to look away.
And that was when he realized: his own strength wasn't enough.
If he wanted to surpass his brother… if he didn't want to be left behind by that stupid blond idiot—he had to keep going too.
"Yeah…" Naruto's reply was vague, more thoughtful than mocking. He could tell Sasuke's mental strength had hit its plateau a year ago. Despite his progress, it hadn't moved much since.
Sasuke's power came from the Uchiha clan's scrolls—heritage and technique. Naruto's came from raw, desperate will. Neither was superior, but only one of them danced with death every time they trained.
"By the way, Sasuke," Naruto said, tilting his head, "you're trying to break through, right? To reach that next step? Forget about sudden enlightenment or emotional triggers. That's not realistic for you. Killing someone? Even less so. You want to shatter your limits like I did? You'll need more than hate."
Sasuke's eyes sharpened. He didn't like hearing that, but deep down, he knew Naruto was right.
The gap between 49 and 50—it wasn't just a number. It was a chasm.
Sasuke smirked anyway. "The limit's already decided."
Naruto's grin widened. "Really looks like your style."
Without another word, Sasuke lunged. Naruto followed.
Kunai clashed in midair—steel shrieking against steel. Their movements were blurs, flashes of speed and instinct. Neither held back.
Sparks burst between their blades, bright even under the afternoon sun.
Sasuke's footing slipped. Naruto's power, the kind only a Genin-level fighter could muster, smashed through his guard. The impact sent Sasuke flying backward like a ragdoll.
To anyone else, a single point difference might sound minor. But between 49 and 50, the change wasn't arithmetic—it was transcendence.
A metamorphosis.
That's why the ancient Rikudō Shingon called it the "Threshold of Kyōmetsu." Crossing it wasn't an increase—it was rebirth.
Naruto watched Sasuke crash to the ground, unbothered. If Sasuke hadn't been thrown back by that strike, then he'd have been surprised.
Still, Naruto didn't chase after him. This wasn't a life-or-death duel. If it were, the fight would've ended the moment their kunai touched.
Because that's what strength beyond fifty meant—power that could tear through defenses and end the battle before it began.
This wasn't just growth. It was sublimation. It was transformation.
And Naruto, standing over the training field dust, looked every bit the storm he was destined to become.