Reincarated with Nanites

~ Omniscient Pov ~

.

.

.

"You've finally returned..." Fugaku said, standing with his arms crossed.

Hayatou simply walked to his end of the field, "I had something important to take care of..." He quickly stretched himself a few times...

"Let's see how you deal with this."

Fugaku charged at the boy, immediately using his calm's fighting style.

However, surprisingly, Hayatou was keeping up with him, and quite easily too. He could tell the boy's breathing was fine so far, not a single hitch or hiccup.

'Impressive.' That was Fugaku's first thought so far, and then it when on... And on, and on...

.

.

.

'This boy…' Fugaku now stood with his arms crossed, his expression relatively stoic, but his mind was anything but still...

Nearly fifteen minutes had passed since the match had began. It should have been enough time to gauge Hayatou's abilities, to see through the layers of his skill and understand the depths of his talent.

And yet… he had learned almost nothing.

Not because Hayatou was weak—far from it. But because the boy had given him nothing to truly grasp.

He was fast—faster than a genin, faster than even a chuunin, even without the use of ninjutsu. His movements were very precise, almost absurdly so, as if every action was planned several steps ahead. And the worst part? It still seemed like he wasn't even trying.

Fugaku had seen it before. The look of a fighter who was holding back, not out of arrogance, but out of sheer boredom... The same look he had during his fight with Shiba.

And it irritated him.

This child is toying with me.

It wasn't blatant, nor was it disrespectful. It was subtle—just enough that Fugaku felt it. The way Hayatou dodged, barely putting in the effort. The way his stance remained relaxed, unshaken. The way he never allowed Fugaku to push him to a corner.

Fugaku narrowed his eyes, exhaling slowly through his nose.

Enough of this.

His hand shifted into a one-handed seal—Rat.

A sudden burst of Great Fireball Jutsu roared forward, the heat distorting the air as it rushed toward the boy. It wasn't a full-power technique, but it was far from a simple test. The moment Hayatou dodged—if he dodged—Fugaku would close the distance and force a proper engagement.

But Hayatou… did not dodge.

Instead, his body shifted ever so slightly—his left foot turning at just the right moment, his weight shifting perfectly—and the fireball missed him by a literal hair's breadth. The flames passed behind him, casting his figure in an eerie glow...

Not a single burn. Not even a singed hair strand...

Fugaku felt his breath slow. His mind processed what had just happened.

Hayatou hadn't dodged.

The boy truly had predicted what he was going to do. The exact timing. The exact trajectory. The exact speed. And he had stepped just outside the attack's range—not an inch more, not an inch less.

Fugaku's grip tightened slightly. This level of precision… this level of calculation…

'This boy is dangerous... If I don't take him somewhat seriously, I might lose...'

Hayatou on the other hand straightened himself up, his expression the same as it was in the beginning, casual. Then, as if to add insult to injury, he exhaled lightly, as though the exchange had barely been worth the effort.

"Was that the extent of your test, Fugaku-sama?" he asked, his tone polite—but only just.

Fugaku's Sharingan, which had remained inactive for most of the fight, flickered to life.

"No..." he replied, voice even, measured.

Then, in the blink of an eye, he moved.

'Let's see just how far this child's talent truly goes...'

However, he instantly stopped in his tracks... He could see Hayatou, with a completely different atmosphere around his body...

'What is he up to?' Fugaku thought. Hayatou's posture was very low, almost as if he was in a lunging position... With his Sharingan, he could see the boy's muscles flexed to their absolute limits, his veins building as a response to what he was doing...

Yet, there was a smile was plastered on his face.

"Fugaku... Make sure you don't blink."

Fugaku's instincts flared.

Something was wrong.

Hayatou's stance—low, coiled like a predator about to strike—was unnatural. Not in a reckless way, but in a way that set off every warning in Fugaku's mind. His muscles weren't just tense—they were compressed, like a fully drawn bowstring moments before release.

And then, there was that smile.

Not arrogance. Not excitement. Something no other word could be used, other than simply being, efficient.

Fugaku's grip then tightened. His Sharingan spun, analyzing every subtle movement, every shift of weight, every micro expression, 'What is he doing?'

Then—

CRACK!

The ground beneath Hayatou's feet exploded.

'Shit—!'

Fugaku's body moved on instinct, flickering backwards just as Hayatou vanished. Not a step, not a sprint—vanished. It wasn't Body Flicker. It wasn't any technique Fugaku had ever seen. It was pure, raw acceleration.

His eyes barely managed to track it—barely. The moment Hayatou reappeared, he was already within striking distance, his body twisting midair, his fist cutting through the space between them with terrifying force.

