Kimimaro and Akane returned to the cult's hidden base, their masks finally slipping off after hours.
The moment the cool air touched her face, Akane turned toward him with that same unspoken challenge in her eyes.
"Let's spar again," she said flatly, no hesitation, as if the words had been simmering in her throat the entire way back for some reason.
Kimimaro met her gaze, expression unreadable, before giving the slightest nod. "Fine."
The two of them moved through the winding stone corridors until they reached a wide, cleared cavern often used for training.
Without ceremony, both shrugged off their cloaks.
Akane's new Jashinist cloak slid from her shoulders in one smooth motion.
Beneath it, she stood revealed in full, her body framed by the dark mesh and black attire that hugged her form.
Long midnight hair, glossy and sharp, spilled freely down her back and swayed at her sides.
Her face, with its delicate cheekbones and pointed chin, almond eyes, and cherry lips, was striking, too mature for someone her age, framed perfectly by the faint smirk tugging her lips at the moment.
The mesh top traced her curves without hiding them, and the short black dress cut at her thighs gave her a balance of danger and allure.
Her Sharingan spun lazily in her eyes, crimson against pale skin, and it only sharpened her presence.
Every step she took radiated Uchiha pride, fierce and untamed.
Kimimaro's eyes lingered. He didn't mean to, but he did.
Her bare shoulders, smooth and pale under the training lights, pulled his gaze and held it.
Out of the four closest to him, Saya, Reika, Emi, and Akane, it was Akane who stood faintly tallest, oldest, and, hence, now the most physically developed already.
At fourteen, she carried herself like someone already past girlhood, her form undeniably womanly even if her expression still burned with adolescent defiance.
For just a moment, he was dazed.
Not just by lust, exactly, but by the sheer presence of her, a Uchiha who was both weapon and beauty in equal measure.
Her Sharingan, which she now used to intimidate him, in fact, made her even more charming.
Akane noticed.
Of course she did.
Her Sharingan flickered brighter, a faint blush rising across her cheeks as she turned her head slightly.
"Hmph. Don't tell me you're staring at my shoulders, brat."
Her voice was sharp, defensive, but her lips betrayed her, curving just slightly at the corner, betraying a flicker of satisfaction.
Kimimaro didn't answer immediately.
His gaze steadied, calm, as though her words meant little.
But the silence only deepened her flush.
"You really are still a child," she added quickly, scolding almost, though the words sounded thinner than she meant.
"So keep your focus. Don't get distracted by… those things."
The irony was obvious.
Her own cheeks were burning, her Sharingan spinning harder as if to cover the fact that she had reacted at all.
She ignored that inconvenient detail, pretending her pride had smothered it, but the warmth in her face told a different story.
Perhaps, Kimimaro thought, they all already saw him not as a boy their age but as something older. A leader, a figure above them.
Maybe that was why even Akane, proud, indifferent, Uchiha Akane, blushed when his eyes lingered for some reason.
He smirked faintly, finally speaking. "If I'm a brat, then what does that make you, letting yourself blush over one?"
Her eyes widened for a second, then narrowed into a glare. "Tch. You talk too much."
She looked away, crimson eyes spinning faster, covering herself in pride again.
"Just fight me already."
The atmosphere between them shifted, still sharp with Uchiha fire, but tinged now with something else.
Something she wasn't ready to admit, and he didn't bother naming.
Eventually, the air in the cavern grew still for a moment, only the sound of their feet scuffing against stone as they circled each other.
Akane's Sharingan spun, a bright crimson glow in the dim space. "Try to keep up, 'boss'."
Kimimaro answered not with words but with action.
A bone spike jutted from his palm, extending into a short blade, while his other arm flexed into a whip-like bone cord.
His expression was calm, clinical, though inside, he was focused, 'Show me the Uchiha. Show me what those eyes really see.'
Akane blurred forward, her sandals scraping softly.
