“Obito.” Aoki suddenly spoke, “If you can’t hold on later, remember to surrender. I won’t go too hard on you.”
He said it very “considerately,” but anyone could hear the mocking tone in his voice.
Obito turned his head and looked at him.
“You too,” Obito said, “If you can’t hold on, just surrender. I won’t laugh at you.”
“Pfft!” Someone nearby couldn’t help laughing out loud.
Aoki’s face darkened.
“Tough talk,” he snorted, “Let’s see if you can still keep that up later.”
The draw ended, and Teacher Nakamura announced the start of the first match.
“Number One, Obito. Number Two, Uchiha Aoki. Enter the arena.”
The two walked into the white square and stood facing each other.
The other students gathered around the edge of the arena, some curious, some just watching the excitement, and some, like Rin, with a worried look on their faces.
Uchiha Makoto stood behind the crowd with his arms crossed, his expression calm.
“Makoto-kun.” Rin walked up beside him at some point, “Obito… is he really going to be alright?”
“What do you think?” Uchiha Makoto countered.
“I don’t know.” Rin bit her lip, “Aoki is very strong. His father is a Jonin, and he has been teaching him taijutsu and shuriken jutsu since he was little. Obito, on the other hand…”
“Obito has worked very hard this past month,” Uchiha Makoto said.
“Besides, people who work hard don’t have too bad of luck.”
Rin glanced at him and said nothing more.
On the arena, Teacher Nakamura raised his hand.
“Form the opposing seals.”
Obito and Aoki raised their hands at the same time, bringing their index and middle fingers together to form the opposing seals.
“Begin!”
As the words fell, Aoki moved instantly.
He rushed out like a cheetah, moving so fast that the surrounding students let out a gasp of surprise.
“So fast!”
“As expected of Aoki!”
Obito didn’t move.
He just stood in place, watching Aoki charge toward him.
Five meters.
Three meters.
One meter.
Aoki’s fist reached right in front of him.
Only then did Obito move.
He sidestepped, raised his arm, and used his forearm to block Aoki’s fist.
“Bang!”
A muffled thud echoed out.
He had put seventy percent of his strength into this punch.
Logically speaking, Obito should have been knocked back, but Obito only swayed slightly, his feet firmly planted without moving an inch.
“Interesting.” Aoki pulled back his fist with a sneer, “Looks like your month wasn’t wasted.”
“Same to you,” Obito said.
The two clashed again.
This was a true taijutsu exchange—fist against fist, leg against leg, moving at a speed that dazzled the eyes.
The continuous sound of “bang, bang, bang” impacts echoed as dust flew across the arena.
The observing students were completely dumbfounded.
“Is…
is this Obito?” The spiky-haired boy rubbed his eyes, “Since when could he fight like this?”
“I have no idea.” The bespectacled girl also looked bewildered, “Didn’t he barely pass a lot of basic classes before?”
“And look, Aoki seems… unable to gain the upper hand?”
Indeed, he hadn’t gained the upper hand.
Aoki’s offensive was fierce, his fists and kicks carrying the wind, with every strike targeting vital spots.
But Obito defended very steadily.
Although he was occasionally hit, he always managed to parry or disperse the force in time.
The two fought back and forth evenly.
“That’s not right.” Teacher Nakamura pushed up his glasses and muttered in a low voice, “Obito’s taijutsu… is still lacking a bit.”
Hearing this, another nearby teacher looked closely and nodded.
“Mm. Aoki’s power generation is smoother and his rhythm is better. Obito is a bit… stiff, as if he just learned it recently and hasn’t formed muscle memory yet.”
“But it’s already very good,” Teacher Nakamura said.
“If they had sparred at the start of the semester, he wouldn’t have even lasted three moves against Aoki.”
On the field, Aoki also sensed it.
Obito’s taijutsu had indeed improved tremendously, but it still wasn’t enough.
There were gaps between his movements, his power generation wasn’t fluid enough, and furthermore…
“Are you only going to defend?” Aoki suddenly spoke, smashing a fist toward Obito’s face.
Obito raised his hand to block.
But Aoki suddenly changed his move, pressing his fist downward to strike straight at Obito’s abdomen.
Obito’s reaction was half a beat too slow, and he was hit squarely by this punch.
“Cough!”
He groaned softly and stepped back two paces.
“Look at that.” Lackey Number One on the sidelines chuckled, “Obito still isn’t cut out for it.”
“Exactly,” Number Two chimed in, “It looked lively just now, but when it really matters, his flaws show.”
Rin clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms.
“Obito…” she whispered.
On the arena, Obito rubbed his stomach and took a deep breath.
“Is that it?” He looked at Aoki, “And here I thought you were something special.”
Aoki’s expression sank.
Obito continued to defend, but he was clearly at a disadvantage.
Aoki’s fists rained down like a storm, and he could barely parry them.
The occasional counterattack he managed was easily neutralized.
“It’s over,” the spiky-haired boy shook his head, “Obito is going to lose.”
“To be able to hold on for so long is already quite good,” the bespectacled girl said, “After all, his opponent is Aoki.”
“But a loss is a loss,” Lackey Number One said smugly upon hearing nearby classmates say that, “The underachiever is always an underachiever.”
On the arena, Aoki swept a whip kick toward Obito’s flank.
Obito raised his hands to block, but the force of that kick shook him back another two steps.
The two distanced themselves from each other a bit.
Aoki didn’t pursue, instead standing in place and watching Obito.
“Surrender,” he said, “If you keep fighting, you’re going to get hurt.”
Obito didn’t speak.
He just stood in place, regulating his breathing.
“Obito!” Rin couldn’t help shouting, “Surrender! You’re already amazing!”
Obito glanced at her and smiled.
Then he looked at Aoki.
“You know what?” Obito said, “This past month, Brother Makoto taught me a lot of things.”
Aoki frowned: “So what?”
“So…” Obito took a deep breath, his body sinking slightly, “I learned one thing.”
“What thing?”
“Some fights can’t be won just by dodging.”
On the arena, Obito struck a strange pose.
His feet were apart, slightly squatted, his hands clenched into fists tucked at his waist, his whole body nailed to the ground like a spike, and his eyes even closed.
The observing students looked at each other in dismay.
“What is he doing?” The spiky-haired boy scratched his head, “Meditation?”
“Maybe it’s the starting stance of some secret taijutsu?” The bespectacled girl guessed, “Doesn’t the Uchiha Clan have a lot of inherited taijutsu?”
“Inherited taijutsu?” Lackey Number One sneered, “Both of his parents are gone, who would pass it down to him? In his dreams?”
Aoki looked at Obito’s posture, his brows furrowing.
This movement…
no matter how he looked at it, it was weird.
But he didn’t think much of it.
What could a month of special training change?
His taijutsu had just gotten a little better, that’s all.
Before a true gap in strength, this bit of progress was like throwing a pinch of salt into the sea; you couldn’t taste the saltiness at all.
“Putting on a mystifying act.”
Aoki snorted coldly, exerted force with his feet, and rushed out.