Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 2.4 (14)
🕑 Added 2024-04-26 17:51:30 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 2.4 [14]
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More students had been sent to the infirmary in the last four months of the Academy than in the previous two years combined. That particular realisation was immediately followed by another: metal, despite being blunted, was very much still metal. We only sparred three times a week, but I had to fight multiple people per session rather than just one—and that was ignoring the addition of the “everything goes” rule.
Because spars weren't limited to just taijutsu anymore.
With the inclusion of jutsu and weapons, what was once a challenging but relatively harmless activity became an easy way to rack up injuries. I’d only fractured a few fingers since the start of the year but my classmates weren’t so lucky. It was bad enough that I’d started taping up my hands. It wouldn’t do much in the way of defence, but it helped prevent annoying injuries that would take days to heal.
Well, days for me and weeks for everyone else. I found it irritating to do at times and ran out of tape more often than I liked, but it was better than opening calluses and getting them infected—I’d found that one out the hard way.
The damned cold made all the above ten times worse. Winter had come, bringing seeping wetness and a constant, biting cold. Being struck by blunted metal hurt enough without it, but with the added chill, it was as bad as taking mallets to the fingers—at least the warm-ups Iruka put us through made the pain easier to shrug off.
We stood in an awkward huddle on the track field at the end of one such warm-up. I flexed my taped fingers from within the safety of my pockets as we waited for the first pair to be called up.
“Naruto and Tomio. The spar ends when one of you can’t go on any longer—or when I call it.” Iruka huffed a frosty breath into the air and stared pointedly at Tomio before looking at me. “Understand?”
“Yes, sensei,” we replied in unison.
I slipped my hand into the pouch holstered to my right thigh and easily slipped my fingers around a worn leather hilt. Iruka gestured to the open ground to his left and we took our positions. It wasn’t much of a surprise that the Academy ditched the concept of a ring after the second year. They were used mostly to train our situational awareness—and weapons did the job just fine.
We’d also grown reliant on the idea of a “ring-out” signalling the end of a fight—me included. Now, we fought with the threat of actual bladed weapons and walked out with more than just bumps and bruises.
Standing face-to-face with my opponent, I purged all other thoughts from my mind and looked him over for any openings to exploit. Tomio, like many of the kids in my class, returned for the third year with a renewed desire to beat me. The new sparring conditions put a sizeable question mark next to my name—after all, I'd only beaten everyone black and blue when the spars were strictly traditional shinobi kumite.
Or so they said—not that I was particularly upset. If it meant that they’d try harder in class and live past the average shinobi life expectancy of nineteen, then I was all for it.
The spar began without Iruka having to say a word.
Tomio formed the Confrontation Seal and hurled three shuriken in a wide arc. I was already moving by the time he pulled his arm back to throw and moved in to close the distance, launching a kunai straight towards him. He brandished a kunai to deflect mine, the momentary distraction giving me just enough time to dig my hand into the pouch at my back and slip three shuriken between my fingers.
He planted his feet and held his kunai forward, ready to deflect them, but I wasn’t done. I blitzed through several hand seals whilst the shuriken cut through the air and the weapons multiplied. Three shuriken blurred into six, before doubling just as quickly until a little over a dozen metal stars buzzed angrily towards him.
The Shuriken Clone Jutsu was a far cry from Lord Third’s Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu. While it multiplied the shuriken thrown, the copies were intangible, and didn't require much chakra compared to creating a clone of myself because of how small the shuriken were. That made it perfect for misdirection—which was exactly what I needed at the moment.
Tomio gritted his teeth as he watched the incoming salvo. Realising he couldn’t tell which ones were real and which ones weren’t, he leapt away, though not before a moment’s hesitation—and that moment cost him. The vast majority of the shuriken that he dodged were illusory clones, leaving the original three to slam into him.
They wouldn't draw blood but with the average weight of each shuriken being about fifty grams of pure steel, it still hurt like a bitch. He rolled to his feet and looked back to see his kunai on the ground; too far for him to reclaim before I reached him.
