The final bell rang, and the classroom emptied in seconds—except for the third of the class that had stayed behind.
Word had spread about the duel between Asuma Sarutobi and Hanekawa, and curiosity had won out over the promise of afternoon freedom.
Most students had no strong opinions either way. Asuma was the Hokage's son, sure, and talented enough, but he wasn't Kakashi Hatake. Hanekawa, on the other hand, was still a mystery—a transfer student who'd managed to be simultaneously unremarkable and somehow always at the center of interesting situations.
"Who do you think will win?" Rin asked Kakashi, her eyes tracking the two figures taking position on the training field.
Kakashi shook his head. "Don't know."
"Asuma will definitely win!" Obito declared, puffing out his chest. "He's the Hokage's son!"
"Uncertain," Kakashi said quietly, his gaze fixed on Hanekawa. There was something about the way he stood—too calm, too composed. Like he already knew how this would end.
"Want to make a bet?" Obito's eyes lit up with sudden inspiration.
Kakashi raised an eyebrow. "Another duel? No thanks."
"Not that kind." Obito glanced sideways at Rin, his face flushing slightly. "Whoever wins treats Rin to a meal."
"Why would they treat me to a meal?" Rin blinked, genuinely confused.
Obito opened his mouth, closed it, and turned even redder. "I... well..."
"I accept," Kakashi said flatly.
"Great!" Obito's excitement returned instantly, his mind already painting pictures of a perfect date scenario that would almost certainly never happen.
Rin smiled helplessly. She'd long since accepted that her two best friends would spend half their time competing over absolutely nothing. Though, she had to admit, Asuma probably had the better chance of winning. Clan advantages were real—she knew that better than most.
---
On the field, Asuma's jaw tightened as he watched the other students settle in to watch. He hated this. Hated being introduced as "the Hokage's son" like that was his entire identity.
"Remember," he called out, his voice carrying across the training ground, "the one who defeated you was Asuma Sarutobi!"
Middle school declaration at age six, Hanekawa thought, his expression perfectly neutral even as his internal monologue screamed. This kid really commits to the bit.
The students cheered. Asuma basked in the attention, raising his hands in a ready stance.
Hanekawa formed the Seal of Opposition without fanfare.
Asuma mirrored the gesture, then immediately transitioned into action. Two shurikens flew from his hands—one high, one low, both angled to catch vital points. A solid opening move.
Hanekawa drew two wooden shurikens of his own and flicked them upward.
The projectiles collided mid-air with sharp cracks. Asuma's shurikens fell, but Hanekawa's continued their trajectory, undiminished.
Asuma's eyes widened. That's impossible. A week ago he couldn't even hit the target consistently.
He didn't hesitate. His hands blurred through the hand seals for Substitution Technique, and smoke erupted around him. His body shifted left just as the shurikens whistled past, embedding themselves in a wooden stake that had taken his place.
"Your shuriken work is impressive," Asuma called out, already moving. His eyes flicked toward Kurenai in the crowd—just for a moment. "But that's all you've got."
Oh, he's trying to impress Kurenai, Hanekawa observed. This should be entertaining.
Chakra flared around Asuma's feet. His speed jumped dramatically as he closed the distance, kunai raised.
"Move, Hanekawa!" Kurenai's voice cut through the noise, her small face creased with worry.
"He's probably frozen with fear," Obito muttered. "He hasn't even learned the Three Body Technique yet. This is already over."
Hanekawa's hands moved through the seals for a genjutsu. When he finished, nothing happened—no visible effect, no dramatic display.
Obito's mouth opened to make another comment when Asuma suddenly stopped dead, his momentum carrying him forward in an awkward stumble.
Kakashi's eyes narrowed. "Genjutsu."
"What?" Obito blinked.
---
From Asuma's perspective, everything had changed.
He'd seen Hanekawa form seals and braced for a counterattack. When nothing happened, he'd almost laughed. Failed casting. Typical for a beginner.
He'd lunged forward, kunai extended, certain of victory.
Then the world shifted.
Suddenly Hanekawa was behind him, and Asuma couldn't understand how. He'd been moving in a straight line. There was no way—
"You can't dodge this!" Asuma spun, hands already forming seals. Wind Style: Gale Palm erupted from his palms, a violent gust that should have been impossible to evade.
Hanekawa sidestepped it like he'd known it was coming.
Asuma's pupils dilated. Wind Style is known for its speed. How is he—
He cast again. And again. Each time, Hanekawa moved with impossible precision, as if reading his mind.
The world began to spin.
Asuma's breathing came harder. His chakra was burning through his reserves at an alarming rate. He looked at Hanekawa standing calmly in the distance, and suddenly it clicked.
An illusion.
But he had no idea how to break it.
His tutor had never taught him. Why would a first-year student need to know how to dispel genjutsu?
Asuma stood frozen, trembling, as Hanekawa walked toward him with measured steps. The other boy's hands moved through seals—something Asuma's panicked mind couldn't quite track.
The world snapped back into focus.
Asuma gasped, his vision clearing just in time to see a kunai pressed against his neck.
"Are you okay?" Hanekawa asked, withdrawing the blade with casual concern.
The dizziness hit like a physical blow.
Asuma's chest heaved. His hands clenched into fists, trembling with barely contained rage. He raised one arm, pointing at Hanekawa with a shaking finger.
"Take a deep breath," Hanekawa said calmly. "Dizziness is normal. You used too many jutsu too quickly."
The words were reasonable. Helpful, even.
Asuma wanted to punch him.