Both fighters froze, their attention snapping to the source of the tremor. Kenta glanced at Eichi, who looked as unbothered as ever, and decided to chuckle to keep up the bluff.
"Seems like we're about to win," he said, his tone cocky but his eyes darting nervously toward the direction of the tremor.
Eichi didn't respond, his expression as neutral as ever. But internally, he was on the verge of snapping. The intense surge of energy—no,chakra—spreading through the ground from the direction of his teammates was unmistakable.
It was massive, overwhelming, and eerily familiar. It reminded him of Hashirama Senju's chakra, the kind of power that could reshape landscapes and dominate battlefields.
Is the Hashirama of this world... a girl?Eichi thought, his mind already feeling how it felt as a CPU without watercooling. The idea was absurd, but the sheer scale of chakra he was sensing left no room for doubt.
Kenta, meanwhile, was still trying to play it cool. "Guess your team's not doing so hot, huh? Maybe you should've stuck with us instead of going solo."
For now, though, he had to deal with Kenta. The orange-haired boy was still grinning, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes now. He could sense that something was off, even if he didn't fully understand what was happening.
Eichi took a step forward, his voice calm but firm. "We're done here."
Kenta blinked, his grin faltering. "What? You giving up already?"
Eichi didn't respond. Instead, he moved. His speed wasn't as explosive as before, but it was still something the exhausted kenta couldn't handle.
He closed the distance between them in mere moments, his fist slamming into Kenta's gut with enough force to knock the wind out of him.
Kenta doubled over, gasping for air, but Eichi wasn't done. He grabbed Kenta by the collar, his voice low and cold. "Stay down."
As he placed Kenta down, still coughing and struggling to breathe, Eichi started to walk toward his teammates.
The tremor in the ground was growing stronger, and the surge of energy was becoming impossible to ignore. He needed to get to Aiko and Haru before things escalated further.
However, behind him, he heard movement. Eichi sighed, rubbing his eyes in exasperation before turning slowly. "I swear I didn't fucking hear you standing u—"
But when he saw Kenta, bloodied and battered in his orange and green costume—much like the clowns in the Daimyo's court—standing in his usual kickboxing stance, barely conscious, Eichi paused.
The boy was swaying left and right, his legs trembling, but he was still standing. Eichi had to give him credit for his tenacity. Not everyone had that kind of determination.
Observation room
"Damn, did you see that? Eichi just took Kenta down like it was nothing," one student muttered, his eyes glued to the screen.
"Yeah, but Kenta's still trying to get up. That guy's got guts," another added, shaking his head in disbelief.
The teacher, a tall yellow haired man with a stern expression, crossed his arms as he watched the monitor. His eyes narrowed slightly as he observed Eichi's movements. "Interesting," he murmured under his breath. "Eichi's holding back. He's not even trying."
One of the students, a girl with short hair, leaned closer to the screen. "What do you mean Sensei?"
The teacher shook his head. "No, look at his movements. They're clumsy compared to his first attack. He's not using his full strength. If he wanted to, he could've ended that fight in seconds. But he's dragging it out, making it look like he's struggling. Why?"
The students exchanged uneasy glances, their curiosity piqued. They had all seen Eichi's performance during the entrance exam, but this was different. This was raw, unfiltered skill—and it was clear that Eichi was hiding something.
Back on the monitor, they heard kenta speak ."W-well, I can't l-let a monster l-like you finish them off, c-can I?" his voice weak but defiant.
Eichi stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he walked toward Kenta. Each step seemed to echo in the silence, the weight of Eichi's presence pressing down on the exhausted boy. Kenta closed his eyes, bracing himself for another brutal beatdown.
But what he didn't expect was a single, small push on his chest. Kenta crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he even hit the dirt.
Eichi stood over him for a moment, his expression as neutral as ever. Then, almost as an afterthought, he muttered, "Rest easy, soldier. I'm not going to do anything to them gals."
The observation room fell silent as the students and teacher processed what they had just seen. One of the students, a boy with spiky hair, broke the silence by howling with laughter. "To think Kenta's only reason to keep this up was because of the girls!"
The class followed suit, erupting into laughter. Kenta's stubborn determination, even in the face of certain defeat, was both admirable and absurd. But amidst the laughter, the teacher's thoughts were different.
He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he stared at the monitor. His eyes were fixed on Eichi, who was now walking away from Kenta's unconscious form. The teacher's expression was thoughtful, his brow slightly furrowed.
"Rest easy, soldier."The words echoed in his mind. It wasn't just the phrasing that caught his attention—it was the tone.
There was a weight to it, a kind of respect that didn't fit the situation. And the way Eichi moved, the precision of his actions, the calmness in his demeanor... it all pointed to something... unnerving.
The teacher had seen plenty of students come through this academy, each with their own quirks and personalities. But Eichi was different. He wasn't just skilled—he was disciplined, almost militaristic in his approach. And that line about not doing anything to "them gals"... it was oddly specific, as if Eichi had a code he was following.
The laughter in the room died down as the students noticed the teacher's serious expression. One of them, a girl with glasses, leaned over to her friend and whispered, "What's with the teacher?"