"Next match! Hikaraki Haruto vs. Uchiha Indra!"
"Wah! Indra-kun will defeat Hikaraki!" the girls squealed, pressing forward near the platform until Daiki gently but firmly shuffled them back.
Indra stood across from Haruto and raised a brow. Seriously… this guy looks intimidating, he thought. Haruto's bulky frame and coarse glare made him feel like a live obstacle rather than an opponent.
The two sealed for reconciliation. The bout began. Haruto charged like a bull; Indra's lips curled into a small, bored smirk.
Uchiha taijutsu: fast, precise strikes designed to land heavy blows. Even without a Sharingan, a trained eye could read an Uchiha's intentions—to a degree. It was about prediction and rhythm.
Indra's fist rose—high, controlled—when Daiki interrupted, hand out. "No extreme methods, Indra. This is a sparring match."
He lowered his arm. That's when he noticed a grim little jiggle in Haruto's right leg. Without hesitation Indra dashed and struck at the leg.
The blow hit, but to his surprise the large boy hardly budged. Haruto looked at Indra with casual disdain, like swatting an insect. Then, with terrifying speed for someone his size, Haruto grabbed Indra's collar and hurled him off the platform.
Indra caught the rim with one hand, then let go, wiping his mouth theatrically. "Hey, fatty—haven't showered in months, huh? Smells like garbage."
He gave himself some space, analyzing, voice calm. "He's got superior physical advantage. Note it down."
Noboru scribbled furiously. "If this were a jutsu-centered fight, he wouldn't last a minute, but—"
"There's literally no chance to beat him," Minato muttered, watching. A fist lunged; Indra rolled left just in time.
Then—an assault on the senses. A sharp, fishy reek hit him like a slap. His stomach flipped. This… disgusting smell!
He sprinted for the edge, hands flying. "Sensei! Tell him to shower first! The smell is eroding my senses!"
Daiki's expression was pragmatic. "When you're in a real battle, that kind of thing is common."
"Common?" Indra shot back. "But in a real battle I can use ninjutsu—"
"No can do, Indra." Daiki's voice was flat as he glanced over the crowd.
A hoarse, huge voice bellowed from the platform as Indra look behind with an awkward smile. He was shoved fully off. "Haruto wins!" Daiki declared, stepping away from the smell eroding his senses.
Indra dusted himself off and wandered back to his friends. "Hmm… quite a heavy person."
Minato deadpanned, "What? He's not that heavy—you could suplex him."
"Yeah!" Noboru piped up. "Look at his whole figure—he must weigh like a hundred pounds!"
Indra chuckled as the three traded barbs. "The fight didn't even last long enough."
Minato sniffed and nodded toward Haruto. "He smelled bad, right?"
Indra's eyelids twitched in agreement. "Ever smelled a dead goat in the sun for a week?" he asked, horrified.
"More like a dead fish in the sun for weeks," Noboru added, shuddering. "Terrifying!"
Minato grimaced. "I can't believe someone would let themselves get that dirty."
"When he sleeps at night… does he even feel comfortable?" Indra raised an eyebrow.
"Good point," Noboru said, thoughtful for a beat. "I shower after training, before sleeping, before coming to class."
"Same," Minato agreed. "Can you imagine fighting a shinobi this filthy?"
Indra's eyes hardened. "If an enemy like that showed up on the battlefield… the flames of the Uchiha would put him out."
Minato gave a small shiver and then laughed. "Coming from you, I believe that!"
"How can you be so cruel?" Noboru feigned offense.
Indra shrugged, expression even. "They should shower first. Even a dog can smell them from afar— and we can smell him now."
Minato chuckled. "That's not even keen senses. That's survival instincts telling you to run."
Noboru snickered,"Telling you to run from this dangerous poison smoke, haha!"
"I promise you this," Indra said, standing a little taller. "Next time I fight him, he'll be the one off the platform."
Kushina and Mikoto looked ready to forfeit immediately—nobody wanted Haruto's smell on their clothes. Seeing no better match, Indra lay down a short distance away and closed his eyes, still tasting the rancid memory.
…
Konoha's private training field, Indra had rented space for the afternoon. Minato and Noboru followed at his side, bags bouncing against their shoulders.
"Okay! Now we'll train for real this time!" Noboru yelled, excitement echoing across the open field.
They dropped their bags under the shade of a tree, then walked out to the center.
"So first, I'll test your taijutsu," Indra announced, calm but sharp-eyed.
Noboru cracked his knuckles. "Guess I'm first." He started to raise his hands for the seal of reconciliation.
Indra waved him off. "No need for seals. Just fight."
He lunged without hesitation. Noboru hopped back, creating distance—exactly as he had planned. His eyes gleamed as Indra closed the gap. A sudden kick whipped toward Indra's head.
Indra ducked at the last second, breath grazing his ear.
Noboru flipped backward, his heel skimming dangerously close to Indra's nose.
"Nice move," Indra said mid-dash, "but calculate distance before striking." He closed in like a shadow, fist flying. Noboru blocked, but his guard left a gap.
Kick incoming? Noboru braced.
Instead, Indra feinted the kick and rammed his fist into Noboru's gut. Before Noboru could gasp, Indra's arms hooked around his waist. With a grunt of effort, Indra suplexed him into the dirt.
Noboru's nose scraped the ground, leaving him dazed. Indra exhaled steadily. "Good attacks. But you need more experience before you can fight properly." He glanced up. "Next. Minato."
Minato darted forward without hesitation, quicker than Noboru. Indra's brows flicked upward at the speed, but he adapted instantly, parrying Minato's opening strike.
Then Minato lifted his left leg for a kick. Indra prepared for a side strike—only to be caught off guard when the heel came straight down onto his head.
He stumbled back, vision tilting, just as Minato pressed the assault. Indra's punch came fast, but Minato redirected it and countered with a blow to Indra's stomach.
Pain spread like fire, but Indra grit his teeth and held steady. Minato looked up triumphantly—only for Indra's fist to crash across his cheek, sending him sprawling.
Indra didn't pause. He dashed in, raised a leg high. Minato flinched, expecting the strike. But it was a feint—Indra's momentum shifted low, sweeping his opponent's balance.
Minato stumbled backward, arms flying. Indra seized them and, with practiced ease, slammed Minato hard into the ground.
A heavy silence lingered before Minato groaned from the dirt, "A'm ooowy…" (I'm okay).
Noboru winced sympathetically. "Poor guy… he lost the spar and the bet."
"Bet?" Indra arched a brow, looking down at Minato with mock severity. "Serves him right, then."
Minato rose slowly, dusting himself off, a kind smile still lingering despite the bruise forming on his cheek.
"Your techniques are good," Indra said, voice firm but not unkind, "but without experience to back them up, they're nothing." His eyes narrowed, a spark of determination lighting them. But Minato and Noboru thought in confusion'isnt he our age? Why is he speaking like a old man?'
"From today on—every day after the academy—we meet here to train. No excuses."
Both Minato and Noboru straightened, sharing a glance before shouting together:
"Hai!"
...