Cursed Uchiha - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: The Prodigy’s Challenge and a Shocking Upset

The evolution of his Reinforcement skill to Level 2 had been a revelation for Dom. It wasn’t just a quantitative leap; it was a qualitative shift in how his Cursed Energy melded with his physical form. The system’s description – a fourfold augmentation to his base physical capabilities – was potent enough on paper. But the practical application was something else entirely.

Dom had spent hours in his secluded mountain clearing, not just punching the unyielding rock face, but also testing the limits of this new level of power. He found that Reinforcement Lv1, with its 2x boost, felt comparable to what he imagined the First of the Eight Inner Gates, the Gate of Opening, might grant – a significant surge beyond normal human limits, allowing for bursts of surprising strength and speed.

But Reinforcement Lv2? This fourfold enhancement was a different beast altogether. It felt akin to unlocking the Second Gate, the Gate of Healing (or Rest, as some called it). His movements became blazingly fast when he channeled the Cursed Energy correctly, his physical blows carried a weight that was utterly disproportionate to his small, six-year-old frame, and his durability… well, Punching Mountain could attest to that. He could now deliver those one hundred grinding punches for a single percentage point of proficiency with slightly less immediate agony, though the cumulative fatigue remained immense.

An unexpected, but welcome, side effect of his brutal Reinforcement training was the evolution of his Reverse Curse Technique. The constant cycle of bruising, scraping, and sometimes even fracturing his knuckles, followed by the painstaking application of positive energy generated from his Cursed Energy, had slowly but surely pushed its proficiency upwards. He hadn’t actively ‘grinded’ it like Reinforcement, but the sheer necessity of patching himself up after every session had provided ample, if painful, practice.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day where he’d pushed himself to earn a hard-fought two percent for Reinforcement Lv2 (two hundred bone-jarring punches!), he’d been tending to a rather nasty gash across his knuckles. As he focused on multiplying his negative Cursed Energy, the resultant positive energy had felt… different. Warmer, more potent, more efficient.

[System Notification: Skill: Reverse Curse Lv1 has reached maximum proficiency. Evolving to Reverse Curse Lv2!]

[Skill Updated: Reverse Curse Lv2 (0%)]

Description: Advanced application of generating positive energy from Cursed Energy for regenerative purposes. Healing capabilities significantly enhanced. Can now be applied to others through direct contact, though with greater CE expenditure.

Current Effect (Lv2): Rapid healing of moderate to serious injuries on oneself or others. Can staunch heavy bleeding, mend torn muscle tissue, and accelerate the healing of fractured bones. Cannot regenerate severed limbs. Healing speed estimated at 100x that of an ordinary (non-medical) ninja’s natural recovery.

Dom had stared at the notification, then at his mangled hand. He’d applied the Lv2 Reverse Curse, and the warmth that spread through his fist was intense. The skin had knitted together with visible speed, the angry red fading to a pale pink within minutes, the deep ache receding to a dull throb. It was astonishing. A hundred times faster healing? And the ability to heal others? That was a genuine medical ninjutsu equivalent, perhaps even superior for certain types of trauma. It wouldn’t make him Tsunade, but it was another powerful ace up his sleeve, a testament to his JJK system’s unique advantages.

It was during one such afternoon, a week after Reinforcement had hit Level 2, that his solitude was unexpectedly broken. Dom was deep into his regimen, the rhythmic THOOM of his Cursed Energy-augmented fists against Punching Mountain echoing through the hidden clearing. Sweat plastered his dark hair to his forehead, his small chest heaving with exertion. He was counting internally, ‘…ninety-seven… ninety-eight… ninety-nine… one HUNDRED!’ Another precious percentage point for Reinforcement Lv2.

As he leaned against the rock face, panting, a flicker of movement at the edge of the clearing caught his Sharingan-enhanced senses. He tensed, his Cursed Energy coiling, ready to react.

A small figure stepped out from behind a cluster of ancient pines.

Uchiha Itachi.

Itachi stood there, his usual calm academy attire looking slightly out of place in the rugged wilderness. His dark eyes, sharp and impossibly perceptive for a six-year-old, swept over the scene: Dom, disheveled and breathing hard; the numerous fresh indentations and impact marks on the rock face; the almost palpable aura of exertion and focused power clinging to Dom.

Dom’s mind raced. ‘Itachi! How did he find this place? My Perception skill didn’t pick him up approaching – he must have masked his presence incredibly well, or I was too focused on not breaking every bone in my hand.’ He quickly schooled his features into his usual surprised, slightly goofy expression. “Well, hello there, Itachi-niisan! Fancy meeting you here. Just, uh, communing with nature. This rock and I, we have a very deep, percussive understanding.”

