Part I: The Announcement and Instructor Tanaka's Role
The morning assembly buzzed with restless energy. The entire student body of Iron Will High was gathered in the courtyard, their voices rising in waves of speculation. Rumors had been flying for weeks, but today was the official announcement. The mid-term school tournament would determine the year's representatives—those chosen to compete in the district martial arts tournament. It was a moment of prestige and pressure, one that set the hierarchy of the school in stone.
Principal Ishida stood on the raised platform, his sharp voice cutting through the din. "This tournament is not merely tradition—it is proof of Iron Will High's pride. Each year, we stand against rival schools in the district tournament, and each year, our name must be remembered!"
The crowd erupted in cheers, though it was tinged with nervous anticipation. Even Kai, standing somewhere in the middle of the 1st-year crowd, felt the shift in atmosphere. It wasn't just about martial arts anymore—it was about representing the school, about carrying its weight.
"And this year," the principal continued, "we are introducing a new training structure. Instructor Tanaka will be taking charge of the 1st-year representatives."
The name rolled across the crowd like a whisper turned storm. Some students straightened up immediately; others tried not to shiver. Instructor Tanaka was known for his enigmatic presence—strict, quiet, and supposedly terrifying when he chose to be.
The man himself stepped forward, his footsteps unhurried but full of gravity. Tanaka looked unassuming at first glance—lean, with sharp features and a pair of glasses perched neatly on his nose. But there was something in his eyes that silenced the courtyard. It wasn't aggression. It was calculation, the kind that weighed every student as though he were already dissecting their strengths and weaknesses.
He spoke without raising his voice, yet every word carried. "I am Instructor Tanaka. I will train the 1st-years who are chosen to represent Iron Will High. Let me be clear—I have no interest in excuses or wasted potential. If you lack discipline, you will crumble. If you lack resolve, you will be discarded."
A ripple of unease spread through the 1st-years. Even Haru, normally full of bravado, visibly swallowed hard. Then Tanaka's gaze swept over them, settling briefly on Kai. His lips quirked almost imperceptibly.
"And some of you…" His voice thinned into a quiet edge. "Some of you are lazy geniuses. Talented enough to scrape by, clever enough to mask your flaws. But if you think wit will save you in this tournament, you are mistaken."
Kai blinked, then muttered under his breath, "Technically, wit has a higher survival rate than brute force if applied correctly."
Those nearby stifled laughter, but Tanaka's eyes narrowed in amusement rather than annoyance. The only one not amused was Haru, who promptly keeled over in mock faint. "I'm dead already! Someone send me home!" he wailed, sprawled on the ground.
Aiko crossed her arms and scolded him sharply. "Get up, idiot. You haven't even fought yet."
The courtyard burst into laughter, easing the tension for a moment, but Kai noticed something unusual—Tanaka was still watching him, not with disapproval, but with a flicker of approval hidden behind those calculating eyes.
Part II: First Year Selection Matches Begin
By the afternoon, the gymnasium had been prepared for the 1st-year selection matches. Mats covered the floor, and the air smelled faintly of sweat and anticipation. The bleachers were full of curious students, eager to see who among the newest batch would step up.
The rules were simple: sparring matches until only three remained.
The first match was a disaster in comedy. A muscular boy swaggered into the ring, flexing and shouting promises of victory. He charged forward, only to slip spectacularly on the mat and knock himself out before his opponent even touched him. The crowd howled with laughter, and even the judges struggled to keep straight faces.
Haru's turn came next. His opponent was quicker, sharper, and more disciplined—but Haru's sheer panic seemed to act as an unpredictable weapon. Every time the other boy tried to strike, Haru stumbled, flailed, or tripped in ways that narrowly avoided the blows. At one point, he dodged a kick by sneezing so hard he fell backward. Somehow, impossibly, his opponent ended up overextended and fell right out of the ring.
Haru popped up, fists raised. "See? Tactical genius!"
The audience roared with laughter while Aiko facepalmed. "You're a disgrace," she muttered, though her lips twitched.