Pulling another kunai from a second holster strapped to my left thigh, I sprinted towards Tomio, intent on ending the spar within the next few moves. He winced, falling into a low stance, but with no weapon to defend himself with, the fight was as good as over. Curling my wrist inwards, I readied myself to throw the kunai before I saw something that made me stop.
The little bastard had managed to get his hands on smoke bombs and I felt a flash of envy as thick as the cloud of smoke in front of me.
Tomio was one of the few students in my class besides the clan kids with shinobi parents, a fact he liked to brag about. It came with benefits that made sparring him an irritating ordeal—in all of my spars since the Academy started back up a few months ago, nobody had pulled out smoke bombs.
My envious musing was cut short when a hail of shuriken pierced the smoke cloud. There were enough that I didn’t feel confident enough to dodge them all, so I jumped instead. It didn’t give me much of a view into the smoke cloud—despite it already dissipating—and the kunai I’d lobbed into it hadn’t seemed to strike anything.
I touched down in front of the sea of scattered shuriken, keeping my eyes on the cloud in front of me. After a few moments of silence, I realised one thing very quickly: Tomio wasn’t in the smoke cloud. Goosebumps raced along the back of my neck. I dropped onto my back and watched him swing his kunai right where my head had previously been.
The lack of a target to stop him sent him stumbling and I watched him try to regain his balance for a few precious moments. While he struggled to stay on his feet, I spent those moments gathering my focus. Moulding chakra without hand seals was difficult, but not impossible—especially since chakra control was my forté.
…Well it wasn’t exactly my forté because that would imply it came easy, but rather, something I put an ungodly amount of practice into. I didn’t have the best chakra control, but nobody in my class trained it as hard as I did.
I mixed my chakra and directed it from the centre of my body to my palms. I leaned back onto my neck and shoulders, propping my hands underneath me as support, and kicked out, planting my feet squarely in Tomio’s chest. The blow’s force travelled up my body via the soles of my feet—and I only remained stable thanks to a nifty skill I called chakra adhesion.
I wasn’t the one to name it and it wasn’t a secret skill or anything. I’d just found more ways to use the principles taught in the tree-climbing and water-walking exercises to make up for my lacking jutsu repertoire.
Tomio let out a choking gasp and curled over. I heard him slam into the ground as I extended my legs. Despite being winded, Tomio rolled over from his back and was struggling to stand. After a nod in silent appreciation of his grit, I kicked his feet out from under him.
He yelped as I caught him by the scruff of his shirt to stop his fall, laying cold steel over his throat.
“Y-You,” he coughed, taking fast, shallow breaths.
I tightened my hold over his shirt as he thrashed in my grip and shrugged at Iruka. After making it clear he'd lost, I put him down. He landed roughly and scrambled to his feet, looking ready to go again.
“That’s enough,” said Iruka. “Naruto wins.”
“What?” Tomio snapped. “I had him!”
Iruka frowned. “Enough. Don’t make me force you to clean the homeroom for a week again, Tomio. If I say you lost, then you lost.”
The kid bowed his head and clenched his fists tight.
Iruka smiled kindly. “...That said, your strategy was sound and almost worked. Using the Transformation Jutsu to hide amongst the shuriken was a good idea—as was using a smoke bomb. Trap-making and the like aren’t until next terms so it’s good that you’re reading ahead.”
I shot Iruka a sceptical look while I picked up my scattered weapons but didn’t voice my suspicions aloud. Tomio was too hot-headed to sit down and make traps, so his parents either bought or made those smoke bombs for him.
“Right, next up is…” He looked through his notebook. “Ah, here. Shikamaru and Yumi.”
That was enough of a command to join that class as we’d get so Tomio gathered the rest of his shuriken and left the field first. His friends met him halfway, walking on either side of him and shooting me nasty glares.
“He’s not that great anymore now that sparring isn’t taijutsu only,” one said. “You almost got him at the end there.”
The other nodded in agreement, her pigtails bouncing earnestly. “He’s right. Naruto’s not invincible. He’s lost to Hinata, Kiba, Sasuke—heck, Shikamaru too! If he’s losing to that lazybones Nara, you’ll get him soon.”
