Jiro Matsumoto was intercepted in the hallway.
He had just slipped out through the classroom's back door, hoping to take advantage of the sparse lunchtime crowd and hide near the schoolyard until things blew over.
He had deliberately avoided Amamiya Maki all day.
Not out of fear, but because he believed the time wasn't right yet.
The relentless rumors had already taken root and begun to spread.
All he needed to do was wait quietly. Once everyone in class was privately doubting and slandering Amamiya Maki, he could play the innocent who knew nothing and reap the rewards.
Just then, a light voice sounded behind him, as casual as idle conversation.
"Matsumoto, don't rush off. There's something I want to ask you."
Jiro Matsumoto's feet abruptly froze in place, and his entire body stiffened.
He turned his head rigidly.
Amamiya Maki leaned lazily against the classroom's back doorframe, hands in his pockets, his expression relaxed and a faint, chilling smile on his lips.
The students wandering about all stopped at the sound and turned to look.
Curious eyes eager for a spectacle locked onto the two of them, and the students immediately gathered like predators catching the scent of blood.
Jiro Matsumoto's heart sank. He quickly surveyed the crowd, weighing his options.
Run? People surrounded him. There was nowhere to escape.
Confront him head-on? The sight of his father being instantly overwhelmed and beaten by a Root ninja outside the Orphanage, then fleeing in disgrace, still haunted him with shame.
Caught between two impossible choices, he could only force himself to stand his ground.
He abruptly raised his chin and deliberately raised his voice, putting on an openly impatient expression for everyone watching.
"What is it? I'm busy."
"Nothing major."
Amamiya Maki sounded calm and unconcerned, yet every word pierced straight through his facade.
"It's about those rumors going around class lately."
"That I cheated on the monthly exam, peeked at the lesson plans for the Clone Technique, and couldn't even manage basic chakra extraction at the Orphanage-that I'm a complete and utter failure."
"You've heard those stories everyone's spreading, haven't you?"
Jiro Matsumoto's heart pounded wildly, but he feigned indifference, shrugging and waving a hand as he tried to bluff his way through.
"Sure. Everyone's talking about it. Who knows whether it's true? It's not like I necessarily said it."
That panicked defense instantly exposed his guilty conscience.
Amamiya Maki tilted his head slightly, his smile turning colder as he brought crushing logic to bear.
"I never said you did."
"But your reaction is fascinating."
"When normal people hear malicious rumors, their first reaction is to ask where they came from and whether they're true."
"You're the only one who skipped all of that and went straight to desperately distancing yourself."
"It's like me asking whether you stole some food, and you immediately saying it wasn't necessarily you who stole it."
"You're only making your guilt more obvious. That's all."
Jiro Matsumoto opened and closed his mouth, suddenly speechless, his show of confidence crumbling completely.
Stifled laughter rippled through the crowd, stabbing into his pride like countless fine needles.
"Honestly, I couldn't even be bothered with those pointless rumors at first."
Amamiya Maki straightened and slowly stepped forward, his presence abruptly bearing down on him.
"The rumors you cooked up this time had precise details and coherent reasoning. They were far more sophisticated than your usual crude insults."
"I originally thought some upperclassman or longtime student had given you inside information."
"But you were too impatient, and you exposed the biggest hole in your story."
"This morning, Takeshita told me himself that you saw with your own eyes that I failed to extract chakra at the Orphanage."
"Takeshita wasn't trying to expose you. He simply believed your lies and wanted to convince me to admit my mistake."
"But I remember perfectly well that the only time you ever came to the Orphanage was when you tagged along with your father to stir up trouble."
"I wasn't even there that day."
"Your eyewitness account was a fabrication from beginning to end."
The air in the hallway suddenly went still.
The students who had been enjoying the spectacle held their breath, their eyes fixed on the deathly pale Jiro Matsumoto.
"You made up a rumor on a whim. A few careless words to ruin my reputation."
"While you hid behind the scenes, fanning the flames and turning people against each other, Nonō was desperately helping me find witnesses and check records."
"While you were stirring up the entire class's suspicions about me, she was slandered as my accomplice and mocked for cheating her way up the rankings."
Amamiya Maki's voice wasn't loud, but it carried powerfully, every word ringing clear.
"I'm not settling old scores between classmates today."
"I'm here to demand justice for Nonō, who you dragged into this for no reason and hurt until she cried."
Jiro Matsumoto's Adam's apple bobbed frantically, his back already drenched in cold sweat.
Faced with the scrutiny, contempt, and gleeful anticipation in the eyes around him, he panicked completely.
Takeshita and Hirano were even paler, wishing they could flee right then and there.
He knew all too well.
If he backed down today, the labels of liar, coward, and scheming lowlife would follow him for the rest of his life.
He forced his back straight and squeezed out a sentence through gritted teeth.
"Fine. How do you want to settle this?"
"The Training Ground. Right now."
Amamiya Maki pulled his hands from his pockets, interlaced his fingers, and gently flexed them.
The sharp crack of his knuckles sounded particularly piercing in the deathly silent hallway.
"A private spar. Best of three. No restrictions on methods, no rules."
"If you win, I'll bow and apologize in public. I'll admit I cheated on the monthly exam and peeked at the lesson plans, and that you, Jiro Matsumoto, are better than me in every way."
"If you lose, you'll sincerely apologize to Nonō in front of everyone before tomorrow's morning reading session."
"And you'll personally name the person who put you up to spreading rumors and fed you false information."
Driven into a corner, Jiro Matsumoto roared through clenched teeth, his eyes red.
"Deal!"
The moment he spoke, the crowd erupted.
Students surged forward, racing toward the Training Ground to claim good spots.
