On the field, the two held their weapons, standing in confrontation.
The tension, as if swords were drawn and bows pulled, had nearly solidified into something tangible, pressing the four youths watching nearby until even their breathing grew a few degrees lighter.
In the distant treetop canopy, Minato and Tsunade, who had taken in the entire scene, exchanged glances.
"This…" Minato's brows furrowed slightly, and he instinctively moved as if to step forward and stop them.
"Wait." Tsunade stopped him, arms folded, the corner of her mouth lifting into a smile full of interest. "What's the hurry? Since this bunch of brats are so full of energy and have so many ideas of their own, let them toss things around for a while first. We can just watch and see what kind of tricks they manage to come up with."
Inside the field.
Kakashi had no intention of using ninjutsu. He simply slowly drew the short blade strapped to his back. Clearly, he remained extremely unwilling to accept the defeat from that blade clash years ago.
The moment the blade left its sheath, a chilling glint of light swept past, and the edge seemed to gather an invisible sharpness.
This was precisely the legendary ninja blade White Fang, whose name had once shaken the entire shinobi world in the hands of his father, Hatake Sakumo.
After his father's death, this legendary short blade had been inherited by him.
Opposite him, Shinichi merely stood calmly, holding his sword upright before his body.
The next moment, Kakashi moved!
His figure abruptly vanished from where he stood. Compared with the time they had fought at the ninja academy four years ago, his movements were faster, fiercer, and carried an unyielding resolve that pushed forward without hesitation. The short blade tore through the air, turning into a lightning-fast streak of cold light that thrust straight toward Shinichi!
Over these four years, he had clearly never slackened, turning grief and obsession into the driving force that pushed him to grow stronger.
But—
"Too slow."
Shinichi's calm voice sounded almost at the same moment as the clash of metal.
He merely turned his wrist lightly and slashed once. The sword appeared exactly along the advancing path of the White Fang blade, like an iron gate placed with perfect calculation.
Clang!
A crisp collision exploded.
Kakashi only felt an irresistible force surge through the blade into his hand. The web between his thumb and forefinger went numb, his forward momentum was abruptly halted, and his entire body staggered backward uncontrollably, his feet plowing two shallow marks into the ground.
How is that possible?!
A storm rose within Kakashi's heart. The confidence brought by more than three years of arduous training cracked under this single strike.
However, Shinichi gave him no time to adjust.
"What are you standing there in a daze for?"
The voice sounded right beside him.
Kakashi was suddenly alarmed. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Shinichi's figure—who at some unknown moment had already closed in like a ghost.
Gritting his teeth, Kakashi reversed his grip on the blade and slashed upward, attempting to deflect whatever strike might come next.
But Shinichi was faster. His longsword coiled around like a nimble serpent, deftly avoiding the blade edge. Using the flat of the sword, he again checked the White Fang at its point of force, then gave his wrist a sharp flick, turning the parry into a jolt!
Immediately after, his right hand thrust forward violently. The hard end of the sword's hilt was like a heavy hammer as it slammed into Kakashi's unguarded abdomen!
"Urgh!" Kakashi let out a muffled grunt, his body flying backward like a kite with its string cut. His back crashed heavily into the trunk of a large tree, shaking loose a rustle of falling leaves.
He endured the pain and had only just propped himself up when Shinichi's figure was already there like a shadow clinging close, pressing in again, sword-light pouring down like a storm!
Kakashi clenched his teeth and swung White Fang, desperately parrying. The sound of blade and sword colliding was dense as rain striking banana leaves.
He tried to counterattack, searching for an opening, but Shinichi's swordplay—though it looked simple—was rounded and unbroken, always slipping in with precision whenever Kakashi's old force was spent and his new force had yet to rise, or in the tiny gaps during the transitions between his moves.
"Weak!"
Shinichi's voice rang out coldly, along with the dull thud as the sword's flat struck Kakashi's left shoulder, tilting his body off-balance.
"Weak!"
The longsword traced an arc, the blade face smacking into his right wrist, nearly making White Fang slip from his hand.
"Weak!"
