A New Path

As the match between Temari and Tenten came to an anticlimactic close, the electronic board flickered once more, randomizing the next two competitors. The arena remained tense, though the mood had lightened somewhat from the previous battle’s abrupt forfeit. Temari, despite her victory, looked dissatisfied as she stepped back into the stands, brushing off Kankuro’s teasing with a huff. But all eyes soon turned back to the board as the names settled.

Sasuke Uchiha vs. Yoroi Akado.

Sasuke’s dark eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the name. Team 7 and Team 10 had encountered him before—one of the suspicious men from the Forest of Death. A participant under the Sound team’s umbrella, yet not officially part of their ranks. An unknown factor, which meant Sasuke had to be cautious.

Kakashi, standing beside him, placed a firm hand on his shoulder before he could move. Sasuke glanced up, meeting his sensei’s singular eye, now laced with something more serious than usual.

"Be careful. And don’t let the curse mark activate. If it does, Danzo will use it as an excuse to interfere. He won’t hesitate to have you hospitalized—if not worse."

Sasuke didn’t react outwardly, but the weight of the warning settled in his chest. He wasn’t an idiot—he understood the stakes. He had felt the pull of the curse mark before, a gnawing temptation to tap into its dark power. He refused. This was his fight, his strength, his win. Orochimaru’s cursed seal would have no place in it.

Naruto, arms crossed, huffed beside him. "Tch, just don’t go all crazy and we won’t have a problem." Despite the casual tone, there was concern hidden underneath his words.

Sakura, standing just a step away, added her own quiet warning. "If anything feels off, end it quickly. You don’t have anything to prove to anyone but yourself, Sasuke."

Harry, watching intently, nodded. "We’ve got your back no matter what, but just make sure you don’t need it."

Sasuke let out a short breath, rolling his shoulders as he stepped away from his team. "I don’t plan on losing," he said simply before heading toward the stairs.

As he descended, the familiar burn of the curse mark tingled faintly against his skin, but he ignored it. He wouldn’t give Danzo or anyone else a reason to act against him. This fight was his own, and he would win it on his own terms. As Sasuke stepped down into the arena, he exhaled slowly, steadying his breath. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the weight of expectation settle onto him like a cloak. Then, without hesitation, he activated his Sharingan—his dark eyes swirling into a brilliant red, two tomoe spinning in each iris.

The response was immediate.

Up in the observation stands, the Third Hokage watched with calm eyes, though he had anticipated this reaction. The two-tomoe Sharingan was not a surprise to him—Kakashi had already informed him of the development after the events in the Land of Waves. Sasuke's growth had accelerated when Harry had nearly died in battle, the intensity of the moment forcing his dojutsu to evolve. It was a known fact to him, but not to the others seated beside him.

Koharu Utatane’s sharp inhale was barely contained. "The boy already possesses the two-tomoe Sharingan?" Her voice, though low, carried a distinct edge of discontent.

Homura Mitokado frowned deeply, eyes narrowing at the young Uchiha below. "And yet we were not informed of this. A matter of such importance regarding the last loyal Uchiha, and it was kept from the council?"

Danzo, however, remained still. His single visible eye was locked onto Sasuke, analyzing every movement, every detail. He was a man who prided himself on knowing everything that transpired in Konoha, and yet, somehow, this crucial development had slipped past him. That did not sit well with him in the slightest. "When did this happen?" His voice was calm, yet firm, demanding an answer.

The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, did not react outwardly. He merely took a slow puff from his pipe before answering, his tone even. "During their mission in the Land of Waves. Kakashi informed me upon their return. Sasuke's Sharingan evolved during the battle when one of his teammates was gravely injured. It is a natural progression, nothing more."

"A natural progression?" Koharu echoed, unimpressed. "He is the last loyal Uchiha. This should have been brought to our attention immediately."

"His growth is monitored closely," Hiruzen countered smoothly. "I do not see how this development changes anything. Sasuke is advancing as expected under Kakashi’s tutelage."

Homura crossed his arms, his dissatisfaction was evident. "Had we known, proper measures could have been taken to ensure his talents are cultivated appropriately."

Danzo, still watching intently, finally spoke again. "His power should be shaped with a firm hand, Lord Third. The Uchiha were known for their volatility. Left unchecked, his emotions could drive him down the wrong path."

Hiruzen’s gaze flickered to Danzo, sharp and unreadable. "Sasuke is a shinobi of Konoha. He is trained by one of our finest jōnin. That is all that needs to be said on the matter."

Danzo did not argue, but the tension in the air remained. He was not a man who let things slip through his grasp so easily. If Sasuke had reached this stage now, how much further would he progress? How much stronger would he become?

And, more importantly, could he be controlled?

