Genius vs. Genius

Scratch that.

This year is going to be torturous.

The written test was… laughable. Basic questions, stuff I could answer in my sleep.

Things like. "In which year was the village of Konohagakure founded?" or "Name the current five great Shinobi nations." I finished with a yawn hovering at the back of my throat.

But not before Satoshi did.

He put his brush down first, not with the rush of someone desperate to be done, like someone who knows they got everything right—or someone who didn't care at all.

Either way, it didn't take me much longer to follow suit, though I'll admit, seeing him finish first... bugged me more than I'd like to admit. 

The real test came after. 

Five laps around the Academy grounds. Easy. That's three times less than what I normally do for a warm-up.

I could practically hear Elder Shinji's voice in my head—"An Uchiha must always excel. Be the first to finish." I intended to, of course, but my eyes couldn't help drifting over to Satoshi. 

He ran at a steady pace, but here's the strange part: He didn't take off his geta or kimono. Who in their right mind runs in traditional wooden sandals? I kept my pace, but curiosity got the better of me. 

I finished the laps first, obviously, but Satoshi was right behind. As he crossed the line, I had to ask. 

"Why wear geta and a kimono? You could've run faster in something else."

His brow furrowed like he was thinking about something unpleasant. "I don't have much choice in what I wear."

That was it.

He didn't elaborate, and I didn't press him, though something in his tone told me there was more to it than that. The way his gaze shifted, distant, almost resigned—it reminded me of the way clan elders talk about duty.

Like something he's carrying whether he wants to or not.

After that, we had time to rest before the next test. It wasn't much, but enough for most of the students to catch their breath—though it didn't seem to help with the shurikenjutsu portion.

Most of them missed their targets. 

Poor form, tired arms, shaky throws. I could see the fatigue setting in. 

They hadn't trained for endurance. Some of them still had sweat dripping down their faces, their hands shaking as they tried to steady the shuriken in their palms. 

Satoshi and I, though? Not a single miss. We both scored perfectly. 

His throws were precise, perfect. It was impressive, in a quiet, deliberate way. I don't think anyone expected much from him because, well, he wasn't an Uchiha. But I noticed. 

And that brings us to now. 

Combat. 

I'm leaning against a tree, eyes half-closed, the sun filtering through the branches above. Beside me, Satoshi is standing with his arms crossed, his eyes shut.

He's not even paying attention to the matches in front of us. Not that there's much worth paying attention to.

The spars are slow. Painfully slow. Most of the students lack technique or jutsu. They're rushing in without a plan, flailing their fists, kicking like they're fighting shadows instead of opponents. 

There's no strategy, no rhythm to their movements.

There are a few who stand out, though. A Hyūga boy—his form is good, to be expected. His strikes are precise, but even he's holding back. He could end his match faster if he wanted to. 

Then there's an Inuzuka girl. Her movements are sharp, instinctual, but reckless. She fights like she's ready to tear her opponent apart, but there's no control behind it. 

Other than that? Not much to see.

The teacher's voice cuts through the air, pulling me out of my thoughts. 

"Next spar—Satoshi Yamanaka and Shisui Uchiha." 

I push off the tree, stretching my arms over my head as I glance at Satoshi. He opens his eyes slowly, almost lazily, like he's waking up from a nap. He doesn't look surprised. Doesn't even look interested. 

I meet his gaze, and for a moment, we just stare at each other. There's a calmness in his eyes. 

Something moves inside of me… Excitement, I realize. Finally, something interesting. 

He lightly taps my shoulder, gives me a wink, then walks to the field. It caught me off guard, but I followed right after. I could feel the eyes of the other students on us, their whispers drifting in the air. 

"That's the Uchiha," one girl mummers. 

"He's so cool," another girl whispers. "Do you think he'll win?" 

"I bet it'll be over in seconds. The other boy looks too… pretty and weak. Look at his outfit. He looks like a flower." 

I ignored the chatter, my focus entirely on Satoshi now. 

The teacher stood in front of us. "Before we begin, the rules are simple," She said, her voice cutting through the murmur of the students around us. 

"As I've said before, you are free to use any techniques, jutsu, or weapons in your arsenal. This is to assess your full capabilities. I will step in only if I feel one of you is in danger and cannot continue." 

I glanced at Satoshi, who stood at the other end of the field. He looked… bored. His arms hung loosely at his sides, posture relaxed, almost lazy. Was he even taking this seriously? 

The teacher continued, "Now, perform the seal of confrontation as a sign of respect to each other." We both raised our hands and formed the gesture.

As the teacher was about to began her countdown, Satoshi slowly raised his hand. 

"Can we use any techniques, jutsu, or weapons in our arsenal?" He asked. 

I blinked. Didn't he just hear her say that? The answer was obvious, wasn't it? I caught the faintest murmur from the crowd, some students whispering to each other. A few kids from civilian families probably thought he was stalling. 

"That is correct," The teacher clarified with a slight frown.

Satoshi nodded, and the teacher began her countdown.

"Three…" 

I shifted my weight, scanning my options.

Should I open with a fireball? No, too flashy. Shuriken? Maybe, but that might give him too much time to react. A taijutsu rush? Could overwhelm him if he's truly as off guard as he looks.

"Two…" 

I glanced at him. Standing straight, arms loose, no signs of tension in his body.

Was he not even considering a defensive stance? Why wasn't he acting like this mattered? From the whispers around, the other students thought the same. 

"Why is he just standing there?"

"Looks like he's already given up…" 

"Is he not going to fight?" 

This doesn't make sense, I thought. Is this some kind of strategy? Or is he just messing with me? 

"One—"

But instead of saying "begin," the teacher's voice broke through with something completely different. 

"The spar is over." She said, no hesitation, no question. "…Satoshi Yamanaka wins." 

Huh? 

My mind snapped into focus.

I blinked, and the world seemed to shift.

I was still standing in my starting position, but… the space around me shattered like glass, a world breaking apart. And suddenly, there was Satoshi, standing directly in front of me. 

I hadn't even seen him move. 

A kunai pressed lightly against my throat. 

He stood composed, his expression unbothered, like he was doing something as routine as sharpening a pencil. The look in his eyes was bored, like this entire exercise was beneath him. 

"Looks like this is my win, Shisui," he said as he removed the kuna and slid it back up his sleeve. 

I couldn't even respond. 

My body hadn't caught up with what just happened.

I blinked again, and my hand instinctively went to my neck, where the kunai had just been. I wasn't injured—he hadn't even touched me, not physically anyway. 

Then it finally clicked. 

He put me, an Uchiha, in a genjutsu. 

A genjutsu so seamless, so subtle, that I hadn't even realized I was in it. 

How? When?

I looked up at him, locking eyes again, and for the first time, I felt something unfamiliar—disbelief. Not in my own abilities but in the fact that, for the first time ever, someone had completely blindsided me.

And just like that, the match was over.

Satoshi Yamanaka had won. 

And I lost.

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[A/N] First spar of many between Satoshi and Shisui. As you are well aware, Satoshi's someone who prefers efficiency, subtilty, and precision. I wonder just how powerful this duo will become in the future? What the enemy villages will name these two rising stars?

I'm pretty excited. Are you? 

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