They offered him more platitudes that he shrugged off and vanished into the crowd. The girl had spoken with just enough certainty to irritate me—even though the hypocrisy in her statement was as clear as day. Everyone I’d lost to were clan kids who had jutsu outside of the Academy curriculum to fall back on.
Clan kids who, to my amusement, had wiped the floor with all of them just as I had. I also loved the part where she failed to mention I’d beaten each of the people she’d mentioned almost as many times as they’d got one over me—hell, maybe even more.
Shaking my head wryly, I raised a hand to my friends as they walked Shikamaru to the ring and came to a stop in front of me.
“That double-legged kick was amazing,” said Choji, turning to Shikamaru. “D’you know how much ab strength you need to pull off something like that?”
Shikamaru snorted. “Enough to be a drag.”
“Do a lot of double-legged kicks in your spare time, do you?” I asked jokingly.
He smirked. “Nah, my Shadow Bind Jutsu is enough.”
“It’s really not.”
“I’ll show you,” he smiled and went to stand opposite his opponent.
I tuned into Hinata and Choji’s conversation as we returned—half-listening to it as I waited for my annoyance with Shikamaru to run its course.
“Technically,” Hinata was saying, “It wasn’t all ab strength.”
Choji tilted his head. “It wasn’t?”
“There was also some chakra involved,” she replied. “He stuck himself to the ground using his palms.”
He asked her something else that I tried to pay attention to, but just couldn’t. Instead, I chose to turn my focus on the ongoing spar. It was frustrating to watch, and not because Shikamaru was losing—he wasn’t.
His fights usually went one of two ways: either he beat his opponent in under a minute with the Shadow Bind Jutsu, or he gave up. The latter only ever occurred when the odds were stacked against him, and given the current weather and the time of day we sparred, the odds were practically always in his favour.
A few minutes later, he walked back to us with a pep in his step and I couldn’t help but think back to what Tomio’s friend had said. Of all the names she mentioned, Shikamaru’s annoyed me the most. She implied that he’d somehow made up for the deficiencies in his taijutsu. I knew he hadn’t, but it didn’t matter to the rest of the class.
Most of all, it didn’t matter to Shikamaru, something he’d made abundantly clear these last few months. He joined me under the shade of a tree, more smug than a rooster in a henhouse.
“So, what did I tell you?” he grinned.
I knew everything I needed to know from the look on his face: taking it further with him would go absolutely nowhere. Knowing that, however, didn’t stop me from clenching my jaw as I watched the next sparring match.
Those shadows arcing across the track field were the only reason Shikamaru was winning and one of these days, I’d prove that to him.
———————————
Ino crumpled under a solid uppercut to the liver and fell into a crouch, exposing the back of her head to me. She looked up with tears in her eyes, her face immediately squeezing together in pain and I winced at her feeble moans.
It was things like this that unearthed my guilt at beating the brakes off literal children. In my defence, I wasn’t about to give her the time or space to use the Mind Transfer Jutsu so I watched her keel over, clutching the right side of her torso, and decided to put my kunai away.
“...Please don’t make me hit you again,” I sighed. “It’d make me feel bad.”
“S-Screw you, U-Uzumaki,” she gasped. “If you knew you'd feel bad, why would you even hit me so hard?”
“Because I'm not about to give you full control over my body to do who knows what.”
I offered her a hand up and waved to Iruka, who called our match to an end. Despite her earlier words, she readily took my hand and let me walk her to her friends. Shino passed me on his way to spar next and I gave him a nod.
Of all the clan kids in my class, he and Ino were the easiest to fight because their weaknesses were where I excelled best: close-quarter combat. That said, Shino and his chakra-consuming bugs were a bit of a problem. His taijutsu was pretty average, but unlike Ino, he worked around the problem instead of hoping for a hail mary.
After Sasuke, he was probably the best at shurikenjutsu.
The sharp clang of steel behind me signalled the start of the spar. Ino’s breathing eased somewhat and she began to walk on her feet—though she didn’t stop leaning on me, something that had me raise an eyebrow.