Sasuke remained unaware of the political storm his Sharingan had stirred. He focused only on his opponent. Yoroi Akado stood before him, his posture loose yet ready. Sasuke knew little about him—only that he had been one of the shinobi lurking in the Forest of Death, allied with the Sound-nin. That alone was enough to put him on guard. Without a word, Sasuke reached back and drew his chokutō, the metal glinting under the light. He shifted his stance, blade angled low, Sharingan locking onto every twitch of movement from his opponent. He wasn’t going to waste time. He would finish this quickly.

Yoroi smirked beneath his mask, flexing his fingers. "Hmph. An Uchiha, huh? Let’s see if that fancy dojutsu of yours can keep up."

Sasuke didn’t respond. He had already made his decision. The moment the proctor called for the fight to begin, he was going to strike first.

And he wasn’t going to hold back. 

The moment the proctor signaled the start of the match, Yoroi wasted no time, his hands flying through a series of hand seals with practiced ease. Sasuke’s Sharingan locked onto the rapid movements, analyzing them with precision. He saw the pattern, understood the mechanics, and, without missing a beat, mimicked them perfectly.

"So you can copy, huh?" Yoroi sneered, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. He had assumed Sasuke would hesitate, that the Uchiha would be wary of an opponent whose abilities were unknown. Instead, Sasuke reacted instantly, his movements flowing seamlessly.

The hilt of Sasuke’s chokutō was clenched between his teeth as he surged forward, weaving through the signs as effortlessly as if he had trained with them for years. He felt no strain, no sluggishness—only raw, unfiltered power coursing through his veins. His chakra was laced with the Curse Mark, though it remained dormant for now, its influence subtle yet undeniable. Sasuke had expected to feel fatigue creeping up on him, the way it usually did when he overused his Sharingan. But it wasn’t there. Instead, he felt alive—his muscles coiled with energy, his reactions sharper, his stamina seemingly bottomless. His limbs felt like they could move for hours without tiring as if his body had been optimized for battle.

So this is what it feels like…

The Curse Mark, scientifically speaking, was a foreign energy parasitically enhancing his body's natural capabilities. It wasn’t just boosting his chakra reserves—it was restructuring his stamina output, increasing his efficiency in using energy, reducing muscular fatigue, and optimizing his reflexes beyond his normal limitations. In essence, it was making him a perfect combat machine.

And he relished it.

With a flick of his fingers, he completed the copied jutsu, releasing a burst of chakra-enhanced speed, his body becoming a blur. He closed the distance between himself and Yoroi in an instant, far faster than the other ninja had anticipated. Yoroi barely had time to react. The moment he raised his arm to defend, Sasuke’s chokutō was already moving. He pulled it from his mouth with his left hand and slashed downward. Yoroi twisted at the last second, narrowly avoiding a deep cut, but the blade still grazed his arm, slicing through fabric and skin.

"Tch!" Yoroi hissed, jerking back.

But Sasuke didn’t let up. His Sharingan read Yoroi’s micro-movements like an open book. He could see every muscle twitch, every slight shift in weight, every subconscious action that hinted at the next move.

Yoroi lunged forward, attempting to grab Sasuke’s arm—his ability allowed him to drain chakra on contact, and he was desperate to even the playing field.

Sasuke smirked. Predictable.

He sidestepped with inhuman precision, pivoting on his foot and twisting his torso in a fluid arc. Sasuke moved like a ballerina of death—fluid, precise, and utterly untouchable. Every twist of his body, every step he took, every strike he delivered was laced with an unnatural grace, a refined lethality that was uniquely Uchiha. It was an unspoken legacy of his clan—the way they moved, the way they fought. From Madara Uchiha himself to every Uchiha who had mastered combat, their fighting style wasn’t just brutal—it was artistic.

Yoroi, on the other hand, was clunky. Slow. Predictable.

Each of his attempted strikes was met with nothing but air, his frustration mounting as Sasuke twirled away at the last second, a smirk tugging at his lips. Sasuke was toying with him.

A palm strike came for Sasuke’s ribs—he wasn’t there anymore.

A sweeping kick to knock Sasuke off balance—he leaped over it effortlessly.

A wild punch aimed at his face—Sasuke tilted his head just slightly, dodging by mere millimeters. His Sharingan whirled, tracking every twitch, every subconscious tell, predicting Yoroi’s attacks before he even made them. Sasuke wasn’t just reacting—he was leading this fight.

"Tch!" Yoroi clicked his tongue in frustration, and Sasuke decided then—he was done playing around.

He let Yoroi touch him just for a second. Yoroi’s fingertips brushed against Sasuke’s arm, the chakra-draining technique activating instantly. Sasuke felt the unnatural pull, the sensation of his energy being forcefully extracted—and he grinned.

"Idiot."

With a single explosive movement, Sasuke’s fingers blurred through hand seals at point-blank range.

Tiger → Snake → Ram.

Fire Release: Great Fireball Jutsu.

