The moment Daigo-sensei called the match to a close, there was tension in the training field.
For a few seconds, no one spoke. The only sound was the faint sound of the wind and the measured breathing of the two fighters.
Then, the murmurs started.
"This can't be real, right?"
"Murakami held his own against an Uchiha?"
"Yes, he matched him!"
Even the students who had initially dismissed the fight as one-sided now looked at Murakami with newfound interest.
A civilian student fighting an Uchiha on equal footing wasn't unheard of but it wasn't something you saw every day.
Aiko crossed her arms, a satisfied smirk tugging at her lips. "Well, well. You were at this level all along, huh?" She muttered inaudibly.
She had never seen Murakami seriously fight and this was the fight time she had seen him do so seriously.
None of the other kids has ever made him fight seriously, he'd always have this distant look in his eyes with one hand in his sleeves.
She had heard that he always trains in the morning and she had seen him several times, and she always thought he was weird, but the more time she spent in the academy, the more she got to understand how impressive he was.
So while she admired him for his tenacity despite his age, seeing him fight an Uchiha to this extent made her heart stir.
Inuzuka Ryuji whistled under his breath, his ninken, Kiba, letting out a small yip in agreement.
"That was something else." He added with an excited glint in his eyes. Murakami wasn't someone he just got to know, they had been in different classes but during the time he was in the same class as him, he figured Murakami was strong.
But this?
"Not bad." He still believed he would win if they both fought.
Hana Hyūga remained silent, her eyes shone thoughtfully as she analyzed what she had just witnessed.
She had noticed the same thing the others had and more. Murakami wasn't just skilled. He was disciplined. His movements had been precise, his counters direct without hesitation.
It was like he knew where he would be attacked, and most importantly, he hadn't hesitated.
However, what caught her interest the most was Uchiha Rensuke.
"He's already awakened it…" she muttered under her breath as her gaze bore into Rensuke.
Returning back to the group, Murakami breathed slowly, rolling his shoulders.
He hadn't gone all out, that much he knew, but neither had Uchiha Rensuke. And if the match had continued, things might have taken a different turn.
Fighting against the Sharingan has been touted to be a death sentence so he wasn't going to be arrogant to say he would certainly win, but the Uchiha wouldn't have had it comfortably.
Murakami rolled his shoulders, feeling the dull throb of where Rensuke's hits had landed. They were nothing serious, just reminders that the fight had been real.
Although he wanted to remain in the shadows and grow his strength, acquiring combat experience was also a necessity and the kids at the orphanage weren't able to help in that regard.
'They are even the ones acquiring combat experience from those spars.' He thought to himself as he shot a glance at Uchiha Rensuke.
If he hadn't activated his Sharingan, Murakami would've pressed his advantage. But the moment that one tomoe spun into existence, everything changed.
'Those damn eyes…' he cursed internally in envy as he crossed his arms.
Rensuke had been a challenge during the duel. His speed, technique, and clan training had made sure of that.
But the moment his Sharingan activated, Murakami felt like he saw everything he did before he did it.
His moves were read before they became a completed move. And that was just a one-tomoe Sharingan.
Murakami clenched his fist in frustration. It was a despairing feeling, knowing that no matter how much he trained, no matter how disciplined he was, some people just had natural advantages.
The Uchiha, the Hyūga, the Akimichi with their insane physicality—bloodlines were cheats, plain and simple.
This didn't mean Murakami would stop, though. If anything, he just made him more determined.
'There was no use crying over what I hold no control over.' he thought to himself as the two who will be fighting the next match were called.
"Alright, next set. Hana Hyūga and Aiko."
Aiko grinned, cracking her knuckles. "Finally! Been waiting for this."
Hana, by contrast, simply stepped forward with the same grace she always carried.
The class quieted down again as they all trained their eyes on the two.
If the last match had been surprising, this one promised to be just as interesting.
Hana Hyūga and Aiko faced each other.
'Tsk.' Murakami clicked his tongue. 'This… probably won't be fair.' He concluded.
Aiko was strong for a civilian girl, no doubt about that. She was fast, aggressive, and naturally talented.
But Hana was a Hyūga, which meant that she didn't just have the unfair advantage of talent, she was trained to bring out the capability of said talent.
A Hyūga who had been drilled in her clan's arts since she could train. Aiko, on the other hand, was a civilian orphan with no foundation to lean on.
Daigo-sensei glanced at them both, then raised his hand.
"Begin."
As soon as his words rang out, Aiko moved.
She quickly closed the distance, aiming for a quick engagement. She knew if she let the opponent set the pace, the fight was already lost so she threw her right fist as she closed the distance.
But 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 and nimble, although she hated sweaty exercises, she enjoyed doing the Yoga stances Murakami introduced to them.
Watching her fight, Murakami observed that she had the natural aggression of someone who had learned to fight through pure effort, trial and error.
There was no rigidity to her movements and it was impressive, but against a Hyūga?
It wasn't enough.
Hana Hyūga moved like water, flowing effortlessly around Aiko's attacks. There were no exaggerated or unnecessary movements as she maneuvered through Aiko's attacks.
And when she struck, it wasn't with fists or kicks meant to bruise, but a simple tap against Aiko's left shoulder and the reaction was instant.
Aiko stumbled back in pain as she clutched her left shoulder with her right hand.
"Gentle Fist." Murakami muttered to himself in amazement.
He clicked my tongue as he recalled the information he had on the technique.
