Year-end assessment (III)

The half-hour rest was barely long enough to catch a breath.

The sun climbed a little higher, its glaring white light shining over the training ground. The wind was still cold, cutting through to the bone. The fifteen children who had passed the second round were scattered around the edges, some panting, some stretching their limbs, and a few simply sitting in a daze.

Yutian huddled in a sheltered corner, his wet clothes clinging to his skin as he shivered. His legs were still weak, the aching swelling seeming to seep from between his bones. He closed his eyes and regulated his breathing, but his heart had settled-he had passed, and that was that. He still had to fight in the next round.

"Everyone, over here!"

Tetsu Uchiha's voice crashed across the grounds.

The fifteen children straggled into the center. Tetsu Uchiha stood with his hands behind his back, a wicker basket full of wooden tags set at his feet.

"Third round: sparring," he said. "One on one, by drawing lots. Taijutsu and basic ninja tools only. No killing moves, no targeting vital spots. It ends when one side surrenders, or I decide they can't continue. Winners advance. Losers get out."

He paused, then added, "Each match lasts no longer than one incense stick. If there's no winner by then, both are eliminated."

"Understood?"

"Understood!"

"Good." Tetsu Uchiha bent down, grabbed a handful of wooden tags, and scattered them with a clatter. "Odd numbers against even numbers. Number fifteen gets a bye. Draw."

The children stepped forward to pick up tags.

Yutian was the last to pick one up. He crouched and turned it over-a "seven" had been written in cinnabar.

Against number eight.

He looked up to find his opponent.

Suddenly, a smug voice rang out. "I'm number eight! Who got seven?"

The speaker was a chubby boy named Daisuke Uchiha, a peripheral member of Kagami's little circle who often mocked Yutian. He held up his tag, unable to hide his delight-he probably thought he had drawn an easy target.

A gap opened in the crowd, their gazes fixed on Yutian.

Yutian raised his tag without hesitation.

Daisuke's grin grew wider. "Oh, it's you! Looks like I'm pretty lucky." He stressed the word "lucky."

A few quiet chuckles rose around them, and more eyes watched eagerly for a show.

Yutian put away his wooden tag without a word and silently returned to the line.

Facing Daisuke wasn't the worst outcome.

"First match, number one against number two. Everyone else, wait at the edge," Tetsu Uchiha announced.

The two children who had drawn one and two entered with miserable expressions. Both came from ordinary backgrounds and had nearly exhausted their strength. Now their limbs were stiff, their fighting feeble, like two drunks shoving each other. Before half an incense stick had burned, one fell when his own legs gave out. The other was panting like a bellows. Tetsu Uchiha waved his hand and declared number one the winner.

It was utterly dull.

The second match, three against four, was slightly better, but only slightly. The two children traded punches and kicks until they tumbled into a heap. In the end, Tetsu Uchiha could no longer bear to watch. He pulled them apart and declared the bigger child the winner.

The third match, five against six...

Match followed match, most of them ugly. Stamina was a serious problem, and panic and fatigue distorted their technique. Tetsu Uchiha's expression grew darker. He stood with his arms folded without a word, only opening his mouth to announce the winners.

Finally-

"Seventh match, number seven against number eight. Step forward."

Yutian took a deep breath and pulled off his soaked outer robe-it was too heavy and got in the way. Beneath it was a thin undershirt. The wind swept inside, making him shiver. He rolled his wrists and ankles. His muscles still ached, but they weren't as numb as before.

Opposite him, Daisuke also stepped onto the field. He kept his robe on, rolling up his sleeves instead to expose his thick arms. Staring at Yutian, he chuckled twice. "You can still give up now. Save yourself from screaming for your mommy and daddy when I beat you."

A few quiet chuckles answered from the sidelines.

Yutian didn't reply. He only bent slightly, assumed his opening stance, and watched Daisuke's shoulders.

"Poser." Daisuke charged with a low growl, driving a fist at his face.

