The twelve Guardian Ninja stepped onto the stone arena, their ages varying, some young, some older.
Enji's eyes scanned them carefully. Two faces stood out.
A young woman… she was in the anime. Lightning style user. Her sharp eyes gleamed as the crowd erupted in cheers.
And that one… a young monk. Chiriku. From the Fire Temple.
The Daimyo rose, his fan snapping open lazily.
"Let the match begin!"
Cheers thundered through the stands. The young female ninja, yet a teenager, stepped forward, hips swaying, a playful smile tugging at her lips. She pointed her blade toward Itachi.
"You. The little one. Come forward. I promise I'll be gentle."
Laughter rippled through the audience. Itachi gave a small nod to Kakashi and Enji before stepping forward. His posture betrayed no emotion, but his measured calm only seemed to amuse the crowd further.
The announcer's voice boomed, "From Konoha — the Weasel! And facing him, the beloved Lady Tou."
The fight began.
At first, both exchanged light probing strikes — her movements flashy, filled with confidence, while his were small, efficient, and controlled. Every time she tried to overwhelm him, her blade whistling , Itachi's slight frame twisted just out of reach, his counters perfectly timed to redirect her momentum.
The crowd's roar began to soften. What had seemed like a sure spectacle started to look… different. Each time she pushed harder, the boy's uncanny precision denied her victory.
On the dais, the Daimyo's smile wavered. Homura, sitting beside him, remained unreadable.
Finally, the woman's patience snapped. "Stop running, boy! "
Her voice cracked with frustration. Itachi remained steady, his expression calm as still water. In a blur of motion, his shuriken whistled through the air, multiple ones, aimed straight at her face. She tilted her body trying to avoid it, but the shuriken bounced of each other, one cutting her cheek and drawing blood.
The crowd gasped.
Her eyes widened in fury. "Enough! I'll end this!" She raised her hands to weave signs — but froze. Her breath hitched as her body locked, acupoints screaming as though nails had been hammered into them.
And then, Itachi was there, his blade at her neck.
"Genjutsu!!! When…?" she whispered.
He tilted his sword just so, letting her see a flash of light,reflecting the sunlight,on the polished steel.
She bowed her head, dejected and returned to her group.
'Using the flashes of light, reflecting the sunlight, as medium for Genjutsu, and with perfect timing too. Impressive. And once he awakens his kekkei genkai, he'll be a terror to fight.' Homura's thoughts swirled.
The crowd froze,in shocked silence. Itachi gave no words. He simply lowered his blade, bowed and walked back to his squad.
Kakashi's single visible eye followed him carefully. "Better than I expected." he muttered — for him, a rare praise.
Enji smirked and tapped Itachi's shoulder in silent congratulations.
" She understimated me, it was a fluke." Itachi replied.
The Guardian Twelve were no longer smiling. Their faces had hardened.
" Don't underestimate them just because they look young, they are already Anbu. The cream of the crop." An elderly man among them advised.
The announcer raised his voice again. "Next match!"
Enji stepped forward, staff slung across his back. "Badger." He introduced himself.
The crowd murmured. His frame was broad, his stance steady — but when his voice rang out, it carried the unmistakable timbre of a boy, not even a teenager.
On the dais, the Daimyo leaned toward Homura. "That one… is he young as Weasel?"
Homura's reply was calm. "Yes. Both Weasel and Badger are younger than twelve."
The Daimyo's fan lowered. His eyes narrowed in thought. So young… and yet… His earlier scorn began to falter. Perhaps Konoha was not as weak as he had thought.
Feeling dishonorable to pit adults against a child, the Guardians murmured among themselves until one voice cut through.
"I'll fight him."
A young monk stepped forward, his robes simple yet dignified, beads rattling faintly at his wrist. He pressed his palms together and bowed.
"Chiriku, of the Fire Temple."
Enji saluted respectfully, his staff still tied behind his back.His mind recalled information about the monk - 'This man… later he would fight Hidan and Kakuzu. The Akatsuki had to send two immortals to subdue him, even though that was him at his peak, as an adult.
I wonder if he has mastered that technique,if he has, this is going to be tough.'
The crowd hushed as the two faced off.
On the sidelines, Kakashi tilted his head toward Itachi. "Who do you think will win?"
Itachi studied the monk for a long moment. "He looks near your age, captain. Unless he can overwhelm Enji instantly, Enji will win."
Kakashi's brow furrowed. "The monk is older, with more strength, more stamina. What gives Boar any advantage?"
Itachi's eyes flicked briefly toward his teammate.
"Enji does all his training with wieghted seals, even Anbu training. He still finishes with energy to spare. His strength too is no joke, he can break boulders with his chakra enhanced punches."
Kakashi fell silent, his gaze sharpening on the arena.
The crowd grew restless. The air thickened with anticipation.
The next clash was about to begin.
The crowd hushed as Badger and Chiruku stepped into the ring, bows exchanged with mutual respect.
No weapons. No chakra.
The fight began with their fists.
The monk closed in first, fists flashing in sharp, disciplined arcs. Enji met him head-on, forearms clashing, shoulders slamming, blows reverberating through the arena floor. The two traded strike after strike — punches, elbows, knees, sweeps — each movement fast, sharp, and brutal.
