In the jōnin viewing section, Sarutobi Taeko stood with his arms crossed, his expression hollow. He watched Emi being carried off the sand, and his voice was barely audible.
"They are all eliminated."
Satoru, standing on the viewing platform below, could not hear the words, but he could read the slump of Taeko's shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on the empty space where his students had stood. Team Two was gone; Daisuke, Emi, Ryo.
All of them eliminated in the preliminaries. The weight of that loss settled over the Konoha contingent like a cold fog.
Rina's voice cut through the silence. "I never expected a Wind and Earth combination to produce anything other than Wood Release." She was still analysing Daiki's technique, her Sharingan inactive but her mind still racing.
"The existence of another nature combination is surprising."
Sayuri's response was calm, measured. "Daiki's ability is plant-related. It may have some connection to Wood Release, even if it is not the same bloodline." She paused. "But it is not Wood Release. The First Hokage's Kekkei Genkai was unique; the ability to create life, to shape forests, to subdue the Nine-Tails. This is something else. Something lesser."
The other jōnin remained quiet. Wood Release was not just another Kekkei Genkai. It was the ability of the man who had subdued the Nine-Tails and created the foundations of the village's power. Any ability remotely related to it naturally attracted attention; fear, curiosity, and the instinctive recognition that bloodlines like that changed the balance of power.
Rina shifted the topic, her tone lighter, almost desperate to escape the weight of the conversation. "I only hope my remaining genin gets the free ticket into the finals." She glanced toward Riku, who was standing with his team, his arms crossed, his expression impatient. "Riku deserves a direct advancement. He has worked hard."
Daichi laughed; a short, sharp sound. "You know better than that, Rina. Even if he gets the free advancement, it only means his job in the finals becomes harder. Is that really what you want?"
Rina hesitated. Her lips pressed together, and her eyes narrowed. She knew he was right.
Sayuri nodded slowly. "It's Understandable. The free ticket guarantees a finals position. That alone has value. A lot can happen between the preliminaries and the finals; injuries, exhaustion, changes in strategy. Riku could use the time to recover, to study his opponents, to prepare specifically for the tournament." She paused. "It is not a disadvantage. It is a different kind of advantage."
Rina's expression soured. "How are you suddenly understanding me when your own genins are the reason I am worried?" She gestured toward Satoru on the viewing platform below. "Your students eliminated two of mine. Two. And you stand there talking about advantages?"
Sayuri's voice was flat. "Would you like me to bring up the bet?"
Rina groaned, her head falling back. "Fine. Fine. I will be quiet."
Back in the arena, Chiyo's voice cut through the lingering tension. "The remaining participants will now come forward."
Satoru's heart rate ticked up. He walked down from the viewing platform, his footsteps silent on the stone stairs. Beside him, from opposite ends of the arena, Maki and Riku followed. They converged at the centre of the sand, standing before Chiyo in a loose triangle.
Chiyo surveyed them, her black eyes moving from face to face. "You are the final three participants remaining. You understand what that means."
Riku answered first, his voice sharp with impatience. "One of us gets a free ticket. The other two fight for the remaining slot."
Chiyo's lips curved; not quite a smile, but close. "You understood immediately. Good. That saves time."
Satoru's mind raced. One advances without fighting. Two fight. The winner advances; the loser is eliminated.
He looked at Maki; her silver eyes were calm, almost bored. He looked at Riku; his dark eyes were burning with competitive fire.
Chiyo continued. "The final fixture will be different. Instead of a shinobi drawing the lots, one of you will draw two of the remaining numbers. The numbers will determine the match. The remaining participant receives the bye."
Satoru's suspicion flickered. Is she trying to create tension? he wondered. Maybe she wants to destabilise Riku and me before the fight. Or perhaps she simply enjoys watching us squirm.
He immediately rejected the thought. That is just paranoia. Not every decision is a hidden attack against us. Sometimes things simply happen.
Maki stepped forward. "How do we decide who draws?"
Chiyo's expression did not change. "It is entirely up to you."
Maki's smile widened. "I will do it." She stepped toward the wooden box.
Riku's voice cut across the sand. "No. I will do it." He moved to intercept her.
The two stood face to face, their eyes locked; Riku's dark, burning; Maki's silver, amused. The tension between them was palpable, a physical weight that pressed against the arena walls. They turned toward Chiyo, expecting her to intervene.
Chiyo said nothing. She simply stood, her cane in her hand, her expression unreadable. She was leaving the decision to them.
They turned toward Satoru.
Satoru stood with his arms crossed, his expression utterly emotionless. He looked at Riku, then at Maki, then at the box. Whoever drew could be blamed if the result was bad; if the numbers were unfavourable, if the matchup was unfair, if the free ticket went to the wrong person. He would rather let them fight over it.
Riku and Maki continued their silent confrontation; neither willing to yield, nor willing to step back.
Satoru sighed.
A displacement of wind whooshed through the arena. Satoru appeared beside the wooden box, his hand already inside. He drew two slips, walked to Chiyo, and placed them in her palm.
"Let us just get this over with," he said.
Maki's smirk returned. She found his straightforwardness amusing; the way he had avoided the argument entirely by simply taking control. Riku's expression darkened. He had wanted to draw; he had wanted to influence the outcome. Satoru had denied him that.
Chiyo's voice was dry. "Decisive. You do not waste time when a decision is required." She unfolded the slips.
"Number fifteen. Maki of Sunagakure."
She unfolded the second.
"Number six. Uchiha Riku of Konohagakure."
Riku groaned. His shoulders slumped, and his jaw tightened.
He realised immediately what the numbers meant; he would have to fight Maki. The Typhoon Release user. The girl who had helped destroy the ruined sand city.
The result is exactly what I wanted. I avoid fighting Maki. I secured my finals position. Satoru thought.
Chiyo turned to him. "Your luck has helped you. You have secured your place in the finals. Step back."
Satoru inclined his head and walked to the edge of the arena, his Sharingan still active, his gaze fixed on the sand.
Chiyo addressed Maki and Riku. "Since you wanted to decide who deserved the spot, you can settle it now."
Maki's smile was sharp. Riku's jaw was set. They moved to opposite sides of the arena, the sand shifting beneath their feet. The crowd's excitement surged; the anticipated Konoha versus Suna clash was finally happening. The viewing platform buzzed with speculation; genin leaned forward, jōnin crossed their arms, and the silence before the storm settled over the arena.
Chiyo raised her hand.
"Begin."
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