The moment Daigo-sensei called the match to a close, the tension in the training field snapped.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. The only sound was the faint rustling of leaves and the measured breathing of the two fighters.
Then, the murmurs started.
"Did you see that?"
"Murakami held his own against an Uchiha?"
"No, he matched him!"
Even the students who had initially dismissed the fight as one-sided now looked at Murakami with newfound interest. A clanless student fighting an Uchiha on equal footing wasn't something you saw every day.
Aiko crossed her arms, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, well. You had that in you all along, huh?"
Ryuji whistled under his breath, his ninken, Kiba, letting out a small yip in agreement. "That was something else. I figured Murakami was strong, but this? Not bad."
Hana Hyūga remained silent, her eyes thoughtful as she analyzed what she had just witnessed.
She had noticed the same thing the others had, Murakami wasn't just skilled. He was disciplined. His movements had been precise, his counters deliberate.
And most importantly, he hadn't hesitated.
However, what caught her interest was Rensuke.
"He's already awakened it…" she muttered under her breath as her gaze bore into Rensuke.
Returning back to group, Murakami exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.
He hadn't gone all out. That much he knew. But neither had Rensuke. And if the match had continued, things might have taken a different turn.
Murakami didn't dwell on it. Instead, he stepped back into the crowd as Daigo-sensei glanced down at his roster.
"Alright, next set. Hana Hyūga and Aiko."
Aiko grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Finally! Been waiting for this."
Hana, by contrast, simply nodded, stepping forward with the same grace she always carried.
The class quieted down again.
If the last match had been surprising, this one promised to be just as interesting.
…
Murakami's POV
I rolled my shoulders, feeling the dull throb of where Rensuke's hits had landed. Nothing serious, just reminders that the fight had been real.
If he hadn't activated his Sharingan, I might've pressed my advantage. But the moment that one tomoe spun into existence, everything changed.
Those damn eyes…
I exhaled through my nose, crossing my arms as I leaned against a nearby post.
Rensuke had already been a challenge during the exchange. His speed, technique, and clan training had made sure of that. But the moment his Sharingan activated, it was like he saw everything I did before I even did it.
My feints? Read. My footwork? Countered.
And that was just a one-tomoe Sharingan.
I clenched my fist.
It was frustrating, knowing that no matter how much I trained, no matter how disciplined I was, some people just had natural advantages. The Uchiha, the Hyūga, the Akimichi with their insane physicality—bloodlines were cheats, plain and simple.
It didn't mean I'd stop, though. If anything, it just made me more determined.
There was no use crying over it.
Before I could get too deep into my thoughts, movement in the sparring ring pulled me back.
Hana Hyūga and Aiko faced each other.
I clicked my tongue. This… probably won't be fair.
Aiko was strong, no doubt. She was fast, aggressive, and naturally talented. But Hana was a Hyūga, which meant that she wasn't just talented, she was trained. A Hyūga who had been drilled in her clan's arts since she could walk. Aiko, on the other hand, was a civilian orphan with no deep foundation to lean on.
Daigo-sensei glanced at them both, then raised his hand.
"Begin."
Aiko moved first.
She dashed forward, aiming for a quick engagement. She knew if she let opponent set the pace, the fight was already lost. She threw her right fist as she closed the distance.
Hana didn't move.
Not until the last second.
The moment Aiko's first strike came, Hana shifted, a small, almost lazy sidestep that put her just barely out of range and Aiko's punch whiffed through the air, but Aiko didn't let up and immediately followed, throwing a second punch, then a third, but each one missed by the slimmest margins.
Aiko was fast. That much was clear.
She had the natural aggression of someone who had learned to fight through pure effort, through sheer trial and error. There was no rigidity to her movements, just sharp instincts and adaptability.
It was impressive, honestly. But against a Hyūga?
It wasn't enough.
Hana moved like water, flowing effortlessly around Aiko's attacks. There were no wasted steps, no unnecessary movements—just pure efficiency.
And when she struck, it wasn't with fists or kicks meant to bruise.
It was with precision. With intent.
The first hit barely seemed to land, a simple tap against Aiko's shoulder. But the reaction was instant.
Aiko stumbled, her arm twitching unnaturally.
Gentle Fist.
I clicked my tongue.
It wasn't a style built for overwhelming force like the Uchiha's or for raw power like the Akimichi's. No, the Hyūga didn't need power. They didn't need to break bones or knock someone unconscious in one blow.
Because their attacks didn't just hurt. They disrupted.
Aiko gritted her teeth, forcing her body to move, but Hana was already stepping in again.
Another tap, this time to the ribs.
Aiko gasped, her footing faltering.
It was unfair, in a way. Every strike from Hana wasn't just physical—it was internal. The Gentle Fist didn't batter muscles or snap bones. It reached past all of that, straight into the body's inner systems.
A direct assault on the chakra network itself.