It wasn't a style built for overwhelming force like the Uchiha's hard fist technique 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, just like with Aiko.
Aiko gritted her teeth, and moved to launch another attack but Hana was ahead of her, stepping into her space.
Another tap, this time to the ribs on her left side.
Aiko gasped as she clutched her side due to the inexplicable pain she was feeling.
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 was one of frustration. With a sharp inhale, she lunged again, feinting low before twisting into a high kick.
But Hana didn't flinch.
Her Byakugan wasn't activated, but it didn't need to be. She smoothly stepped inside the arc of the kick with perfect timing, and struck.
The blow landed just beneath Aiko's ribs, this time, on the right and Aiko's entire body convulsed.
Her kick faltered mid-air with the leg on the ground buckling beneath her. She let out a sharp breath, her hands clutching her stomach.
That was it.
A series of perfectly placed strikes to her tenketsu, and Aiko's body refused to keep fighting.
She gasped, forcing herself to stand, but it was clear, her movements were impeded.
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.
Murakami shook his 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. Hana had won..
She hadn't even activated her Byakugan and she didn't need to.
'Fucking Bloodlines.' Murakami cursed while looking at Aiko's pitiful figure.
"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."
Shimura Takeo, on the other hand, looked far less enthusiastic. He wasn't without a clan, but he wasn't exactly known for excellence either.
Still, he stepped forward with as much confidence as he could muster.
The instructor signaled, and the two boys stepped into the circle.
The match soon began and Ryuji moved first.
Unlike the previous fights that began slowly, this one began with no warning or testing the waters, he shot straight in.
His movements were sharp and feral. The Inuzuka style wasn't elegant; it was pressure, pure and constant.
Shimura Takeo caught the first swipe on his forearm, the blow landing with a thock sound that vibrated up his arm.
Ryuji didn't stop, nor did his momentum diminish, he hooked low for Takeo's ribs, but Takeo turned, narrowly redirecting the strike with the back of his wrist.
Another swipe—Takeo ducked.
A knee—Takeo blocked with both arms, sliding back half a step from the impact.
The space between them was barely two feet, and they stayed locked in that tight range, exchanging short and brutal attacks that made the circle's spectators lean in with every clash.
Murakami was even more intrigued as he watched the fight.
Inuzuka Ryuji's style was wild, but not sloppy. Even his footwork was aggressive.
Takeo's approach was the opposite since he didn't meet force with force.
Ryuji shot forward again
Takeo braced. 'Too slow.' he thought as Ryuji's first swipe sliced through the space where Takeo's head had just been, which forced him to duck and slide back.
But Ryuji didn't stop; he chained the next attacks instantly, left swipe, right swipe, low kick, each one fast enough to appear like a blur to an untrained eye.
Takeo blocked the first claw, redirected the second, then twisted his torso to avoid the kick by inches before he countered with a sharp jab to Ryuji's chest.
Ryuji rolled under it like an animal slipping beneath a branch, popping up behind Takeo.
Takeo spun, throwing a hook.
Ryuji leaned just enough to let the punch whiff past his cheek, then drove his forehead forward in a quick, wild headbutt.
Takeo staggered a step, but he recovered and slammed a knee toward Ryuji's ribs.
Ryuji dropped his weight, letting the knee skim over his shoulder, then pounced—literally—shoulder-first, pushing Takeo back toward the boundary of the circle.
Kiba barked sharply, rushing in from Takeo's blind spot.
Takeo flinched and Ryuji didn't waste the opening.
He swept Takeo's legs out in one clean low kick and Takeo hit the ground with a thud.
Ryuji's hand…claw, pressed lightly to Takeo's chest.
"Yield?"
Takeo's breath shook, frustration clear…but he nodded
"…Yield."
Ryuji pulled back his hand with a grin as Kiba jumped on his shoulder yapping triumphantly.
The instructor nodded. "Winner—Ryuji."
Ryuji helped him up. "Not bad. But you gotta be ready for distractions, man."
"...You're an Inuzuka." Takeo calmly said to Ryuji. "It's already unfair that you fight like a wild animal, why do you also get a ninja dog jumping in from the side?"
Ryuji blinked, then he smirked.
"That's called teamwork."
Kiba barked proudly from his shoulder like he understood every word.
Takeo dusted off his clothes with a sigh. "Teamwork?"
He looked at the boy and dog, then turned around and retuened to the group. He had already lost, so there was no need to defend himself to feel better.
The next few matches played out similarly.
Some were quick. Others dragged on with neither side willing to back down.
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. "Yes. 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—"
Afterall, the purpose of this exercise was the determine the strengths and weaknesses of the students so they can help them grow.
Katsuro Nara, being from The Nara clan was already weak physically. Therefore, there was little to no way you could expect any form of physical exertion from him.
Katsuro exhaled in relief, already settling back into his nap like he had just narrowly avoided a life-threatening ordeal.
'Classic Nara. I can only assume that this is a clan thing as a whole.' Murakami mused with a wry smile.
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 classroom, eager to sit down.
Murakami walked back with Aiko and Katsuro.
"That was rough," Aiko muttered, rubbing her ribs.
"You did good," Murakami said in consolation.
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, and Murakami could tell she was still running the fight over in her head. He would've offered to help her get better, but he wasn't that free to do so.
If she did ask for help, that would be another matter entirely.
By the time they returned to the classroom, a different instructor was already waiting for them.
He wasn't Daigo-sensei.
This man was taller and leaner with narrow eyes that flickered over them 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 and they all 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.'