"Asuma, what exactly do you think you’re doing?!"

As soon as the group stepped out onto the open training field to begin the impromptu spar, Kurenai couldn’t hold back her aggression. She glared fiercely at the bearded Jonin.

"Calm down, Kurenai. I’m just going to teach him a little lesson," Asuma replied easily, pulling out a fresh cigarette. "If I’m not mistaken, he’s my father’s newest student, right? I just want to see exactly how strong he is."

Asuma maintained a calm, laid-back demeanor, but beneath it, he was deeply curious. He wanted to know what kind of freakish talent this kid possessed to convince his aging, stubborn father to take on a disciple so late in life.

However, as they walked out onto the dirt field, the situation quickly escalated into a public spectacle. It wasn’t just Hiruzen, Ino, Shikamaru, and Choji who had tagged along. Hinata, Shino, and Kurenai had also been waiting for Suzuki, and now they were all gathered around the perimeter.

Unexpectedly, the moment Suzuki walked out of the Hokage’s office, he was immediately roped into a spar with an elite Jonin. The genin squads watched in speechless anticipation.

"What is your teacher’s combat specialty, Shikamaru?"

Suzuki stood perfectly still in the center of the open field and directed the blunt question at the spiky-haired Nara.

"Er..." Shikamaru froze, glancing awkwardly at Asuma, who was staring right back at him.

"He specializes in close-quarters combat and Wind Release jutsu."

The one who broke the silence wasn’t Shikamaru, but Hiruzen. The Hokage casually betrayed his own son’s combat data without a second thought.

"Old Man!" Asuma snapped, glaring at Hiruzen in annoyance.

"If you are defeated by a newly minted genin just because I revealed your elemental affinity, then you bring shame to the Sarutobi name," Hiruzen replied smoothly, taking a slow drag from his pipe.

"You really have that much confidence in this kid?" Instead of getting angry, Asuma was genuinely surprised by his father’s absolute certainty.

"You will be surprised by his abilities," Hiruzen sighed.

He knew Asuma was arrogant. He also knew that Suzuki preferred to keep a terrifyingly low profile. This public spar was the perfect opportunity to forcibly demonstrate Suzuki’s overwhelming power, proving to everyone exactly why the ’God of Shinobi’ had chosen him as a successor.

If Suzuki attracted too much attention because of it? That was fine. Hiruzen wanted the village to see that the Will of Fire was still burning brightly, and that the seed he had been nurturing was ready to bloom.

"...." Suzuki.

If Suzuki knew the sheer weight of Hiruzen’s political expectations right now, he would have been utterly speechless. Still, since his master had openly endorsed him, he had no intention of losing.

He didn’t look down on Asuma, but he certainly didn’t fear him either. In Suzuki’s calculating eyes, Asuma was simply a highly privileged nepotism baby who benefited from the Hokage’s immense wealth and influence. Those trench knives Asuma wielded were forged from pure chakra-conductive metal. They cost an absolute fortune—a sum far beyond what a standard ninja could afford on mission pay alone.

Being a ninja won’t make one rich, Suzuki thought with a mental sigh.

He still firmly believed that being a businessman was far better. But in a militaristic dictatorship like Konoha, surviving without raw combat power and elite connections was impossible. That was why he was glad that he had the Manager and this ability to connect himself with the other him from various universes.

"He excels at in-fighting," Hiruzen continued shamelessly. "Those two trench knives can absorb and amplify his Wind chakra, turning the blades sharp enough to cut through solid stone."

"Old man, are you seriously going to tell him my entire moveset?!" Asuma barked.

"You are a veteran Jonin in your prime. Are you seriously going to go all-out against a twelve-year-old boy? You should be grateful I’m giving him a handicap," Hiruzen replied, his face completely unreadable.

"...." Asuma chewed on his cigarette in sheer frustration.

Hidden in the shadows, Yugao sighed internally. She knew perfectly well that Suzuki wasn’t just some weak, helpless kid! He was a monster! But as a hidden Anbu guard, it wasn’t her place to speak up.

"A weapon, huh?"

Hearing Hiruzen’s breakdown, Suzuki reached into his robes and smoothly unsealed a standard, unadorned katana from a storage scroll.

"You practice Kenjutsu?" Hiruzen’s eyes widened in genuine surprise.

"I do," Suzuki nodded.

