CH_25

CH_25

Takuma stumbled as he avoided Maruboshi's swing. He rolled away to regain his foot, but Maruboshi was on him, and he had to hop backward to survive the shinobi's attack. He pushed off his feet backward and landed on his hands again to push off to put considerable distance between them.

It was strange, but ever since he had unlocked the ability to use chakra, his athleticism had gone through a transformation. He was faster, stronger, more dexterous, and could react faster than before. Movements that would require Olympic-level athletes to train for years to push the limits of the human body to perform came easy to him. The reality-defying movements he had seen in the Naruto fight videos on the internet, which he thought wouldn't be possible even when he began training under Maruboshi, now seemed more plausible.

Despite that, he was still too slow. When compared to Hiji, Izumi, Momoe, and even Hideaki, who excelled in taijutsu, he was a child with underdeveloped motor skills. When they weren't holding back in their fights against him, his classmates moved with an agility that really put the supernatural elements of the world into perspective. He couldn't even imagine comparing himself to someone like the taijutsu invigilator who hadn't moved from his spot during their fight.

"This won't do, young Takuma. You can not always run!" Maruboshi yelled.

Takuma's legs and arms felt numb, heavy like lead, and his head was filled with the end of the spar. He didn't want to run. "I'm waiting for an opening," he lied as Maruboshi pushed him back. He could only dodge and block, as his teacher didn't relent any pressure.

Maruboshi's spars took significant time in their morning training, even though they only sparred for two, at most, three sessions. However, every spar stretched between fifteen to twenty minutes at Maruboshi's discretion. The academy spars lasted a couple minutes, rarely ever going over four minutes at a time, but Maruboshi's marathon squeezed Takuma's endurance like a sponge. He was being forced to manage his exertion and breathing to not gas out before the spar ended.

Everything that he had forgotten to follow during his taijutsu evaluation. He had attacked like an undisciplined barbarian without thought of preserving his energy and had felt out of breath after the short spar.

"If you let the enemy dictate the flow and pace of the fight, you will never win." Maruboshi took one step forward and closed the distance Takuma had created in one gliding step. The old shinobi rotated and planted the back of his foot into his student's raised guard. Takuma yelped and, having the strong force launched upon him, was thrown several meters away, dragging grass and loose soil along the way.

Takuma was on his back, looking at the sky, feeling the burning sensation in his ribs, which surely meant they were bruised; his knuckles, wrists, and shins didn't fare any better. He wondered how long he could just lay there.

"Get up, young Takuma," Maruboshi said.

Not for long, it seemed. He did, slowly and with a gruff groan, get up.

"Come on, try attacking me," Maruboshi held his hands held behind his back.

Takuma narrowed his eyes. A phantom image of the taijutsu invigilator with his hands crossed behind his back appeared beside Maruboshi. Takuma clenched his fist and charged ahead.

The two men battled back and forth on the grassy ground, and Takuma landed a clean hit on Maruboshi every eighth or ninth clean hit on him. It wasn't enough. Maruboshi matched the swiftness of his movements, the strength of his hits, and the speed of his reaction to his level. His classmates were faster and stronger.

He moved through an offensive form as fast as possible, forcing Maruboshi back. Then Takuma caught Maruboshi on the thigh with a glancing strike that would have left a welt if Maruboshi wasn't a chakra-imbued shinobi. The contact encouraged Takuma, and he bought his leg up and around to slam it into Maruboshi's side.

The kick was clean and fast, but Maruboshi was more skilled. The skilled master whipped a ground kick at Takuma's support leg, swinging his ankle up and dropping him in the grass.

Takuma groaned. His head hit the ground, and there were spots blinking in front of his eyes. Beyond the spots was Maruboshi, standing tall, his hands once again held behind his back.

"Can we stop," Takuma said, wishing the spar would end.

"Your mind's not here," said Maruboshi. "You seem to be angry."

Takuma was angry. Seeing that they were not continuing the fight, Takuma continued to lie on the ground. "... You haven't asked how the test went," he said. The morning had started out as every other, with nothing out of place, not even a single mention of the graduation test attempt.Ne/w novel chapters are published at novelhall.com

"You did not look like you wanted to talk about it," said Maruboshi, lightly shrugging, "and my asking would have yielded no fruit if you did not wish to tell me about it... would it?"

Takuma pursed his lips. That was his fault; he hadn't been the sharing kind. "It went worse than I had planned," he sighed. "Not one part of the test went as I expected it," he paused, "except the ninjutsu part; it went as expected." He narrated his experience from the paper to the final bit with the bald old man. "I should've known they were of importance," he grabbed his head and groaned loudly. "If I had just thought about it, my grade would've been so different."

He pulled himself up from the ground and squatted with his elbows resting on his knees. The next attempt was in two months; there wasn't nearly enough time to overcome his shortcomings. Just the thought made his heart feel constricted.

Muscle pain would follow and persist until he got used to the new load. He had no one but himself to blame. Yet he knew this was the only way forward.

He took out a thick scroll from his person and leaned in to begin reading the small writing. Tired as he was, rest he couldn't. Academy time partitioned off to academic work was as important as Maruboshi's training. If he didn't pass the written paper, he was still failing.

"Take your seats," Kibe announced his arrival, and everyone scurried to the seats.

Takuma kept his head down and continued reading. His ears had already begun to tune the noise out, turning them into hazy background noise that helped him concentrate.

"I have the test results with me," Kibe raised a letter-sized yellow envelope.

That broke whatever concentration and intent to study Takuma had as he raised his head to snap his gaze at Kibe. The rest of the classroom gasped and clamored before the room dipped into a murmuring silence.

"I will call your names, and one at a time, you will collect your result slip from me," Kibe said as he broke the wax seal over the results. "I want all of you to learn from these results and use them to improve your shortcomings by the next test."

Kibe called the first name: "Anno Aimi..."

A petite girl wearing a strappy top and baggy pants nervously walked to the teacher's podium under everyone's following eyes.

"... Pass," Kibe said as he handed Aimi her result.

Takuma froze.

Aimi looked up at Kibe, and so did the rest of the class.

Kibe smiled, "Congratulations, you're going to be a shinobi of the village."

The entire class screamed their cheers. People threw their hands up in celebration; some even jumped off their seats. Aimi's friends got out of their chairs and crowded the girl, exchanging hugs and jumping with each other in congratulations.

The usually stone-faced Kibe watched with a smile, not disturbing the joyous ruckus until he did and sent everyone back to their seat, but not before a quick hug from Aimi.

One-by-one, Kibe called names, and cheers and clappings ensued every time. The entire academy heard the cheers of the final-year students as they got to know they were going to be shinobi.

"Takuma..."

Takuma walked down from his seat. The class was in celebration, everyone congratulating everyone else. Friends formed groups to compare their results among merry laughter.

"... Fail," Kibe said as he placed half of an A4-sized sheet on Takuma's hand.

There were gasps, and the noise died down. No one had failed in the class until then.

Takuma looked at the slip in his hands. He bit his lower lip to stop it from trembling. It had a breakdown of every section of the test, and on the very bottom, stamped in red ink, was large writing in all capitals:

— FAIL —

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