Twin Demons. Chapter 63

“THE NEW GENERATION OF ETERNAL RIVALS IS ABOUT TO CLASH!” roared Might Guy, leaning so far over the balcony it looked like he was ready to jump down himself. “I CAN ALREADY FEEL THE FLAMES OF YOUTH BURNING IN MY HEART!!!”

He shook his fists with such passion that even the Hokage lowered his hat to avoid witnessing it. Kakashi slowly stepped aside, pretending he’d never met that man in his life.

“If he yells any louder, I might start believing his chakra reserves are fueled by everyone else’s embarrassment,” muttered Menma, massaging his temples.

Karin, standing beside him, sighed loudly but didn’t look away. Two figures were already stepping into the arena — Uchiha Sasuke and Rock Lee.

“Well, so much for your theory about strong versus weak,” she noted as Sasuke elegantly teleported onto the arena with a shunshin, while Lee simply jumped down. “They’re both seriously strong.”

“They’re feeding Lee to the wolves,” Menma said through clenched teeth, gripping the railing.

“What? Why?” Karin adjusted her glasses, frowning.

“Because Lee’s a chakra cripple,” Menma replied lazily, as if stating the obvious. “He can’t use ninjutsu or genjutsu at all. Konoha doesn’t want to flaunt that kind of ‘product’ in front of potential clients.” He paused, then added quieter, almost with pity, “So they paired him against one of the strongest genin. Lucky it’s not Gaara. Sasuke won’t kill him — and that’s already something.”

Karin’s expression shifted; for the first time she looked at the arena not with curiosity but concern. Below their balcony, Sasuke stood motionless, his right hand resting on the handle of his tanto. His gaze was cold and focused — the look of a predator that’s finally found worthy prey.

Hayate Gekkō, coughing as usual, had just opened his mouth to announce the start of the match when a deafening shout exploded again:

“LEE! I HAVE A PIECE OF ADVICE FOR YOU!!!”

“YES, GUY-SENSEI!!!” Lee instantly raised his hand, beaming.

“WATCH OUT FOR HIS SWORD!!!”

For a moment, silence fell. Then Asuma smacked his face with a loud slap, while Kakashi turned toward the wall with a look that clearly said, I’m not here.

“Thank you, Shinigami, for giving us a sane sensei,” groaned Menma. “And thank you for not putting me on Guy’s team. My psyche wouldn’t survive it.”

Karin almost burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand.

Down below, as if nothing odd had happened, Lee pulled a small notebook from his pouch and neatly wrote down Guy’s advice. The sight made Menma genuinely want to bang his head against the wall.

“GO, LEE!” Guy gave him a thumbs-up. “SHOW THE WORLD THE FLAME OF YOUR YOUTH!”

“If we’re done with the advice…” Hayate wheezed, “the seven match begins!”

Lee straightened his back, his eyes shining. “To meet you so soon, Uchiha Sasuke — what an honor!” he said eagerly.

He took his signature stance: right hand forward, palm up, left hand pressed behind his back.

“Likewise,” Sasuke replied with icy calm. His eyes flared red, the tomoe spinning in his pupils.

“The Sharingan…” whispered Karin in awe. It was her first time seeing the legendary eyes.

Lee moved first, a green blur flashing across the arena. His kick sliced through the air, whipping up a swirl of dust and wind. “LEAF HURRICANE!”

Sasuke, his expression unchanged, blocked the strike with the blunt side of his blade and instantly countered. Their movements blurred together — steel and flesh, speed and precision.

“Lee’s speed isn’t helping him at all,” Karin said quietly, watching intently.

“Of course not,” Sakura replied smugly. “Sasuke-kun’s trained by Kakashi-sensei, the lightning-fast assassin.”

Below, Sasuke mirrored Lee’s movements almost perfectly, following every pattern with a fraction of a second advantage. His eyes were pure analysis. Every blow from Lee met a block or dodge, as if Sasuke were reading his mind.

The end came quickly. A feint with the tanto — a distraction. A sudden throw — and dozens of thin wires with kunai wrapped around Lee, binding him head to toe.

Sasuke was behind him in an instant, the blade glinting coldly at his throat.

“The winner — Uchiha Sa—”

“No!” barked Sasuke so sharply that even Hayate choked mid-sentence. “Lee, tell me why you’re holding back.”

“Wha—?” Lee blinked, confused.

“I used my Sharingan and my sword right away. You only showed a few basic moves. Are you underestimating me? The student of my teacher’s eternal rival should be capable of more.”

The crowd gasped. Lee blinked again, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

“LEE! YOU HAVE DISAPPOINTED ME!!!” bellowed Guy. “YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THEM OFF IMMEDIATELY!!!”

“But, Guy-sensei!” Lee cried, almost in tears. “You said I can only do that when I’m protecting people dear to me—”

“FOR A BATTLE WITH YOUR ETERNAL RIVAL, IT’S PERMITTED!!!” Guy interrupted him with a radiant, utterly insane smile.

Sasuke frowned but silently sliced through the wires with one clean motion. “We continue,” he said curtly.