Yutian turned aside and pushed the outside of his elbow with his right hand-adding force in the direction of his charge.

Daisuke's footing faltered. He staggered several steps forward and nearly fell flat.

"Nice!"

Someone at the edge let out a low cheer, only for the person beside them to immediately cover their mouth.

Daisuke flushed and lunged again, his fists cutting off both sides. Yutian retreated half a step, ducked, and surged forward, driving his shoulder between Daisuke's chest and abdomen.

Yutian still avoided meeting force with force. He retreated half a step, caught the instant just before Daisuke's fists reached him, ducked, and surged forward. He didn't ram him, but drove his shoulder toward Daisuke's exposed chest and abdomen-that was where his center of gravity lay.

Thud! Daisuke grunted and stumbled back two steps, clutching his chest and coughing.

Yutian backed away, panting. He lacked stamina and didn't dare stay entangled. He could only look for openings like that.

"You're asking for it!" Daisuke was thoroughly enraged. His eyes reddened, and chakra rose to the surface of his body. When he charged again, a faint chakra glow surrounded his fists.

Yutian knew he couldn't beat him head-on, so he dodged.

Sidestepping, jumping back, blocking... Daisuke's punches swept past his face, leaving a burning sting.

Thud!

A fist slammed into Yutian's blocking forearm. He slid back several steps, his arm throbbing with pain.

"Haha! Keep dodging, then!" Daisuke pressed forward with a kick aimed at Yutian's stomach.

Yutian rolled out of the way, dust coating his face.

The sneers from the sidelines grew louder.

"That's all you've got?"

"A servant's still a servant!"

"Daisuke, hurry up! Take him down!"

Yutian climbed to his feet, his chest heaving, his mouth full of the earthy taste of dirt. He glanced toward the sidelines-Yinglang sat on a rock, head lowered as he played with a grass stem, indifferent to the fight; Kagami watched quietly with his arms folded, as though watching a farce that had nothing to do with him.

He glanced at Tetsu Uchiha again. The dark-faced instructor stood with his arms folded, brow slightly furrowed, giving no indication of favoring either side.

I can't lose like this.

He straightened again, no longer looking at Daisuke or listening to the taunts. Tired, cold, hurting-but he could still move.

He remembered those last few laps of the weighted run, when all that remained was the instinct to lift his legs and set them down. He remembered stepping across the floating boards, the feeling of treating chakra as part of his body and "pushing."

Taijutsu... could it be the same?

He stopped thinking about how to punch or block. He simply watched the charging figure and felt the rush of punches against his face. His body actually moved on its own.

Turning sideways-not a deliberate dodge, but like a reed bent by the wind.

Raising his hand-not blocking, but following the force of the other boy's punch and lightly "brushing" it.

Daisuke's fist missed again, its force fully committed. Yet with that tiny bit of force from the "brush," Yutian's body drifted around to Daisuke's side like a leaf carried by a current.

Then he punched.

He neither gathered strength nor struck hard. Quite naturally, he simply "sent" the slight momentum from his turning body out along his raised arm.

His fist landed beneath Daisuke's ribs.

It wasn't heavy. With his strength failing, it was even a little weak.

But the placement was tricky. It struck just as Daisuke's old force was spent and new force had yet to rise, when his center of gravity was least stable.

Daisuke gave an "Ugh," his whole body stiffening for a moment before he lost his balance and toppled sideways.

Yutian didn't pursue. He stood where he was, panting, watching Daisuke flail to steady himself. In the end, Daisuke still landed solidly on his backside.

The sidelines instantly fell silent.

The sneers caught in their throats. Those watching for entertainment were left stunned.

Daisuke sat on the ground, dazed for two seconds, before his face turned a livid purple. He sprang up, shame and anger mingling, and recklessly prepared to lunge again.

"Enough."

Tetsu Uchiha's cold voice rang out.

Daisuke forcibly halted his charge and turned toward the instructor, defiance written across his face. "Instructor Tetsu! He-he used a sneak attack! I haven't lost!"

