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The Hokage sat in his high seat, the noise of the crowd below barely registering as his attention remained fixed on the battle. His expression was unreadable, calm as ever, but his mind was focused. He had watched the entire match with increasing intensity, aware that this fight was more than just a Chunin Exam match—it was deeply personal.

Pakura, from the Hidden Sand, had caused unnecessary harm to Daichi, Kushina's cousin. It hadn't been just another mission injury; it had been cruel, excessive. And now, Haruto, with his lethal focus and cold determination, was in the arena, driven by a need for retribution. The Hokage knew that Haruto was more than capable of crossing lines. He had seen it before. This was why he had asked Minato to referee—to ensure that nothing irreversible happened. Haruto wasn't just any shinobi; he had killed before, and he wouldn't hesitate to do it again if pushed.

As the match wore on, the Hokage could sense the shifting momentum. Pakura, formidable with her Scorch Release, had started strong. Her flames, so feared by her enemies, had been unleashed in a torrent of power, forcing Haruto onto the defensive. But the Hokage had noted how Haruto handled it—with precision, with patience. The boy had come prepared, using heat-repelling seals to neutralize Pakura's greatest advantage. The Hokage couldn't help but admire the strategic foresight Haruto had shown, but he also knew that this wasn't just a battle of skill. It was about revenge.

The tension in the air thickened as Pakura's attacks weakened. She had been pushed to her limits, her Scorch Release dwindling. The Hokage saw it in her faltering movements, her unsteady hands as she struggled to form seals. She was running out of options, and Haruto was relentless. Every strike he landed seemed to chip away at her defenses, driving her closer to the edge.

He's dismantling her, the Hokage thought, watching as Pakura staggered back, barely able to stay on her feet. Haruto had systematically broken her down, piece by piece. But the Hokage knew that Haruto wasn't simply aiming to win—this was about making her pay.

Then, in an instant, the atmosphere shifted. The Hokage saw it. Haruto's chakra flared violently, his eyes cold and focused. The Thunder Scalpel crackled to life in his hand, bright and deadly. The Hokage's body tensed instinctively.

This is it, he thought. He's going for the kill.

Pakura, barely standing, her body broken, had no way to defend herself. The Hokage's heart quickened as he realized the gravity of what was about to happen. If Haruto struck now, Pakura wouldn't survive. Haruto had pushed her too far, and he knew it. This wasn't just a decisive blow—it was a finishing move.

The Hokage's grip tightened on the armrests of his chair, his mind racing. He trusted Minato, but the situation was teetering on the edge of catastrophe. The village had already been strained by Pakura's actions against Daichi, but if Haruto killed her now, the consequences would ripple through both villages. A diplomatic crisis with the Sand was not something they could afford.

And then, as if on cue, the familiar flash of yellow light appeared in the arena.

Minato had acted. The Hokage watched closely as the Fourth Hokage materialized between Haruto and Pakura, his hand closing around Haruto's wrist just as the deadly blade of the Thunder Scalpel was about to descend. For a brief moment, the Hokage relaxed, trusting that Minato had stopped the situation from spiraling out of control.

But then Haruto moved.

In a blur of motion, Haruto twisted, using the momentum of Minato's grip to flip over his back. The Hokage's eyes widened ever so slightly. Haruto's speed was remarkable, and in one fluid movement, he had redirected his strike, the crackling Thunder Scalpel aimed directly at Pakura's throat.

The Hokage's breath caught in his throat. Pakura was defenseless, too weak to stop the attack. It was happening again, faster than even he had anticipated.

Minato, stop him.

The Hokage's fingers clenched, ready to act if necessary, but his faith in Minato remained.

And sure enough, Minato moved just as swiftly. His elbow shot out, striking Haruto's arm and deflecting the attack at the last possible moment.

The Thunder Scalpel veered off course, slicing a moderate cut across Pakura's neck instead of ending her life. She gasped, collapsing to the ground, her hand clutching at the wound as blood trickled between her fingers. The medical-nin rushed into the arena, but the Hokage was already leaning back in his seat, his body finally relaxing. Pakura was alive. That was what mattered.

Haruto, still tense, stood with clenched fists, his eyes burning with frustration. Minato's grip on his wrist remained firm, though calm. The Hokage observed their exchange closely, noting the brief look of understanding that passed between them. Haruto had pushed the fight as far as he could, but Minato had stopped him before it went too far. Just as the Hokage had known he would.

"It's over, Haruto," Minato said, his voice steady and calm, yet firm. The words carried across the arena, signaling the end of the match.

Haruto hesitated for a moment, his eyes flicking toward Pakura's broken form. She was still breathing, her chest rising and falling weakly. He had come close—so close—but Minato had ensured that the line wasn't crossed. Slowly, the tension in Haruto's body began to ease, his fists unclenching as the reality of the situation settled in.

Without another word, Haruto turned and walked away from the arena, his posture rigid but accepting. The Hokage watched him go, his eyes lingering on the boy's retreating figure. Haruto had proven his strength, his skill, and his ruthlessness. But Minato had prevented the situation from becoming something much worse.

As the medical-nin tended to Pakura, the Hokage let out a quiet sigh of relief. The fight had been close—too close. But thanks to Minato, the village had been spared the consequences of Haruto's fury. Pakura would live, and Haruto had delivered the message he had wanted to send.

This is why I trusted Minato, the Hokage thought, his eyes softening as he observed his chosen referee. Minato had managed the fight perfectly, allowing justice to be served without letting it escalate into disaster.

The Hokage stood slowly, the weight of the match lifting from his shoulders. As he prepared to leave the arena, he knew that today had been a victory, not just for Haruto, but for the village. The balance had been kept, and for now, that was enough.