Kakashi Hatake replayed the brief skirmish in his mind's eye, his single visible eye narrowed in assessment.
'That reaction speed… could I have done the same?' he murmured internally. In that critical instant, it was impossible to tell if Ren had predicted the Uchiha's combo or simply possessed reflexes sharp enough to counter on the fly. Either possibility was significant. It confirmed that Ren's combat capability was not just theoretical; it was formidable.
The realization stoked the competitive embers within Kakashi. He had been bested in written exams and shurikenjutsu evaluations. He could not afford another loss, especially not in the crucible of actual combat. His father had declared him a rare genius. He would not betray that expectation.
"Hahaha! Just as expected of one of the rivals I've acknowledged!" Might Guy exclaimed beside him, swinging his fists with unrestrained vigor. "Ren is a true genius! But I will surpass you both, Kakashi! My flames of youth will burn brighter!"
Kakashi let out an almost imperceptible sigh, his voice flat. "Then you should work harder. Ren's practice problems are genuinely helpful for foundational theory. You should probably do more of them."
He'd confirmed it. Of course, the other rival Guy had set his blazing sights upon was Ren.
"..." At the mention of the practice problems, Might Guy's exuberant posture faltered, his fiery expression freezing into a mask of pained recognition.
Fine. He would admit it—there were limits to what effort alone could conquer.
Those problems… no matter how many hours he stared at them, if the underlying logic escaped him, it escaped him. Some battles required a different kind of strength.
Meanwhile, Kurenai Yuhi was practically vibrating with excitement as Ren returned to the sidelines. Her small face was flushed a delighted pink, making her look even more adorable.
"Ren, you were amazing!" she squealed, her voice carrying.
In a move that was both possessive and unconsciously defensive, she grabbed Ren's hand, holding it firmly as if to broadcast a silent declaration to the watching girls: He's my brother. Mine.
The effect was immediate and potent. A wave of subtle annoyance rippled through several of their female classmates. That was, until they recalled the familial connection. Oh, right. Kurenai was his sister. A sister being affectionate with her brother was… tolerable. Infuriating, but tolerable. As long as it wasn't some other girl.
Ren chuckled and playfully ruffled Kurenai's already messy hair. "Keep it down, keep it down. Just a standard performance. You know my level."
Kurenai nodded, beaming up at him with utter trust. "Mhmm!"
This tender, sibling-esque interaction, however, rekindled the flickers of envy in the little girls' hearts. They wanted their heads patted too! They were so jealous of Kurenai Yuhi!
Wait. A sudden, more troubling thought struck some of the more observant (or gossip-inclined) girls. Ren was Kurenai's foster brother, that much was known. But on the official roll, Ren didn't carry the Yūhi surname. Wasn't that a bit… distant? Did that mean they weren't blood relatives?
Oh no. A silent alarm bell rang. The early bird gets the worm!
"Tch. Don't get cocky just yet," Asuma Sarutobi grumbled under his breath, his own frustration simmering. He had done his homework—a casual, careful inquiry to his father had confirmed it. Ren was not biologically related to Kurenai Yuhi. And the way Kurenai was acting… What was she thinking? Did she also…?
Damn it! The early bird gets the worm!
The practical matches continued in their predetermined, randomized order.
Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps, as some superstitious shinobi believed, there was a strange chakra in the air that day that bent probability.
Kakashi Hatake found himself pitted against Might Guy. The result was a foregone conclusion—a swift, efficient victory for Kakashi that did nothing to dampen Guy's roaring enthusiasm for their "next epic clash."
Uchiha Obito drew Asuma Sarutobi as his opponent. The outcome was equally predictable. Obito, for all his latent potential, was still the academic and practical straggler, and he was no match for the Hokage's son with his elite preliminary training. He lost quickly, his dreams of impressing Rin dashed once more.
A match that drew particular interest from a certain spectator was Kurenai Yuhi versus Rin Nohara. Ren took a moment to watch the two girls spar. It was a earnest, spirited contest. In the end, Kurenai Yuhi, driven by a desire to prove herself worthy of being the "genius's sister," emerged victorious. Her training intensity, subtly amplified by living with Ren, had pushed her beyond the average.
Other familiar faces took their turns: Shiranui Genma with his senbon-chewing smirk, the perpetually serious Ebisu, scions of the Hyūga, Yamanaka, Nara, and Akimichi clans. Wins and losses were distributed, but since the exercise was strictly confined to basic taijutsu—no ninjutsu, no tools—the matches, while instructive, lacked a certain spectacle.
This was normal and safe. Comprehensive combat classes involving weaponry and ninjutsu were reserved for older students under stringent supervision. The risk of serious injury, or worse, was not something the academy entrusted to first-years.
Even the foundational "Academy Three"—the Clone Technique, Transformation Technique, and Substitution Technique—wouldn't be introduced until the next semester. And mastering even those would be a significant hurdle for many; proficient use of the three was, in fact, the baseline requirement for graduation.
Soon, the first round concluded.
Teacher Oda offered words of encouragement to the losers, urging resilience, and tempered reminders to the winners about the dangers of hubris. He was, by all accounts, a good and dedicated instructor.
"Now, we begin the second round! Students whose numbers are called, please step forward promptly!"
The lottery resumed. Teacher Oda looked at the newly drawn slips and announced in a clear voice, "Seats Thirty-Six and Twenty-Five!"
Ren, hearing his number again, couldn't help but cast a suspicious glance inward. 'System… did you rig this? How are both of my opponents mission targets?'
Seat Twenty-Five was, unmistakably, Asuma Sarutobi.
Once could be chance. Twice felt like design.
[Ding. This System exists solely to assist the Host in attaining the station of Spirit King. It possesses no auxiliary functions of the nature you imply. Please refrain from baseless conjecture.]
"..."
Ren remained skeptical. That sounded exactly like something a system that did have auxiliary functions would say. It was the interdimensional equivalent of 'Who, me? I wouldn't know anything about that.'
Still, having lived through an era of information overload, he knew strange coincidences happened. In his past life, there were verified cases of people winning multi-million dollar lotteries two days in a row—sums an ordinary person could never earn. Compared to that, drawing two mission-related opponents in a school sparring tournament was statistically mild. Perhaps he was overthinking.
He decided to grant the System the benefit of the doubt. For now.
"Hey! Are you going to form the seal or just stand there?" Asuma's voice, thick with irritation, cut through Ren's thoughts. In the ring, Asuma stood ready, waiting for the formal Hand Seal of Confrontation. Ren's apparent daydreaming felt like a fresh insult. He knew Ren was strong, but this blatant disregard was infuriating!
Damn it! Asuma's fighting spirit, already kindled by old academic grievances and new personal irritations, flared hotter. He wanted to win now more than ever.
Snapping back to the present, Ren quickly formed the confrontation seal, his face arranged into an expression of sincere apology. "Ah, my apologies! I was momentarily… overwhelmed by your formidable aura. It left me flustered. I hope you can forgive me?"
Asuma Sarutobi: "..."
Was he trying to fool a toddler? He was six years old, not three! This guy was utterly, profoundly infuriating!
"Just take this!" Asuma discarded words, deciding action was the only proper response. He pushed off hard, launching himself at Ren with a focused, powerful charge.
"Hah! Well met!" Ren laughed, adopting the posture of a warrior meeting a worthy challenge. He poured passion and fighting spirit into his stance, meeting the charge head-on without a hint of retreat. The performance was impeccable.