Naruto: About the Fact That my Brother is Madara-Chapter 237: Of Course, It’s About Snatching the Bell!

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Konohagakure, Training Ground No. 13.

"From today onward, the Kyōsuke Squad is officially formed. From now on, you are companions who will support one another."

Before the three little ones could even cheer, Kyōsuke's tone suddenly shifted. He grinned mischievously and continued, "However, to be honest, I don't have much faith in your abilities."

"Therefore, I've decided to add an extra test for you."

"A test?"

Haruto's forehead creased in confusion. There had been no mention of a test before.

You ignorant brat, there are many things you don't know.

With a mysterious smile, Kyōsuke reached into his robe and pulled out a small silver bell.

Jingle, jingle—

He gently shook it twice in his palm, and the crisp, clear sound immediately captured the attention of all three children.

"The rules are simple. As long as any one of you manages to touch this bell, you will all be considered to have passed."

From Kyōsuke's perspective, his hint was already more than obvious. The real purpose of the test should be clear to them.

However, he was quickly left disappointed—Haruto and Kurama Jun hadn't even exchanged a single glance the entire time.

"Touch the bell and we win—this is my best chance to defeat Dad."

Haruto tightened his grip around his short sword, looking more like he was preparing for battle than a simple test.

Perhaps it was because he had heard too many stories when he was younger. For as long as he could remember, his father had always been the symbol of invincibility in his world.

As the son of the "God of Shinobi," all he had ever received were praises—and an indescribable, suffocating pressure.

"I must not bring shame to my father."

"You are Uchiha Kyōsuke's son. You must utterly crush all your peers."

Complaining of exhaustion was laziness. Saying he was struggling was an insult to his own talent. Only through relentless, ceaseless effort could he earn the approval of his parents and clan.

To outsiders, being born into the family of the "God of Shinobi" was an opportunity beyond imagination.

But for Uchiha Haruto, the title of Kyōsuke's son was a brand—a curse—etched into his very existence, one he could never escape.

Fortunately, he had the strength to live up to expectations. He was far more mature than other children his age.

He understood all too well—only absolute power could ensure survival in the shinobi world, only strength could protect his family.

Haruto did not resent his parents or his clan. He had accepted the weight of his identity without hesitation.

However, the thought of defeating his father had long since become an obsession, engraved deep within his heart.

It was as if, by succeeding, he would finally fulfill everyone's expectations of him.

Perhaps then... I can choose the life I truly want?

Haruto wasn't sure. But there was one thing he did know—no matter what, he would pass this test today.

On the other side, Kurama Jun was just as determined.

The Kurama clan was small—each generation had only a handful of members.

Lacking strength, lacking reputation... If not for their legendary Kekkei Genkai, their family might not have even survived in the Land of Fire.

That was why, the first time he had pulled his father into his painted world, the look of astonished joy that broke through his father's despair had been unforgettable.

He had sworn to himself—he would never forget that moment. And he would never allow himself to become weak.

"Father said that just having the Kekkei Genkai isn't enough to be a top-tier shinobi."

"Every past wielder of our bloodline ability has met the same fate—killed in ambushes and assassinations."

"I won't repeat their mistakes. I refuse to be just another so-called 'expert' who can only set traps in advance."

CLANG!

With a sharp metallic ring, Jun unsheathed the long blade at his waist, his gaze sharpening as he prepared to demonstrate his hard-earned "Illusionary Combat Technique" to his teacher.

The two boys, driven by ambition and the desire to prove themselves, were determined to defeat the "God of Shinobi" in their own way.

As for the perceptive Eri—she had already grasped Kyōsuke-sensei's true intentions.

"Sigh... but these two idiots..."

Seeing Haruto charge forward without hesitation, Anzai Eri let out a soft sigh. As always, she activated her Healing Palm Technique and followed closely behind, ready to provide support.

True teamwork wasn't about taking turns attacking, nor about giving way to each other.