“So… you seem to be walking fine,” I said.
“What about it? You’re the one who ruined my clothes with kunai. You injured me and now you’re going to leave me on my own? What happened to fellow shinobi looking out for one another?”
She tutted in disappointment and despite my best efforts, a snort escaped me. “Maybe if you trained your taijutsu, that wouldn't have happened.”
She hummed. “Maybe you can help me out sometime? You know, with you being the best at taijutsu and all.”
“Sure,” I replied easily. My classmates wanting to get stronger was always a good thing. “Thing is, you'll have to condition yourself a bit more before I teach you the stuff you want to learn. I run with Choji every morning before school if you want to join?”
“Choji?” Her voice dropped a little. “You know what, nevermind. I just realised I won't be able to. I help my parents set up shop in the mornings.”
Her instant change in attitude was strange, but I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
We fell into slightly awkward silence as I steered us towards her friend group. Sakura marched up to me with a stern frown and a crinkle in her brow. She took Ino out of my hands and turned to probably lecture me on excessive force. I didn’t get to hear it because Ino silenced her with a hand and a small smile.
Thankful, I gave her a nod and walked away just as I caught the beginning of a budding argument between the two.
“That went way worse than I'd hoped,” Ino sighed. “I cried when he hit me. He must think I’m not cut out to be a shinobi.”
“It was a liver blow, Ino. People don’t just shrug those off,” Sakura replied. “And honestly, I dunno what you see in him. He’s violent and so full of himself. Sasuke is much better—stronger too.”
“Is he though? Woah, easy there, Sakura. Don’t give me that look; I didn't say anything bad about Sasuke. He’s still super handsome. Anyway, I’m not really sure, there’s something just different about Naruto, you know?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see it,” Sakura deadpanned. “Like at all.”
She started to say something else but I wasn’t around to hear it. I made a beeline straight for the tree my friends were sitting under, my mouth quickly drying at the realisation Ino might have a crush on me.
My classmates beginning to have crushes on people wasn’t surprising. They weren’t so childish anymore, even if they had their moments and—to my irritation—puberty was basically right at our doorstep. I wasn’t looking forward to that at all, especially given how much older I was compared to people “my age”.
I’d even heard mutters about confessions behind the school in the year above ours. Crushes and the like weren't something I was even going to entertain. Even if I had no intention of reciprocating, Ino having one on me just made me feel slimy. If things went well, pretending to be painfully oblivious would do the trick.
Not to mention this entire thing came completely out of nowhere. If anything, I was expecting it from Hinata, not Ino.
“You look like you've swallowed a fly,” said Shikamaru as I took a seat beside him. “What’s up? Did Princess Ino demand you take responsibility for ruining her outfit?”
“Very funny,” I said dryly, skipping over him mentioning Ino. “Who’ve you got winning this? Kiba or Shino?”
“Kiba’s a drag to fight,” said Shikamaru. “He’s got way too much energy—but he's an idiot.”
I snorted.
“His senses are miles better than ours but all he does is come at you over and over and over again.” He pointed at Kiba attempting to superman punch Shino, missing, and then following after him with an onslaught of wild strikes but Shino danced just out of range. “See?”
“You’re not wrong, but Shino’s taijutsu isn't the greatest. Kiba’s superior there and his sense of smell counters Shino’s bugs.”
“Not exactly. If he stopped sticking to him for just a moment, then yeah, sure. But at the rate he’s going, Kiba’s going to lose from regular exhaustion or worse: chakra exhaustion.”
It took me a while to get what he meant but watching Kiba relentlessly chase after Shino helped me realise it. The parasitic bugs smelled exactly like Shino because he housed them inside his body. At close range, it wouldn't matter, but if he hung back, Kiba would be able to smell them out and pick them off his body.
Unfortunately, he wasn't backing off… at all.
“...Oh, dear.”