When Aiko stepped into the ring, the tone shifted. Calm, sharp, and precise, she dismantled her opponent with clean, efficient movements. No wasted energy, no hesitation—just skill honed through dedication. The crowd applauded respectfully, and even Tanaka's approving nod was visible from the sidelines.
Then it was Kai's turn.
His opponent, emboldened by Kai's reputation for "accidental victories," came in aggressively, determined to end the fight quickly. The crowd murmured, some expecting Kai to be flattened immediately.
Kai, however, had already been watching. He'd observed the boy's earlier matches, noting the overconfidence in his footwork, the half-second lag between his strikes, and the way he favored his right hand.
The match began. The boy lunged, aiming a heavy punch at Kai's face. Kai sidestepped with minimal effort, letting the boy's momentum carry him forward. Another strike came, and again Kai shifted, calculating the exact angle needed to let his opponent's energy work against him. Within a minute, the boy overextended, stumbled, and fell.
The gym went silent for a beat before exploding into groans and laughter. "He did it again?!" someone shouted.
Kai dusted off his hands calmly. "Probability," he muttered. "He was bound to trip eventually."
Tanaka, arms crossed, murmured to himself. "He's not fighting with fists… he's fighting with his head."
Part III: The Formation of the 1st-Year Team
By the end of the matches, the results were clear. The three representatives for the 1st-years were Haru, Aiko, and Kai.
The trio stood side by side in the gym, still catching their breath from the day's chaos. Haru looked the most smug, bouncing on his heels. "We're unstoppable! The perfect team! The brains, the beauty, and the… uh, whatever I am!"
"You're the noise," Aiko replied flatly.
Kai adjusted his glasses, expression neutral. "Statistically speaking, our chances of surviving the district tournament are low. Unless Haru continues to weaponize incompetence."
Haru pointed at him, scandalized. "That's not incompetence! That's tactical genius, I told you!"
The banter was cut short when Tanaka stepped forward, his shadow stretching across them. His voice was calm, yet carried the weight of command. "You are the 1st-year representatives. That title is not decoration—it is a responsibility. From this moment, your training will intensify. If you slack off, I will personally spar with you until you cannot walk."
Haru shrieked. "That's torture! Cruel and unusual punishment!"
"Then don't slack off," Tanaka replied simply.
Aiko bowed her head respectfully. "Understood, Instructor."
Kai tilted his head, considering. "Noted. If we collapse, Haru will collapse first. I'll use him as a buffer."
The gym erupted with laughter, Haru's protests echoing through the space. But beneath the comedy, a sense of unity began to form. For the first time, Kai wasn't just an observer—he was part of a team. And as the tournament loomed, he knew this was only the beginning.
Part IV: Echoes of the Matches
The buzz in the arena had not yet died down after Kai's decisive victory. Instead, it swelled into a chorus of excitement. First-years were buzzing about who might be chosen as representatives, second-years were evaluating each other with tense eyes, and the third-years—calm, confident, yet watchful—sat like silent predators observing prey.
"Did you see how fast Haru moved?" one boy whispered, almost spilling his juice box in the rush of excitement.
"Yeah, but Aiko's stance was so clean. She looked like she'd been practicing for years!" another replied.
"And Kai… he just—bam! Ended it before the guy knew what happened."
From the upper gallery, Instructor Tanaka cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted in mock seriousness, "Don't forget who taught them the proper way to tie a belt! Without me, they'd have tripped on their uniforms before they even reached the mat!"
Laughter erupted, but there was a ripple of respect underneath it. Tanaka might crack jokes, but everyone in the building had just witnessed that his 1st-years had real bite.
Down on the arena floor, Aiko brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and gave a small smile toward the cheering section. Haru was practically glowing, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. Kai, however, remained composed—though inwardly, he could feel the faint spark of pride at the acknowledgment.
But the matches weren't over.
"Next! 1st-year group three! Step onto the stage!"
A pair of nervous boys clambered forward, followed by a girl who seemed half-asleep, her messy hair sticking out in every direction. She yawned loudly as if someone had dragged her there against her will.
