The dojo brimmed with tension. Elders filled the platform in solemn rows, their robes carrying the weight of tradition, while cousins and younger students pressed against the walls, eager to witness the match that would decide the Tsukihana heir.
Whispers cut through the torchlit air:
"Renji's older, sharper — this won't last long."
"But Raizen's resilience… that body of his is tougher than most."
"Resilience alone won't win him heirship."
On the sideline, Jairo stood silent, arms crossed, his sharp gaze never leaving the mat. A few steps away, Taro clenched his fists tight, anxiety etched across his face. He wasn't Raizen's kin, but in moments like this, the weight of friendship bound him close.
At center stage, Renji and Raizen bowed, their eyes locking with fire.
The referee jonin raised his voice. "Tsukihana heir match — Renji versus Raizen. Begin."
⸻
Renji rushed Raizen in a blur, feet whispering across the mat. His burst of speed drew impressed murmurs from the younger Tsukihana watching.
But Raizen stayed calm. Compared to the storm-speed of his father or Taro, Renji's dash wasn't terrifying. The burst let out sound feedback Raizen read like a book — the rush of air, the rhythm of steps. He focused his good eye on Renji's hips, ears straining.
A fist cut for his head. Raizen slipped past it and drove a crushing palm strike toward Renji's gut.
Crack! His hand smashed through wood instead. Renji flickered, leaving a log in his place. The Substitution Jutsu.
Gasps rippled through the room. The elders leaned forward.
"Such power in that boy's palm strike," one elder muttered. "The Veil Body runs true."
Another shook his head. "Raw strength without refinement is wasted. He has a weapon but no art."
Jairo only smiled faintly from the sideline, arms folded. He knew his son was facing someone older, sharper, but he also knew Raizen would not fold easily.
⸻
Raizen reset, chest tight. Renji had the clear advantage — at least three body jutsus under his belt. The clean execution of that Substitution confirmed it. Raizen felt a flicker of nerves. But nerves wouldn't save him. Strategy would.
My body's stronger than his. I can take more punishment. If I get him close, if I clinch him, I can outlast him. Maybe even trap him in a headlock. The only problem… is getting close.
His thought broke when Renji leapt high, hand snapping. Shuriken fanned out, glittering like teeth in the torchlight.
Raizen drew a kunai in one smooth motion, ears tracking the cut of steel through air. Too easy. He angled his blade, deflecting every shuriken in a ringing chain of clangs.
But before he could counter, Renji was already there — kunai in hand, blade descending.
Raizen's eyes flicked to the hips, ears to the room. A faint creak in the floorboard — a kick. He thrust a knee into Renji's thigh to intercept—
—his knee passed clean through. An illusion. A clone.
From his blind side, he heard the whistle of steel cutting the air. Raizen dove into the sound without seeing it, barely clearing the strike. He spun, firing a jab on instinct.
Renji caught his fist mid-swing, twisted, and sent a powerful kick into Raizen's chest. The blow launched him back, skidding across the mat, dust scattering.
A chorus of voices rose. Some elders murmured approval of Renji's control, others whispered at Raizen's raw resilience.
Jairo's eyes narrowed but remained calm. He was reading more than the clash — he was reading his son's mind.
Raizen rolled to his feet, ribs aching, breath steadying. His ears caught the soft whistle again. More shuriken.
This time he didn't dodge. He drew his own, wrist snapping. His blades met Renji's mid-air, knocking them aside in a faint metallic storm. The weapons fell harmless to the mat, steel ringing in the silence that followed.
⸻
For the first time, both boys paused.
Renji tilted his head, respect flickering in his eyes. "Your hearing's sharper than I thought. Not bad for someone two years behind."
Raizen smirked through his labored breath. "And your basics are clean. But basics won't save you if I get my hands on you."
The clan platform buzzed at the words. Some of the younger Tsukihana grinned, impressed at Raizen's grit. The elders, though, whispered more coldly:
"He is unpredictable."
"He relies too much on grit."
