The two boys moved into position.
Murakami adjusted the deep-purple haori draped over his shoulders before sliding into a relaxed stance. His posture wasn't loose, but it wasn't rigid either.
It was controlled and measured.
Ryota, on the other hand, was all intensity.
He was one of the more physically powerful students, relying on brute force and aggression to win fights.
He cracked his knuckles and grinned. "I won't go easy on you, Murakami."
Murakami exhaled, looking unimpressed. "Didn't ask you to."
Matsuda's eyes flickered between them. "Begin."
Ryota exploded forward.
His foot dug into the dirt as he closed the distance with a burst of speed, throwing a powerful straight punch toward Murakami's chest.
But Murakami was already moving.
He sidestepped with minimal effort, allowing Ryota's punch to barely graze past him and without hesitation, Murakami countered, shifting his weight and striking out with a precise palm thrust aimed at Ryota's exposed ribs.
It was a clean technique with no wasted movement.
Ryota grunted but quickly recovered and turned his body to strike with his forearm but Murakami leaned back, dodging the attack, but Ryota was already expecting that immediately transitioning into a sweeping low kick.
Murakami hopped over it, landing lightly before shifting back into position, his expression remaining neutral through it all as he analyzed Ryota in real-time.
Ryota snarled. "Stop dodging and fight!"
He charged again, this time faking a high punch before suddenly feinting into a low tackle.
Matsuda watched closely. This was where most students faltered, taijutsu wasn't just about offense but also reaction.
If Murakami was careless, he'd be taken off his feet.
But Murakami… wasn't careless.
At the last possible instant, his foot slid half a step to the side as he turned his body in one smooth movement.
Ryota's momentum slammed past him like a gust of wind, his balance already broken before he realized what had happened.
And Murakami took advantage as his hand shot out, gripping Ryota's wrist while his foot hooked behind his opponent's ankle.
With a quick yank and a sharp push—
Ryota was flipped onto his back.
The impact kicked up dust. Ryota grunted, wondering how his back touched the ground before trying to push himself up, but before he could, Murakami's foot pressed lightly against his chest.
Not harshly.
Just enough to make the point clear.
The match was over.
Matsuda frowned slightly.
Not because Murakami had won, but because of how he had won. There was no hesitation in his movements, no struggle.
His entire body was carried with calculated efficiency.
Was he even trying?
Matsuda studied the boy's face, but Murakami simply stepped back, brushing dust off his haori before returning to the group.
That boy…
Matsuda exhaled and shook his head before calling the next match.
….
After the taijutsu matches concluded, Matsuda-sensei led us toward the shurikenjutsu field which was a long stretch of training field marked by straw dummies and circular wooden targets.
Each was given three shuriken and two kunai, aiming for the target dummies lined up ahead.
"Remember," Matsuda-sensei said, "it's not about the strength of the throw but control, grip, rotation and follow-through. Aim for precision first, power second."
Some students hit center mass, others scattered their shots wildly. Kaito's throws were fast but inconsistent. Rika was precise, hitting closer to the bullseye but lacking force.
Then, there was Murakami.
His first two shuriken hit dead center.
The third, however, landed slightly off-mark. Deliberately? Matsuda wasn't sure.
The kunai throws followed. One direct hit. The second? Just slightly off-center.
Matsuda narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
Lastly, the agility course.
Groans rippled through the class, everyone knew what that meant.
The agility course was infamous; not because it was particularly dangerous, but because it had been designed to humiliate the careless.
It was a mix of balance beams, rope climbs, narrow poles, and unstable planks, all meant to test how well a student could control their movements and core balance without relying purely on speed or strength.
The purpose of this class was to build the foundation beginning in posture and muscle control, using the center of gravity efficiently.
Weight distribution was an important factor in Lightening Body technique(Keishin no Jutsu) since students must learn to shift their weight smoothly.
With chakra applied, beginners use chakra to lighten themselves but advanced practitioners (and what Murakami naturally understands) instead align chakra flow with momentum, letting kinetic energy and chakra resonance reduce drag and resistance during motion.
Think of it like aligning the spin of a shuriken — once it's balanced, it glides effortlessly.
The end result isn't just lightness but invisible motion.
The user's steps produce minimal noise or vibration, making them ideal for stealth and fast evasion. It is the precursor to techniques like the Body Flicker (Shunshin no Jutsu).
