Right then, the massive gate on one side of the arena slowly swung open under the gaze of thousands.
The roaring crowd fell silent in an instant. Every murmur and shout vanished as if wiped away by an invisible hand, leaving only the faint whistle of wind sweeping through the enormous circular stands.
The first to step out was a tall, powerfully built figure dressed in simple dark samurai clothing, a long katana resting at his waist.
He walked alone, steps steady and heavy, entering the vast arena built to hold tens of thousands of spectators.
Ashina Style Isshin stood completely exposed under Konoha's blazing noon sun and the crushing weight of countless staring eyes.
The light carved sharp lines across his rugged face and broad shoulders.
He slowly lifted his head, his calm gaze sweeping across the sea of people in the stands—eyes burning with anger, curiosity, and disdain.
Faced with pressure that would make most people choke, he didn't look the least bit nervous. Instead, the corner of his mouth curled into a wild, unrestrained grin, his white teeth flashing in the sunlight.
"Now this is more like it."
Isshin's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an eerie clarity that reached every corner of the suddenly quiet arena.
The real show was finally about to begin.
Let this match watched by the entire village become my final and most important whetstone before the storm of the Third Great Ninja War hits. The key step I need for that crucial recognition and evolution.
To set up this stage, I basically bet my entire life savings—manga serialization royalties, mission rewards I worked my ass off for, even the consultation fees I earned at the hospital…
No! Don't think about it!
The more I think, the more it hurts!
He took a deep breath, shoving all those thoughts aside. His eyes sharpened like blades as he stared toward the opposite entrance where his opponent would appear.
At this moment, he was simply "Ashina Style Isshin"—a foreign samurai hungry for strong opponents, willing to pay a fortune for a real fight.
---
Up on the VIP platform, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, finally turned his full attention to the young samurai standing in the arena.
Yesterday he had only seen written reports and photos. Seeing him in person now gave him a strange feeling.
Odd… Why does this boy feel vaguely familiar? Almost… oddly close?
Not just him—the two advisors beside him seemed to sense something similar too.
Mitokado Homura pushed up his glasses and asked quietly, sounding puzzled, "Hiruzen, have we seen this samurai somewhere before? His face is new, but his build and presence feel strangely familiar."
The Third Hokage nodded, equally confused. "I feel the same way, but I'm certain I've never met him."
Utatane Koharu frowned as she studied Isshin below, then gave a cold snort. "Just another show-off playing mysterious. Let's see how Makoto exposes him for what he really is."
At that moment, from the opposite entrance, Yūhi Makoto stepped out wearing the standard Konoha jonin flak jacket. His presence was calm and reserved.
His appearance immediately triggered a massive wave of cheers and support from the Konoha side of the stands—completely opposite to the dead silence that had greeted Isshin.
"Konoha Jonin, Yūhi Makoto."
"Land of Iron, Ashina Style Isshin."
The two men stood facing each other in the center of the arena and exchanged names and affiliations according to basic etiquette.
A veteran jonin referee quickly entered the field. After confirming both identities and the rules, he announced cleanly:
"The match begins!"
The moment the words left his mouth—
BOOM!
The ground beneath Isshin's feet exploded outward in a spiderweb of cracks. He shot forward like a human cannonball, tearing through the air with a piercing shriek and a terrifying gale, charging straight at Yūhi Makoto!
The explosive speed and raw power he displayed far surpassed anything seen the day before. It was like an ancient beast that had finally broken its chains, driven into a frenzy. Just the sheer physical force of his charge made the front-row spectators feel genuine pressure crushing down on them.
"So fast! Holy shit!"
"Is this guy even human?!"
"Lord Makoto, watch out!"
The stands erupted with a mix of shocked gasps and worried shouts.
In the clan viewing section, Uchiha clan head Uchiha Fugaku's normally calm black eyes instantly turned blood-red. Three tomoe spun slowly within them. His face stayed expressionless, but his Sharingan had already locked onto the rampaging figure in the arena.
Not far away, in the Hyūga clan area, clan head Hyūga Hiashi and his brother Hyūga Hizashi both quietly activated their Byakugan, staring intently at the fight.
Inside the arena, facing that earth-shattering head-on charge, Yūhi Makoto's eyes remained calm as still water. His body moved like a leaf in the wind, slipping sideways at the last possible instant.
The samurai blade's cold edge sliced past his coat hem, the force of the wind whipping his forehead bangs upward.
The instant the first strike missed, Isshin changed tactics with terrifying speed. His massive frame showed agility that didn't match his size. The blade flowed seamlessly into a continuous storm of slashes, completely covering Makoto.
Makoto had already retreated. At the same time, his hands flashed as several kunai attached to explosive tags shot out with pinpoint accuracy, targeting both Isshin's pursuit path and his blind spots.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The explosive tags detonated in rapid succession. Fire and smoke instantly swallowed the area. The crowd's hearts jumped into their throats.
"Did it hit?"
"With that kind of explosion, he should be…"
But before the smoke even cleared, the towering figure burst out like a demon god!
His clothes were scorched and torn in multiple places. His exposed skin showed clear burn marks and blackened patches, but his movements were completely unaffected. His eyes only grew sharper and more feral, drawing another wave of stunned disbelief from the stands.
"What the hell?! He's fine after that?!"
"Is his body made of steel?!"
"I told you the guy's a damn monster!"
Yūhi Makoto's expression didn't change, as if he'd expected it.
Drawing on rich experience and masterful Body Flicker technique, he maintained a delicate distance from Isshin the entire time—like skillfully piloting a small boat through a violent storm. It looked incredibly dangerous, yet he always slipped away from the lethal blade at the critical moment.
He refused to clash head-on with Isshin. Instead, he used throwing techniques and ninjutsu to patiently circle, wear him down, and observe.
Isshin, on the other hand, seemed tireless. His attacks came like crashing waves, each one fiercer than the last.
Blade wind howled, carving deep gashes into the ground. His fists and kicks were brutally powerful, making the air itself explode with each strike.
The entire center of the arena had turned into a storm of flying sand and dust—a personal battlefield for him to unleash raw power.
"Too strong… Lord Makoto is completely suppressed!"
"He can only dodge—he can't even fight back!"
"Isn't Lord Makoto famous for genjutsu? Why isn't he using it?"
"You think genjutsu is something you can just spit out? The samurai's pressing him so hard—when would he even have the chance?"
"Besides, regular genjutsu probably wouldn't work on him anyway."
Uchiha Fugaku's three-tomoe Sharingan tracked every movement of the two fighters, trying to analyze Isshin's sword and taijutsu patterns. He found the style deceptively wide-open on the surface, yet the transitions and changes had no fixed pattern. It was pure combat instinct and adaptability—almost impossible to break down with standard sword or taijutsu theory.
"Such terrifying speed, power, and instant burst capability…" Uchiha Fugaku narrowed his eyes. "When did the Land of Iron produce someone like this?"
"His chakra reserves… are enormous," Hyūga Hiashi said gravely.
Hyūga Hizashi added, "His body—muscle fiber density, bone strength… it doesn't seem human. Taking explosive tags and ninjutsu head-on isn't just chakra defense. His physical body itself is comparable to refined ninja tools! This samurai is no simple opponent."