Being descendants of the legendary Sage of Six Paths, members of the Uchiha clan were rarely, if ever, aesthetically displeasing.
At the very least, Uchiha Ryota was a handsome boy, his features sharp and promising even at his young age. That is, if one ignored the permanent, faintly sinister glint in his dark eyes—a look that seemed to constantly measure and find the world wanting.
In terms of sheer looks within their class, he'd barely scrape into the rankings, overshadowed by the more classically refined features of some, but he carried the distinctive Uchiha pride in his posture.
'Hmph! I've finally found my chance!'
When Uchiha Ryota saw that his randomly drawn opponent was Ren, he felt not a flicker of wariness, but a surge of vindictive excitement. He had long wanted to teach a lesson to this upstart who constantly "sought the spotlight."
And recently, this same individual had authored those maddening "practice problems," introducing Uchiha Ryota to a new, profound layer of academic suffering. If he weren't still so young, he felt the frustration alone might have been enough to awaken his Sharingan.
In the center of the training ring, the two boys faced each other.
Uchiha Ryota fixed Ren with that penetrating, arrogant stare, his lips curling into the clan's trademark condescending smirk.
"Let me enlighten you," he declared, his voice carrying across the quiet field. "Scores on written exams and target practice are meaningless. True combat prowess is the only valid measure of a shinobi's strength!"
His own academic scores were decent, solidly upper-middle tier—not everyone in the Uchiha was a prodigy, after all. But his confidence in a physical confrontation was unshakable. He had a Genin elder brother who regularly sparred with him, drilling him in practical combat scenarios. He was absolutely certain he would dominate in this arena.
Ren offered a humble nod, the picture of modesty. "You're absolutely right. Written and practical scores truly don't mean much. I'll be relying on your guidance today, Ryota-kun…"
He had, after all, promised Shinku Yuhi he would exercise restraint. Causing serious injury and inviting indignant parents to his doorstep would be counterproductive to his peaceful, profitable existence.
"Hmph!" Ren's deferential tone did nothing to mollify Uchiha Ryota; if anything, it felt like a subtle mockery, a challenge wrapped in false humility. He couldn't help but let out a derisive snort. The Uchiha were exactly this breed of proud—convinced only of their own internal logic, rarely swayed by external opinion. In simpler terms: fanatics.
A flicker of undisguised disdain shone in his eyes. "Then let's begin. I hope you can last more than a few seconds against me. It would be a shame for a so-called 'genius' to fall too quickly."
He emphasized the word "genius" with palpable scorn, his dissatisfaction clear. His goal was to dethrone this acclaimed prodigy, to use this combat test to restore what he saw as the proper order: the Uchiha as the village's true geniuses.
"Alright, let's start," Ren agreed amiably, utterly unperturbed by the hostility.
Of course the Uchiha were neurotic. What transmigrator worth his salt didn't know that? Furthermore, it was a universal trope: excellence attracted envy. Every story from his past life followed this pattern—where the protagonist went, conflict and resentment followed. And conflict, as he was learning, was excellent for triggering system missions.
The two boys formed the Hand Seal of Confrontation, and the match began.
Uchiha Ryota wasted no time on preamble, launching the first attack. True to his clan's reputation, he possessed a solid foundation. His initial rush was swift, covering the distance between them in a few explosive strides. His fist shot out in a direct, forceful thrust aimed squarely at Ren's face—a classic, aggressive opening.
The punch had real weight behind it. A clean hit would likely result in a bloody nose and involuntary tears, a surefire way to shatter any aura of cool composure and cause a dramatic plunge in popularity.
'How malicious!' Ren internally tutted. He had deciphered the intent behind that punch immediately: a targeted strike against his handsome face! What a vicious tactic! Didn't they teach children there were rules against such things? What kind of upbringing did this Uchiha receive?
Just as the fist was about to connect, Ren tilted his head with minimal, almost casual efficiency, letting the punch whistle past his ear. The movement was so precise it seemed preternatural, like a master displaying Kenbunshoku Haki. Simultaneously, he dropped his center of gravity and swept his leg in a low, swift arc toward Ryota's ankles.
