"Alright, everyone, we're going to finish training with some sparring matches," Iruka said. He then motioned with his hands for them to back away. "Form a circle and wait to be called!"
They followed Iruka's instructions, and he began calling students in pairs to face each other. With every fight Michael watched, his mood worsened.
I'm going to get beaten to a pulp, he thought. He had seen boxing matches before, though never in person, but he was aware this didn't compare. It was fast, fluid, and the hits sounded devastating.
All he could do was pray to be paired with someone weak or compassionate. And as if Iruka had read his thoughts, he said:
"Naruto and Kiba! You're up."
Michael turned his head toward Iruka; his look screamed betrayal. His hands were shaking, and Kiba looked more like a predator than a person.
He wasn't wearing his characteristic hoodie, and his dog wasn't there either, but the rest was just like in the anime: short, spiky brown hair, sharp black eyes, and two red fang-shaped markings on his cheeks.
He wore a grin as he adopted his combat stance: knees bent and torso leaned forward, with open hands. He looked ready to pounce at any moment.
Meanwhile, Michael tried to mimic a boxer's stance, but his clenched fists could barely stop trembling.
"Seal of Confrontation," Iruka indicated.
Imitating his previous classmates, Michael raised his index and middle fingers, and Kiba did the same.
"Begin!" Iruka commanded.
Michael expected Kiba to jump instantly, but he stood still, which was twice as worrying. In that uncomfortable silence, Kiba opened his mouth:
"Even if you try new things, you're still going to lose, loser. Wouldn't it be better if you just gave up and left the Academy? You're not cut out to be a shinobi."
Michael remained silent. All he wanted was to give up and go home, but he couldn't. He had to face his fears.
Irritated by his lack of response, Kiba continued:
"Aren't you going to say anything, LOSER?! Don't tell me you're so scared you can't even speak. I can smell your fear from here." Kiba's grin widened. "Fine... you left me no choice."
He lunged at Michael with a clenched fist. He managed to dodge it but didn't expect the roundhouse kick that followed.
Pain shot through his entire right arm. Kiba's movement was more bestial than human. He didn't need to be on two feet to attack, and his center of gravity was almost level with the ground.
He tried to distance himself, but Kiba was stronger and much faster. The distance between them vanished in the blink of an eye, and before he could react, he was already receiving a barrage of blows.
A bombardment of punches, kicks, and scratches destroyed his arms, and Michael could barely hold back his screams.
"You know, if you only cover your face, you leave the rest of your body unprotected."
Before he could react, he felt a direct hit to his stomach that knocked all the air out of him.
A high-pitched ringing filled his ears after the blow to the stomach. His vision trembled, as if looking through water.
But Kiba wasn't satisfied: he swept his legs, making him collapse, and positioned himself on top of him.
"You should have given up when I gave you the chance."
An avalanche of blows fell upon his guard. Firm at the start, it crumbled in a matter of seconds.
The last thing he saw was Kiba's fist approaching and Iruka's voice saying:
"Enough, Kiba!"
The next thing he knew, he was in the infirmary. His whole body ached, but the worst part was the humiliation of his defeat.
He knew he was going to lose, but he had hoped to land at least one hit. He looked at his hands helplessly. And then he heard a voice:
"I see you're awake."
He turned his head and saw a young man in a white robe with a forehead protector. By his clothing, he knew he was an Iryo-nin.
"You really took a beating. Judging by the scratches, I'd say it was an Inuzuka or an Izuno. But considering the number of injuries, it had to be an Inuzuka. They are much more aggressive."
Michael blinked, bewildered by the medical ninja's diatribe. When he finally processed it, he replied:
"You guessed right. Thanks for healing me." He gave a small nod.
The Iryo-nin waved his hand dismissively.
"Don't worry, that's what I'm paid for. You were out for quite a while; you missed lunch. You can eat here and then go back to your classroom."
He was a nice person. Maybe he was like him: didn't prefer physical combat and that's why he had become an Iryo-nin.
Michael took his time eating and preparing to return to class. He didn't have much desire to after the beating he had received.
However, he couldn't afford to fall further behind. With no other choice, he left the infirmary toward the classroom.
He knocked on the door, and upon hearing Iruka's voice telling him to enter, he opened it. All his classmates looked at him; some whispered, others laughed quietly.
He didn't look in Kiba's direction. He didn't want to give him that satisfaction.
"Good, you're back. Take a seat," Iruka ordered.
Limping, he returned to his spot in the back, next to the window. Walking hurt a bit, but considering his injuries, the medic had done a great job.
Fortunately, the rest of the class went without complications. They covered combat tactics and some economics. Iruka didn't call on him; it seemed he had suffered enough for one class.
When the bell rang signaling the end of the day, he didn't rush to leave. There was no one waiting for him at home, and he didn't want to talk to his classmates either.
Luckily, Iruka didn't stay either; otherwise, he might have said something about his performance.
He knew the first day of school was going to be bad, but he didn't expect it to be this bad.
I have two years to learn everything, and hopefully, someday I can return the favor to Kiba.
He clenched his fists tightly, digging his nails into his palms. He inhaled and exhaled several times to calm down.
"Tomorrow is another day," he whispered as he gathered his things and left the room.
At the academy entrance, groups of parents were still waiting for their children. The only thing keeping him upright was the will to reach his bed.
"There it is... it's the demon," he heard as he passed through the parents.
He had been expecting that reaction since the first time he left his apartment, but surprisingly, there had been no incidents so far. He was starting to believe that the way the Third had handled the situation was different in this world.
"That's the demon girl."
Girl? He couldn't help but snap his head around, so fast he feared he might hurt his neck.
The parents weren't looking in his direction; they hadn't even noticed he was there. They were looking toward a tree with a swing, where the same red-haired girl was swaying.
But looking at her face more closely, Michael noticed it: a detail he had completely overlooked.
He took off running, bumping into some parents without apologizing.
NO, NO, NO. THIS IS A SICK JOKE, he thought as he stumbled up the stairs. It took him two tries to get the key in the lock, and he ran straight to the bathroom.
And upon seeing his reflection, it became obvious. Blonde hair and blue eyes, characteristic features of Naruto... but the main thing was missing.
"I don't have whiskers."
The face in the mirror was identical to Naruto Uzumaki's, except for one thing: he didn't have the whisker marks.
The only thing stopping him from breaking something was knowing he was in his own apartment. He needed to vent on something else, so he went out.
He didn't care that the day was cloudy. He simply walked aimlessly.