Fugaku pivoted at the last moment. A gust of air roared past his cheek, the sheer pressure of Hayatou's punch alone enough to split the air. A fraction of a second slower, and he would have been hit—no, wrecked.

But he wasn't out of danger yet.

Hayatou didn't slow. The moment his strike missed, he adjusted seamlessly, shifting into a follow-up strike with inhuman fluidity.

Fugaku saw it. His Sharingan processed it. His body moved to block—

BANG!

Fugaku's forearm absorbed the impact, but—

'What the hell—?!'

His entire body had skidded backwards, his feet literally grinding deep against the stone path. His arm stung, the force behind the blow far greater than it had any right to be from such a small body. This wasn't just physical strength—this was pure refined, efficient and optimized power.

And Hayatou…

He was still smiling.

"I warned you, didn't I?" the boy said, rolling his shoulders, as if shaking off the warm-up. "I told you didn't I?"

"Not to blink."

Fugaku exhaled slowly. His Sharingan locked onto Hayatou with renewed focus.

'This boy… this is no ordinary talent. This is something else entirely... I couldn't even track him properly with my Sharingan activated. His strength is already well beyond that of a regular Jonin...'

"…Interesting." he murmured, shaking out his arm. Then, his gaze sharpened. He was serious.

"Let's see how long you can keep that up."

And this time, he moved first.

A single step—swift, calculated, precise. His Sharingan spun at full intensity, tracking Hayatou's every breath, every shift of weight, every flicker of muscle tension. He would not be caught off guard again.

This time, I'll—

BOOM!

The sound came first—a thunderous rupture of stone. Then—nothing.

Hayatou was gone.

Not flickered. Not stepped. Just, gone. Fugaku's instincts screamed at him. His body pivoted, Sharingan scanning for even the smallest trace—

"Too late~"

A fist then slammed into his gut, detonating with raw, concentrated force.

"Urghh!"

Fugaku's world had blurred. His feet left the ground. His breath was stolen in an instant, his ribs compressing under the sheer impact. He barely processed what had happened before—

CRACK!

Something struck his jaw next. An uppercut. His head snapped back, his vision fracturing into white-hot static. Where? When?!

Then—

BANG!

His body was airborne. No control. No footing. No—

Another impact. His back slammed into the ground with terrifying force, the stone beneath him shattering under the weight of his body...

Silence...

Dust settled in the air. Debris crumbled around him. Fugaku's Sharingan flickered—then dimmed. His consciousness faded. And just like that…

The Uchiha Clan Head... was knocked out cold.

______________________________________

~ Hayatou's Pov ~

.

.

.

'What a disappointment...'

I sighed, looking down at Fugaku's unconscious body. I had hoped the Uchiha head wouldn't underestimate me…

But, of course, he did.

He should have used his Genjutsu. He should have done something to limit me, restrict my movements, and even force me into a disadvantaged position. But he didn't. He must have went into this fight thinking he wouldn't need to use it...

A supremely foolish move. And now he was paying the price for it...

I shifted my stance slightly, rolling my shoulders. The fight—if I could even call it that—was over too quickly for me to gain anything useful from it. Fugaku had been skilled, of course. His reaction speed was elite, his technique was refined. But in the end, it hadn't mattered.

Because physically, he was, well... too slow. Though, if I had on my weights, this fight would have been a lot different. I would have lost, so it's a good thing I took them off when I went home...

'At least now, I know where I stand.'

Using only optimized bio-mechanics, combined with my raw strength, placed me at a high Jonin level in terms of pure physical prowess. But when I applied technique on top of that—fully maximizing my momentum, leverage, and movement efficiency— I was easily Kage-level. That wasn't even arrogance. That was just a fact.

I had essentially just out-sped and knocked out one of the strongest shinobi in the village in a single decisive exchange. Without Ninjutsu. Without Genjutsu. Without even tapping into my full potential either...

I looked down at my hands, flexing them slightly.

'And I can still get stronger.'

The realization settled in my mind like an undeniable truth. I hadn't even optimized my techniques fully yet. I was still learning, still refining.

Which meant that my current level… was only a very solid foundation. That's it.

I smirked to myself; quite proud of my results and training so far...

'Well then, let's see if Fugaku keeps his end of the deal.' With that, I walked away, leaving the Uchiha Clan Head unconscious... He'd wake up in a hour or so.

[Host... Do you wish to use the blood of the Uchiha?]

'...'

I genuinely almost forgot about that.

'I do... But what will you do with it?'

[Registering command... I will now go into analysis mode...]

Seriously, no answer? Just like that?

'Well... It seems Like I won't be getting that answer anytime soon.'

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

END