Within moments, the entire first year knew about this fateful showdown between a genius and a rumor-monger.
By the time Amamiya Maki reached the Training Ground, it was already surrounded by tightly packed rings of spectators.
Minato Namikaze stood at the front with a textbook in hand, his gaze serious as he waited for the match.
Nonō clenched her hands so tightly that her fingertips turned white, watching the boy in the center with mounting anxiety.
Even Shikaku Nara, who normally couldn't care less about anything, leaned lazily against a tree trunk and looked toward the field, silently watching this farce reach its conclusion.
No referee, no supervision, no rules to constrain them.
This was a pure settling of scores-a crushing showdown that amounted to a public execution.
At the center of the field, the two stood facing each other, five paces apart.
Jiro Matsumoto's eyes brimmed with hostility and resentment as he channeled all his humiliation and anger into brute force, ready to strike.
Confident in his superior fitness and solid fundamentals, he was certain he could defeat Amamiya Maki head-on, turn the tables, and clear his name.
The next instant, Jiro Matsumoto charged!
He launched himself forward with explosive speed, his fist whipping through the air as he threw a vicious, full-force punch straight at Amamiya Maki's face.
To ordinary students, it was a breathtakingly fast assault.
But to Amamiya Maki's motion-tracking vision, the punch was stiff and riddled with openings, its trajectory so slow he could see every detail.
His shoulder shifted early, his center of gravity tipped completely forward, and every movement gave him away in advance.
Amamiya Maki shifted lightly, sidestepping half a pace with fluid ease and effortlessly avoiding the supposedly decisive punch.
The heavy fist whistled past his ear and struck empty air. Jiro Matsumoto had committed too much momentum and stumbled off balance.
Before he could steady himself, Amamiya Maki tapped him with a fingertip, landing precisely on one spot on his shoulder.
A light touch, then an immediate withdrawal, without lingering for an instant-calm and utterly mocking.
Laughter thundered from the sidelines.
Humiliated and furious, Jiro Matsumoto turned and launched another frenzied assault.
He feinted left, then swept his right leg viciously at Maki's feet, pulling out every flashy move he knew.
But every feint and attack was meaningless against absolute prediction.
His weight hadn't shifted with the feint, leaving an opening anyone could see.
Amamiya Maki hopped lightly over the sweeping leg and tapped his shoulder again the instant he landed.
An attack, a dodge. A tap, a retreat.
Once, twice, three times, four.
Toyed with throughout. Outclassed throughout.
Jiro Matsumoto attacked wildly with everything he had, yet couldn't even touch the hem of his opponent's clothes.
Only the dense gray marks on his shoulder bore witness to his impotent rage.
He panted heavily, sweat covering his head, his eyes bloodshot as his composure shattered completely.
Waves of laughter swept through the crowd, and the relentless mockery pressed down on him until he could barely breathe.
"Are you going to fight or not?!"
Jiro Matsumoto screamed, disheveled and crazed.
Amamiya Maki slowly shed his casual demeanor, a cold smile curving his lips.
"Warm-up's over."
"You can use every trick you've got. Come at me with everything."
"From here, I'll end this with one punch."
The crowd erupted at those words!
Jiro Matsumoto was enraged beyond reason, nothing but madness remaining in his eyes.
He gathered every bit of chakra and physical strength he had, abandoned all defense, and recklessly unleashed his strongest punch straight at Amamiya Maki's chest!
This was his ultimate strike, everything he had poured into one desperate gamble!
Amamiya Maki's expression didn't change. He turned slightly, precisely evading the furious punch.
Turn, gather strength, punch.
The entire sequence flowed seamlessly, crisp and clean, without a single wasted movement.
A swift, precise uppercut-not brutish or savage, yet it pierced every defense and struck Jiro Matsumoto square in the diaphragm!
Thud!
A dull impact sounded.
All strength instantly drained from Jiro Matsumoto's body. He hunched and curled up like a shrimp with its spine ripped out.
Agony swept through him, and his breathing stopped cold.
He clutched his stomach with both hands as a powerful urge to retch rose in his throat. His legs gave way, and he dropped heavily to his knees.
The dull crash of his knees hitting the ground carried across the field, utterly humiliating.
His mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. He could only convulse violently, his shoulders heaving as he dry-heaved.
The crowd fell silent for an instant, then erupted into a tidal wave of astonished cries and laughter!
"It really was one punch! He completely crushed him!"
"He toyed with him through that all-out assault without taking a scratch, then finished him with one punch!"
"This is the useless cheat? He could wipe the floor with the whole class!"
"I'm dying! He was so cocky a second ago, and now he's on his knees gasping for air!"
"Even his pose is the same as his dad's! Father and son, both crushed on their knees. How embarrassing!"
Mockery, jeering, and contempt rained down on him, breaking him far more than the physical pain.
Jiro Matsumoto's face went from red to white, from white to livid, before finally turning utterly ashen.
His pride, confidence, dignity, and every scheme had all been shattered by that single punch.
Amamiya Maki walked slowly over and crouched in front of him. His voice was low and icy, carrying an overwhelming pressure, audible only to a few people in the front row.
"Remember how this feels."
"If you spread rumors behind my back and scheme against me without the strength to back it up, this is what happens."
"Today, you perfectly recreated your father's pathetic incompetence."
Jiro Matsumoto trembled all over, biting his lip hard. Humiliation and despair filled his eyes, and he didn't dare lift his head to meet Maki's gaze.
Amamiya Maki slowly stood, sparing the defeated loser no further glance.
He took two steps away, then glanced back, his tone calm yet carrying absolute, unquestionable authority.
"Tomorrow, during morning reading, apologize to Nonō in front of everyone."
Before you continue