In the jōnin viewing section, the surprise that followed Souta's victory was filled with the weight of analysis. Rina's Sharingan was still active; the three tomoe spun slowly as she traced the residual chakra traces left on the battlefield. The strange liquid had evaporated, but its signature lingered; faint, shimmering, like heat haze over hot sand. She saw the patterns now; the metallic density, the conductive properties, the deliberate accumulation.
"That was not blood," she said, her voice low. "He was producing a metallic liquid substance. He used it to coat Yuki and the battlefield. The substance conducted Lightning Release extremely efficiently." She deactivated her Sharingan, rubbing her eyes. "Souta is controlling some form of liquid metal."
Taeko's brow furrowed. "It resembles a mutation of Storm Release. Or perhaps a variant." He looked across the arena, toward the exit where the Rain genin had vanished. "How many kekkei genkai users are participating in these exams? Team Five of Suna has two; Shigan with Scorch Release, Maki with Typhoon Release. Now this boy from Rain potentially has another bloodline."
Sayuri's voice was calm. "All villages wanted to show off. The Chūnin Exams are not just promotions; they are military advertisements. Every village sends its best to demonstrate that their bloodlines, their training, their shinobi are superior." She paused. "The fact that so many kekkei genkai have appeared is not a coincidence. It is the point."
Daichi laughed; a short, sharp sound that cut through the tension. He turned toward Rina, his pale Yamanaka eyes gleaming with amusement. "Tell me, Rina, did you accidentally jinx your own team?" He tilted his head. "You proposed the bet. Two of your genins have already lost. Both were eliminated by Sayuri's genins."
Rina's eyes narrowed. "The preliminaries are not over." She gestured toward the arena floor, where Satoru stood with his teammates. "Your own students could still be eliminated. The tournament bracket is unforgiving."
Daichi's smile did not waver. "We shall see."
On the arena floor, Chiyo had new slips from the wooden box. She unfolded them with the same practised efficiency, her black eyes scanning the numbers.
"Number seven. Number ten."
She consulted the roster. "Hana Akari of Kusagakure versus Ayaka Mizuki of Amegakure."
Satoru watched as the two kunoichi descended into the arena. Hana was a girl with short, dark hair and a lean, athletic build; she carried multiple holsters on her thighs and hips, scrolls strapped to her back, wire spools hanging from her belt.
She looked like a walking arsenal.
Ayaka was taller, with pale hair and the distinctive dark coat of Amegakure; her rebreather covered the lower half of her face, and her hands were empty.
Weapon specialist, Satoru noted. Scrolls, holsters, wire; she is basically Tenten.
Chiyo raised her hand. "Begin."
Hana did not hesitate. Her hands moved in a blur; kunai, shuriken, senbon, all of them flying toward Ayaka in a relentless barrage. The projectiles were not thrown randomly; they were coordinated, layered, and designed to restrict movement and force specific reactions. Wire traps snapped into place; explosive tags mixed into the patterns, their fuses hissing as they arced through the air.
Ayaka spent the entire fight defending. She dodged, blocked, retreated; but Hana never let her establish rhythm. Every time Ayaka tried to counter, a new volley forced her back. Every time she attempted to close the distance, wire traps sprang up, cutting off her approach.
The match lasted less than two minutes. Hana's final attack was a masterpiece of precision; wire wrapped around Ayaka's ankles, a kunai pinned her sleeve to the wall, and a senbon hovered at her throat.
Chiyo stepped forward. "Winner: Hana Akari."
Impressive, Satoru thought. Weapon specialists are expensive to develop. Constant ammunition costs, specialised training, equipment maintenance, and precision training. Konoha could support such shinobi easily. Suna could too. But Kusa... they lack those resources.
He watched Hana walk off the arena floor, her expression calm, her movements economical.
She would thrive in a major village, he thought. I wonder how strong she would become with better funding and support.
Chiyo announced again. "Number thirteen. Number twenty."
She consulted the roster. "Akimichi Daisuke of Konohagakure versus Rin Nanami of Sunagakure."
The crowd's attention sharpened. This was the second Konoha versus Suna match of the preliminaries; the first had ended with Mio's victory over Ryo.