"I see..." Hiruzen stroked his goatee, his sharp eyes subtly drifting toward the hidden location where he knew Yugao was stationed. He didn’t say anything out loud. It was best to keep quiet about such connections. He knew Yugao’s Dance of the Crescent Moon style was one of the deadliest and most complex sword arts in Konoha—a legacy passed down from her chronically ill lover, Hayate Gekko.

Given Suzuki’s terrifying creativity, Hiruzen knew the boy must have evolved the style into something completely unpredictable.

"Oh-ho?" Asuma grinned, his competitive spirit finally igniting. He slid his hands into his trench knives, holding the twin blades in a reverse grip like the fangs of a beast. "Since you’re bold enough to pull a sword on me, let me taste your skill. Be warned, kid: if you use a half-baked technique, I’ll disarm you in seconds."

"Don’t underestimate him, Asuma," Kurenai warned, her red eyes serious. She knew exactly what kind of ruthless genius Suzuki hid beneath his polite smile.

"Relax, Kurenai. I know what I’m doing." Asuma waved her off, completely dismissing the warning.

But the others watching—Shikamaru, Ino, Choji, Shino, and Hinata—knew Suzuki’s character intimately. If he drew a blade against an elite Jonin, he had a devastating surprise waiting.

Suzuki only smiled politely. He knew talking was meaningless. Action was the absolute currency in the shinobi world.

He slowly, elegantly unsheathed the katana, stepping into a flawless Chudan-no-kamae—the standard middle stance. The tip of his blade was aimed perfectly at Asuma’s throat. As he shifted his weight, he subtly pulsed a microscopic fraction of his chakra through the blade. The highly polished steel caught the intense midday sunlight, reflecting it sharply.

"Hmm?"

Asuma frowned. For a split second, the aura around Suzuki seemed to warp. The boy’s outline became slightly blurry, almost as if—

Is it just my imagination?

Asuma blinked, and Suzuki’s figure snapped back into crystal-clear focus.

He’s still just a kid, Asuma reminded himself, brushing off the strange optical illusion. Unlike Suzuki, Asuma had fought on actual battlefields. He had seen true geniuses. He refused to take the boy too seriously.

"Alright, kid. Go ahead. Make your move."

"May I truly strike first?" Suzuki asked politely.

"Go for it."

"Understood."

Suzuki slightly rotated his wrist. A blinding, concentrated beam of sunlight reflected off the katana’s edge, flashing directly into Asuma’s eyes!

"What a cunning little brat!" Asuma cursed, temporarily blinded.

Relying purely on his vast combat experience, Asuma immediately leaped backward, calculating the distance and raising his trench knives in a flawless defensive guard to block the incoming strike.

Yet, when his vision cleared a second later, Asuma realized Suzuki hadn’t moved a single inch.

"...You aren’t going to attack me?" Asuma asked, lowering his guard in sheer confusion.

"I am going to attack you right now."

"...You’re a little arrogant, aren’t you?" Asuma scoffed, annoyed that he had been tricked into a defensive retreat.

"Then please, teach me to be humble, Asuma-san," Suzuki smiled softly. The sheer politeness of his tone caused a vein to throb visibly on Asuma’s forehead.

"Fine. Come at me with everything you’ve got!"

"Obscuring Clouds."

The words were spoken gently, almost faintly, yet they echoed clearly across the silent field.

In the next microsecond, the still, elegant figure of Suzuki completely vanished.

With blinding, god-like speed, he crossed the entire distance of the field, appearing directly inside Asuma’s guard!

Asuma’s eyes went wide with absolute shock. The speed was completely incomprehensible for a genin! Yet, as an elite Jonin who had fought countless deadly battles, Asuma’s reflexes still fired.

(Though, historically, when facing true S-Rank monsters like Itachi or Hidan, Asuma had always been utterly outclassed.)

I can react! Asuma thought fiercely.

Unlike the previous feint, there was no blinding light this time. Asuma was confident he could track the strike. He aggressively swung his right trench knife down to parry Suzuki’s katana, fully intending to counter-attack with his left blade to teach the arrogant kid a harsh lesson.

But as Asuma swung his blade downward, the solid image of Suzuki charging toward him suddenly flickered and tore apart like smoke.

Asuma blinked.

Before his brain could even process the afterimage, the terrifyingly cold, razor-sharp edge of a katana gently rested against his carotid artery from behind.

"...."

The entire field plunged into absolute, dead silence.

"Checkmate," Suzuki whispered softly into Asuma’s ear.