The first sweep was pure Uchiha kenjutsu, sharp, clean, a kunai slashing for his shoulder, or some weak spot there.
Kimimaro twisted his bone blade to parry, sparks jumping at the clash.
But it wasn't the blade he paid attention to; it was her eyes.
The subtle twitch in her Sharingan, the way they darted over his form, calculating his angle and counter even before his arm fully moved.
He pressed in closer. "Use your eyes properly. Try to trap me."
Her lips curled into a smirk. "You'll regret asking."
The instant she spoke, her Sharingan flared, and the cavern seemed to ripple.
For a split second, Kimimaro saw a haze, two Akane overlapping, both aiming a kick to his ribs. He felt the pull of her genjutsu trying to overlay reality on his senses.
His Yin Release: Inner Bastion pulsed. Calming waves of yin chakra swept across his brain pathways, peeling the illusion apart like smoke.
He moved low, ducking under her kick, and swept his bone whip outward.
Akane sprang back, twisting midair, and landed lightly.
Her cheeks puffed in annoyance. "You broke it already?"
"Too shallow," Kimimaro said flatly. "Try again."
She grit her teeth but smirked anyway. "You're really asking for it."
Her hands flickered through seals, lightning chakra crackling to life.
Thin arcs of electricity snaked across her arm before she slashed forward.
"Lightning Release: Spark Cutter!"
A whip of raw lightning lashed out.
Kimimaro anchored himself, swinging his bone drill arm to meet it.
The chakra crackled violently against calcified bone, leaving scorch marks along the surface.
He noted it calmly.
'So her lightning cuts deep. Fast, but direct. Sharingan guides her hand, good, but predictable if you know it's coming.'
He pressed forward suddenly, his whip lashing in deceptive arcs.
Akane's eyes spun faster, reading the angles.
She leaned aside, bent low, and even slipped past the drill thrust with inches to spare.
Her chest brushed his arm as she slid past, cheeks heating as she smirked at him over her shoulder. "Not bad—for bones."
Kimimaro's expression didn't change, though internally he was amused.
'Pattern recognition confirmed. She's seeing more than instinct alone. But her body is still young—her reflexes can't always keep up with what her eyes show.'
She tried another genjutsu, subtle this time.
For a heartbeat, his whip seemed to veer off, striking wide, leaving his chest exposed.
He almost chuckled as his Inner Bastion calmly washed the image away.
He parried her kunai with a flick of bone and whispered almost absently, "Slower than the last one."
"Tch!" Akane stomped her foot, sparks flaring at her sandals.
She dashed again, her Sharingan fully whirling now.
Lightning chakra coated her kunai, humming with sharp intent.
Kimimaro lowered his stance, his blade and whip ready.
He wasn't fighting to win; he was watching her.
Watching how each tomoe caught the smallest twitch of his muscles, how she anticipated, how her pride flared when she nearly grazed his cheek with her lightning-coated kunai.
Their clash rang sharp, playful yet layered with something heavier.
Her eyes narrowed with fierce Uchiha pride, but her blush betrayed her every time his gaze lingered on her shoulders or the faint smirk tugging her lips.
And Kimimaro, calm as ever, thought, 'Good. If I'm to face Mangekyō one day, I'll need to master how to dismantle eyes like these. Better to start with her now, before it matters.'
The fight wasn't life-or-death, but in each exchange, they both learned.
By the time they broke apart, both breathing a little harder, Akane crossed her arms, smirking with that faint pink still on her cheeks.
"You might be stronger, but one day, I'll read every move you make before you even think it."
Kimimaro wiped bone dust from his hand, his face calm. "Then I'll just stop thinking."
However, Kimimaro hadn't agreed to spar just to humor her, or to sneak glances at the 'overdeveloped' curves she carried for her age.
His real purpose was to acclimate himself, to study the Sharingan firsthand.
After all, the most dangerous enemies he might one day face at the very top of this world would almost certainly bear those same eyes, the Uchiha's cursed gift, and he knew that.