Shikamaru snorted. “We’re lucky Shino doesn't know more about his bugs. I've heard some of the Aburame bugs carry toxins that’ll have you in a straightjacket for life. Apparently, there are even some that crawl into the body and eat you from the inside out.”
I shuddered remembering that one GIF where Shino’s giant bugs ate through the Ten-Tails’ mini clones. The idea that he could do that to a human being just as easily was… terrifying.
“...What the fuck is happening?”
Shikamaru's cursing drew Hinata’s attention immediately and Choji looked up from his snack.
“Seriously, look at Kiba,” he said. “Look!”
Kiba was hunched over the ground. Thin streams of hazy-blue chakra wafted off his four limbs. He began to growl. It was a deep, feral-sounding burr. The crowd edged back slightly as he bared his teeth, flashing longer and sharper canines.
“Ninja Art: Beast Mimicry!” He grinned and gave the class a bestial smile.
A few people clapped for him, but the vast majority were shuffling away and I didn't blame them. Right now, Kiba looked like the front cover of a werewolf flick—and his slit pupils were kind of unnerving.
“That's a lot of chakra,” Hinata muttered.
I nodded in silent agreement with her and turned to Shikamaru. “He’s smarter than you’re giving him credit for. The chakra leaking out of his body is way too concentrated for the bugs to resist.”
“It’s still stupid,” he replied. “He’s forcing himself into a pinch and for what? Is he going to be happy he won when he wakes up with acute chakra exhaustion tomorrow? A shinobi should know when something's a waste of time and energy.”
“I think you're trying to rationalise your laziness,” I replied.
“Never said I wasn't.”
It was good that he was self-aware, otherwise, he and I wouldn't get along—at all.
Chuckling, I turned back to the match and watched Kiba bounding after Shino on all-fours. His body bent at strange, unnatural angles as he avoided a volley of shuriken. Shino reeled in one of the metal stars and he twisted his neck to catch it between his teeth.
To my shock, there was a sharp snap and Kiba barked out a steady stream of curses.
“No way that idiot thought biting down on a shuriken was a good idea!” Shikamaru laughed.
“He chewed right through it,” Choji muttered. “That must take some crazy jaw strength.”
Hinata activated her Byakugan and winced. “He’s cut up his tongue pretty badly.”
“...I’d punish you for that stunt, but I think you've done enough of that yourself.” Iruka stood over Kiba as he spat out bloody globs and shards of metal with a long sigh. “Head over to the infirmary, Kiba.”
“May I accompany him, sensei?” Shino asked.
“Please,” Iruka replied. The class sniggered at Kiba’s misfortune as he trundled away. He flicked through his notebook. “Oh, this is going to be a good one. Naruto and Sasuke, please step forward.”
“...Well shit,” I muttered under my breath before throwing up a grin. “Here we go, I guess.”
Choji squeezed my shoulder for good luck and Hinata sent me off with a smile.
“No parting words for me?” I asked Shikamaru.
He grinned. “Don’t try to chew shuriken. Kiba’s an animal and you see where that got him.”
That got a loud laugh out of me and half a dozen heads snapped back—all of them being part of the Sasuke Fan Club.
“I bet he thinks Sasuke’s a joke—well, he’ll show him!” “I bet Sasuke’s going to be Rookie of the Year, not him.” “He’s not even that handsome—what the hell are those whiskers about?”
The last one was so left field it almost made me stop and turn.
Sasuke’s fan club weren't the only ones itching to see me lose either. Tomio leered nastily at me as I fell in step behind Sasuke, running a finger along his throat as I walked around him. He’d had a bone to pick with me ever since he lost a few weeks ago.
Ino stood a few spaces away from them with Sakura and gave me a thumbs-up when we locked eyes. I broke eye contact after a second—no way was I going to open that can of worms any more than it already was.
Instead, I stared Sasuke in the eye as we squared off. His hands were stuffed into his pockets and he probably already had his shuriken ready. I didn't bother with hiding anything and formed the Confrontation Seal with my free hand. Sasuke took his right hand out of his pocket and did the same; we didn't need any words—two nods and we were off.