Aiko must have realized this, because her expression twisted into frustration. With a sharp inhale, she lunged forward again, feinting low before twisting into a high kick.
Hana didn't flinch.
Her Byakugan wasn't activated, but it didn't need to be.
She stepped inside the arc of the kick with perfect timing, raising a single palm—
And struck.
The blow landed just beneath Aiko's ribs.
Aiko's entire body convulsed.
Her kick faltered mid-air, her legs buckling beneath her. She let out a sharp, strangled breath, her hands instinctively clutching her stomach.
That was it.
One clean hit, one perfectly placed strike to her tenketsu, and Aiko's body refused to keep fighting.
She gasped, forcing herself to stay upright, but it was clear—her movements were impeded, her balance thrown completely off.
Hana simply lowered her hand, her expression as calm as ever.
Aiko gritted her teeth. She wasn't out yet. Even if her chakra wasn't flowing properly, even if she could barely stand, she refused to just give up.
I shook my head. Continuing this fight was now pointless.
And just before she could try to push forward again—
"Enough."
Daigo-sensei's voice cut through the field.
Aiko froze, her hands trembling at her sides.
Hana simply took a step back, bowing slightly before turning to rejoin the others.
Aiko stayed still for a moment longer.
Then, with a deep breath, she forced herself upright, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth before walking back toward the group.
No words were spoken, but the class was watching. Everyone was watching.
Hana had won. Decisively.
She hadn't even activated her Byakugan and she didn't need to.
Fucking Bloodlines.
"Alright," Daigo-sensei called out, checking his clipboard. "Next up, Inuzuka Ryuji and Shimura Takeo."
That got some murmurs.
Ryuji grinned, stretching his arms as his ninken, Kiba, let out an excited bark. "Finally. Been waiting for my turn."
Takeo, on the other hand, looked far less enthusiastic. He wasn't clanless, but he wasn't exactly known for excelling either. Still, he stepped forward with as much confidence as he could muster.
I settled in, watching carefully.
Ryuji was fast. That much was obvious from the moment the match started.
He fought with an aggressive, wild style, moving with bursts of speed and using his claws to swipe at Takeo who dodged skillfully.
Every strike had weight behind it, even if they were just sparring.
Takeo held his own…for a bit. He tried to use his reach to keep Ryuji at bay, but the moment Kiba barked and lunged forward, Takeo flinched.
That was all Ryuji needed.
He closed the distance in a blur, sweeping Takeo's legs from under him before pinning him down with a single clawed hand.
"Yield?"
Takeo gritted his teeth but nodded.
Ryuji grinned, helping him up. "Not bad. But you gotta be ready for distractions, man."
The next few matches played out similarly.
Some were quick. Others dragged on with neither side willing to back down. But none had the same weight as the earlier fights. No Sharingan, no Gentle Fist—just students testing their skills.
Then there was Katsuro-kun.
Daigo-sensei scanned his clipboard, then glanced up. "Next match—Katsuro Nara and—"
"I yield."
The entire class turned as one.
Katsuro hadn't even lifted his head from where he was lounging against a tree at the edge of the training field. He let out a long, exaggerated sigh, tilting his head just enough to peer at Daigo-sensei with half-lidded eyes.
Daigo-sensei frowned. "You're giving up before even fighting?"
Katsuro stretched, yawning as if the very idea of standing up was exhausting. "Yeah. Fighting sounds like too much of a hassle."
A few chuckles rippled through the class.
Daigo-sensei pinched the bridge of his nose. "And what exactly do you plan to do in a real battle, Nara? Take a nap?"
Katsuro leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered. "I mean, if the enemy is dumb enough to let me, that just proves I'm right, doesn't it?"
The class burst into laughter.
Daigo-sensei sighed. "Fine. You're skipping your turn. Next match—"
Katsuro exhaled in relief, already settling back into his nap like he had just narrowly avoided a life-threatening ordeal.
Classic Nara. I guess it's a clan thing as a whole.
By the time the last match ended, Daigo-sensei clapped his hands together. "That's enough for today. Good work."
There was a collective exhale from the class. Some students stretched out their sore limbs, while others just dragged themselves toward the academy building, eager to sit down.
I walked back with Aiko and Katsuro.
"That was rough," Aiko muttered, rubbing her ribs.
"You did good," I offered.
She snorted. "I lost in under a minute."
"You lasted longer than most would against a Hyūga," Katsuro said with a shrug. "They're built different."
Aiko didn't respond, but I could tell she was still turning the fight over in her head.
By the time we entered the classroom, a different instructor was already waiting for us.
He wasn't Daigo-sensei.
This man was taller, leaner, with sharp features and narrow eyes that flickered over us like he was sizing up prey. His black hair was tied back, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
"Take your seats," he ordered.
We did.
"I am Arata-sensei," he continued, voice smooth but firm. "Your next lesson will be on bukijutsu."
Weapons training.
Now this? This I was interested in.