"He will break before Renji does."
Jairo didn't speak. But his jaw was set, and his silence carried weight.
The match resumed, Renji's steps light and sharp. His movements weren't loud bursts now — they were steady, efficient, like a hawk circling prey.
Raizen braced, guard tight. He could hear every shuriken flick, every foot whisper, but Renji was chaining them too fast.
A kunai whistled past his ear. Another clanged against his guard. Before Raizen could reset, Renji was there — blade flashing, kick snapping into his ribs. Raizen staggered, breath ripped from his chest.
The elders murmured approval.
"See how cleanly he moves? Renji wastes nothing."
"Raizen's body holds, but his technique lags far behind."
Raizen steadied, lips pulled tight. He didn't deny it. Renji was smoother, sharper, dictating everything.
But he wasn't unbeatable.
⸻
Renji feinted high, cut low with a blade. Raizen caught the sound of the hips dipping, shin-checking to blunt the strike. Pain still rang up his leg, but it stopped the momentum. He tried to answer with a jab, but Renji Substituted again — a log cracking under his fist.
Before he could reset, Renji's clone blurred from the blind side. A kick smashed Raizen's shoulder, spinning him. The real Renji pressed in from the front, twin kunai flashing.
Raizen shelled, compact, absorbing. Every blow echoed in his bones. He wasn't winning this exchange — but he wasn't breaking either.
⸻
On the platform, an elder sniffed.
"Stubbornness isn't strategy. He's just a wall waiting to crack."
Another replied quietly, "Sometimes walls are harder to topple than you think."
Jairo's eyes stayed locked on his son. He saw the small things — the way Raizen wasn't biting on hand feints anymore, how he kept pressing Renji's hips with his gaze, how his guard never fully left the blind side.
⸻
Raizen drew a long breath, the seal on his ribs warming but not burning. I can't win chasing him. He's faster. Cleaner. I have to make him come to me.
Renji slashed again, then kicked. Raizen let the strike land on his shell, staggering back deliberately. He left his left side open — just enough to be tempting.
Renji's eyes narrowed, sharp. There. The hole. He lunged for the blind ribs, kunai flashing.
Raizen braced, every muscle coiled. Now.
⸻
He didn't counter yet. He let Renji step deeper, let him commit, let the gap close until their breath almost touched. Then, when the strike came, Raizen would spring — shoulder bump, clinch, and lock the fight into his world.
⸻
The dojo was alive with noise — steel ringing, elders whispering, young cousins gasping. But in Raizen's ears, it all faded to rhythm.
For the first time all match, Renji was walking into his plan.
Renji lunged, kunai poised for Raizen's exposed side.
But this was no mistake. It was bait.
The instant Renji crossed striking distance, Raizen slipped low, hips sliding under the arc of the blade. His leg whipped out in a compact reverse kick, heel slamming into Renji's liver.
Renji's breath hitched, his body jolting from the shock.
Raizen didn't waste the opening. He snapped forward — a jab to the gut, another to the chin, then a crushing palm strike back into Renji's midsection. But instead of letting the blow send Renji flying, Raizen seized his arm, anchoring him in place.
Gasps rose from the clan platform as Raizen pivoted, dragging Renji's arm across his chest and snapping behind him in one fluid motion. His forearm locked tight under Renji's throat, the other clamping the arm, cinching the hold.
A headlock. Clean. Brutal. Inescapable if he held it long enough.
Renji's face flushed red as Raizen squeezed, every vein in his own arms straining. For a heartbeat, silence hung over the dojo — even the elders leaned forward.
⸻
One elder whispered, awed, "That trap… He lured Renji into it. Clever."
Another scowled. "Cheap tricks. Not worthy of an heir. Look at the desperation."
Jairo's lips curved into the faintest smile. He had drilled that very sequence into Raizen until his ribs were raw. Seeing it land against Renji, of all people, set his chest alight.
⸻
Renji clawed at the arm, his movements sharp but choking for air. Then his fingers flew through subtle gestures, tight and controlled. One-handed seals.