The match began, and immediately, chaos unfolded.
One boy slipped before even throwing his first strike, landing flat on his back. His opponent panicked, tried to capitalize, but tripped over the downed boy's leg and toppled face-first into the mat.
The sleepy-haired girl tilted her head, yawned again, and then casually tapped both with the lightest push. The referee blinked, then declared her the winner by knockout—because both boys simply groaned and refused to get up.
The crowd exploded in laughter.
Tanaka, arms crossed, smirked. "See? Even martial destiny favors naps."
Kai pinched the bridge of his nose. This… this is going to be our generation's reputation?
Part V: Tensions and Triumphs
As the remaining first-year matches wrapped up, more personalities revealed themselves. Some students fought with grit, others with desperation, and a few simply tried not to embarrass themselves.
But when the final names for the 1st-year representatives were announced, the air seemed to crackle:
Kai – calm and calculated.
Haru – explosive and eager.
Aiko – precise and disciplined.
The crowd's applause was thunderous, though a few mutters of envy lingered. Some students swore under their breath, determined to train harder and claim the spotlight next time.
For the 2nd-years, the lineup followed soon after:
Riku, already boasting to anyone within earshot.
Daichi, stoic and unshaken.
Shun, a new face—quiet, bespectacled, but with a sharpness in his eyes that hinted at hidden depth.
And then came the 3rd-years. Their announcement was delivered with a weight that silenced the crowd.
Nine names. Nine seniors who had already made reputations for themselves. They stood, one by one, at the front of the hall. Muscles coiled, gazes sharp, their very presence casting a shadow over the younger years.
Kai's chest tightened as he looked at them. So these are the ones we're supposed to match, one day?
One of the third-years—a tall boy with cropped hair and a scar across his eyebrow—met Kai's eyes and smirked. It wasn't cruel, but it was a look of challenge, as if to say: Catch up if you can.
Kai's fists clenched. He wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement burning in his veins.
Part VI: The Birth of Teams
Once the announcements ended, the hall emptied into the evening air. But for the chosen representatives, the day was far from over.
Instructor Tanaka herded his 1st-years like a mother duck guiding wayward ducklings. Haru kept bouncing on his toes, unable to contain his energy. Aiko walked with composed grace, though she kept casting side glances at Haru's antics. Kai followed silently, his thoughts heavy with what lay ahead.
Tanaka stopped abruptly in front of them, spinning around with dramatic flair. "Congratulations, my little seedlings of destiny! You've been plucked from the garden of mediocrity and thrust into the bouquet of greatness!"
"Bouquet?" Haru echoed, puzzled.
"Yeah," Aiko muttered, "because apparently we're flowers now."
Kai sighed. "Just let him have it."
Tanaka grinned wide. "Listen, you three. Being chosen isn't the end—it's the start. You're no longer fighting for yourselves. You're representing this school, this team, and… most importantly…" He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "You're representing me. And I'll be damned if I let my 1st-years get shown up by the seniors."
The trio blinked, caught off guard by the sudden steel in his voice. The joking tone had slipped, if only for a moment, replaced by the sharp edge of pride and responsibility.
Haru grinned, excitement surging. "Then we'll just have to win, right?"
Aiko nodded firmly. "We won't waste the chance."
Kai's lips curled into the faintest smile. "We'll make it count."
Tanaka slapped them all on the back—hard enough to make Haru stumble. "That's what I like to hear! Now, tomorrow, we start training camp—Tanaka-style!"
The trio exchanged wary looks. Haru, ever fearless, asked, "What does… Tanaka-style mean?"
Tanaka's grin widened. "It means you'll regret ever asking."
Somewhere in the background, thunder rumbled, though the skies were clear.
The 1st-years had no idea what they had just signed up for.
But as they walked back toward the dorms under the fading light, laughter and nervous chatter filling the air, Kai felt something stir within him.
Resolve.
Excitement.
And the shadow of battles yet to come.