Itachi did not smile. His gaze was fixed on the cracks and fist mark on stone, then back to Dom’s still-reddened knuckles.

Dom could see the gears turning in that prodigal mind.

Itachi had always been observant, but Dom had underestimated just how much. Perhaps Dom’s increasingly confident demeanor at the academy, despite his theoretical blunders, or his frequent, unexplained disappearances after classes, had piqued the older Uchiha’s curiosity.

Itachi was not one to leave a puzzle unsolved. He had likely been subtly looking for Dom, tracking his unusual patterns.

“Your ‘communing’ seems rather… forceful, Dom-san,” Itachi said, his voice quiet, but with an edge of undeniable seriousness. He took a step closer, his eyes not missing the sheer destructive evidence of Dom’s training. The indentations were not the work of a normal child, not even a talented Uchiha child performing standard katas. They spoke of focused, repetitive, and shockingly powerful blows. “The strength behind those impacts… it is considerable. Far beyond what you display at the academy.”

Dom mentally cursed. So much for his ‘average but lucky’ persona.

Itachi’s gaze was unwavering. “You are hiding your abilities, Dom-san. Why?” There was no accusation in his tone, only a calm, penetrating inquiry. He didn’t understand it.

In the Uchiha clan, strength was prized, displayed, used as a measure of worth and a tool for the clan’s advancement. For someone to possess such evident power and deliberately conceal it… it was an anomaly.

Dom tried for a deflection. “Hiding? Me? Itachi-niisan, I think you overestimate my rock-persuasion skills. This mountain is just particularly soft in this spot. Very impressionable.”

Itachi’s expression remained unchanged. “I am not easily fooled, Dom-san. I have observed you. Your control, your occasional bursts of… unusual aptitude. And now this.” He gestured to the battered rock face. “I wish to understand. And I wish to gauge your true strength.” His eyes, dark and intense, met Dom’s. “I request a spar.”

Dom groaned internally. ‘A spar? With Itachi? The universe really does have a twisted sense of humor. He’s a prodigy, sure, but I’m packing mid-Jonin level Cursed Energy and a 4x physical multiplier. This isn’t a spar; it’s child abuse, and I’m the abuser!’

“A spar?” Dom said aloud, feigning surprise and a touch of fear. “But Itachi-niisan, you’re the academy’s top genius! I’d be flattened before I could even remember which end of the kunai is the pointy one. Besides, I’m more of a lover than a fighter. A lover of dango, mostly.”

Itachi’s patience, however, was a deep well, and his Uchiha stubbornness, when engaged, was formidable. “It is said that the truest measure of a shinobi is found not in the classroom, but in combat,” he stated, his tone polite but unyielding. “And as members of the Uchiha clan, it is our duty to push ourselves, to understand our capabilities and the capabilities of our kin. Consider it a valuable learning experience for both of us. I will not accept no for an answer.” He even subtly flared his chakra, a hint of the pressure a clan heir could exert.

Dom sighed. He knew that look. Itachi wouldn’t be dissuaded. He also knew that a flat-out refusal would only deepen the prodigy’s suspicion. And perhaps… perhaps a controlled demonstration, a little ‘spar,’ could be… informative. For both of them.

“Alright, alright, Itachi-niisan, you twisted my arm. Metaphorically, of course. Please don’t actually twist my arm; it’s still sore from arguing with this mountain.” Dom adopted a reluctant stance, deliberately sloppy. “But you have to promise to go easy on little old me. I bruise like an overripe tomato.”

Itachi inclined his head, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. “I will be… considerate.”

The clearing, which a moment ago had been Dom’s private grindstone, transformed into an impromptu arena. The two six-year-old Uchiha faced each other, the silent, ancient trees their only spectators.

The spar began with Itachi initiating. And it was immediately clear why he was hailed as a prodigy. His movements were a blur of controlled grace, far exceeding what any normal academy student, even a senior one, should be capable of. He opened with a swift Body Flicker, not the true teleportation-like speed of a master, but a rapid, chakra-enhanced dash that closed the distance between them in an instant.

‘Fast for a six-year-old Genin-in-training,’ Dom noted, his eyes (not activated sharingan) easily tracking the movement. His own Reinforcement-enhanced speed, however, was in another dimension entirely.

A flurry of kunai and shuriken erupted from Itachi’s hands, each throw precise, aimed at Dom’s vital points or to restrict his movement. Dom, with a series of what appeared to be lucky stumbles, exaggerated ducks, and last-second deflections with a hastily drawn training kunai of his own, managed to avoid them all.

To Itachi, it must have looked like Dom was barely, miraculously, staying ahead of the barrage. To Dom, Itachi’s projectiles seemed to be moving in slow motion.