He exploded into a back flip and whipped two shuriken outward. I watched them curve out in a wide arc before veering back to pincer me and ducked low. They rushed over and spun as I rose and rushed at Sasuke.
Luckily for me, I spotted the wire strings clutched between his fingers in time. They were thin—almost invisible—but after noticing them once, the optical illusion wore off and they became easier to see. I looked back at the shuriken whirling through the air. Sasuke yanked them back in a straight line and layered one atop the other, casting an identical shadow on the ground.
Squatting deeply, I waited for a beat to mould my chakra and directed it to my feet, soaring much higher than I’d be able to with physical strength alone. I righted myself and launched my kunai through the shuriken the minute they came into range, pinning the stars to the ground.
They spun madly around the blade before clanging to a stop.
I weaved through a few or so hand seals as I fell and simultaneously moulded my chakra. Four identical clones materialised beside me in a smoky rush. Using the cover, I cast an additional jutsu before launching a volley of shuriken at Sasuke. He hopped back, deflecting any stray shuriken, and lurched forward to find me amongst the clones I’d summoned.
With my clones at his front and me at his back, I was guaranteed at least one good hit before he realised I’d pulled the wool over his eyes. Unfortunately, Sasuke had already dispelled two of my four clones so I disrupted my disguise as a shuriken and threw my last kunai at his exposed back.
He grunted and turned around, pain and irritation flashing in his dark eyes. Without even looking, he stabbed the final clone through the head as if it were never really there, dispelling the illusion in a puff of smoke. He schooled his expression and shot towards me. My kunai lay at his feet and he started by picking it up and slipping it into his holster.
Distinctly aware of my disadvantage with each trail the cold steel cut through my shirt, I backpedalled and relied on my taijutsu to dance in and out of danger. I dodged a reverse stab to the head, wedging my wrist in the crook of his elbow, and then using my right hand, I locked it into place and yanked it down. Sasuke broke out of my grip with a growl, having had to sacrifice his kunai to do so.
I sent him stumbling with a well-placed front kick and picked up his kunai as a substitute for my own, bringing it closer to my face. It looked identical to my kunai—if in better condition—but the balance was slightly different to the ones I was used to. Bobbing it up and down, I familiarised myself with its weight as Sasuke regained his bearings.
He pulled my kunai from earlier out of his holster and held it straight ahead.
“There any chance we can switch kunai before we do this?” I asked. “Yours feels funny.”
That actually got a smirk out of him—even if his reply was to blitz forward—which was an absolute win as far as Sasuke went. We clashed, pushing against each other on the edges of our blades. My wrist tremored as Sasuke leaned his weight against me. Feeling myself slipping back, I redoubled my efforts and almost slammed face-first into the ground when he slipped around me.
I planted my free hand on the ground ahead of me and brought my knee in while twisting my neck back to aim a high kick. Based on the little I could see, he was slinking to my right so if I timed this right…
I felt my heel collide with the inside of his wrist, sending his kunai sailing way out of range. Sasuke took the chance and slugged me right in the face, destroying my balance. Raw, burning pain flashed across my face and I blinked away inky blotches as I sat up. My kunai must’ve slipped out of my hands because I watched him boot it across the field, levelling the playing field.
After wiping the tears out of my eyes, I clenched my empty fists and settled into a solid stance. With no weapons left, an intangible mutual understanding passed between us: the next exchange would decide the winner of our spar.
Everyone and everything fell into taut silence, from the Sasuke Fan Club who were so vocal at the start of the fight, to my classmates yelling encouragingly from the sidelines. I heard my laboured breathing in my ears and slowly circled to my left. Sasuke did the same, fixing me with an intense stare. Each step brought us closer in range of one another. I kept my guard tight, not quite as front-on, but still held my fists at eye level.
I didn’t know which one of us struck first. My vision was a blur of limbs. I trapped Sasuke's attacks and struck back with swift vertical blows, using my shins and elbows to check his kicks, sticking to him and making sure he wouldn’t have the range to hit me with anything bad.
