Naruto: My Progress in Konoha.

Clang!

Uchiha Haruki swung his sword, blocking the incoming strike from an Iwagakure jonin.

Before he could counter, another Iwa jonin lunged forward, swinging a bizarre-looking ninja tool—one shaped like a sickle. It was difficult to block, and Haruki didn't have time to try.

Kicking off the ground with both feet, he launched himself into the air. The sickle whistled past beneath his soles, slicing through the air with a sharp gust.

Haruki retracted his short sword and landed a few meters back, retreating instinctively.

But before he could regain footing—whoosh! Several sharp whistling sounds approached.

Haruki whipped his head around. The tomoe in his Sharingan spun rapidly, instantly analyzing the flight path of the kunai that had been hurled at him.

His figure flickered as he narrowly avoided the incoming projectiles, which had been thrown by a third Iwa jonin hiding in the distance.

At that moment, a figure suddenly appeared in front of him—thrusting a kunai straight at his throat.

It was the same Iwa jonin who had attacked him earlier, now launching another close-range assault.

Haruki didn't even have time to catch his breath. He brought his sword up in a flash, deflecting the kunai.

The jonin didn't let up, slashing again and again in a relentless offensive.

But with the incredible insight of his Sharingan and the precision of his Level 5 Swordsmanship, Haruki blocked every single attack with mechanical precision.

Before long, the Iwa jonin's strikes began to slow, clearly running out of stamina.

Seeing this, Haruki prepared to launch a counterattack.

But just then, the sickle-wielding jonin returned to his side and joined the assault, forcing Haruki back into defense once more.

This was their tactic—a coordinated, relentless offensive from three directions to create an opening and finish him off.

Haruki could tell these three were experienced.

The kunai wielder and the sickle-user were the primary attackers, while the third acted as support, filling in gaps and launching surprise attacks from a distance.

Their coordination was fluid and efficient—they'd clearly fought together many times.

Against most jonin, this plan would have a high success rate.

But Haruki wasn't an average jonin.

Though their teamwork was solid, it wasn't without flaws. At least, not to his eyes.

Just like now—

Haruki sidestepped the kunai wielder's thrust. Even though the sickle-user quickly stepped in to cover the gap, it gave Haruki just enough of an opening.

That was all he needed.

In a flash of thought, Haruki activated the hypnosis ability of his Sharingan.

The sickle-wielding jonin, overly confident in his comrade's presence, had never avoided eye contact.

He was caught instantly—his body froze in place, and he fell into a daze.

"Dairō!"

The kunai wielder's eyes widened in alarm. He darted forward and blocked Haruki's follow-up slash just in time.

Before Haruki could strike again, the third Iwa jonin—playing support—hurled several shuriken from afar, aiming for Haruki's vital points.

Hearing the faint whistling in the air, Haruki smirked.

He pushed off the ground and soared backward, avoiding the spinning blades with ease.

Flipping his hand, several shuriken appeared in his palm.

Glancing at the support jonin's position, Haruki instantly read his footwork and threw the shuriken with pinpoint accuracy.

He didn't wait to see the outcome. Instead, he leapt backward several more times, widening the gap between him and the two nearby jonin.

At that moment, Sugimoto Dairō—the sickle wielder—snapped out of the genjutsu.

What greeted him was a massive fireball filling his entire vision.

During his evasive leap, Haruki had already formed the seals for the Uchiha clan's signature technique—

Fire Style: Great Fireball Jutsu!

This one was no joke—Haruki poured 300 chakra points into it.

The resulting fireball was nearly three meters in diameter, radiating blistering heat.

Even from a distance, Sugimoto Dairō felt the scorching air sting his face.

The fireball was moments away from engulfing him, yet there was no panic on Dairō's face.

Not because he wasn't afraid of death—but because his comrade, the kunai-wielding jonin, had already taken action.

The man's hands formed seals at lightning speed. Then, he slammed his palms on the ground:

"Earth Style: Earth-Style Wall!"

The ground flipped up, and a stone slab nearly two meters wide rose between them and the incoming inferno.

Boom!

The fireball crashed into the slab with a thunderous explosion.

Waves of flame surged around the edges, releasing an oppressive wave of heat that burned at their skin.

Crack!

A sharp cracking sound rang out.

Both Iwa ninja looked toward the source and saw a thin fissure splitting across the surface of the stone wall.

Crack! Crack!

Two more cracks appeared.

Their expressions shifted—they leapt backward simultaneously.

The moment they did, the stone wall shattered into flying debris engulfed in flame.

The fiery chunks rained in every direction.

Both men moved like ghosts, dodging the debris—though not unscathed. Their uniforms were scorched with holes, leaving them in a ragged state.

Haruki raised his hands, preparing to press the attack and finish them off.

But suddenly—a faint tremor pulsed through the ground beneath him.

Without hesitation, Haruki leapt back.

In the next instant, a 1.5-meter-long stone spike erupted from where he'd just been standing.

"Earth Spear Trap?!"

Haruki immediately recognized the signature Iwagakure jutsu.

His eyes snapped toward the distant support jonin, who now had both palms on the ground, staring intently at Haruki.

Clearly, he was the one maintaining the Earth Style: Rising Stone Spears technique.

"If that's the case... there won't just be one spike."

Just as Haruki thought this, another tremor rippled beneath his feet.

He retreated again—another stone spear shot up, piercing the ground he'd just vacated.

And that was just the beginning.

In the next few breaths, nearly a hundred spikes erupted in rapid succession.

Each spike came faster than the last, and the warning signs grew subtler.

If not for the extraordinary perception of his three-tomoe Sharingan, Haruki wouldn't have dodged them so cleanly.

As the tremors finally faded, Haruki muttered:

"Is it over?"

He scanned his surroundings—what was once a forest had been transformed into a forest of stone spears, jagged and deadly.

The mere sight of it made his scalp prickle.

Then he looked at the Iwa jonin in the distance—the man's face was grim and frustrated.

Clearly, he wasn't pleased with the result.

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