"Not a bad reaction!" Uchiha Ryota, having mastered the Uchiha art of maintaining cool composure (the 'Show-off Jutsu'), offered a calm, almost complimentary smile. His first strike had missed, and the sweeping leg was incoming. With practiced ease, he pushed off with both feet, leaping into the air to avoid the sweep. While airborne, he didn't just dodge; he transformed his momentum into a counter, swinging his right leg in a sharp, downward kick aimed at Ren's head.
The short leg cut through the air with a faint whoosh, a testament to the considerable force behind it. 'He can't possibly block or evade this! This is the guaranteed follow-up my brother taught me! Victory is assured!'
"You're not bad either, truly worthy of the Uchiha name!" Ren offered praise, believing that elevating an opponent before their defeat made the victory all the sweeter. That was how you showed true style.
His own reactions were a blur. He raised his left arm, meeting the swinging leg not with a stiff block, but with a controlled, redirecting parry that absorbed the impact. The force of the kick was real, but Ren's stance, rooted and perfect, didn't buckle. In the same fluid motion, before Ryota could land or adjust, Ren's own right leg shot forward in a powerful thrust kick aimed at the boy's exposed midsection.
Thud.
A dull, impactful sound echoed. Uchiha Ryota, still airborne and committed to his attack, had zero chance to evade. The kick landed solidly. The air left his lungs in a pained oof as he was launched backward like a discarded training dummy, tumbling across the hard-packed earth before coming to a skidding halt.
He curled on the ground for a moment, clutching his stomach, his face a mask of shock and physical discomfort. His eyes, wide with disbelief, stared at Ren. Why? How did he have the stability and strength to counterattack after blocking my sure-hit technique? That's impossible!
The script wasn't supposed to go this way! He was the one meant to win with calm, superior skill. Where had the plot derailed?
"Phew! That was close!" Ren straightened up, wiping imaginary cold sweat from his brow with an expression of profound relief. "I almost lost!"
"..." Uchiha Ryota's face flushed a deep, mortified crimson.
Whether it was from the sting of his swift, humiliating defeat or from Ren's utterly shameless post-victory commentary, it was impossible to tell. Recalling his own confident boasts from moments ago made his whole body tremble with shame.
The pride of the Uchiha, however, forbade denial. He climbed unsteadily to his feet, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white before he finally forced himself to relax. He hung his head, the very image of a proud plant struck by frost.
"I… lost," he muttered, the words tasting like ash.
[Ding! Mission complete. System rewards issuing…]
The welcome chime and the corresponding message that bloomed in Ren's consciousness brought a subtle, satisfied smirk to his lips. Mission accomplished, reward secured. Excellent.
He offered a courteous cupped-fist salute toward the defeated Uchiha. "You were too kind. You let me win."
They performed the Hand Seal of Reconciliation, and Ren stepped calmly out of the ring, leaving a dejected Uchiha Ryota to shuffle off.
Once the winner was decisively clear, a wave of excited chatter and cheers erupted from the spectators, predominantly from the female students whose faces were lit with excitement. Ren had not just won; he had effortlessly dismantled an Uchiha in combat! His cool, efficient victory only amplified his growing legend.
It was foreseeable that after this display, Ren's popularity would experience another significant surge.
"What the hell? It was over that fast?" Asuma Sarutobi muttered from the crowd, his lips curling. Yet, his eyes held a new, serious glint. "That guy… he really was lying through his teeth. You can't trust a single word he says."
That was the reaction of someone who "didn't understand actual combat"? The guy was a pathological fabricator!
Nearby, Uchiha Obito watched as Rin Nohara's face lit up with an impressed, slightly excited smile as Ren left the ring. A hot, bitter feeling coiled in Obito's gut. He ground his teeth silently. Damn it! So what if he's a genius?!
Rin never used to look like that before. But lately, he'd noticed her initiating conversations with Ren. He hadn't caught the topics, but the frequency and her smiles spoke volumes.
He's moving in on her!
Damn it! So what if he's a genius? So what if he's handsome?! Uchiha Obito swore a silent, fervent oath to himself. One day, he would make Rin Nohara smile at him like that.