"Did he strike a vital spot?" Tetsu Uchiha asked.

"N-no, but..."

"You went down," Tetsu Uchiha interrupted. "The rule is, if you fall and don't rise within three breaths, or lose your balance and I judge you unable to continue, you lose. You know perfectly well whether you could have struck back immediately after that."

Daisuke opened his mouth but couldn't speak. That fall really had knocked the wind out of him. His ribs still hurt, and he couldn't muster his strength right away.

"Number seven wins." Tetsu Uchiha stopped looking at him and made a mark on the roster.

Yutian was dazed. I won, just like that?

He looked at his fist. That strike just now... it felt like "I" wasn't the one hitting him. My body moved on its own, following some sort of feeling, and naturally struck out.

Just like... just like Yinglang said, treating taijutsu as hands and feet that had "grown onto" me?

"What are you daydreaming for? Leave the field," Tetsu Uchiha urged.

Yutian came back to himself and silently walked off. As he passed Daisuke, the other boy glared at him and forced words through his teeth. "Just you wait!"

Yutian ignored him, went to a corner at the edge, and slid down against a wooden post. He had won, but his stamina was completely drained. He closed his eyes, feeling his heart hammering inside his chest and every muscle trembling faintly.

There's still a long way to go, he told himself. But this little step, at least, wasn't backward.

"Eighth match, number nine against number ten. Step forward."

The assessment continued.

The following matches held no surprises either. Until-

"Thirteenth match, number thirteen against number fourteen. Step forward."

Yinglang set down the grass stem, stood, and brushed the dust off his backside. His opponent was a tall, thin boy named Aoki Uchiha, whose ability ranked above average in the class. He was particularly good at throwing shuriken.

The two stepped onto the field and exchanged a sparring bow.

"Begin," Tetsu Uchiha said.

Aoki didn't attack immediately. He retreated two steps, drew two wooden training shuriken from the ninja tool pouch behind his waist, and held them between his fingertips. He clearly knew Yinglang wasn't strong at taijutsu-at least on the surface-and wanted to gain an advantage at range.

Yinglang didn't move either. He simply stood there and tilted his head, looking a little troubled.

Aoki hesitated no longer. With a flick of his wrist, the two shuriken shot toward Yinglang one after the other, faintly whistling through the air. One targeted his chest, the other cut off his lower body-a textbook consecutive throw.

Quite a few children on the sidelines nodded. That technique was pretty good for their class.

Yinglang seemed frightened and threw himself clumsily to the side.

His movements were awkward, almost a scrambling tumble. Yet at the exact instant he fell, the two shuriken flew past his back and leg, embedding themselves in the wooden post behind him with two dull thunks.

"What luck..." someone muttered.

Aoki frowned and drew another two, preparing to throw again.

But Yinglang had already climbed up. As though he couldn't find his footing, he staggered toward Aoki. His footwork was chaotic and unstructured, like a child charging wildly after being provoked.

Aoki sneered and turned sideways, ready to wait until Yinglang came close and easily put him down with taijutsu.

But when Yinglang was two steps in front of him, he stepped on something-perhaps a small stone-and suddenly slipped. Losing his balance entirely, he cried out and pitched forward.

He fell in precisely the direction Aoki had moved to dodge him.

Aoki instinctively tried to raise a hand to block, or turn aside and get clear altogether.

But Yinglang's fall was too "coincidental," and too fast. His outspread arms flailed wildly. One hand "accidentally" struck Aoki's hastily raised forearm, while the other "frantically" caught the strap of the ninja tool pouch at Aoki's waist.

Riiip-

The strap snapped. The ninja tool pouch fell, spilling wooden kunai and shuriken across the ground with a clatter.

Yinglang himself also hit the ground hard, crying, "Ow!" in pain.

The sudden turn left Aoki stunned. He looked down at his scattered ninja tools, then at Yinglang groaning on the ground, unsure whether to pick up his things first or subdue his opponent.