Itachi transitioned seamlessly into taijutsu, his small fists and feet a flurry of well-executed strikes and blocks, textbook academy katas refined to a sharp edge. He pressed the attack, his movements fluid and efficient. Dom backpedaled, parrying clumsily, sometimes “accidentally” using Itachi’s momentum to spin away, making it seem like he was constantly on the verge of being overwhelmed.

‘His technique is clean,’ Dom analyzed, easily deflecting a swift kick. ‘Good fundamentals, excellent speed for his age. Definitely solid Genin-level skills already. He’s not relying on raw power, but on precision and training. Impressive.’

Then, Itachi disengaged, creating distance with another quick flicker. He formed a series of rapid hand seals – Ox, Rabbit, Monkey – far faster than any academy student should manage. “Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique!”

A large sphere of roaring flame erupted from Itachi’s lips, hurtling towards Dom. It was a respectable size for his age, certainly enough to intimidate any normal classmate.

Dom, however, simply sidestepped it with a speed that was just a hair faster than Itachi’s fireball. The heat washed over him, but he was untouched. He even had time to fan himself theatrically. “Whoa there, Itachi-niisan! Trying to give me a Uchiha-style suntan? My complexion is far too delicate for that kind of heat treatment!”

Itachi landed, breathing a little harder now, a frown creasing his brow. Dom was… slippery. Unorthodox. His movements were awkward, almost comical at times, yet he remained untouched. Every attack, every feint, every carefully laid trap was evaded with what seemed like dumb luck, but Itachi was beginning to suspect it was something far more profound.

Dom’s Cursed Energy, currently at Level 69, pulsed within him, a deep ocean of power compared to Itachi’s own still-developing chakra reserves, which, while impressive for his age, were still firmly in the Low Genin-to-mid-Genin range. Dom was, by his system’s metrics, a mid-Jonin in terms of raw energy. Combined with Reinforcement Lv2’s fourfold physical boost, the disparity was colossal. Itachi’s best efforts, his prodigious skills, felt like a child swatting at a seasoned warrior who was merely indulging him.

Dom decided the charade had gone on long enough. It was bordering on insulting to Itachi’s genuine effort, and besides, an opportunity was presenting itself. A chance to deliver a subtle, but impactful, lesson. A lesson about hidden depths, about not underestimating others, and perhaps, just perhaps, a tiny seed of doubt about the infallibility of perceived genius.

“Alright, Itachi-niisan,” Dom said, his voice suddenly losing its clownish edge, replaced by a quiet seriousness that made Itachi pause. “My turn, I think?”

Before Itachi could react, Dom moved.

It wasn’t a Body Flicker, not in the traditional sense. It was a pure, explosive burst of speed, his Reinforcement Lv2 skill flaring to life, coating his small frame in a nearly invisible layer of potent Cursed Energy. One moment he was standing ten feet away, the next he was there, directly in front of Itachi, his movement a silent, near-instantaneous blur that even Itachi’s eyes would have struggled to track fully.

Itachi’s eyes widened in genuine shock. This wasn’t the clumsy, lucky Uchiha Dom from the academy. This wasn’t even the surprisingly forceful boy he’d seen punching the mountain. This was… something else. Something terrifyingly fast.

Dom didn’t aim for the head. He didn’t use a complex technique. He simply, with that same shocking speed, delivered a single, perfectly controlled punch to Itachi’s stomach. It was augmented by Reinforcement Lv2, but Dom held back the vast majority of his actual strength. He wasn’t trying to maim the kid, just make a very definitive point.

THWACK.

The sound was sickeningly solid. The Cursed Energy behind the blow, even restrained, was enough. All the air whooshed out of Itachi’s lungs in a single, desperate gasp. His eyes, fixed on Dom’s suddenly very serious face, bulged with disbelief and dawning agony. Dom could almost feel the impact jarring the half-digested breakfast from the prodigy’s stomach.

Itachi staggered back, his small hands instinctively clutching his abdomen. His face, usually a mask of calm composure, was contorted in pain. He tried to stay upright, his Uchiha pride battling the overwhelming physical shock, but his legs buckled. He collapsed to his knees, a strangled cough escaping him as he gasped desperately for breath, his body trembling.

Silence descended upon the clearing, broken only by Itachi’s ragged, painful inhalations. He stared at the ground, then slowly, with immense effort, lifted his head to look at Dom. The genius aura, the air of untouchable prodigy, had flickered and died, replaced by the raw, stunned vulnerability of a child who had just encountered a force far beyond his comprehension.

This was, Dom knew with certainty, Uchiha Itachi’s first true, undeniable defeat. And it had come not at the hands of a seasoned Jonin or a fearsome enemy, but from a quiet, quirky, six-year-old clanmate he had never truly seen.