Matsuda reminded us before we began, "Don't fight your weight, try to guide it. Shinobi don't move with force, they move with flow!"
The first few students went in.
One boy slipped off the first beam and landed face-first in the sand.
Another used too much chakra and shot over the next platform entirely.
A girl tried to take it slow, but that made her stiff and shaky until she lost her balance.
Matsuda sighed. "You're not walking on air, feel the ground and move with it!"
Kaito went next. He grinned and jogged forward confidently.
The first few steps were fine, but on the swinging plank, he lost his rhythm and had to jump early just to save himself.
He landed hard on the other side, panting, then threw his arms up. "Still counts!"
Soon it was Rika's turn. Her steps were careful, but she looked tense, like she was trying too hard to be perfect until the end.
When she reached the rope section, her foot slipped, but she caught herself and kept going until she finally jumped down at the end, breathing hard.
Unfortunately, she couldn't make it to the swinging planks before her time was up. And despite doing quite well, she didn't smile. She just adjusted her glasses and returned to the girls group.
Then it was Murakami's turn.
He stepped onto the first beam quietly. It wobbled a little under his foot, but he didn't fight it but let his body adjust, spreading just enough chakra under his soles to steady himself.
Step by step, he crossed, evenly breathing as he did.
The trick wasn't power but rhythm.
Every move had to feel smooth and connected, like one long motion instead of many short ones.
The next part had thin poles set in a zigzag line.
He bent his knees slightly and started hopping across—one, two, three.
Each time his foot landed, he shifted his weight before the pole could wobble.
Behind him Kaito muttered, "He's making this look easy."
Rika frowned. "That's not the issue. He's too calm. That's not normal."
Ahead was the rope climb. The rough fibers scratched against his palms as he pulled himself up.
Murakami's arms burned a little, but he kept moving at a slow and steady pace.
Halfway up, Kaito's yell reached him. "Come on, Murakami, try not to fall asleep up there!"
A smirk found its way on his lip but he didn't look down.
At the top, the rope led to a line of thin poles stuck in the ground with each one just wide enough for one foot.
Murakami bent his knees and started hopping across. One pole dipped, then steadied. He shifted his weight before jumping again.
One, two, three, four—done.
The last section was a run over a few unstable boards that bounced with every step.
Murakami did not stand idly to analyse the course and dashed across lightly, his sandals barely touching them before he jumped down and landed on the sand.
The class clapped lightly as Murakami landed without a sound and dust rising faintly around his sandals.
Kaito gave a sharp whistle. "You move like an old man who's seen too much!"
Murakami brushed the sand from his sleeve, expression unreadable. "Old men don't fall," he said simply.
That earned a wave of laughter from the others — the kind that loosened the air after a tense round of trials.
Off to the side, Matsuda-sensei's brow lifted slightly. He'd been watching the boy since the start of the course.
Murakami hadn't rushed or stumbled. He hadn't even looked like he was trying.
There was no flashiness, no eagerness to impress, just quiet precision as though what he did was a matter of course.
Each step, each grip, each jump was measured… like he was saving effort for something that actually mattered.
Calm and controlled.
He noted that despite this, kids trained in most families and clans could also achieve this and at record time.
This could only put Murakami in the category that was reserved for exceptional and talented shinobi — genius.
However Murakami's kind of restraint, Matsuda knew, was far rarer than raw talent but he could put a finger on what it was.
He made a quick note on his clipboard before calling out, "Alright, next group!"
Murakami stepped back into line beside Kaito and Rika.
Rika adjusted her glasses, eyeing him sideways. "You didn't even blink back there."
He glanced at her, just enough to acknowledge her without breaking his relaxed posture.
"I did," he said, his voice quiet but even. "Just when you weren't looking."
Rika sighed, more amused than annoyed. "Show-off."
Kaito chuckled. "At least he makes it entertaining."
Before either could continue, the next student missed his footing and tumbled straight into the sand.
The whole class burst out laughing, Rika included.
Murakami's lips curved faintly, the hint of a smile that came and went before anyone could be sure it was there.
To them, he was just another calm, easygoing classmate who didn't take things too seriously.
To Matsuda however, he was a boy worth keeping an eye on.
And to Murakami himself… it was just another day of trying to stay ordinary.