“Obito,” Aoki suddenly spoke up.
“If you can’t handle it in a bit, remember to surrender.
I won’t hit you too hard.” He sounded “considerate,” but anyone could hear the sarcasm in his voice.
Obito turned his head to look at him.
“Same to you,” Obito said.
“If you can’t handle it, just surrender.
I won’t laugh at you.” “Pfft!” Someone nearby couldn’t hold back a laugh.
Aoki’s face darkened.
“Stubborn mouth,” he snorted.
“Let me see if you can still talk big in a moment.” The draw was complete, and Nakamura-sensei announced the start of the first match.
“Number one, Obito Uchiha.
Number two, Aoki Uchiha.
Enter the ring.” The two stepped into the white square frame and stood facing each other.
The other students gathered around the ring—some curious, some just looking for entertainment, and others, like Rin Nohara, looking deeply worried.
Makoto Uchiha stood behind the crowd with his arms crossed, his expression calm.
“Makoto-kun,” Rin Nohara said, having walked over beside him at some point.
“Is Obito…
really going to be alright?” “What do you think?” Makoto Uchiha asked in return.
“I don’t know,” Rin Nohara said, biting her lip.
“Aoki is really strong.
His father is a Jonin who has taught him Taijutsu and Shurikenjutsu since he was little.
As for Obito…” “Obito has worked very hard this past month too,” Makoto Uchiha said.
“Besides, hard workers usually get good luck.” Rin Nohara looked at him and didn’t say anything more.
In the ring, Nakamura-sensei raised his hand.
“Form the Seal of Confrontation.” Obito and Aoki raised their hands simultaneously, pressing their index and middle fingers together to make the Seal of Confrontation.
“Begin!” The moment the words fell, Aoki moved in a flash.
He charged forward like a cheetah, moving so fast that the watching students let out a gasp.
“So fast!” “As expected of Aoki!” Obito didn’t move.
He just stood where he was, watching Aoki rush toward him.
Five meters.
Three meters.
One meter.
Aoki’s fist was right in front of his face.
Only then did Obito move.
He shifted sideways, raised his arm, and blocked Aoki’s fist with his forearm.
*Bang!* A dull impact echoed.
Aoki froze.
He had put seventy percent of his strength into that punch.
By all rights, Obito should have been knocked back, yet Obito merely swayed slightly while his feet remained rooted to the ground.
“Interesting,” Aoki sneered, pulling his fist back.
“Looks like you didn’t waste this past month.” “Likewise,” Obito replied.
The two clashed again.
This time it was a true head-on Taijutsu brawl—fist against fist, leg against leg—at a dizzying speed.
Continuous thuds rang out as dust billowed across the ring.
The watching students were completely stunned.
“Is…
is that Obito?” A spiky-haired boy rubbed his eyes.
“When did he get so good at fighting?” “I have no idea,” a girl with glasses said, looking equally bewildered.
“Didn’t he barely pass most of his basic classes before?” “And look, Aoki doesn’t seem to be…
getting the upper hand?” Indeed, Aoki wasn’t gaining any advantage.
Aoki’s attacks were fierce, his punches and kicks whipping through the air aimed directly at vital points.
But Obito’s defense was rock-solid.
Though he took a blow occasionally, he always managed to block or deflect the force in time.
The two traded blows back and forth.
“No, wait,” Nakamura-sensei pushed up his glasses and murmured.
“Obito’s Taijutsu…
is still a bit lacking.” Hearing this, another teacher beside him looked closely and nodded.
“Yeah.
Aoki’s force generation is smoother, his rhythm better.
Obito is a bit…
stiff, like he just learned it recently and hasn’t formed muscle memory yet.” “Still, it’s already quite impressive,” Nakamura-sensei said.
“If they had sparred at the start of the term, he wouldn’t have lasted three moves against Aoki.” In the ring, Aoki noticed it too.
Obito’s Taijutsu had indeed improved immensely, but it wasn’t enough.
There were gaps between his movements, his execution lacked continuity, and above all…
“Can you only defend?” Aoki suddenly shouted, throwing a punch straight at Obito’s face.
Obito raised his arm to block.
Aoki suddenly switched his stance, driving his fist downward straight into Obito’s stomach.
Obito was half a beat too slow to react and took the hit full force.
“Cough!” He grunted and stumbled back two steps.
“See?” Lackey Number One at the edge of the field smirked.
“Obito still can’t cut it.” “Exactly,” Lackey Number Two agreed.
“It looked intense just now, but when push comes to shove, his true colors show.” Rin Nohara clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
“Obito…” she whispered.
In the ring, Obito rubbed his stomach and took a deep breath.
“Is that all?” He looked at Aoki.
“And here I thought you were actually strong.” Aoki’s face darkened.
“Stubborn mouth!” He charged forward again, his attack even fiercer this time.
Obito stayed on the defensive, but he was clearly at a disadvantage now.
Aoki’s fists rained down like a storm, leaving him barely able to parry.
The occasional counterattack he managed was easily warded off.
“It’s over,” the spiky-haired boy shook his head.
“Obito’s going to lose.” “Holding out this long is already amazing,” the girl with glasses said.
“After all, his opponent is Aoki.” “A loss is a loss,” Lackey Number One said triumphantly upon hearing the surrounding classmates.
“A Dead-last will always be a Dead-last.” In the ring, Aoki launched a whip kick toward Obito’s flank.
Obito raised his arm to block, but the force of the kick knocked him back another two steps.
A bit of distance opened up between them.
Aoki didn’t pursue.
He just stood where he was, staring at Obito.
“Give up,” he said.
“Keep fighting, and you’ll get hurt.” Obito said nothing.
He simply stood there, regulating his breathing.
“Obito!” Rin Nohara couldn’t help shouting.
“Surrender!
You’ve already been amazing!” Obito glanced at her and offered a small smile.
Then he turned back to Aoki.
“You know what?” Obito said.
“Brother Makoto taught me a lot of things this past month.” Aoki frowned.
“So what?” “So…” Obito took a deep breath, sinking his weight slightly.
“I learned one thing.” “What’s that?” “There are some fights you can’t win just by dodging.” In the ring, Obito assumed a strange posture.
He spread his feet wide, crouched slightly, pulled both fists back to his waist, and planted himself like a nail driven into the dirt.
He even closed his eyes.
The watching students exchanged puzzled glances.
“What is he doing?” the spiky-haired boy scratched his head.
“Meditating?” “Maybe it’s the opening stance of some secret Taijutsu?” the girl with glasses guessed.
“Doesn’t the Uchiha Clan have plenty of hereditary Taijutsu techniques?” “Hereditary Taijutsu?” Lackey Number One sneered.
“His parents are both dead, who would pass anything to him?
In his dreams?” Aoki stared at Obito’s stance, his brow furrowing.
This posture…
was weird no matter how you looked at it.
But he didn’t dwell on it.
What could a single month of special training change?
Just a slight improvement in Taijutsu.
In the face of a true gap in strength, such progress was like throwing a handful of salt into the ocean—you wouldn’t even taste it.
“Playing tricks,” Aoki snorted.
Pushing off the ground with full force, he launched himself forward.