A week passed.
The Academy settled into routine. Basic chakra control. Shuriken handling drills. Endless repetition of hand seals until fingers moved without conscious thought.
Itsuki waited.
He did not provoke anyone. He did not display his Sharingan again. No one in class had given him a reason to.
Opportunity required friction.
And children were cautious around him now.
"Today," Takeda Hiroto announced from the training field, "we begin one-on-one practical evaluations."
The class straightened immediately.
Pairs would spar under supervision. No weapons. No lethal force. A simple test of reflexes, taijutsu basics, and composure.
Finally.
Itsuki kept his expression neutral, but a subtle tightening of focus sharpened his gaze.
This was useful.
One by one, students stepped forward.
They formed the Seal of Opposition before starting, and the Seal of Reconciliation after finishing. Even at five, discipline was drilled early.
The fights were clumsy but earnest. Wide swings. Hesitant footwork. Occasional success followed by stunned blinking.
Normal.
After several matches, Takeda glanced at his clipboard.
"Uchiha Itsuki. Yuhi Kurenai."
Itsuki stepped forward at once.
Kurenai followed, composed despite the faint color rising in her cheeks.
She raised her hands and formed the Seal of Opposition.
"Itsuki-kun. Please go easy on me."
Her voice was steady.
He mirrored the seal briefly, fingers touching hers for a moment before he withdrew.
Her blush deepened.
Itsuki resisted the urge to sigh.
This is a spar, not a festival.
They moved to their positions.
Takeda prepared to give the signal—
—but Itsuki raised one hand slightly.
Takeda's brow twitched.
"What is it?"
Itsuki lowered his hand and spoke calmly.
"My grandfather once told me something."
Several students leaned in unconsciously.
"He said that hesitation is defeat."
The statement was simple.
Delivered without arrogance.
But the implication hung clearly in the air.
Takeda closed his eyes for half a second.
Of course.
"Begin."
Kurenai reacted first.
Her footwork was clean for her age, stepping diagonally to close distance while attempting a basic feint with her left hand.
Not reckless.
Thoughtful.
Itsuki watched the shift in her shoulders.
He stepped aside half a pace before her strike completed, his movement minimal and efficient. His right hand intercepted her wrist gently but firmly, redirecting the angle of her momentum.
Kurenai adjusted quickly, twisting to break contact.
Good adaptability.
Itsuki allowed the exchange to continue for several beats. Light taps. Testing range. Observing reaction time.
Then he shifted.
A sudden acceleration.
His step carried him inside her guard, palm stopping a breath from her collarbone.
Still.
Controlled.
If this were real, the strike would have landed cleanly.
Takeda raised a hand.
"Point. Uchiha."
Kurenai stepped back, breathing slightly heavier but composed.
She bowed first.
"I see," she said quietly.
Itsuki returned the bow.
"Your timing is good."
He meant it.
She had instinct.
Behind them, whispers began.
"He didn't even use the Sharingan."
"That was fast…"
Takeda made a note on his clipboard.
From the corner of the field, two observers watched in silence.
Sarutobi Hiruzen stood with his pipe unlit, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Beside him, Uchiha Kazuma remained still as carved stone.
"Hesitation is defeat?" Hiruzen murmured.
Kazuma did not look at him.
"I did not teach him those words."
Hiruzen's gaze returned to the field.
"He controls his strength well."
Kazuma nodded once.
"That matters more than talent."
Below, the next match was being called.
Itsuki returned to the line without fanfare.
Inside, however, he felt it again.
That quiet resonance.
The subtle tightening of chakra when attention converged.
Not explosive.
Not overwhelming.
But incremental.
He understood something now.
It was not boasting that stirred growth.
It was pressure.
Expectation.
Challenge.
As long as he stood where others measured themselves against him, that pressure would not fade.
And pressure—
when endured properly—
forged steel.