The referee, still in shock, looked up at the Hokage’s balcony. Hiruzen, his face the picture of weary resignation, slowly nodded.

“The sixth match continues,” Hayate announced, quickly jumping back to a safe distance.

Beaming like the sun itself, Lee leapt onto the giant fingers of a stone statue and began removing his weighted bands. Sasuke watched the process with detached, almost bored curiosity, not bothering to interfere.

“Weighted bands?” Karin whispered, narrowing her eyes. “How is that… supposed to help?”

She watched as Rock Lee reached for the straps on his legs with solemn reverence, as if about to perform a sacred ritual.

“OOOH! I can already feel how much lighter I move!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, releasing the metal cuffs.

Most of the genin exchanged looks. Some chuckled, others rolled their eyes. Karin leaned forward, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Seriously? That’s it?” she murmured — but her sarcasm came too early.

Because the weights hit the floor.

The sound wasn’t just loud — it was deafening. The stone beneath cracked, dust shot up to the ceiling, and the air itself seemed to shudder from the impact. Shards of rock flew across the arena; spectators sitting closer threw up their arms to shield their faces.

For a heartbeat, the entire hall froze. Even Hiruzen raised an eyebrow.

That almost sacred moment — ringing silence after the shock, open mouths, the dawning realization of what had just happened — was shamelessly shattered by a voice from the balcony.

“Why drop them on the floor? Throw them at your opponent!” yelled Naruko, genuinely offended.

The entire audience crashed into laughter. The dramatic atmosphere was gone.

Lee, who’d been about to charge forward, froze mid-pose, standing on one leg like a crane, his face a mask of pure astonishment.

“That’s a great idea, Naruko-chan! Thank you!” he shouted with heartfelt sincerity — and actually ran toward the crater where the weights had landed.

“He’s not seriously going to—” began Karin.

“He is,” confirmed Menma, radiating secondhand embarrassment.

But Lee never got the chance to carry out Naruko’s “brilliant” idea. A roaring fireball rushed toward him — powerful and blazing.

Lee vanished, leaving behind only a wave of scattered dust.

“Now that’s real speed,” Menma noted. “Looks like he even opened the first gate.”

Sasuke stood in the center of the arena, eyes focused and cold. His movements sharpened, his breathing evened. Each time Lee exploded into another flurry of strikes, Sasuke already knew where it would come from.

“He’s reading him,” said Karin, following the fight.

“Not reading — predicting,” corrected Menma. “Sharingan shows the trajectory.”

Blows, blocks, counterattacks — everything merged into a flawless rhythm. Lee fought fiercely, without fear, but in vain. Sasuke flowed around his attacks like water.

Lee leapt back, breathing heavily. Frustration in his eyes was instantly replaced by resolve. He began unwrapping the bandages from his arms.

“What’s he doing?” Karin frowned.

“You’ll see,” said Menma quietly.

In an instant, Lee’s body vanished. A powerful upper strike — like an explosion of pure force. Sasuke managed to raise his tanto, but the impact still sent him flying upward.

“Front Lotus!” Lee shouted.

He appeared behind Sasuke, the bandages springing to life, wrapping tightly around his opponent’s body.

But it was already too late.

Menma saw it — Sasuke had left a decoy in his place and used a shunshin to reappear on the ground, casting a genjutsu so Lee wouldn’t notice the swap.

The body spiraled downward — Lee kicked off, landing just a few meters from the ground. A dull crash followed, chunks of shattered stone scattering across the arena. Then the decoy burst like a balloon — kunai and shuriken exploding outward in every direction.

Menma saw Lee’s pupils contract. He realized he couldn’t dodge — his muscles hadn’t fully recovered from opening the gates.

The weapons tore through the air and struck Lee’s body — not fatally, but enough to disable him. He fell to one knee, his chest heaving.

Sasuke appeared behind him, calm and almost emotionless. The tanto touched Lee’s throat.

“If no one else intends to interrupt me…” the referee began. “Winner — Uchiha Sasuke!”

[Strong. A Kakashi without depression trained him well. At this point, Sasuke could probably take down Gaara alone.]

Sasuke, completely unscathed, sheathed his blade and started walking toward the stairs.

And then a voice rose behind him:

“I can still fight!” Lee’s voice trembled, but he stood. Blood ran down his arms and legs; his clothes were torn, his breathing ragged — yet his eyes burned with fire. He took his stance again.

Sasuke stopped. Turned. And did something no one expected. He raised his hand and showed two fingers — the sign of harmony.

A wave of surprise swept through the stands. None of the genin had ever seen their “cool” friend do something like that. But the real reaction came from the jōnin balcony. Asuma dropped his cigarette. Guy, for the first time that day, lost his smile. Kakashi covered his eye, as if holding back a sudden surge of emotion. They all saw more than respect in that gesture. They saw a reflection of their fallen classmate — Obito. A boy from a dark clan, but with a kind heart.

Lee stood frozen, confused, as if unsure what was expected of him.

“We’re eternal rivals, Lee,” Sasuke said softly, for the first time that fight. “The first victory is mine. But there’ll be hundreds more between us.”

“You’re right, Sasuke,” Lee laughed weakly, lowering his arms. “You’ve shown me what I need to reach for. Next time, I’ll be stronger.”

