Jiraiya jolted at the warning, instinctively turning to look behind them—only for Hoshiyomi to stop him.
"Don't look. You'll tip him off. Let's duck into that alley up ahead and ambush him. I want to see what he's after."
Hoshiyomi wasn't worried. He and Jiraiya were just two first-year Academy kids—poor, unknown, and with no real enemies. What kind of threat could they have attracted?
And besides, this was the Hidden Leaf Village. If anything suspicious happened, a single shout would summon patrol shinobi within seconds.
So, the two of them walked casually—laughing and chatting—into a narrow alley nearby. The person following them took the bait and trailed them in.
At the alley's corner, Jiraiya crouched behind the wall, gripping a broken brick. As the follower's shadow crept closer, Jiraiya suddenly lunged, swinging the brick toward the stranger's head.
The boy reacted fast—shock flashing across his face—but his response was faster. With a swift twist, he struck Jiraiya's wrist with a short stick he'd been carrying behind his back.
The blow forced Jiraiya to drop the brick with a yelp. In the same motion, the boy spun the stick in his hand and jabbed it toward Jiraiya's stomach.
But he froze just before contact—eyes widening as he seemed to recognize Jiraiya's face. He pulled the attack, and the stick tapped Jiraiya's gut with minimal force, doing little more than making him wince.
Both Hoshiyomi and Jiraiya now had a clear look at the would-be attacker.
It was none other than their classmate—Hatake Sakumo.
Jiraiya hissed in pain, crouching on the ground and glaring at him.
"What the hell is wrong with you?! Why are you following us?!"
Sakumo ignored the outburst. His eyes stayed locked on Hoshiyomi as he pointed his sheathed White Fang blade at him.
"Where's your sword?"
Jiraiya's jaw dropped.
"What sword? Are you insane? Hoshiyomi doesn't even have a weapon on him!"
Hoshiyomi scratched his nose, slightly embarrassed. He realized now that Sakumo must've misinterpreted his earlier gesture during the placement exam as some kind of challenge.
Still, it played right into his hands.
Hoshiyomi calmly helped Jiraiya to his feet, then turned to Sakumo.
"Jiraiya's not wrong—I didn't bring a sword to school. But if you want to spar, come to my place. We can fight in my courtyard."
Sakumo hesitated for a second… then nodded.
He could feel it—something about Hoshiyomi matched the same sharp, focused feeling he had. He hadn't met a peer like that before.
And so, the ramen plans were scrapped.
Instead, Hoshiyomi led both of them back to his house.
Once there, he went straight to his father's old weapon collection, selected a short shinobi blade, and strapped it to his waist.
Then he turned to Sakumo.
"Let's begin."
Jiraiya looked between them, suddenly pale.
"Wait… wait, you're both actually using real blades?! You're gonna get seriously hurt! Can't you just use wooden swords or something?"
Sakumo said nothing. He simply drew White Fang, his signature blade, eyes calm and unwavering.
Jiraiya turned to Hoshiyomi, desperate.
"Come on, are you seriously going along with this?!"
Hoshiyomi gave him a reassuring grin.
"Relax. We've sparred before—we know our limits."
"Limits?! He stabbed me earlier, remember?!"
Sakumo spoke up at last, voice flat:
"That was to teach you a lesson."
Before Jiraiya could even respond, Sakumo charged.
Hoshiyomi's eyes lit up.
So he was holding back during the test after all.
He didn't draw immediately. Instead, he planted his feet, watching carefully, hand on his hilt, ready.
Sakumo's approach was swift—faster than any student Hoshiyomi had faced. In a blur of movement, the silver arc of White Fang came slicing through the air.
Hoshiyomi drew at the last second, parrying with a sharp clang as steel met steel.
Jiraiya, watching from the side, stood frozen—speechless.
He had thought his own speed was top-tier for their age group. But now, seeing these two clash, he realized how laughable that belief was.
If either of them had gone at me like that, I'd be dead.
He didn't speak. He just watched, wide-eyed, soaking in every movement.
Hoshiyomi and Sakumo clashed, separated, then clashed again—both now fully alert.
They could see it in each other's eyes: surprise, followed by pure excitement.
This wasn't a casual spar.
This was a true test between two rising swordsmen.
Steel rang out again and again as blades collided in rapid succession. They weren't using ninjutsu or hand-to-hand strikes—this was pure kenjutsu.
Sakumo tried multiple times to close the distance and press his advantage in close-quarters, where White Fang's shorter build gave him speed and control.
But Hoshiyomi wouldn't allow it.
His control over distance was exceptional. Every time Sakumo moved in, Hoshiyomi responded with a counter and created space again.
Still, Sakumo was no easy opponent.
In terms of pure technique, they were evenly matched.
But when it came to physical conditioning, Sakumo had the edge. He had been training since early childhood, while Hoshiyomi had only had one year of intense practice since arriving in this world.
Though Sakumo's blows hadn't landed yet, his strength and experience were showing.
And he was getting more excited with each exchange.
I've never fought anyone this tough before.
With a sharp exhale, Sakumo suddenly surged forward, channeling chakra into his movement.
His blade shot forward like lightning, aimed straight at Hoshiyomi's throat.
Hoshiyomi's instincts screamed. He barely managed to block it with the flat of his blade.
But Sakumo wasn't finished.
While locking blades with one hand, he struck with the other—landing a solid punch into Hoshiyomi's shoulder.
Pain shot through Hoshiyomi's arm. He staggered back, grip faltering.
Sakumo pounced, now fully in close range. Blade after blade came crashing down in relentless waves.
Hoshiyomi tried to recover, but the pain in his arm dulled his reactions. He was forced into retreat—barely deflecting Sakumo's strikes.
If I don't break this combo now, I'm done in three hits.
Watching Sakumo's unrelenting assault, something stirred in Hoshiyomi.
I'm a transmigrator. I have a system. There's no way I'm losing the very first real fight of this life.
If I want to win… it's time to go all in.