Naruto: My Progress in Konoha.

After dodging several more attacks, Uchiha Haruki flipped his palm, pulled a kunai from his ninja tool pouch, and clashed directly with Kohara Shuuji.

The sound of metal striking metal rang out sharply—clang, clang, clang.

But it quickly became obvious that Kohara's combat experience far surpassed Haruki's. Within moments, new cuts and slashes had appeared across Haruki's body.

Tsss—

Glancing at the fresh wound on his arm, Haruki gritted his teeth and forcefully deflected Kohara's incoming strike.

He stepped back half a step and hurled his kunai. In the same motion, he drew the short sword at his waist.

Compared to a kunai, a short sword was far more suited to his fighting style.

Kohara tilted his head, casually dodging the flying kunai. When he saw Haruki pull out his sword, he sneered and lunged forward again.

Clang!

Clang, clang, clang!

The clash of blades grew faster and more violent, a crescendo of steel on steel echoing through the battlefield.

Haruki had thought that with his Leaf-Style Kenjutsu, even if he couldn't defeat Kohara outright, he could at least hold his ground.

He was wrong.

Within just two or three minutes, he was already at a disadvantage.

There's a saying when it comes to weapon combat: "An inch longer gives you strength, an inch shorter brings danger."

Technically, Haruki's short sword had a reach advantage over Kohara's kunai. But he wasn't able to capitalize on that edge at all.

Instead, Kohara's attacks gave him a real lesson in what "danger" looked like.

Within inches of distance, Kohara's transitions between offense and defense were flawless. His rhythm, his control—it was like watching a master at work.

At first, Haruki could barely keep up. But the longer the fight dragged on, the more he was forced onto the defensive.

He hadn't felt this overwhelmed in terms of technical skill since his training sessions with Furukawa.

But back then, it was just sparring. Haruki might've been outmatched, but there was no pressure.

This was different. This was a fight to the death—and for the first time, he was witnessing the true strength of a jonin.

In fact, Haruki couldn't shake the feeling that, at least in close-quarters combat, Kohara Shuuji might even surpass Furukawa.

What made things worse was Kohara's apparent familiarity with Uchiha techniques. Every time Haruki tried to use his Sharingan to turn the tide, Kohara was ready for it.

That's when Haruki realized a major weakness—he was still too unfamiliar with his Sharingan.

He had spent so long hiding it that he lacked real experience. Many of its techniques he hadn't even begun to understand.

Sure, it worked against inexperienced or low-tier enemies—but against someone like Kohara?

Not a chance.

"So this is what they mean when they say you only really learn in battle…"

This fight had opened Haruki's eyes to his own shortcomings. And in doing so, it also showed him the path forward.

He no longer harbored any illusions about killing Kohara.

He simply couldn't.

What he could do, however, was learn. Learn as much as possible. Let this fight become training—to improve his Leaf-Style Swordsmanship and Sharingan mastery.

As for revenge?

He'd wait until he had the power to make it real.

Haruki wasn't someone who overestimated himself.

Time ticked by.

Haruki was completely immersed in the rhythm of the battle—until suddenly, a series of sharp whistles pierced through the chaos.

"That's the signal… Mission complete!"

Haruki snapped out of it instantly, the meaning of the whistles clear in his mind.

Without hesitation, he broke away from the fight, taking a hit in exchange for distance, and then used Body Flicker Technique to sprint toward the nearest Konoha jonin.

At the same time, the other Konoha shinobi were also regrouping around the jonin-level commanders.

Before the Iwa-nin could react, the jonin took the lead and gathered the entire unit, heading in one direction in full retreat.

Some Iwa-nin tried to intercept them, but Konoha had clearly planned for this.

Their regroup was fast and tight, and with multiple jonin present, the tables briefly turned—they had the numbers and the leadership advantage.

The Iwa-nin couldn't stop them.

By the time Lord Kurotsuchi had reorganized his troops, the Konoha shinobi had already broken away from the battlefield.

But Kurotsuchi wasn't ready to give up.

He knew from the look on their faces—they had succeeded in their mission.

There was no need to ask what that mission was.

They had been a diversion.

Now that they were retreating, the implications were obvious.

Kurotsuchi figured that if he pursued the original target now, he'd be too late. So instead, he gave the order to chase down the retreating forces.

But they didn't get far.

Before long, the Iwa-nin saw a new group of Konoha shinobi joining the retreating formation—survivors from the River Valley battlefield.

This reinforced the Konoha team, boosting their morale and making their formation even stronger.

Now, it was Kurotsuchi's turn to hesitate. He didn't dare press too far forward, worried about an ambush.

And yet, they also couldn't stop following.

After all, this was Iwagakure territory. Even if they had to let Konoha leave, they needed to escort them out to ensure they weren't doubling back or causing more trouble.

And so, with both sides maintaining their distance, the Konoha force slowly withdrew from the River Valley Corridor.

Roughly an hour and a half later, they regrouped with the three assault squads.

Another half-hour passed, and the final support team that had stayed behind to block the Iwa reinforcements also rejoined them.

At that point, the Iwa-nin gave up all hope of salvaging the battle.

They had lost.

And as with all losses in the shinobi world, they had no choice but to accept it—and watch silently as Uchiha Haruki and the rest disappeared into the distance.

Of course, Haruki and his team didn't dare rest easy.

They were still deep in enemy territory. If they lingered too long and got surrounded, things could get ugly fast.

So they moved fast, wasting no time as they fled the borders of the Iwa-controlled zone.

The next day.

Morning.

After nearly fifteen hours of forced marching, Haruki's squad finally returned to their own territory.

At the closest Konoha front-line base near the Iwa border, hundreds of Konoha shinobi lay sprawled across the ground—wounded, exhausted, bleeding.

Almost everyone had some sort of injury.

Medical ninja, who had arrived in advance, were weaving between the fallen, desperately treating whoever they could.

Haruki glanced around at the remaining survivors.

Only about half of them had made it back.

Now he finally understood why shinobi wars in the ninja world never lasted long.

"With this kind of death rate, how could they?"

If large-scale operations like this happened too often, every village would burn through its ninja forces in no time.

Shaking his head, Haruki pushed those thoughts aside. He began using Healing Technique on himself while mentally outlining his future training path.

First, he decided to cut back on practicing the "Reflection Technique".

Now that his Sharingan had been exposed, there was no need to keep hiding it. He could start using it openly—and build up his proficiency over time without worrying about wasting chakra.

The chakra he saved could go toward upgrading his Demonic Illusion: Shackling Stakes Technique.

Second, his Leaf-Style Swordsmanship needed more serious attention. Haruki never wanted to feel so technically outclassed again.

And finally—he needed to learn how to properly use the Sharingan.

With that thought, he paused in silence before murmuring to himself:

"Looks like I'll need to contact the clan elders soon."

Yes. He had decided.

While figuring things out on his own was possible, it was both inefficient and unnecessary.

No matter how clever he thought he was, how could he possibly outmatch a thousand years of Uchiha heritage?

So when the time came to ask for help—he would ask.

He believed that once the clan knew he had awakened the Sharingan, they wouldn't hesitate to teach him what he needed.