The Hyūga boy's pale eyes narrowed, suspicion gnawing at him.
Was he deceiving me this whole time? Pretending weakness to lure me in?
Lock, meanwhile, clenched his jaw. His ambush had failed, his chakra recovery interrupted at the worst moment. If he'd waited longer, perhaps he could have struck with full strength—but hesitation would only have invited death.
No, his choice had been correct. Against a Hyūga, it was better to strike first than wait to be dissected by those accursed eyes. The only mistake was underestimating just how talented this one was. At his age, most Hyūga children could barely touch Rotation. Yet this prodigy had executed it flawlessly.
My speed wasn't enough, Lock admitted grimly. If I'd been just a fraction faster, he'd be lying dead already.
Across from him, the Hyūga adjusted his stance. The memory of Lock's speed still prickled at his nerves, keeping him wary. For once, his arrogance was tempered by caution.
The two circled, neither willing to rush in. A heavy silence filled the clearing, broken only by their measured breaths.
Minutes dragged. Finally, the Hyūga spoke, his voice sharp.
"You're bluffing. That display before—it drained you. You don't have enough chakra left to repeat it."
Lock's eyes narrowed. He didn't waste words. His hands flashed into seals.
"Earth Release: Earth Spear!"
The ground beneath the Hyūga buckled, jagged stone spikes lancing upward. He twisted with impressive reflexes, but one spike still tore across his calf, ripping fabric and flesh alike.
"—Tch!"
The moment Lock drew blood, he pressed the attack. He couldn't afford to relent, not in this cursed forest where every sound drew predators, shinobi or otherwise.
He bit down hard, drawing out a small ration pill from his pouch—an emergency stimulant prepared before the exams. Bitter and sharp on his tongue, it flooded his body with a surge of chakra, hot and volatile, like drinking fire. His reserves flared back to life.
The Hyūga's eyes widened. "A soldier pill—!"
Lock vanished in a blur. "Body Flicker—!"
He reappeared behind his opponent, but instead of striking, he slammed a small smoke bomb into the dirt. Blue-gray haze exploded outward, curling around them in thick, acrid sheets.
The Hyūga instantly understood his intent. Hiding from the Byakugan with smoke? Fool. Nothing clouds my eyes.
He shifted his stance, preparing for rotation once more—only for his body to falter. His chakra coils stuttered, sputtering like a candle in the wind. His control had slipped, whether from exhaustion or the rattling impact of the soldier pill's surge in the air, he couldn't tell. But Rotation refused to come.
"What—?!"
No time to think. Lock's kunai was already descending. The Hyūga gritted his teeth and met him head-on, Gentle Fist surging through his palms.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Their bodies collided, strikes traded in blurs. Lock's blows were fierce, sharpened by desperation; the Hyūga's counters were precise, his veins bulging as his Byakugan read every twitch of muscle.
For a moment, they were equals.
But then the Hyūga slipped a palm inside Lock's guard, driving it straight into his face. He smirked, certain the strike would cripple him—half his chakra points sealed, if not more.
And yet—
Lock didn't even flinch. His body staggered, but his movements never slowed. With ruthless efficiency, his kunai sliced upward, biting across the Hyūga's cheek and nose, spraying blood.
The boy recoiled in shock. He ignored my strike?!
Lock's form blurred again, vanishing from sight.
The Hyūga barely turned before cold steel kissed his neck.
Blood arced in the smoke-filled air.
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