"So, it's you?" Daimaru's voice carried a faint smirk.
"You know me?" Shachen sneered back, crossing his arms. "Your name's been buzzing around the genin ranks. You're that unlucky guy with mediocre skills who dares to chase after Temari. The nerve! It's impressive how shameless you are."
Daimaru chuckled, unfazed. "Whether it's a good or bad name, I'm famous. As for you, you're better off not having a name too close to mine."
"I don't want it either," Shachen snapped. "Do you know how many times people have mistaken me for that idiot 'Red Sand Dust'? It's been a real hassle clearing that up."
"You really haven't considered changing your name?" Daimaru asked mockingly.
Shachen clenched his fists. "I'd rather change your face than my name."
Daimaru grinned. "Big mistake, buddy."
Without another word, Daimaru shook off the numbness from his earlier blow. His legs bent slightly as he prepared to strike, lunging forward with a punch aimed right at Shachen's chest.
CRACK! The punch was caught in Shachen's left hand, the impact rippling through their arms. They were now locked in a struggle, muscles straining. Daimaru quickly aimed a knife-hand thrust at Shachen's abdomen with his left hand, but Shachen easily intercepted it with his right.
"I told you," Shachen growled, "don't compare me to those two fools you hang around."
"Fools, huh?" Daimaru countered, a smirk forming. "You're all in the same gutter, and you're no different."
Suddenly, Daimaru's left hand formed a quick hand seal. "Earth Release: Sand Dance!"
The ground beneath them softened, shifting like quicksand. Before Shachen could react, they were both waist-deep in sinking earth.
"Wh—what the hell?!" Shachen stammered, eyes wide with surprise. "You're burying yourself too? What's your angle?"
Daimaru's grin widened. "I've got better things to do than waste time on you," he muttered, his thoughts drifting toward Temari. "This'll be over quickly."
"You really think trapping us both means you'll win?" Shachen challenged. He couldn't move much, but he was eager for a straight-up fight, fists against fists. "Come on, show me what you've got! A man's fight!"
Daimaru rolled his eyes. "Romanticizing fistfights? You're not worthy of that kind of 'romance'."
With those words, Daimaru's body shifted. A small arm emerged from inside his oversized shirt, followed by a head, body, and legs—a puppet! It perched on his shoulder, its lifeless eyes locked on Shachen.
Shachen's eyes widened in disbelief. "A puppet master?!"
"Surprised? Didn't think I was just about brute force, did you?"
"You never mentioned a puppet," Shachen muttered through clenched teeth.
Daimaru chuckled darkly. "Never had to use it before. But for you? It's time for a quick finish. No offense, but I can't waste any more time on a loser like you."
The puppet unfolded a small fan, its tip pointed directly at Shachen's throat.
"You think a little puppet will finish me off?" Shachen barked, defiant even now.
WHAM! Daimaru's forehead slammed into Shachen's, cutting off his retort.
"Referee!" Daimaru called, eyes narrowing. "Hurry up and declare the winner. My puppet's poison isn't something to mess with, and I don't have the antidote on me. If this idiot doesn't surrender, it's on you."
The proctor's voice came from the shadows, indifferent to the situation. "A true ninja knows when to make a clear decision. You talk big, but can you handle the cost if you lose? If he dies... that's just bad luck."
Daimaru raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "Fair enough."
With a swift motion, the puppet's blade pierced Shachen's upper arm. In mere seconds, his face flushed red, then drained of all color as his breathing became labored. He collapsed unconscious.
"Winner: Daimaru!" the proctor announced. Without delay, he stuffed an antidote into Shachen's mouth before pulling the two out of the sand trap.
"Not bad," the proctor muttered, tossing Shachen's limp body over his shoulder. "Your poison's pretty potent. Even with the antidote, he'll need immediate medical attention. If you're done here, go find Jounin Maki."
"Thanks for the tip!" Daimaru responded with a sly smile. As the proctor disappeared, Daimaru shook his head, dusting himself off. "Man, the Jounin's teleportation is so fast it's hard to even keep up."
He glanced over at Nighteye, who was supporting a slightly dazed Chi. "We won, right?" Chi murmured weakly, still processing the events.
Nighteye, still in awe of Daimaru's quick victory, nodded. "Yeah, thanks to Daimaru."
"Relax," Daimaru said confidently. "As long as I'm here, this level of testing isn't a problem."
Despite the victory, a sense of unease settled over the team. They'd won, sure, but the gap in skill was becoming clearer. If they couldn't keep up with Daimaru, being left behind was only a matter of time.
The battle had ended, but the tension of the exam was far from over. As Daimaru approached Jounin Maki, he overheard the results of Yinfeng's team.
"Surprising," Maki noted, looking over the trio. "Even the alternate team managed to pass. Looks like the intelligence division underestimated this year's group. Too many surprises."
Despite the grueling fights, Daimaru was nearly untouched, with only Qian and Yami showing signs of wear. Maki nodded in approval.
"Wait down below," Maki instructed. "Once the final team's results are confirmed, I'll go over the next phase of the exam."
Just as Daimaru turned, a familiar face approached him.
"Daimaru, you won too? I knew you'd make it!"
Daimaru looked over the battered and bloodied form of his old teammate. "You don't look too good. What happened?"
His teammate chuckled, though clearly in pain. "We ran into some real monsters. Nearly didn't make it."