The sun, now low on the horizon, painted the training field in shades of orange as the sensei watched, satisfied. Akihiro, still out of breath from his own trial, leaned against a tree, his attention fixed on the girls. He knew that what they were about to face was more of a psychological test than a physical one.
"Sayuri," the sensei called, her voice cutting through the air like a wire. "Your turn. Show me what you can do."
Sayuri stepped forward, her posture impeccable, her soft, almost ethereal smile in place. Her fingers formed quick seals; the air around Nezuko trembled. The field distorted, the sky acquiring a sickly green hue and the trees transforming into grotesque shadows. They weren't just visual illusions: sinuous forms attacked from all angles.
"Let's see if you can dance as well as you can dodge," Sayuri murmured, her fingers still in motion, casting chakra blasts that sliced through the air, and each strike seemed almost real, as if every reflection were a concrete threat.
"How elegant," the sensei murmured, her golden eyes gleaming. "But elegance is useless without strength. A party trick."
Nezuko didn't move, but released a wave of pure chakra, snapping reality back into place like mended glass.
"Tsk… so direct. Where's your sense of spectacle?" Sayuri commented, regaining her composure with a graceful spin.
Sayuri's illusions burst, but the girl didn't stop: her attacks became more complex, combining short punches, invisible cuts with concentrated chakra in her hands, graceful leaps, and calculated feints. Each blow was designed to emotionally destabilize, forcing Nezuko to respond while Sayuri tested her limits with provocative glances and almost sensual gestures.
Akihiro watched, fascinated and tense. She didn't expect this: Sayuri wasn't just attacking, she was manipulating perception, making every move the sensei made a battle of mind and body. Every step, every spin, and every attack seemed choreographed yet lethal, testing reflexes and confidence.
"Don't get distracted, sensei. I haven't even started playing yet," Sayuri said with a wry smile, her gaze as sharp as a blade.
Then Nezuko extended her hand. Three illusions of herself appeared behind Sayuri, smiling with an unsettling calm. "Your genjutsus... lack focus. Let's see if you can fight against reality now."
Sayuri tried to undo the technique, her own clones and illusions now being used against her. She struggled between attacks and evasions, colliding with trees and Nezuko's clones, each movement calculated in split seconds. Her short-range blows—quick slaps with concentrated chakra, precise kicks, invisible cuts—were now intercepted with a minimal margin of error, testing her precision and patience.
Sayuri's breathing quickened, sweat appearing on her forehead. She had been defeated not just physically, but mentally: her own arrogance had put her at a disadvantage. Finally, she fell to her knees, breathless, her golden eyes showing shock and contained admiration.
"You're good…" Sayuri murmured, panting, with a broken smile.
"Your genjutsu isn't just for confusion… it's for capture," said Nezuko, calm. "But you were already captured… by your own arrogance."
Akihiro clenched his fists, understanding the magnitude of the test: it wasn't enough to have skill; it required control, calculation, and self-awareness.
It was Reika's turn. Her blue eyes cut across the training field like blades, her curvaceous body tense, ready to explode. She advanced with a low growl, an aggressive stance, her arms and legs prepared for impact blows, the ground cracking under her feet with every step charged with concentrated chakra.
"You won't underestimate me, old lady," she said, and with an explosion of speed, she launched herself forward. Every fist, every kick, released waves of impact that reverberated through the air.
"Because if you do, you'll wake up on the ground without knowing your name," Reika growled, her blue eyes blazing with contained fury.
Reika spun like a hurricane, mixing short, fast punches with spinning kicks, attacks that combined brute force and speed. Her eyes, blue and cold, fixed on every part of Nezuko, anticipating the slightest opening.
Nezuko, calm and fluid, slipped between blows and feints like water.
"Stop running away and fight for real!" Reika screamed, frustrated, trying to break the sensei's evasive rhythm.
Every one of Reika's movements seemed to find space, but the sensei adjusted her posture imperceptibly, dodging by mere millimeters—enough for each blow to pass without real contact, yet leaving a feeling of impact that reverberated through Reika's body, almost disorienting her.
"Strong," Nezuko murmured, each word loaded with psychological testing. "But your control… is unstable."
Reika increased the intensity, blows now intertwining in short, explosive combos, each concentrated chakra punch causing micro-waves of energy that made the air tremble. She tried a high spinning kick, but Nezuko slid to the side, dodging with a spin that barely touched the ground, and countered with a quick touch on Reika's shoulder pressure point, making her stagger backward.
Not satisfied, Reika leaped, spun, and delivered a diagonal kick charged with chakra, aiming for Nezuko's flank. The sensei not only dodged, but made a small circular movement, using the force of the kick against Reika, almost pushing her back a few feet without direct contact. Each of the tsundere's blows now seemed to lose effect as she tried to recalibrate, her muscles burning from effort.