They pressed their fingers together in the sign of harmony.

“A fine display of camaraderie,” Hiruzen said for the first time that tournament. “We are all leaves on the tree of Konoha. No matter how fiercely the wind tosses us, we must always hold together.”

The last two foreign shinobi on the opposite balcony just snorted dismissively. But for the genin of Konoha, that moment meant something more. Even Menma — ever the cynic — felt something stir inside him.

“Ah, youth is so beautiful!” Guy sobbed loudly, pressing a fist to his chest.

“Excuse me,” said a medic in a white coat, approaching Lee, “you need to be hospitalized. These injuries... can’t be left untreated.”

“But I… want to watch the rest of the matches…” Lee rasped, standing only by sheer willpower.

“Lee, no arguments!” Guy jumped down from the balcony, landing beside him. “Just because you’ve found yourself an eternal rival doesn’t mean you can ignore your teacher! Two hundred laps around the hospital!”

“Yes, Guy-sensei! Understood! Two hundred laps!”

“Three hundred!”

“Yes, sir!”

“And then straight to your ward! Don’t even think about slacking off during recovery!”

“Yes!”

The poor medic didn’t even have time to open his mouth before Lee bolted out of the arena — with kunai still sticking out of his limbs. Behind him, a group of panicked orderlies sprinted after him with a stretcher.

Guy hopped back up to the balcony. After all, he still had another student in this exam.

Meanwhile, Sasuke calmly returned to his friends.

“Sasuke-kun, you were incredible!” Sakura beamed. “That was amazing!”

“Yeah, Sasuke-kun!” Ino chimed in right away. “The way you stopped the referee — so cool!”

“Pfft… Big deal,” Kiba muttered. “He beat a guy who can’t even use ninjutsu. What an achievement…”

“Kiba, shut up,” Hinata said suddenly — and sharply. “The ending of that fight was the brightest thing we’ve seen in this whole exam. Don’t ruin it.”

Kiba looked around — no one backed him up. He sulked, pulled up his hood, and turned away.

“Sis, why the long face?” Menma asked, walking up to Naruko, who was frowning at the shattered arena.

“Can’t you see?” she said thoughtfully. “We helped all our friends get stronger… everyone except Lee. Not a single technique, not a single scroll. I feel guilty about his loss.”

“You can’t help him with ordinary methods,” Menma shrugged. “But I have an idea.”

Naruko raised an eyebrow, but her brother only winked.

New names flashed across the screen: Yamanaka Ino vs. Uzumaki Karin.

The two girls exchanged looks and stepped apart.

“Hmmm…” Naruko rested her cheek on her fist. “Well, this is awkward.”

“What is it, Naruko-chan?” asked Hinata.

“You see, I’ve made a firm decision: if anyone ever dares to hurt my beloved Karin-chan, I’ll personally break every bone they used to do it. But Ino-chan’s my friend. I can’t hit a friend. The only logical solution is to punch the Hokage for assigning this matchup.”

“Hey! Are you two coming down, or are you forfeiting?!” Hayate shouted.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re on our way!” Karin called back. “Don’t worry, Naruko — no need to hit the Hokage for us. We believe in you, but that’s overkill!”

“Yeah, Naruko, hitting the Hokage is bad,” Ino added with a smirk.

“Fine, fine,” Naruko sighed — then muttered under her breath, “I’ll just pitch the idea to Konohamaru instead…”

Ino headed for the stairs. Hinata spread her hands apologetically and whispered, “Sorry, Ino-chan, I can’t tell you what Karin-chan’s hiding in her pockets. That would be unfair.”

“It’s okay,” Ino smiled and went down.

Menma stopped Karin and handed her a scroll.

“What’s this?” she asked, looking it over.

“Your victory,” he said, meeting her eyes. “Point it at your opponent and feed it chakra. You’ll figure out the rest.”

Karin nodded seriously and dashed toward the arena — the referee was already getting nervous.

The girls faced each other in the center. Focused.

“Eighth match, begin!” Hayate announced, stepping back.

Karin immediately leapt away and unfurled the scroll.

A torrent of weapons burst out — kunai, shuriken, spears, chains. A massive wave of steel hurtled straight toward Ino.

“I surrender!” she squeaked just in time.

Hayate barely managed to use shunshin to yank Ino out of the storm of metal.

“Winner — Uzumaki Karin,” he declared, setting Ino down safely.

Karin jumped back up to the balcony and shouted in triumph, “I did it!”

“Not that it was really your doing,” Menma noted dryly.

“Don’t listen to the buzzkill!” Naruko waved him off. “Karin-chan, you’re amazing!”

Naruko hugged her girlfriend tightly, and Karin made no effort to resist.

“I was pathetic, wasn’t I?” Ino lowered her head.

“Don’t stress,” Shikamaru said lazily. “Third round’s individual matches. Judging by who’s already advanced, you won’t have to worry about survival.”

“Oh, right!” Karin perked up. “But how am I supposed to fight next time?”

“We’ll take care of your training,” the twins said in perfect unison — and simultaneously placed their hands on her shoulders.