The intellectual defeat had rendered Kuro silent, but the core of his ambition—his belief in his physical precision—remained. Makima knew she needed to destroy this last vestige of self-worth.
The class moved to a massive training lake for the Water Walking Exercise. This was notoriously difficult, requiring continuous, microscopic chakra output to perfectly match the water's surface tension. It was the truest test of control, where raw power was useless without finesse. Kuro saw this as his final chance to prove his intellect mattered more than her Uzumaki resource pool.
Kuro approached the lake's edge, tense but focused. He ignored the admiring glances Makima was receiving and began his chakra molding, meticulously flowing the energy to his feet, aiming for absolute, surgical control. He was determined to regain his pride through sheer technical mastery.
He stepped onto the water. With agonizing care, he managed ten slow, measured steps, his movements tense but stable. He stopped, holding his breath, feeling the surface tension vibrate under his feet. He was proud. He had survived the first run.
Makima, still standing on the bank, watched him with an expression of cold, aristocratic boredom. Kuro's success, however brief, was an unacceptable exhibition of defiant chaos.
As Kuro prepared to take his eleventh step, feeling a surge of confidence, Makima issued a silent, surgical command. The Dictation was targeted to the water directly beneath his feet and the pressure sensors in his ankle.
"The water surface tension beneath Kuro Watanabe's feet must immediately fluctuate rapidly between 5% and 95% of its required stability, allowing him no stable surface, but forcing him into a desperate, visible, flailing struggle before his total collapse."
The effect was horrific. The stable platform Kuro relied on began to oscillate violently beneath him. His legs shot out from under him, but before he could completely fall, a desperate, ingrained reflex of his own chakra allowed him to catch himself, one knee sinking deep into the water while the other leg thrashed wildly for balance. He was flailing, desperately fighting the liquid platform that was alternately solid and liquid, a localized area of terrifying, engineered chaos.
Makima's sweet smile was gone, replaced by a cold, vicious smirk that only Kuro could perceive from the bank.
"Oh, Kuro-kun, are you having trouble?" she called out, her voice loud enough for the entire class to hear, laced with mocking, theatrical pity. "You almost had it! But you see, true control is effortless. You are struggling. You are fighting the order of the water with your paltry, third-rate chakra."
Kuro tried to regain his footing, his mind screaming in confusion and exhaustion. Every time he pressed down to stabilize, the water would momentarily solidify just enough to raise his hope, only to instantly dissolve, forcing him into a fresh, embarrassing lurch. He was drenched, shivering, fighting gravity and the invisible malice manipulating the water beneath him.
"Let me show you the true value of resources," Makima continued, pressing her palms together and executing a single, minimal hand sign—the sign for Water Release.
She didn't attack; she simply reinforced the entire lake surface around Kuro, making it perfectly stable for everyone but him. He was trapped in a small, localized area of chaotic instability, his failure magnified by the calm, perfect lake around him.
"My Uzumaki chakra is vast, endless, and utterly stable," she whispered, her golden eyes locking onto his frantic, exhausted face. "It commands this environment. Your will is a flickering candle trying to argue with the sun. Give up, Kuro-kun. Your struggle is ugly and futile. You are not worthy of the effort."
With a final, sharp internal command, Makima commanded the water beneath him to recede. The water level suddenly dropped a foot only in his immediate vicinity, breaking the entire structure of the jutsu and causing him to fall the final distance, landing flat on his back with a loud, humiliating splash.
Kuro's POV: He was gasping, saturated, and utterly defeated. It wasn't a slip. She did that. She was toying with me! Her chakra is monstrous, it moves the lake! His physical confidence was annihilated, replaced by the bitter, agonizing knowledge that his body, his environment, and even the natural elements were completely subservient to her whim. He lay in the water, defeated by a power he could not name or fight.