True teamwork meant understanding each other's strengths, distributing roles wisely, and maximizing everyone's potential.

After all, there was no sense in having the strongest fighter hold back while the healer engaged in direct combat—that would be reckless and a disservice to the entire team.

Haruto's Three-tomoe Sharingan locked onto his father's every movement, his mind rapidly simulating the possible defensive actions Kyōsuke might take.

Would he catch my short sword between his fingers?

Or would he use Steel Release to take the hit head-on?

A sidestep to evade? A clash with Lightning Release? A gust of Wind Release to throw him off balance? A surge of Fire Release to burn away the attack?

Damn it...

His father had far too many techniques at his disposal.

In less than two seconds, an endless stream of possibilities flashed through Haruto's mind.

But in the end, he abandoned the idea of predicting Kyōsuke's response. Instead, he chose to face him directly, relying solely on his own raw strength.

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In the blink of an eye, his short sword—wrapped in crackling lightning—slashed through the air in a diagonal arc.

The sheer speed was astonishing, and the force behind it was overwhelming, like an eagle diving from the heavens to strike its prey with lethal precision.

It was an attack no ordinary ten-year-old should have been capable of unleashing.

Any other instructor would have marveled at his talent, showering him with praise.

Unfortunately, from Kyōsuke's lips, he received only a single word—

"Foolish."

With a sharp flick of his long, flowing hair, Kyōsuke's dark strands moved like living ropes, effortlessly binding his son's entire body.

Ninjutsu: Wild Lion's Mane Technique!

Haruto's eyes widened in shock. Before he could even react, Kyōsuke raised a hand and flicked his forehead.

THUD!

Just like that, Haruto had been "killed in action."

"You misjudged your opponent's strength and launched a reckless attack," Kyōsuke said calmly.

"On the battlefield, that is the surest way to get yourself killed."

As he spoke, his long black hair surged forward again, this time entangling Eri in the same manner.

"You understood my true intentions," he continued, his gaze locking onto her. "And yet, you ignored your teammate's recklessness."

"Your cleverness will one day be your downfall."

Why hadn't she stopped Haruto?

Of course, she knew.

No matter what happened today, Kyōsuke would never send them back to the Academy.

So why should she stop Haruto from charging in?

It had never occurred to her that this simple act of indulgence would lead to her first true scolding.

"You two have greatly disappointed me."

BANG!

Eri tumbled to the ground in an awkward heap. Tears welled up in her eyes, streaming down her cheeks in silent humiliation.

Seeing her like this, Haruto felt an even heavier weight of guilt pressing down on his chest.

"It's all my fault..."

After briefly disciplining the two, Kyōsuke finally turned his attention to the only one who had remained still throughout the entire ordeal—Kurama Jun.

At that very moment, an eerie shift occurred.

Everything around him vanished.

The sky, the earth, the air—gone.

Darkness swallowed him whole.

There was no light, no sound. It was as if he had been cut off from the entire world, plunged into an endless abyss.

"So, this is the world of illusions..."

"It feels somewhat similar to the Tsukuyomi's realm."

"No..."

"The Sharingan's illusions target the mind directly, whereas the Kurama clan's illusions..."

"They affect the body itself."

Outside the illusion, Kurama Jun swung his long blade, unleashing a slash that seemed to tear through the very fabric of the night.

Black Style: Thousand Nights Descent!

His sword was his paintbrush.

His slashes carved out a world where his opponent would be utterly submerged in illusion.

This was the technique Jun had perfected on his own—the fusion of genjutsu and taijutsu, the Black Style Blade Arts.

At this moment, he was the incarnation of the Monarch of Eternal Night.

No one could escape the clutches of his darkness.

Not even the "God of Shinobi" himself—

BANG!

Before the smug grin could fully spread across Jun's lips, an invisible force struck him hard across the left cheek.

..

..

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[Chapter End's]

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