The Academy training yard buzzed with activity. Today was the monthly taijutsu evaluation—fancy words for "beat each other up while the adults take notes." Students gathered in small clusters, stretching or practicing last-minute moves. I leaned against a tree, affecting my usual bored expression while secretly cataloging everyone's pre-fight habits.
Minato stood nearby, going through a precise warm-up routine. All fluid movement and perfect form. Textbook, really. No wasted motion.
"Nervous?" I asked, stifling a yawn.
He shook his head. "Just focused. You should warm up too, you know."
"This is my warm-up," I replied, taking a sip from my water bottle. "Mental preparation. Very advanced stuff."
Before he could respond, a flash of bright red hair caught my attention. Uzumaki Kushina stomped into the training area, radiating irritation like a small sun. Most students gave her a wide berth—her reputation for a explosive temper was well-earned.
"Looks like Kushina is in a mood," I murmured.
Minato's eyes followed mine, lingering perhaps a second too long. Interesting. I filed that observation away for later teasing.
"She's just... intense," he said diplomatically.
"That's one word for it." I watched as she aggressively tied her hair back, nearly ripping out a chunk in the process. "I'm guessing you're hoping not to get paired with her?"
The slight widening of his eyes told me I'd hit the mark. "I don't mind who I'm paired with," he said unconvincingly.
"Liar," I smirked. "Nobody wants their face rearranged before lunch."
Sensei's sharp whistle cut through the chatter, and we all gathered in a loose semicircle around him. He held a clipboard with our names—our fates for the next hour.
"Listen up! Today's evaluation will test your progress in basic Academy taijutsu forms. No ninjutsu, no weapons, no dirty tricks." His eyes seemed to linger on me for that last part. Rude. "I'll call pairs. Standard rules—bout ends with a clean takedown or when I call it."
I tuned out as he explained the scoring system. Something about technique, power, and strategy being rated separately. Instead, I focused on the other students, mentally ranking who I'd prefer to fight. Grumpy-chan would be satisfying but predictable. The Aburame kid would be strategic but physically weaker. Minato might pose a challenge if I held back—he's skilled enough to make me work for it a little, but if I went all out, he wouldn't stand a chance. None of them would.
"First match," Sensei announced, "Uzumaki Kushina versus Takeo."
A collective "ooooh" rippled through the group. Takeo, a civilian-born student with a chip on his shoulder, looked simultaneously nervous and determined as he stepped into the ring. Kushina cracked her knuckles with a grin that could only be described as predatory.
This would be entertaining.
The match began with Takeo taking a cautious stance. Kushina, by contrast, bounced on her toes with barely contained excitement, looking ready to launch herself like a missile.
Which is exactly what she did. The second Sensei signaled start, she exploded forward with a flying kick that Takeo barely sidestepped. What followed was less a display of technical taijutsu and more Kushina attempting to bulldoze the boy through sheer aggression while he desperately tried to maintain proper form.
"She's... intense," I commented, finding myself oddly captivated by her wild fighting style.
"Very," Minato replied, his eyes never leaving her. There was admiration in his voice that went beyond mere respect for a fellow shinobi.
The match ended predictably—Takeo overcommitted to a counter, Kushina bulldozed through his guard, and he found himself flat on his back wondering where his dignity had gone. Seven minutes of valiant struggle, ended with a decisive thud.
Kushina helped him up with surprising sportsmanship, though the victorious grin never left her face. As she walked back to the sidelines, her violet eyes briefly met mine. She flashed a quick smile before turning away, her red hair swinging behind her like a victory banner.
Interesting. Very interesting.
Matches continued in quick succession. The Hyuga kid demolished his opponent quickly. The Inuzuka girl relied too much on wild attacks that would have been more effective with her ninken partner. The Aburame boy won through careful wearing down of his opponent.
"Namikaze Minato versus Yamanaka Inoichi," Sensei called.
Minato nodded to me before stepping forward. The Yamanaka boy looked resigned to his fate—Minato's reputation preceded him.
Their match was brief but impressive. Inoichi was technically sound and intelligent, but Minato moved like water—flowing around attacks, finding openings, and capitalizing with precise strikes. It ended with a beautiful sweep that left Inoichi on the ground with a bewildered expression.
"Textbook," I murmured appreciatively. Minato might be the genuine article—a true prodigy, not someone like me with an unfair advantage of previous life experience.
"Shinji versus Akimichi Chōza," Sensei called next.
I pushed off from the tree with exaggerated lethargy. "Wish me luck," I told Minato. "I missed breakfast."
He gave me a look that clearly said 'take this seriously' as I strolled into the sparring circle.
Chōza was already in position, his stance wide and solid. We'd developed a friendly relationship over my culinary contributions to his family's restaurant, but friendship had no place in the sparring ring. His expression was all business.
"Don't hold back," he said quietly.
"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied with a lazy smile that suggested the exact opposite.
The real challenge wasn't winning—it was winning in exactly the right way. Too dominant a victory would raise questions about my abilities. Too narrow a win wouldn't satisfy Sensei's evaluation criteria. The sweet spot was winning convincingly while using only Academy-taught techniques with perhaps one small flash of "natural talent."
Sensei's hand dropped, signaling the start.
