"This semester, the Academy is holding a combat test for everyone!"
The entire class went dead silent for about two seconds.
Then erupted.
I didn't join in the chaos. I just leaned back in my seat and processed the information.
Finally. Something actually useful.
Two years of theory, shuriken throws, and chakra control exercises. Don't get me wrong, the foundation mattered. But I hadn't been grinding stats in secret just to keep writing essays about the Five Elements.
"Everyone, follow me outside!"
Iruka-sensei was smiling like he'd been waiting to drop this announcement for weeks. Maybe he had.
The class poured out of the room in a wave of excitement, nerves, and barely contained shouting. I walked out somewhere in the middle of it all, expression neutral, pace unhurried.
To anyone watching, I looked completely unbothered.
That was the point.
The training ground.
Iruka called names. Students stepped up. Fights happened.
I watched from the side and quietly ran assessments.
Most of the matches were exactly what I expected. The clan kids were a tier above. Better taijutsu, better instincts, better everything. The gap that theory classes had kept hidden was now sitting right out in the open for everyone to see.
The civilian kids were getting walked.
No exceptions so far.
Well. Almost no exceptions.
"Saiki."
I glanced to my left.
Sasuke was staring at me. Not casually. That specific kind of stare where someone has already decided something and is just waiting for the moment to prove it.
His fists were clenched at his sides.
Oh. So I'm on his list.
I held his gaze for a moment, then looked back at the ongoing match.
Good. He's on mine too.
"Next — Saiki versus Inuzuka Kiba!"
Akamaru barked twice from the top of Kiba's head.
Kiba himself lit up like someone had just told him school was cancelled.
"Finally my turn!"
I walked into the sparring area. Kiba set Akamaru down by his feet, cracked his knuckles, and looked me over with the energy of someone who had already decided this was going to be easy.
"You're the civilian kid, right? The one at the top of the class?"
"That's me."
He spread his hands like he was about to explain something obvious.
"Don't take this personally. But you know how it works. Clan ninja versus civilian ninja?" He shrugged. "The gap's just there. Nothing personal."
He wasn't wrong, technically.
Every match so far had ended the same way.
But Kiba wasn't the one I was worried about. The thirty-something students watching from the sides were.
Time to put on a show.
I looked down at my fist. Let the pause breathe for exactly long enough.
"Maybe I don't have the advantages you were born with."
I clenched it slowly.
"But when everyone else was resting, I was training. When everyone else was playing, I was training." I looked up. "I don't care how long it takes. I'm going to get strong. Strong enough that I never have to watch someone I care about get hurt in front of me again."
Two seconds of silence.
Then half the girls in the crowd made some kind of noise.
Even Iruka-sensei had that look on his face.
Full marks. Absolutely full marks.
I caught Sasuke from the corner of my eye. He'd gone quiet. That orphan chord had struck something in him whether he wanted it to or not.
Good. File that away for later.
"...You're something else, man." Kiba scratched the back of his head, then slapped his hands together into a seal. His expression shifted — sharper, more serious. "Look, I actually respect that. But I can't afford to lose my first combat test. My mom would destroy me."
He visibly shuddered at whatever memory had just surfaced.
"Alright, Inuzuka. Let's go."
"Match — begin!"
Kiba came in fast.
Faster than most of the others today, actually. He closed the distance in a second flat and threw a straight punch at my face.
I slapped it wide.
Taijutsu over forty. Chunin-level output. Nothing I haven't been accounting for.
He didn't slow down.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
A flurry of strikes, elbows, feints. Kiba's style was aggressive and relentless — the kind of fighting that worked by overwhelming people before they could think. Raw, instinctive, effective against anyone who wasn't ready for it.
I deflected. Redirected. Stepped around it.
Not flashy. Just clean.
"So strong—"
"Both of them are insane!"
"Saiki-kun is—"
The crowd noise faded to background. I kept my focus on Kiba's rhythm, his weight shifts, the micro-tells in his shoulders before each attack.
There.
He was good. Genuinely good for his age. Iruka hadn't been wrong to count him as a combat-type.
But good wasn't going to be enough today.
Sorry, Kiba.