"Let's Begin the Lesson," he said, and surged forward.
He came straight for me—again—but this time I was ready. I sidestepped instead of blocking, letting his hand smash into the metal cabinet behind me. The clang of impact and burst of metal shards were deliberate. I'd placed myself there to bait a strike and damage the environment.
"Machi—scatter plan!"
She didn't hesitate. Machi kicked a table toward him, then ducked and rolled beneath another. It wasn't just cover—it was a setup. As the table scraped across the floor, it dragged a spill of oil I'd poured earlier from one of the broken training lamps.
The instructor danced around the obstacles, unnerved for only a second. He was good—but we weren't fighting like genin anymore.
I vaulted up onto a shelf, grabbing a chalkboard eraser as I passed. It was all about misdirection. I threw the eraser into a ventilation duct. A moment later, it rattled loudly deep inside, mimicking footsteps in the ceiling.
His eyes flicked upward. That moment of hesitation was all we needed.
Machi sprang up behind an overturned desk, flinging her shuriken-wired kunai. But she didn't aim for him. She hit the ceiling support pipes and lights, turning the battlefield into a collapsing hazard zone.
Metal beams groaned. A fluorescent light snapped from the ceiling and slammed into the floor between us and him, filling the room with sparks and smoke. The instructor twisted away, shielding his eyes for a second.
"Clone blitz!" I shouted.
This time, I didn't go for the obvious pincer. I used the clones like chess pieces—one sprinted straight into the smoke, another ran left and slammed into a shelf full of scrolls, triggering a mini avalanche of paper, and the third circled wide around to the oil spill.
The instructor lunged through the smoke—only to step right onto the slick. His balance faltered.
"Now, NOW!" I yelled.
Machi, already anticipating the move, yanked one of her wires upward using a wall-mounted hook, causing the wire web to snap tight not from below, but above. The crisscrossing wires tangled around the instructor's arms mid-motion as he tried to catch his footing.
"Tch—!" he snarled, caught mid-step.
"Stone Needles!"
Machi released a volley of senbon from behind the desk. But not straight on—she used the reflection off the shattered glass from the fallen light to target his blind spot. Her aim was precise—hitting pressure points rather than brute force.
He grunted and dropped to one knee. We didn't beat him with power. We beat him with geometry.
I moved in fast—but didn't use Fire Release. Not yet. Instead, I picked up a handful of the chalk dust scattered across the ground and flung it into his face. Root agents were trained not to flinch. But no one fights well while inhaling dust and blinded in one eye.
He coughed, staggered—and in that moment, I grabbed the table leg next to me and smashed it across the wires, sending a shockwave through Machi's lines, like a whip cracking across his joints.
"Fire Release—Dragon Fire Technique!"
This time, it was a fast, narrow flame—not flashy, but targeted directly at the soaked oil trail we'd created earlier. The fire zipped down the path like a fuse—
FOOM.
The explosion wasn't massive, but it blew the instructor back, straight into the far wall.
He was hit hard. No substitution. No tricks.
We stood there, chest to chest, wide-eyed, barely breathing. Then we heard the slow, deliberate clap at the door.
-------------------
"But not nearly good enough."
The Root instructor got back up, covered in burn marks and bruises from our earlier exchange—but his smug expression hadn't changed. He was now bloody but showed no signs of going down.
Meanwhile, Machi and I were already breathing hard, backs against the cracked wall of the abandoned classroom we'd been herded into for this "test."
"Round two," he said.
And charged.
He wasn't holding back this time. His movements were surgical—every strike meant to end the fight. I barely brought up my kunai before he batted it aside like swatting a fly. His hand came for my throat—I dropped, sliding beneath a desk, the wood splintering above me from his palm strike.
"Machi!" I shouted, rolling away.
"I'm on it!" she yelled. "Secret Technique—Shuriken Wire Binding!"
Kunai whistled out, wires trailing behind them in an X-pattern across the room. The instructor twisted mid-stride, avoiding the first set, but his foot caught the edge of an overturned chair. It slowed him—just enough.
I formed three clones. Two lunged from the front, blades drawn. The third looped wide, circling behind.
The instructor didn't blink. He didn't know which on was the real me, but he move as if they were all real. He dislocated his shoulder mid-movement to duck under the first clone's slash, then re-set it mid-spin as he shattered the second with an upward elbow. Smoke puffed.
'Too fast…' I thought. 'Even for a Chunin?'
But that wasn't the point. The wire net Machi had flung was still hanging in the air—because the third clone, behind him, had grabbed the tension wire.
"Pull!" I barked.
The clone yanked hard.
The wires snapped taut. The net closed, binding the instructor mid-step, arms and legs pulled tight. His eyes widened as he was jerked off balance.
"What?!"
Machi was ready.
"Secret Technique: Stone Needles!"
Dozens of stone-like senbon launched from her sleeves. Not fast enough to pierce—just enough to strike his pressure points. His muscles twitched violently.
He was trapped.
This was it.
I took a breath, molded chakra.
"Fire Release: Fire Dr—"
Poof. A log dropped.
"Substitution!" I swore.
"Above you!" Machi shrieked.
I looked up.
Too late.
The instructor was already falling—kunai aimed for my skull. His smirk returned mid-air.
Then—WHAM—Machi body-checked me like a damn linebacker, slamming me to the floor as the blade embedded where my head had been.
He landed perfectly. Effortless. Elegant.
"Good teamwork," he said. "But not good enough."
He raised his hand—seal already forming.
Then everything changed.
Machi's eyes went wide—unfocused. Her hands moved, but not forming seals. Her wires—slack and coiled across the floor—twitched.
No.
They writhed.
They slithered.
A sickling, metallic sound filled the air as the threads floated up—unnaturally—then jerked violently.