I adopted a deliberately loose stance—nothing like the forms from my late-night training sessions. Chōza, recognizing an opening, pressed forward with a powerful straight punch.
I sidestepped just barely in time, making it look more difficult than it was. His momentum carried him slightly past me, and I tapped a counter to his ribs—light enough to score points without actually hurting him.
"Good speed," he acknowledged, reestablishing his stance.
For the next few minutes, we exchanged standard Academy combinations. Block, counter, feint, strike. I allowed him to land a solid hit on my shoulder, wincing authentically—no need to fake that pain. The Akimichi clan weren't known for pulling punches.
As the match progressed, I noticed Sensei's expression shifting from mild disinterest to slight confusion. Time to give him something to write down.
When Chōza committed to a powerful forward combination, I slipped to his outside at the last moment—a movement slightly too quick and smooth for my established skill level—and executed a perfect hip throw that sent him tumbling. I deliberately stumbled in the follow-through, as if surprised by my own success.
Chōza hit the ground with a solid thud, and Sensei's whistle blew.
"Point and match, Shinji," he announced, making notes on his clipboard.
I helped Chōza up with an apologetic smile. "Lucky throw."
"That wasn't luck," he replied quietly, brushing dirt from his clothes. "But nice try."
I returned to Minato's side as the next pair was called.
"That throw wasn't Academy standard," he observed under his breath.
I shrugged. "Saw a chunin use it once. Thought I'd try."
"Right," he said, clearly not believing me. "And the footwork that set it up?"
"Improvised."
"Shinji..."
"What can I say? I'm a natural." I grinned at his exasperated expression. "Don't worry, I'm still nowhere near your level."
That was only half true, if not for the reasons he might think. Minato's talent was genuine. Mine was... complicated.
We watched as the remaining matches played out. Kushina stayed to observe despite having finished her bout, her eyes occasionally drifting in my direction. Every time I caught her looking, she'd quickly glance away, a faint color rising to her cheeks. Minato noticed too, his expression carefully neutral except for the slight tightness around his eyes.
Complicated. This was getting complicated.
When all the matches concluded, Sensei gathered us for final remarks. He reviewed the top performers—Minato first, naturally, with the Hyuga close behind. I placed respectably in the middle-upper tier, exactly where I wanted to be.
"Overall improvement from last month," Sensei concluded. "Some of you still need work on basics." His eyes briefly found mine. "Raw talent only gets you so far without proper technique and practice."
I adopted my best chastised expression while internally rolling my eyes.
As we dispersed, Kushina bounded over, her earlier match apparently forgotten. To Minato's visible surprise—and poorly concealed disappointment—she stopped in front of me.
"Nice throw," she said, hands on her hips. "Better than I expected from someone who's always napping in class."
"High praise from the class ace," I replied with an easy smile. "Your match was impressive. Poor Takeo probably won't sleep tonight."
She laughed, a bright sound that seemed to light up her whole face. "He'll recover." She crossed her arms, studying me with obvious interest. "You know, Shinji, for someone who acts like he doesn't care, you're actually pretty good."
"My deepest secret revealed." I placed a hand over my heart. "Whatever shall I do now?"
"You could start by actually trying," she said, a challenging gleam in her eyes. "Instead of slacking and sleeping in class."
"My reputation precedes me." I gave an exaggerated bow. "Though I prefer 'strategically efficient' to 'slacker.'"
Minato stood slightly to the side, watching our exchange with an unreadable expression.
"Kushina," he finally said, "your form was really good today. Your timing on that final takedown was perfect."
Her attention flickered to him. "Thanks, Minato. Your match was good too. As always." She turned back to me. "Some of us are practicing at the east training ground after classes tomorrow. You should come."
An invitation? That was unexpected.
"I'll consider it," I replied. "If I don't have more important napping scheduled."
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Whatever. Just show up, yeah?" With that, she spun around and left, her red hair trailing behind her like a flag.
Minato and I walked in silence for a moment before he spoke.
"You should go," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "To the training session."
I glanced at him sidelong. "Planning to, are you?"
"Of course." He hesitated. "Kushina has some interesting techniques. It would be valuable to learn from her approach."
"Her approach, huh?" I didn't bother hiding my smirk. "Nothing to do with those violet eyes or that fiery red hair?"
The faintest blush touched his cheeks. "It's not like that."
"Sure it isn't." I patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm probably too busy to go anyway."
The lie came easily, but I wasn't entirely sure why I'd said it. Something in Minato's expression made me feel like I was crossing a line I hadn't seen.
Chōza joined us as we headed back toward the Academy building. "Your throw was good, Shinji."
"Thanks. Your punch to my shoulder is going to leave a lovely bruise."
He grinned. "Consider it payment for next week's recipe."
"Harsh but fair," I conceded.
As we walked, I felt Sensei's eyes on my back. The taijutsu evaluation had gone according to plan—I'd shown just enough skill to pass comfortably without raising red flags. But I hadn't planned for Kushina's interest, or the complicated look on Minato's face.
'How long can I keep this up?' I wondered, watching Minato walk slightly ahead, his shoulders tenser than usual. He embraced his talent openly, while I carefully concealed mine. He was building his legend; I was building my survival plan. And now there was Kushina, threatening both with her explosive energy and curious violet eyes.