The hilt drove in again, crashing into his ribs and choking off his breath.
"Too weak!"
The final blow was Shinichi spinning into a ferocious side kick—his heel like a battle-axe—slamming into Kakashi's abdomen!
"Pff!"
Kakashi could no longer hold it back. A mouthful of sour water mixed with bloody foam sprayed from his lips. Curling up, he was sent flying again, rolling several times across the ground before he barely managed to stop.
Shizune, Kurenai, Obito, and Rin were already staring dumbfounded, their mouths unconsciously hanging open.
In their expectations, a clash between two already-famous genius chūnin should have been a matchup of equals—an intense, evenly matched struggle.
And Kakashi had graduated earlier, become a chūnin earlier, and carried out more missions; by rights, his practical combat experience should have been richer.
Yet the scene before them completely overturned what they thought they knew.
It wasn't that Kakashi was not strong. His speed, blade work, and reactions were far beyond ordinary shinobi, enough to make even them, watching from the side, feel alarmed.
But in front of Shinichi, he looked like a child being disciplined by an adult—pinned down everywhere, utterly bedraggled.
Shinichi had used only the most basic taijutsu and sword technique to completely suppress Kakashi, who held White Fang and was fighting at full strength!
"Disappointing."
Shinichi sheathed his sword and stood there, looking at Kakashi not far away as he struggled to crawl up, his voice carrying a cold indifference.
"You disappoint me too much, Kakashi."
Shinichi slowly shook his head. His gaze swept over the White Fang short blade in Kakashi's hand as it glinted with cold light, and the corner of his mouth lifted into a mocking curve.
"Why are you so weak, Kakashi? The convictions you talk about, the things you claim to uphold—are they only at this level? Clinging to the shadows of the past, wrapping yourself in a set of cold rules that deceive no one but yourself, and thinking that proves something—that it lets you surpass anything?"
He paused, his gaze falling once more on Kakashi's ashen face, and said with mockery: "It seems inheriting that blade didn't mean you inherited the capacity to match it. The so-called White Fang of Konoha… heh. Now it looks like nothing more than an outdated reputation—an empty name discarded by the times."
"Shut up!!!"
Kakashi suddenly erupted with a roar like a wounded beast.
"You're not allowed to insult my father!"
Chakra burst forth without restraint! The ground within several meters beneath his feet exploded with a bang, shattered stone flying in every direction!
This charge was faster than any before. Gripping White Fang with both hands, he turned it into a pale and resolute streak of light that tore through the air and stabbed straight toward Shinichi!
This strike was fast! Fierce! Absolute!
Yet in the face of this overwhelming attack, Shinichi's expression remained calm—almost cold.
Just as the tip of White Fang reached within three meters of him—
Shinichi moved.
Only a simple sidestep.
The movement was small, yet exquisitely precise, letting the blade that carried all of Kakashi's strength and emotion pass just along the edge of his clothes.
At the same time, the longsword in his hand rose silently, tracing an unadorned arc that nonetheless contained immense force and precise control.
There were no dazzling sparks, no harsh explosion of sound.
Only a dull, heart-stopping
Bang!
Bright silver fragments scattered like frozen teardrops, bursting outward and reflecting brief, desolate flashes of light beneath the sun, clinking as they fell into the dust.
Time seemed to press the pause button at that moment.
On the training ground, a dropped needle would have been heard.
Shizune covered her mouth. Kurenai's pupils shrank abruptly. Obito opened his mouth but could not produce a sound. Rin's cry was choked off in her throat.
Even Minato and Tsunade in the distance were stunned.
It had broken.
The short blade that symbolized a legend of Konoha—one that carried countless stories and honors, and also bore the tragedy of a fallen hero—
Had broken.
Kakashi remained frozen in the posture of his forward thrust.
His hands were still half-clenched in the position of holding a blade, but the weight in his palms felt light—almost empty.
Slowly, very slowly, he lowered his head, his gaze falling blankly downward.
There, in his hands, was the blade left to him by his father.
No—it could no longer be called a blade.
Only the hilt and half a broken edge remained, along with the scattered fragments around it, now dull and lifeless.
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