They wrapped around the instructor like snakes. Not tossed. Not thrown. Controlled. His limbs locked at odd angles.
"What—what is this?" he growled, trying to break free.
Machi's voice was strange—like something else was speaking through her. "Secret Technique… Puppet Marionette."
I have to admit it was a terifying thing to watch as Machi controlled him, each movement from his limbs making a crack or girgalling sound, it was disgusting. If I had to desribe it, it was like watching Katara from avatars Bloodbending under the full moon.
The instructor shuddered, his body twitching like a puppet fighting its own strings.
Machi's eyes were bloodshot, hands trembling. "I… can't hold him for long…"
The wires pulsed. His muscles snapped back in resistance. One arm broke free.
This was the moment.
My chakra reserves were low—but I had enough for one.
I molded chakra, gritting my teeth.
"Fire Release: Dragon Fire Technique!"
Not a stream.
A torrent.
The oil from the previous exchange was still present so it made the attack that much more terrifying.
White-hot flame burst from my lungs like a cannon blast, shaped into a roaring serpent. The walls blackened, every one of the windows in the classroom shattered and this place could collapse at any moment, the floor splintered, and the trapped instructor had no time to substitute again.
The blast hit.
He didn't scream—just grunted as the force knocked him into the far wall, wires searing into flesh. The air turned molten.
Then silence.
He slumped forward. Burned. Breathing—but barely.
We stood there, both shaking.
----------------------------
When the flames died down, he lay unmoving amidst the smoldering rubble. This time, there was no substitution. He didn't move. We stood there, panting, our bodies screaming with exhaustion. We had won.
Then, we heard a slow, deliberate clap from the doorway.
A masked ANBU operative stood there, flanked by six others who seemed to materialize from the shadows, surrounding us.
"Well done," the lead ANBU said, his voice cold and devoid of emotion. "You've taken down an academy chunin. Impressive."
"Genin Judai," the ANBU captain said, his voice a death sentence. "You are charged with murder." He paused, letting the words sink in. "Murder charges carry the death penalty. One of the other instructors, a man named Ito, died this afternoon from his wounds."
The world tilted. Ito... dead? My fault? But that's not even Ito-sensei.
He paused. "Subordinates, arrest him."
My heart stopped. Before I could process the order, one of the ANBU was behind me. A sharp, precise jab to the side of my neck, and my world went dark.
I came to with my face pressed against the cold, dusty floor. My hands were bound behind my back with chakra-suppressing wires, and a seal had been slapped onto my chest, cutting off my connection to my own chakra. I was helpless.
Charged with murder? Machi's face paled, her back cold as sweat poured off each corner of her body. Begin a forienger from a civilain merchant family Machi's parents made sure to know every rule of Konoha. This is very important and they made sure to teach her as a young child. She remembered watching a civilian man who violated the rules and instead of being sent to the police force he was exucuted on the spot. This moment chilled her to the bone and terrified her as a child. She learned the difference between a ninja and a civilian, the power dynamic, she never wanted someone to just kill her parents like they were bugs waiting to be crushed. She learned Clans and Ninja's had some leway within Konoha's goverment system, so she trained. Murder charges for Judai, a civilan born shinobi was swift death with no one bothering to have a trail for him.
Machi then snapped back to focus once they saw them hauling Judai up on his feet and started to drag him away. I was like they were excorting him to the gallows.
Then Machi rushed forward.
"Wait! What are you doing?!" she cried. "Why haven't you arrested me too?"
The lead ANBU didn't even look at her. "We don't want you. You didn't kill the instructor. You're free to go."
Machi went through a dozen different phases in a matter of seconds. First, she tried to reason with them, shouting that the instructor had threatened us. Then, she tried to bargain, to get them to lower the charges. Finally, she broke, begging, crying, pleading with them not to take me. None of it worked. They were stone.
As they reached the door, the ANBU captain stopped and looked back at her, at her tear-streaked, desperate face. "There is... an alternative."
Machi's head snapped up, a desperate hope flaring in her eyes. "Anything," she whispered, her voice raw. "I'll do anything."
A grin I couldn't see spread across the man's face from beneath his mask. This was what they had been hoping for.
"I can offer you an alternative," he said, his voice silky smooth. "Now, follow me. If you fail to follow, or attract attention, the offer will be rescinded."
Machi stared at my bound form being dragged away, then at the ANBU captain. She took a shuddering breath, wiped the tears from her eyes, and with a look of hard, desperate resolve, she nodded.
(Danzō's Lair)
Danzo read the after-action report, a genuine, pleased grin spreading across his face. His assumptions had been correct. The girl, Machi, possessed a dormant Kekkei Genkai.
His research into her family had been thorough. As foreigners, they were a blank slate, but a few inquiries through his network in the Mist village had borne fruit. The girl's mother was descended from a forgotten clan of the warring states period, a clan of puppet masters and assassins who were wiped out during the formation of the great hidden villages. They were known for their brute force, their use of senbon and chakra-infused threads, their enhanced physical abilities, and their skill in stealth. A strong clan, but like so many others, not strong enough to survive against the likes of the Senju and Uchiha.
But now, under the immense stress of a life-or-death battle, the girl's bloodline had awakened. It was a priceless asset.
As for the boy, Judai... his origins were still a mystery, but his immense chakra reserves were a fact. Danzō saw in him a tool, much like Jiraiya had been for Sarutobi—a powerful, charismatic individual who could be pointed in a direction. Judai would be the compass that guided the girl, the emotional anchor that ensured her loyalty. And when he no longer served his purpose... he could be discarded. All for the good of Konoha.
The report detailed the fight. The Root operative, a skilled jonin, had pushed them to their absolute limits. It was exactly what Danzō had wanted. Now, for the final stage of their recruitment.