Akihiro watched, fascinated and apprehensive. With each of Reika's attacks, the sensei responded with a mix of minimal evasion, surgical touches on pressure points, and subtle verbal provocations, testing the young woman's patience and aggression. Reika began to realize that pure strength wasn't enough—she needed control, strategy, and calm.
In a final sequence, Reika fired a series of five quick blows, alternating punches and spinning kicks, each imaginary impact sending waves of pressure through the air. Nezuko dodged smoothly, but with each minimal contact, she sent micro-explosions of chakra that disrupted Reika's balance, draining the girl's energy without physically harming her. Finally, a quick touch on her waist pressure point left the tsundere breathless, off-balance, and falling to her knees, exhausted and panting.
"Tsk... it's not fair. You fight as if you already know the end," Reika murmured, her eyes burning more from wounded pride than pain.
"Your raw power is impressive," said Nezuko, tilting her head, "but without control, you only hurt yourself."
Mika advanced with uneven steps, her fiery hair swaying with every movement, her large eyes filled with nervousness and excitement. She breathed quickly, but her mischievous smile didn't disappear.
"Okay, Mika, breathe… don't explode anything… yet." Mika muttered to herself, trying to convince herself with a nervous smile.
She knew she didn't have Reika's strength or Sayuri's elegance, but she trusted in chaos—or, at least, the chaos that arose around her.
She awkwardly raised her hands and formed an improvised hand seal. Suddenly, dozens of clones appeared.
"Hey! Stay in formation! Or… at least don't kill each other!" Mika yelled, gesturing to the clones as if she were an impromptu commander.
But they stumbled, crashed into each other, bumped into trees, and even created small clouds of smoke when they fell. Every movement seemed like a disaster, but paradoxically it kept Nezuko's attention.
"You call that strength? That's just a mess." Nezuko murmured, her steps light and precise, each one calculated to test Mika's reflexes. She dodged clumsy clones, but from time to time, a minimal touch on Mika's arm or shoulder made the girl stagger, letting the chaos intensify.
Mika tried a jump, spinning in the air, trying to land a kick that would hit the sensei. One of her clones messed up the movement, colliding with her at the last second. The impact didn't hurt, but it unbalanced Mika, who rolled on the ground, laughing nervously as she quickly tried to get back up.
The training field was full of stumbling clones, rising smoke, and uncontrolled chakra spreading small sparks through the air. Mika, breathing hard, laughed and gestured exaggeratedly, trying to create improvised attacks. A clone bumped into another, creating a "mini-explosion" effect that launched dense smoke towards Nezuko, but the sensei just tilted to the side, dodging with an almost artistic fluidity.
Nezuko took advantage of every mistake. A quick touch on Mika's shoulder pressure point made the girl flinch, another light touch on her leg made her stumble again. Each blow was psychological, exploiting Mika's natural lack of control, testing her patience and ability to react under pressure.
Mika tried to concentrate, summoned more clones in a different pattern, this time trying to create a distraction barrier. The smoke rose, the clones fell, but the sensei passed between them as if floating, dodging effortlessly and touching precise points that further destabilized the young woman.
The climax arrived when Mika, desperate, launched all the clones at the sensei at once, creating a whirlwind of movements, falls, and improvised chakra explosions. Nezuko glided through the center of the storm, dodging real and imaginary blows, touching strategic points on Mika's arms, back, and legs, draining the girl's energy and leaving her breathless.
Finally, Mika fell to her knees in the center of the field, her hair disheveled, breathing heavily, looking at Nezuko with wide, confused eyes, still not understanding how she had been overcome by her own mess.
"I… almost hit you. Like… about 10% of me was right," Mika said softly, still panting, with a shaky smile and slightly teary eyes.
"It's not chaos… it's disorder," Nezuko said, her voice calm and firm, leaning in slightly. "You have talent, Mika, but you need to learn to concentrate your energy. Without control, even genius gets lost."
Sayuri, Reika, and Mika breathed heavily, each one absorbing their own defeat. The sensei circled among them, not to punish, but to show each failure, each overconfidence, each inattention, each uncontrolled tendency.
Small provocations, chakra touches, almost imperceptible gestures—each one understanding that it wasn't brute force, but perception and control that mattered.
Akihiro watched, absorbing every detail: Sayuri's arrogance in her genjutsu, Reika's uncontrolled impulse, Mika's disorganization.
He understood that the next step would be to face each of them individually, and that it would require all his skill, perception, and mental calm.
The sensei finally stopped, crossing her arms, a light and provocative smile on her lips.
"You weren't defeated by me. You were defeated by yourselves. And this… is the first step to becoming true ninjas."
Akihiro swallowed hard.