I’d thrown almost a dozen blows; by comparison, Sasuke barely scratched half a dozen yet his strikes were just as significant—if not more—than mine. Each was heavy, and either allowed him to follow up or stopped me from establishing a rhythm. As the exchanges intensified, I found myself caught in a whirlwind of strikes and counterattacks.
In a moment of miscalculation, I left an opening in my defence, a split-second hesitation that Sasuke capitalised on ruthlessly. His fist smashed into my side, glancing my liver and driving the air from my lungs. I staggered as a wave of pain radiated through my body, crippling me for just long enough.
Through the pain, I felt a sympathetic pang for Ino as I sagged onto a knee. This had to be karma for ignoring her thumbs-up or something. Either way, Sakura was right—liver blows sucked to be on the receiving end of.
Before I could fully recover, Sasuke pressed his advantage, closing the distance between us with lightning speed. Despite the pain, I gritted my jaw and rose, still half-curled over and pressing my elbow against my liver to protect it. His strikes came at me fast, each one finding its mark with alarming accuracy.
The first few slammed against my arms and shoulders. I tried to evade, but blocking proved to be all I could do. With a final, devastating blow, Sasuke slammed a left hook through my guard and struck my liver a second time, sending me crashing to the ground. The impact reverberated through my bones, leaving me gasping for breath as I struggled to push myself upright.
I looked up at Sasuke as the pain set in. His expression was mostly unreadable, save for the glimmer of triumph in his eyes. I continued my struggles to sit up and froze completely when he offered me a hand. The gesture sent his fan club into a frenzy and their compliments and applause clashed in a wave of noise.
“This one is Sasuke’s win,” said Iruka, walking up to us. “Well fought, the both of you. I reckon you guys could take some of the sixth-years and win.”
Sasuke nodded at the praise, though he couldn’t hide the small smirk under his hair.
“Well, it’s a shame they don’t do early graduation anymore,” I joked, taking a deep breath.
He laughed and told us to join the rest of the class. Halfway there, I’d recovered enough to walk on my own so Sasuke let me go and gave me a firm nod. I returned it, as was our strange custom after sparring. No matter how upset either of us was at the end of a fight, we’d offer each other that much respect.
Ignoring the stupid comments and remarks from my classmates, I joined my friends under the tree.
Choji lightly punched my shoulder. “Way to go. It was a really good fight.”
“Yeah, it was,” I replied with a smile.
That said, something scratched at my chest, refusing to let me calm down. I felt… frustrated, which was natural, I supposed. After fighting as hard as I could, I didn’t like coming up short—not after the countless hours I put in every day.
“You’ll get him next time. It was a super close thing,” said Hinata.
I lightly traced a finger around the Hidden Whirlpool emblem on my left shoulder. “I’ll have to step up my training. I’ve been letting my taijutsu skills rust. You down to help out?”
“I’ll make time,” she said with a firm nod.
Shikamaru shook his head. “What’s the point in all that effort, though?”
“What do you mean?”
“Listen,” he said. “I don’t think it’s worth it. Who’s to say you’ll beat Sasuke after sacrificing your time and energy?”
“I’ve done it before.”
“And look at you now.” Shikamaru raised an eyebrow. “You might’ve beat him before, but you’ve lost now. Say you guys fight, and you win, what then? There’s no guarantee you beat him after that. Then you’ll be right back where you started, spending two weeks on training before realising you’ve forgotten about us… again.”
I frowned but remained silent. Getting into this with him was about the last thing I wanted to do. For a few tense seconds, he stared at me and I stared back. Hinata and Choji hovered around, unsure of what to do until I broke the tension between us with a sigh, gingerly rubbing my side.
Contrary to how his words made me feel, I actually liked Shikamaru. He was witty, generally not a bother to be around, and could be pretty observant when he felt like it. But there were things about him that I didn’t like, namely his obsession with doing the very bare minimum.
For all his smarts, he rarely thought about the future, content to laze about because why not? As if the world wanted him to prove him right, Iruka called him up for the final spar of the day.
After his fight, he swaggered back to us and fixed me with a pointed stare that seemed to say: I told you so.
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