Yoichi stood alone in his courtyard, the morning air biting. He centered the dark energy he had mastered, his focus narrowing on a thick stone monolith. With a sharp movement, he drove his palm into the center of the target.
[Malevolent Palm (Entry) 4/100] (+3)
A dull thud echoed as the stone gave way. The monolith did not crack; it dissolved into fine, grey powder. This was the crushing weight of the technique, turning solid matter into dust instantly.
A stinging sensation flared through his palm after the release. He pulled his hand back, nerves pulsing with a biting heat as the stone debris settled. The power was immense, but the recoil was a clear reminder of the physical cost.
"Now, I need to strengthen myself even further," Yoichi muttered, his face a calm mask.
Subsequently, he turned around to hear the courtyard gate creak open.
"Yoichi! There you are!"
Tsunade called out, her voice booming.
The three stopped dead, eyes widening at the pile of fine grey dust where a solid monolith had once stood.
"Did you really do that?" Tsunade asked, her voice dropping as she crouched to run the powder through her fingers. She looked up, her brow furrowed with a mix of awe and fire. "That isn't just a break. You turned solid stone into sand."
Jiraiya whistled low, kicking at the remains. "Man, you're trying to outshine us before the exams even start. That's a scary look, even for an Uchiha." He grinned, though he kept a wary distance from Yoichi's hand.
Orochimaru stepped closer, his golden eyes fixed on Yoichi's reddened palm. "A technique that ignores structural integrity," he murmured, a thin smile touching his lips. "Impressive, Yoichi. Yet, it seems to demand a steep price from the user."
"Sensei finally caved," Tsunade said, standing up. "The Chūnin Exams are coming. Hiruzen tried to play the politics card because of your clan, but we told him we aren't going unless you're on the roster.
Yoichi looked at his reddened hand, his mind drifting to the higher-ups.
After his earlier clashes with the elders, the idea of ranks felt hollow and unimportant.
With sufficient resources in his arsenal, Yoichi felt that it was enough for him in the meantime.
He didn't care for the title of Chūnin, but he couldn't deny the reputation it brought to the table.
It was a double-edged sword; while it offered him more freedom, it also placed him firmly under the watchful, greedy eyes of the Council.
"If the old man agreed, I suppose I have no choice,"
Yoichi said, his voice level. He caved in after much thought. This time, he's more confident since his power has reached the Innate Realm or a Jōnin Rank according to the Martial Ancestor's words.
Not only that, but he trusted himself to handle all circumstances thrown at him. He's that confident.
The quartet marched through the village, the air growing heavy as they entered the Hokage's office. Hiruzen sat behind his desk, the room thick with the scent of tobacco. He looked up, his gaze lingering on Yoichi with a silent, weighted scrutiny.
"I see you have gathered," Hiruzen said, exhaling a slow cloud of smoke. He tapped a scroll on his desk, his expression turning grim. "The location for the joint venture is finalized. You are heading to Sunagakure, the Village Hidden in the Sand."
"The desert?" Jiraiya groaned, his shoulders slumping. "That place is nothing but heat and grit. It is a nightmare for a man of my talents."
"Focus, Jiraiya," Hiruzen snapped, his voice dropping an octave. "This is not a school trip. The desert is a graveyard. In Sunagakure, the environment is as lethal as the shinobi. Between the heat exhaustion, the giant scorpions, and the unpredictable sandstorms, many never even reach the arena."
Tsunade leaned over the desk, her brow furrowed. "So it is a survival trial before the actual fighting begins. They want to see who breaks under the sun first."
"More than that," Hiruzen warned, his eyes narrowing. "The Kazekage does not believe in soft lessons. In these exams, death is a common variable. If you fall behind or lose focus, there is no proctor to save you. You are walking into a den of wolves where the sand hides the blood."
Orochimaru's tongue flicked across his lips, his eyes gleaming. "A place where only the most adaptable survive. How fitting."
"You leave in two days," Hiruzen concluded, the smoke swirling around his head. "Prepare for the worst. If you go in thinking this is a game, the Sands will be your final resting place."
Hiruzen leaned back, his chair creaking under the weight of his gravity. "You must understand the true nature of these exams," he began, the smoke from his pipe forming a thin veil between them.
"They are not merely a test of rank. They are a proxy for war."
He gestured to the map spread across the desk. "In times of peace, the Great Nations cannot clash openly without risking total destruction. Instead, we use these exams to showcase our military strength to the feudal lords. The performance of a single genin can determine which village receives the most lucrative contracts and alliances."
Jiraiya stopped his complaining, his expression turning unusually sober. "So we're the showcase for the Leaf's bite," he muttered, punching his palm. "If we look weak, the village loses its standing."
"Precisely," Hiruzen nodded. "A Chūnin is a squad leader. You must prove you have the tactical mind to lead others through hell. To the world, a successful Chūnin candidate represents a village's future. To the Elders, it is a statement of dominance over our rivals."
Tsunade tightened her ponytail, her jaw set. "And if we fail in Suna, it sends a message that the Leaf is rotting from the inside. That's why you were worried about the optics of our team."