The ANBU mask jolted with each hit, but he returned every blow with the power of a battering ram. Chiruku's technique was refined, precise; Enji's was raw, overwhelming, like a beast charging without hesitation.
Dust burst with every exchange. The audience gasped as shockwaves cracked the tiles. The fight blurred into a flurry of limbs.
Chiruku struck Enji's ribs with a clean blow, only for the boy to tank the hit, catch his wrist and slam him down — the monk rolling away at the last instant. Both rose instantly, circling again.
Minutes passed. Both fighters bore marks of the battle. Enji's breathing was slightly heavier, sweat dampened his ANBU garb, but his stance was unshaken. The monk, by contrast, panted with strain, his shoulders rising and falling.
Chiruku's eyes gleamed, he felt exhilarated — no titles, no duties, just battle. "You are worthy, Badger," he said, hands pressing together. "Then I will show you my ultimate technique."
The crowd leaned forward, voices hushed.
The monk's body glowed faintly with chakra as he performed a solemn mudra. Behind him, a chakra construct bloomed , a great figure with eight gleaming arms, like a diety.
Whispers spread. "The Fire Temple's Thousand-Armed Murder…"
Enji's eyes narrowed. He knew the technique — a construct of both defense and offense, embodying the phrase ' offense is the best defense' .
But here, the monk's technique was incomplete. Only eight arms manifested, not many as he remembered.
The Daimyo straightened in his seat, delighted.
Enji twirled his staff and shifted into stance. The aura around him shifted — perception sharpening, body sliding into flow. To him, the world slowed, the monk's movements clear.
Then they clashed.
The chakra construct's fists descended in blinding sequence. Enji's staff spun like a storm, deflecting blow after blow, the ground erupting in craters as strikes landed. Some slipped through — bruises blossomed on his arms and cheek — but he endured, every counterattack a savage strike filled with power.
"Unbelievable!" the announcer shouted over the chaos. "Chiriku sama has not taken a single step back!"
The crowd erupted in awe, roaring approval.
Kakashi's lone eye narrowed. "…He might lose. This technique is like a turtle shell, but with not just defense but offense too."
But Itachi's voice was calm, almost unbothered. "Once, during training, Enji told me something. Every jutsu has a weakness. If you think it's unbeatable, it only means you haven't found it yet."
The clash continued. Staff and chakra fists collided, scattering dust, leaving the arena floor cracked and cratered.
The Daimyo leaned forward, fan snapping shut. His grin widened. "An immovable object… versus an unstoppable force."
Homura, at his side, observed quietly — then smiled faintly as he noticed the subtle details. Enji was bruised but unshaken, his stamina untouched. Chiriku's face had gone pale, sweat soaking his robes, his breathing ragged. His chakra reserves were waning.
Enji had waited for this. Between his furious charges and the monk's desperate defense, his chakra had slowly seeped into the earth below. He only needed a chance.
Then, it came.
A barrage of fists forced him to defend desperately, but Chiriku's pace faltered due to exhaustion and in that instant, Enji's hands flashed through seals.
The ground erupted. Earthen spikes speared upward beneath Chiriku, within his chakra construct ,forcing him to break his stance. His chakra construct flickered unstable — the eight arms wavering.
Enji was already there. A blur of motion, staff overhead, crashing down with unstoppable momentum.
Chiriku watched as the staff descended, too tired to even raise his arms to block, his life flashing before his eyes. The staff stopped just shy of his forehead. The wind of its force ruffled his robes, scattering dust and debris in a whirlwind.
Silence.
Then the arena exploded in applause.
Chiriku exhaled, pale but smiling. He bowed deeply. "Magnificent, Badger. It was an honor."
Enji returned the bow, staff resting against his shoulder. "Your technique was extraordinary. I'll remember it."
The announcer's voice strained over the roar of the crowd: "Victory — to Badger of Konoha!"
Applause rained from every corner of the arena.
On the dais, the Daimyo leaned back, laughter rolling warmly from his chest. "Marvelous! Marvelous! Konoha truly guards this land well. To see such talent in children… astounding!" His fan snapped open again, but this time with no hint of mockery.
Yet as his eyes lingered on the exhausted monk, his smile grew thoughtful. This boy… this Chiriku… even in defeat he showed resolve, spirit, and mastery. A rare gem, hidden in the temple. His heart stirred with the greedy certainty of a ruler. I will keep him close. A monk like this will not be wasted far from court.
Homura, standing nearby, caught the look but said nothing. His own pride rested in the two masked shadows from Konoha, who had silenced every doubt.
The Daimyo rose, voice booming. "Today I have seen the future of our Land of Fire — shinobi who defend it, monks who honor it. I am proud! "
Diplomacy flowed smooth. Homura stepped forward, bowing slightly. "The Guardians fought with dignity. Konoha is grateful to fight alongside them, not against them."
The Daimyo nodded approvingly. The spar was over.
The ANBU trio regrouped, slipping into formation, protecting Homura. The crowd's cheers followed them as they departed.
Kakashi's single eye drifted from Itachi to Enji, then back again. He gave the smallest of nods.
"…Not bad."