Natsuko Sarutobi and Masami Akimichi moved onto the training grounds.
Masami Akimichi lumbered forward with heavy footsteps and an easy grin. His cheeks were round, his arms were thick, and his red vest visibly strained whenever the boy puffed out his chest. He cracked his knuckles loudly, drawing the crowd's attention, and only then did he look at Natsuko.
"He's huge compared to her." Someone whispered among the students.
"Begin!" The instructor's hand dropped.
The red pudgy boy charged immediately.
He barreled forward like a rolling boulder with his fists swinging wide and heavy. Each step of his shook the dirt beneath their feet as he aimed a clumsy but powerful punch toward Natsuko's head.
She sidestepped and the punch slammed into open air. Momentum, meanwhile, continued to enact on Masami Akimichi as he was pulled forward another step by his own punch, until his feet skidded to a stop. He grunted and turned–this time swinging even harder.
Natsuko ducked low and felt the rush of air pass over her. Then, she jabbed Masami on his over-extended forearm a few times before she quickly retreated.
"Hey!" Masami barked, more annoyed than hurt.
He rushed in again, faster now, and threw his weight into a shoulder charge meant to flatten Natsuko. She leapt back just in time, and her sandals scraped against the dirt the second before she was crushed.
The lack of impact sent the boy stumbling, but he caught himself, laughing.
"You keep running! But I'll catch you eventually!"
They clashed again and again.
Each time, Masami attacked with brute force–heavy kicks, reckless charges, wide swings. Each time, Natsuko evaded by the narrowest of margins; she never stayed in one place for too long. She had the mobility advantage and she had to take advantage of it.
Her breathing stayed even.
Masami's, eventually, grew uneven.
Dust clung to his clothes. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Still, he pressed forward–confidence unshaken.
But then, Natsuko Sarutobi narrowed her eyes.
Masami wiped sweat from off of his brow and charged at her again. He raised both arms in a wild, overhead strike.
This time, Natsuko didn't evade. This time, she stepped in.
At the last second, Natsuko dropped low and kicked sharply at the ground–not at Masami Akimichi.
Dust exploded upwards into his face.
"Wha–?!!" The boy panicked.
He swung anyway.
Natsuko pivoted behind him and hooked her foot around the edge of his ankle, she used his own momentum against him–with a sharp pull and twist, Masami was sent sprawling to the floor.
He hit the ground hard and the impact knocked the air from his lungs.
"Oof!" He tried to push himself up quickly, but before he knew it–
A kunai poised inches away from his face.
"Yield." Natsuko Sarutobi demanded.
Masami Akimichi groaned, then lifted one hand weakly. "I.. I yield."
Natsuko stepped back immediately. She lowered her weapon and offered the audience a slight bow.
"Match over! Winner! Natsuko Sarutobi! Classroom 2A!"
Cheers rippled throughout, surprise evident in their tones. A few students laughed–not mockingly, but at their friend who had unexpectedly lost. This was the second match between classes 1A and 2A, and so far, 1A was losing.
Most of the students didn't care. It was clear in their behavior. The Nara was half asleep in the corner. The Kurama boy was daydreaming and both the Hyuga girls in Classroom 1A had their eyes shut. It was very odd.
The two Uchiha, on the other hand, looked personally offended. They interpreted the loss of their class as a personal stain on their records–and that simply could not stand.
While observing all of this, Ando Kaze offered a silent prayer to his classmate Mori Fūma. If the girl was smart, she would hopefully forfeit before it truly got ugly.
Ando had little hope in that, however.
As Natsuko and Masami returned to their seats, the instructors unilaterally nodded to each other.
"She never overpowered him." One instructor said quietly to another.
"She didn't need to." They agreed and another special note was taken for another student from Classroom 2A.
Next, it was Sen Aburame versus Shuzo Nara.
The two took to the field.
Sen stood with his hands hidden in the pockets of his gray hoodie. His goggles were clean. His aura was sharp.
Shuzo Nara yawned across from him. He had just woken from a nap and he loathed exam days.
Their instructor appeared between them.
"Perform the Seal of Confrontation."
Sen and Shuzo abided.
"Begin!" The instructor's palm struck downward.
"I forfeit." Shuzo Nara steadily raised his arms.
"Y-You–" The instructor stuttered.
"You woke me from my nap. What did you expect?" Shuzo yawned and walked away.
Sen Aburame stood alone on the dirt field.
Would he ever get a chance to really fight someone?