Daisuke walked onto the sand with the confident stride of an Akimichi; he was larger than most genin, and his chakra was dense, powerful, built for overwhelming force.
Rin was smaller; a Suna kunoichi with sharp, observant eyes. She carried no visible weapons, and her stance was loose, almost casual. She looked, to the untrained eye, like someone who knew she was outmatched.
The crowd misread the fight immediately.
Daisuke attacked first. He used Partial Expansion; his right arm swelled to twice its normal size, his fist slamming toward Rin with enough force to crack stone. Rin dodged; not gracefully, but desperately, her sandals scrabbling on the sand. She retreated, using short bursts of wind chakra to boost her speed, staying just out of reach.
The spectators murmured. Many genin assumed Rin was scared, that she was stalling, that Daisuke was dominating. Satoru's Sharingan told a different story.
She is collecting information, he realised. She is watching his speed, his turning radius, his attack patterns, his chakra expenditure. She is profiling him.
Daisuke grew frustrated. He escalated; Partial Expansion became Full Expansion. His body swelled, his chakra surged, and he became a towering giant, his shadow falling across the arena. The crowd gasped; this was the power of the Akimichi clan, the ability to convert calories into raw mass and strength.
Rin smiled. It was a small, almost imperceptible curve of her lips, but Satoru caught it.
She wanted this, he thought. A larger body means more chakra consumption, more wind resistance, and an easier target. He is playing into her hands.
Rin began her counterattack.
"Wind Release: Razor Current."
Small blades of wind sliced across Daisuke's expanded form; tiny cuts, torn clothing, surface wounds. None of them were serious; they were not meant to be. They were meant to frustrate, to bleed, to wear down his patience.
Daisuke's anger grew. He started making mistakes; overextending, leaving openings, wasting chakra on attacks that could not land.
Then he committed.
"Human Bullet Tank!" Daisuke's massive form spun, his arms and legs tucked in, his body becoming a cannonball of compressed muscle and chakra. The arena shook; sand erupted; the spectators held their breath.
Rin waited.
She waited until the last possible moment; until Daisuke's spinning form was almost upon her. Then she moved.
"Wind Release: Crosswind Burst."
A small gust, a sideward push, barely enough to redirect a leaf. But Daisuke's momentum was so great, his mass so enormous, that even a minor adjustment changed his trajectory.
He missed.
The Human Bullet Tank crashed into the arena wall. The impact was catastrophic; stone shattered, sand exploded, and Daisuke's expanded form deflated as his chakra collapsed. He lay in the rubble, gasping, his limbs trembling, too exhausted to stand.
Chiyo called it. "Winner: Rin Nanami."
The arena was silent. The Konoha genin stared at their fallen comrade; the Suna genin exchanged glances of satisfaction. Daisuke had been one of Konoha's strongest remaining competitors. Now he was eliminated.
Satoru looked at the results board, still glowing above the arena.
Konoha Participants:
Mariko ✓ (advanced)
Ren ✓ (advanced)
Ryo ✗ (eliminated)
Kana ✗ (eliminated)
Shun ✗ (eliminated)
Daisuke ✗ (eliminated)
Satoru (pending)
Konoha entered the preliminaries with the largest representation, he thought. Yet we are bleeding participants rapidly. Numbers alone do not guarantee success.
Only Ren and Mariko had secured finals spots so far. Meanwhile, Suna continued producing dangerous competitors; Shigan, Kaito, Mio, Rin. Even Rain had produced unexpected upsets; Souta had eliminated a Suna genin.
We entered with the most participants, Satoru reflected. At this rate, we will leave with some of the fewest finalists. Quantity means nothing if quality cannot survive the bracket.
He looked across the arena at the remaining competitors; They were only five left, including him. It was Team Two's Nara Emi, Maki, Riku and one Grass genin.
I need to advance, Satoru thought. Not just for myself. For the village. For my team. For everyone who believes that Konoha is still strong.
=====
Your Reviews, Comments and Powerstones about my work are welcome
If you can, then please support me on Patreon.
Link - www.patreon.com/P4lindrome
You Can read more chapters ahead on Patreon.