A deep, burning inhale, chakra compressed into a scorching inferno inside his lungs. And then—he exhaled a roaring fireball erupted directly into Yoroi’s face. The heat was instantaneous, unforgiving—the flames rushed forward in a brutal explosion, engulfing Yoroi in searing agony. He screamed, stumbling backward, arms flailing as he desperately tried to pat out the embers licking at his clothes. His headband melted slightly at the edges, and his mask burned away, revealing blistering red skin underneath.

The arena fell silent for half a second.

Then—

"Damn."

The voice came from Kankurō, his brows raised as he exchanged a glance with Temari. Gaara remained still, but there was something in his gaze—interest.

Temari crossed her arms, shifting uncomfortably. "They're all insane."

"That’s the third one from Team 7 who went for blood," Kankurō muttered, lips twitching. "First Naruto with Kiba, now this?"

Up in the stands, Naruto snickered, elbowing Harry. "Think he's been hanging around us too much?"

Harry, unfazed, simply shrugged. "You’re acting like we’re bad influences."

"We are bad influences," Sakura deadpanned, crossing her arms. But even she couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at her lips. 

Down in the arena, Yoroi staggered, barely keeping himself upright. His breathing was ragged, his body trembling from both pain and exertion. Sasuke merely rolled his shoulder, twirling his chokutō once before sliding it back into its sheath. The match was over.

"Winner: Uchiha Sasuke!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, but Sasuke barely paid attention. His focus flickered to his shoulder—the spot where Yoroi had siphoned chakra from him. He flexed his fingers experimentally.

No weakness. No pain. Nothing. He felt fine. No—he felt better than fine.

His chakra felt sharper, his body felt stronger, and his stamina still felt endless. It was like the Curse Mark was feeding him power, even when it wasn’t activated.

And that realization sent a shiver down his spine.

Shino’s hooded face remained impassive, his posture relaxed, but the slightest tilt of his head betrayed his interest. Beneath his shades, his insects buzzed faintly in response to his shifting thoughts. Fire Release at point-blank range? A risky but effective move. Sasuke had controlled the flames precisely, ensuring maximum damage while keeping himself untouched.

"He let himself be grabbed," Shino finally murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

Hinata, standing beside him, looked down at her clasped hands. The attack had been… brutal. The way Sasuke had calculated his strike, how he had willingly allowed Yoroi to make contact, only to turn the tables instantly—it reminded her of how Neji fought. Controlled. Tactical.

"Sasuke-kun is strong," she said softly, eyes flickering toward Naruto’s team. They all are.

Kurenai, however, was focused on something else entirely. She narrowed her red eyes at Sasuke’s unnatural endurance.

"He should be showing signs of exhaustion," Kurenai murmured. Even after a fight that intense, using both Sharingan and Fire Release should’ve exhausted Sasuke, however, he was standing too strong, and too unaffected.

"There’s an odd mark he’s hiding," Shino supplied simply. “It’s on the right of his neck.”

Kurenai frowned, as she peered at Sasuke’s form, and then she saw it, The Curse Mark. That wasn’t a good sign.

"That was terrifying," Ino blurted, gripping the railing with white-knuckled hands.

"Tch." Shikamaru sighed, rubbing his temples. "Seriously… another crazy one. What’s with Team 7? Do they all have some kind of ‘go for the throat’ mentality?"

"Not Sakura," Choji pointed out, munching loudly on his chips. "She hasn’t fought yet."

"She hangs out with those lunatics, though," Ino countered. "She’s bound to be just as crazy."

Asuma chuckled, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. "They’re shinobi. You shouldn’t expect them to fight nice."

"Yeah, but that was just… cold," Shikamaru muttered, watching as Sasuke finally turned his back on his burnt and beaten opponent. "He didn’t even hesitate. It was like watching an assassin work."

"It’s expected of a Uchiha," Asuma said simply, blowing out another puff of smoke. "They were never just a clan of prodigies. They were a clan of warriors."

Rock Lee’s eyebrows furrowed as he clenched his fists tightly. He had wanted to fight Sasuke. He had wanted to prove himself against him, to show the Uchiha that taijutsu alone was enough. And yet…

"He is even stronger now," Lee said, his voice laced with something just shy of frustration.

"That much is obvious," Neji muttered, his pale gaze fixated on Sasuke. "But that wasn’t just talent—that was something more. He wasn’t supposed to be in top condition after that kind of fight."

"The Curse Mark, it’s on the right of his neck," Tenten guessed, expression wary. ”It’s definitely helping him now."

Guy nodded, his usual enthusiastic demeanor giving way to something serious. "The power of the Curse Mark is a dangerous thing. Sasuke’s control over it is impressive—but if it controls him instead…" He trailed off, concern deep in his gaze.

Neji narrowed his eyes. That power… It was unnatural.

"It makes him reckless," Neji muttered. "Did you see how easily he let himself get caught?"

"That was a calculated risk," Guy corrected. "But make no mistake—using power like that has consequences. We’ll see how long Sasuke can balance on the edge of a knife before it cuts him."

Lee’s fists clenched tighter. He would catch up. No matter how far Sasuke advanced, he would not be left behind.