In that instant of hesitation-

Yinglang, lying on the ground, suddenly raised a hand. At some point, he had grabbed something round that had fallen from Aoki's ninja tool pouch... a training smoke bomb? The assessment prohibited killing moves, but nonlethal tools like this that created confusion didn't seem to have been expressly forbidden?

As though using all his strength, he hurled the smoke bomb onto the ground between himself and Aoki.

Puff-

A small cloud of white smoke burst open. It wasn't thick, but it was enough to obstruct vision, instantly engulfing them both.

"Cough, cough!" Aoki choked and backed away, his sight obscured.

Yinglang's panicked cries came from inside the smoke. "My eyes! I can't see! Aoki, don't hit me!"

Then came several muffled thuds, like fists striking flesh, along with Yinglang's pained grunts.

Everyone at the edge craned their necks. Tetsu Uchiha stared into the smoke, his brow tightly furrowed.

A few breaths later, the smoke dispersed.

Aoki stood clutching his lower abdomen, his face a little pale, doubled over in pain. Yinglang sat on the ground several steps away, his face dusty and his clothes disheveled. There even seemed to be a red mark at his temple, but he didn't look seriously hurt.

"What happened?" Tetsu Uchiha asked gravely.

"He... he used the smoke to punch me in the stomach..." Aoki pointed at Yinglang, so angry and hurt that he could barely speak properly.

"I didn't!" Yinglang immediately protested, his small face full of grievance and lingering fear. "I couldn't see anything! I just waved my arms around. I don't know if I hit anything... That fall really hurt. Did you kick me?"

Each stuck to his own account. With the smoke in the way, no one had clearly seen what happened. They only knew the result: Aoki had taken a hard hit and temporarily lost his ability to fight; Yinglang, though bedraggled, could still move.

Tetsu Uchiha looked at Aoki's pained expression, then at Yinglang sitting on the ground looking thoroughly frightened, and fell silent for a moment.

"Number thirteen wins," he finally announced. His tone gave no indication of whom he believed. Perhaps he only cared about the result.

"Instructor Tetsu! He played dirty!" Aoki protested.

"The smoke bomb was yours," Tetsu Uchiha said coldly. "The assessment rules don't prohibit nonlethal support tools. You failed to keep track of your own equipment and let your opponent use it. That's a failing in your training."

Aoki opened his mouth, then fell speechless. All he could do was glare resentfully at Yinglang.

Yinglang climbed up, brushed the dirt off himself, and gave Aoki a timid, slightly embarrassed smile. "S-sorry, Aoki. I didn't mean to... I was just so scared."

That smile, paired with his dust-covered appearance, really did make him look like a child who had stumbled into a ridiculously lucky victory without even understanding it himself.

Aoki turned away in anger, refusing to look at him again.

Yinglang left the field, returned to his spot, and picked up the grass stem again, twining it around his fingertips. From beginning to end, he never glanced toward Yutian, as though that victory full of "accidents" and "luck" really had been nothing but accident and luck.

Back at the edge, Yinglang lowered his eyes and played with the grass stem, turning things over in his mind. That "accidental" victory had been a close one, but it was enough. He raised his eyes and glanced over the seven remaining in the field. With Kagami, who had received a bye, that made exactly eight.

Fifteen down to eight, then eight cut in half to four, then two down to one... He sneered inwardly. Are they trying to pick a champion? All this fighting over the title of "elite"-it'll probably end up going to someone like Kagami. Boring.

Tetsu Uchiha's voice rang out again, carrying a barely perceptible trace of weariness.

"Number fifteen gets a bye. Eight remain. Rest for fifteen minutes. After that, eight down to four."

At the edge, the winners seized the chance to recover their breath. The losers left with their heads lowered, though some stood in the distance, watching unwillingly.

The sun had gained a little warmth, but the wind was still cold.

Fifteen minutes passed quickly.