"The meaning is simple," Orochimaru hissed, his golden eyes reflecting the dim light of the office.
"We are tools of statecraft. Our victory ensures the village's prosperity; our death is merely a calculated loss in the pursuit of power."
Yoichi was silent, watching the smoke dissipate.
He understood the subtext.
To the Council, his participation was a gamble.
If he won, the Uchiha name gained prestige they feared; if he died in the dunes, a thorn was removed from their side.
The exam was a stage where the politics of the village and the survival of the shinobi became one and the same.
...
In a windowless chamber deep beneath the village, the air was stagnant and cold. Danzo Shimura sat at the head of a stone table, his face partially obscured by shadows. Across from him sat Koharu and Homura, their expressions etched with the weariness of those who traded in secrets.
"The boy is becoming a liability we can no longer ignore," Danzo stated, his voice like grinding stones. "He possesses a power that does not align with our control. I propose we take his parents into custody. It is the only way to ensure his leash remains tight during the exams."
"Have you lost your mind, Danzo?" Koharu snapped, her eyes narrowing behind her glasses.
"The Uchiha are already a powder keg. If their clansmen find out we have abducted two of their own, the streets of the Leaf will run red with blood. We cannot risk a civil war for the sake of one rogue element."
Homura nodded in agreement, his voice firm.
"The Uchiha's wrath is not something to be invited lightly. We need them as our shield against the other nations, not as enemies within our walls. Your suggestion is reckless and would undo decades of fragile peace."
Danzo's grip tightened on the armrest of his chair. Over the last three years, his influence had spread like a hidden rot through the village's foundations.
His organization, Root, had seen impressive growth, swelling in manpower as he plucked the most cold-hearted candidates from the shadows.
His resources had tripled, funded by black-market dealings and diverted village taxes. He had built a private army that answered only to him, equipped with experimental gear and forbidden knowledge.
Despite this surge in strength, even he knew that his current forces were not yet ready to suppress a full-scale Uchiha uprising.
"He is a wildcard," Danzo muttered, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "If you will not allow the parents to be used as leverage, then the desert must do what we cannot. If Yoichi does not return from Suna, the problem resolves itself."
"The desert is a vast place," Koharu remarked, her voice echoing in the damp chamber. "The boy has been away for three years. We do not truly know the ceiling of his growth. Use this exam to pull back the curtain. We must see every card he holds before we decide to fold his hand."
Homura leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly. "Observe him. Document his techniques, his limits, and his reactions under pressure. If he is to be a tool for the Leaf, we must understand the edge of the blade. Only then can we determine his fate."
Danzo remained silent, his single visible eye reflecting the flickering candlelight. He gave a sharp nod to a masked operative standing in the corner shadows. The Root agent vanished instantly, carrying the command to shadow the team across the dunes and record every drop of blood spilled.
Behind his calm facade, Danzo's mind burned with a singular, dark fixation. It wasn't just about village security anymore; it was about the evolution of power itself.
That power, Danzo thought, his pulse quickening with a cold greed. It is a force that transcends clan and rank. I will take it for myself, regardless of any obstruction in my path. If the village must bleed to secure such a weapon, so be it.
He watched the two elders leave the room, their caution disgustingly weak in his eyes.
They feared the Uchiha's wrath, but Danzo only feared being denied the strength to rule the shadows.
The sands of Suna would provide the perfect veil for his true intentions.
...
Yoichi stood in the center of the household, the familiar scent of cedar and tea filling the air.
Naoko moved with quiet grace as she packed a small pouch with medicinal herbs.
Her movements were careful, reflecting the fact that she was still slowly recovering from her traumatic past with Yoichi.
The old wounds of their strained history were healing, replaced by a fragile, newfound care.
"The desert is far from the shade of the forest, Yoichi," she said, her voice steady but soft. "The heat steals your strength before you even realize it. Please, drink often and do not let your pride keep you from resting."
Nobuyuki stood by the window, his posture relaxed but his face etched with quiet concern.
He was a regular man, distant from the world of shinobi politics, yet he understood that his stepson walked a lethal path. He placed a hand on Yoichi's shoulder, his grip firm and honest.
"I don't know much about those missions," Nobuyuki admitted, his voice low. "But I know those men in the high towers see people as pieces on a board. Don't let them change who you are out there. Just come back to us."
Little Akira sat on the floor, clutching a wooden kunai while looking up at his older brother with wide eyes. He did not understand the danger, only that his brother was leaving again. He reached out, tugging at Yoichi's cloak with a small, silent plea.
Yoichi looked down at Akira, then at his parents.
The sight of Naoko's recovery and Nobuyuki's simple honesty reminded him of what was at stake. "I will handle it," he replied, his voice flat but resolute as he turned toward the door, leaving the house to face the looming shadow of Sunagakure.
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Thanks to doomslayer24 for the Power Stones! I appreciate it, Senior Brother!
Oh by the way, do you have any creative thoughts on Yoichi's techniques? A sword or saber technique as a suggestion? Please let me know!