Before Raizen could tighten the choke, smoke burst between them. His hold closed on empty air.
Renji reappeared two meters away, kneeling, hand still pressed in the final seal. His breathing was ragged, but his eyes glinted with sharp focus.
The crowd erupted in a mix of shock and disbelief.
"He nearly had him!" gasped one cousin.
"But Renji — one-handed seals!" another whispered, awe in his tone.
Even some elders murmured in surprise. "Advanced chakra control at his age…"
Raizen's good eye narrowed, sweat slicking down his jaw. He didn't relax, but his lips curved. "You slipped the trap. Impressive."
Renji's expression was calm, but his voice carried steel. "You almost had me, little cousin. But almost won't make you heir."
The murmurs deepened. In that clash, both boys had revealed something dangerous:
• Raizen, the hidden grit and cunning to bait and trap.
• Renji, the polish and mastery to escape even the tightest noose.
And for the first time, the elders weren't whispering about whether Raizen could fight. They were whispering about how dangerous he might become if given time.
The dojo floor was scarred with scuffs and scattered steel. Both boys stood across from one another, chests heaving, sweat cutting lines down their faces.
Renji rolled his shoulder, the faint red mark of Raizen's choke still visible on his neck. "You've improved more than I thought. But improvement doesn't mean victory."
Raizen wiped blood from his lip and grinned, though his ribs ached with every breath. "Maybe not. But you'll remember this fight."
The elders leaned in. The air in the dojo grew taut, every cousin and clan member straining to see the next move.
⸻
Renji moved first — faster than before, speed honed by years of drilling. Kunai flashed in both hands, his footwork light, weaving in feints and flickers.
Raizen's hearing flared alive. Every step, every shift of weight, every blade cutting the air painted a rhythm around him.
A kunai slashed across his guard — Raizen shelled, the blow scraping sparks. A kick followed; he checked shin to shin, pain jolting up his leg but stopping the strike cold. Renji substituted, reappearing at Raizen's flank with a clone rushing opposite.
The dojo gasped. "A double pressure trap!"
Raizen's mind snapped sharp. He couldn't see the real Renji through the blur — but he didn't need to. His ears caught the truth. One set of breaths shallow, hollow. One heartbeat steady, real.
He pivoted hard, ignoring the clone entirely. His shoulder slammed into Renji's chest, staggering him.
⸻
Renji snarled, recovering fast. His kunai darted, feints chaining into real slashes, each one faster than the last. Raizen blocked some, absorbed others, but the seal burned hot under his ribs. He couldn't hold out forever.
I need to end this.
He let his guard sag — deliberately — on his blind side. The elders hissed in unison. "He's leaving himself open again!"
Renji's eyes sharpened. He darted for the gap, blade angled for Raizen's ribs.
That was the moment Raizen had waited for.
⸻
He shifted just half a step, baiting deeper. As Renji lunged, Raizen's foot stomped the floor, timing it perfectly with the sound of Renji's breath. The creak gave him the cue.
He twisted, arm hooking Renji's wrist, dragging him forward past balance. At the same time, Raizen's knee shot up, compact and brutal, slamming into Renji's gut.
The older boy's breath burst out of him. Raizen chained the motion — elbow to chin, palm heel to chest, then a final short cross to the jaw.
Renji crumpled to a knee, kunai clattering from his hand.
⸻
Silence fell.
The younger clan members erupted first, gasps and cheers breaking through. Some elders scowled, others looked thoughtful.
"He won through grit and tricks," one muttered.
"But he won," another said simply.
Jairo's eyes softened, pride buried beneath his calm mask.
⸻
Raizen stood over Renji, chest heaving, body screaming. But his voice was steady when he spoke.
"You're faster, sharper, cleaner. But I only needed one chance. My ears gave it to me."
Renji looked up, wiping blood from his chin, and smirked despite the loss. "Then maybe next time, I'll fight quieter."
The two boys locked eyes — rivals, not enemies. For now.