"W-Winner! Sen Aburame! Classroom 2A!"
Both classes groaned in response. Nobody liked that move.
"Hey! Nara!" The young Uchiha boy stood off the ground. "What the hell do you think you're doing!!?"
Shuzo Nara shrugged before he sat back down. "I didn't lose your fight. Don't act like I did."
The Uchiha boy clenched his fists. He moved a step forward–
Instantaneously, Classroom 1A's instructor appeared behind the boy in a flash of Body Flicker Jutsu. He placed his hand on the back of the Uchiha's shoulder. "I think that's quite enough."
The boy faltered. He grunted and shook his Sensei's hand from off of his shoulder.
"Whatever." He sat back down.
The classes quieted again. The instructor from Classroom 1A returned to center stage.
"Alright then," he began. He looked about the same as Takegi Sensei: standard Konoha green flak jacket, gray cargo pants alongside ninja's sandals. "Will Taro Hyuga and Okuda Tomomori come to the front."
The training grounds quieted as the next match was announced.
Okuda stepped forward first. His shoulders were squared, his fists clenched so tightly they turned white. Pink hair was cropped short and uneven, like it had been done in a hurry, and his expression carried no hesitation–only resolve. He bounced on the balls of his feet, sharp eyes locked ahead.
On the opposing side, Taro Hyuga walked with measured grace. His pale eyes were calm, almost distant, and his posture appeared relaxed yet was perfectly aligned. Every step of his was light and balanced, as though the dirt itself adjusted just to accommodate him.
"Begin!"
Okuda Tomomori rushed first.
He didn't test the distance. He didn't circle. He charged head-on and threw a heavy punch aimed squarely at Taro's jaw. The strike carried everything he had–strength, speed, intent.
But Taro Hyuga slipped aside it like water.
Okuda's punch cut through empty space, and before he could recover, two fingers struck him–light and gentle.
A sharp numbness spread instantly. Not enough to cripple, but enough to slow.
Okuda grunted but kept moving. He swung again, then again, and released a relentless barrage of fierce strikes aimed in Taro's direction. He pressed forward with sheer tenacity, pushing Taro back little by little.
But Taro Hyuga never looked rushed.
He wove in and out of attacks, his sleeves fluttered effortlessly between strikes, and his palms drifted in smooth arcs, deflecting all that they encountered. Each time Okuda came close, a precise jab landed–shoulder, thigh, side–each gentle fist sent more creeping heaviness into the limb that it struck.
"Tch!" Okuda felt the numbness grow heavier and frustration flashed across his face.
"Stop dodging!" He roared.
He lunged harder and tackled Taro outright.
For a moment, the crowd gasped.
Taro Hyuga twisted mid-impact and redirected the force of Okuda's tackle just enough to slip free. As the two separated, he launched two more quick jabs into the corner of Okuda's back.
Okuda staggered. His breath hitched as his chakra flow stuttered. For a moment, it felt like he was iron deficient.
Still, he didn't back down.
Okuda roared even louder and charged even harder. His legs were burning, his arms felt heavy, but his spirit remained unbroken. Every missed strike only served to fuel him further.
Five more minutes passed of Okuda Tomomori desperately chasing down Taro Hyuga.
The pink-haired boy panted now as sweat dribbled from his chin. His limbs felt ridiculously sluggish but were somehow still moving. Against it all, he clenched his teeth and moved forward again–throwing one last combination to end it all.
It was then when Taro Hyuga's eyes sharpened and veins rose subtly around the temples of his Byakugan–now fully flared to life. In Taro's vision, Okuda's chakra network glowed clearly–every pathway, every vulnerable point laid bare before him.
Okuda swung.
Palms struck.
A precise strike hit the shoulder. Another struck the ribs. Two landed along the spine. Each blow was light in force, but devastating in effect.
Okuda's chakra points sealed shut. He froze mid-motion.
Then, his arms went slack and his legs buckled underneath him.
Okuda tried to move, tried to force his body to obey, but the numbness overwhelmed him. It spread through him like ice. He dropped to one knee, then both. His breathing was rugged. His eyes were wide in disbelief.
While he was kneeling, Taro Hyuga struck him one final time in the chest.
Okuda Tomomori collapsed into the dirt, conscious but unable to rise.
"Match over. Winner! Taro Hyuga! Classroom 2A!"
Taro stepped back immediately. His face was still calm and serene. Totally unreadable.
Then, the crowd erupted. Like clockwork.