Tōma and Iruka faced each other in silence, breaths steady, intent sharpened.The mont both sensed the other was ready, they moved at once.
But before Tōma even registered Iruka’s motion, the teacher’s presence slipped out of sight entirely.
That seal... I don’t recognize it. Not one of the Three Basic Techniques—
A sharp thud echoed.
Iruka struck a wooden post into the dirt again—another clean Substitution from Tōma.Even though he’d already seen the boy pull this off, Iruka still felt a ripple of disbelief.
I didn’t even catch when he ford the seals...
His expression tightened as his hand drifted toward his tools pouch.He hadn’t expected to need them.That had been his mistake.
A faint whistle cut through the air.Iruka reacted instantly, flicking the stones he carried to intercept the incoming projectiles.
They were using stones instead of shuriken—Tōma had insisted on it.He’d said he practiced his throwing with stones anyway, and Iruka had agreed since the reduced lethality made it safer.
Still, his supply was limited, and the stones shattered easily.The boy’s aim was good, but the throws lacked weight—finally, sothing Iruka could call a weakness.
Tōma clicked his tongue softly.Instant Movent Technique.Almost every chūnin could use it, so it wasn’t a surprise.His own stones weren’t ant to hit; they were ant to shape the tempo.
He drew the silver kunai in his pouch—his exam reward—letting its weight settle comfortably in his palm.
Iruka mirrored the gesture, kunai in hand.Stones wouldn’t last.A kunai, at least, could reliably intercept stone or steel.
Then they clashed.
Tōma held up for a few exchanges, but Iruka’s superior strength quickly asserted itself.Even when their timing matched, the force behind Iruka’s strikes pushed him back again and again.
A clean victory for the teacher seed inevitable.
But Tōma wasn’t looking for a draw.He wasn’t looking for a delay.He wanted to win.
And to win, he had one final card.A card he had kept hidden until the exact mont Iruka committed.
"It’s over, Tōma," Iruka said calmly."You’re a genius, yes—but ti matters. You simply haven’t grown enough yet."
He tightened his grip on the kunai.One more strike.The finishing blow.
Tōma’s eyes brightened.
That was the mont he’d been waiting for.
Lightning crawled across his legs in thin, skittering arcs—small, unstable, but real.A temporary bodily boost created from months of tinkering with Lightning Release.Primitive, crude, nothing like a true chakra mode—yet tailored perfectly for his body.
Just enough for what he needed:
Speed.
His acceleration shattered Iruka’s expectations.The teacher’s finishing strike sliced wind, not flesh.
Tōma was already past him.
Iruka’s body froze for a fraction of a heartbeat, instinct screaming—
Too slow.
The silver kunai flashed toward him.
He barely twisted out of the way—far clumsier than he’d like—retreating rapidly while forming seals.
Or trying to.
Tōma’s hand snapped up, lightning dancing along his arm, stones launching like bullets.These weren’t the earlier half-hearted throws—these were fast, precise, and aid directly at Iruka’s sealing hand.
If those connected, the match was over.
Iruka knew it.He halted the jutsu imdiately, cursing under his breath, raising his kunai to deflect instead.
But the mont he refocused—
Tōma was gone again.
Not through Instant Movent.
Just raw speed.
Iruka sensed the wind shift above him and looked up.
Wind Release chakra spiraled along Tōma’s form—Gale Palm, but warped, redirected down the leg rather than the hand.
A custom variation.
Wind Release: Gale Kick.
Iruka crossed his arms to block.
The impact detonated like thunder.
A shockwave rippled across the field as the teacher was blown backward, landing hard but conscious.
Tōma didn’t follow up with another technique—if Iruka had been an enemy, he would have—but instead approached with only the residual montum of his kick.
Iruka exhaled slowly, eyes widening with both disbelief and a begrudging pride.
"...You win," he admitted.
Tōma’s expression softened with relief."I only won because you didn’t know what I could do. If we fought again, I wouldn’t stand a chance."
He ant it.If Iruka anticipated any part of his layered plan, the match would collapse on him imdiately.
Iruka chuckled. "Victory is victory. On the battlefield, you rarely get the luxury of learning your opponent first. And I’m not nearly as fragile as I look."
He gestured for Tōma to follow him.
A few monts later, Iruka produced a sealed scroll and handed it over.
Tōma’s eyes widened. "Is this...?"
"Instant Movent Technique," Iruka confird."Your reward. And... a reminder that you’ve earned more than just good grades."
Tōma nearly burst with excitent.
Finally—the technique he’d been desperate to learn.Substitution was reactive.Instant Movent was control.
Freedom.
Neither of them knew that their entire battle had been watched in detail through a crystal sphere in the Hokage’s office.
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