Lee's perpetual smile remained on full blast even as chaos erupted around him. That bright, unwavering expression, the one that had become his trademark, the visual embodiment of his philosophy that determination and positive thinking could overcome any obstacle, didn't dim for even a moment. Not when Neji's warning shout had shattered the peaceful afternoon. Not when enemy shinobi had revealed themselves from the surrounding forest. And certainly not now, as a big, burly shinobi clad in the distinctive red of Iwagakure dove toward him with rock-covered gauntlets extended like bludgeons.
The enemy was massive, easily twice Lee's weight, with shoulders broad enough to suggest considerable physical strength. His gauntlets weren't just coated with stone; they seemed to be made entirely of earth manipulated through chakra, jagged and brutal-looking extensions of his fists that could crush bone with a single direct hit. The shinobi's face was determined as he plunged toward the river, clearly intending to take advantage of Lee's vulnerable position in the water.
Most genin, caught partially submerged and facing an opponent with such clear physical advantages, would have panicked. The natural instinct would be to retreat, to get out of the water where movement was restricted and vision limited. But Lee wasn't most genin.
The gently swimming shinobi moved with fluid grace, his body cutting through the water as he shifted to the side with minimal effort. It looked as if Lee was simply getting out of the way of something mildly inconvenient rather than dodging a potentially lethal attack. His ambusher dove right past him, the rock gauntlets cutting through empty water where Lee had been just a moment before, the momentum carrying the larger shinobi deeper into the river.
Lee didn't waste the opportunity. The instant his opponent passed, Lee twisted in the water and rushed toward the rock ninja with surprising speed. His legs kicked powerfully, propelling him forward through the river's resistance. Before the Iwa shinobi could recover from his missed attack, before he could reorient himself in the water's embrace, Lee's foot connected solidly with his back.
The kick drove the enemy even deeper into the water, forcing him down toward the riverbed with considerable force. Bubbles erupted from the impact point, the water churning with the violence of the blow. Lee could see the surprise on his opponent's face through the murky water; clearly, the Iwa shinobi hadn't expected such strength from the smaller, younger-looking opponent he'd tried to ambush.
The rock ninja's rocky hands began weaving through hand signs even as he sank, his movements slightly slowed by the water's resistance but still weaving. Lee recognized the danger immediately: ninjutsu, likely earth-style given the gauntlets and the shinobi's village of origin. He had to close the distance before those hand signs could be completed, had to disrupt whatever technique was being prepared.
Lee swam toward him. Here was a shinobi who couldn't perform even the most basic ninjutsu, yet in the water he moved like he'd been born to it.
As the enemy's feet touched the bottom of the river, finding purchase on the rocky riverbed, his jutsu activated. Multiple stones and rocks that had been resting on the water floor suddenly animated, responding to his chakra control. They launched themselves toward Lee's figure like projectiles, varying in size from pebbles to stones the size of a fist, each one moving with unnatural speed and accuracy.
Lee swam with the kind of three-dimensional awareness that few shinobi possessed. Fighting in water was completely unlike fighting on land, a reality that many ninja discovered too late in combat. On land, movement was essentially two-dimensional: forward, backward, left, right. Vertical movement existed, certainly, but it was limited by gravity and usually required significant effort or chakra expenditure.
In water, Lee had complete control over his spatial maneuverability in all three dimensions simultaneously. He could move up, down, left, right, diagonally in any direction, spiraling, corkscrewing, the possibilities were limited only by his body's physical capabilities and his imagination. It was like fighting in a truly three-dimensional space where gravity's tyranny was replaced by the more forgiving resistance of water.
There was no restriction on the type of movement he could execute down here. No 'up' or 'down' in the traditional sense, no need to maintain balance against gravity's pull. The only real limit was the limit of his own conditioned body, and Lee had spent years ensuring that limit was pushed far beyond what most people would consider humanly possible.
He twisted and rolled through the water. A rock the size of his fist passed within inches of his head; he'd bent backward at an impossible angle to let it sail past. A cluster of smaller stones came at him from the left, and he spiraled right, his body rotating smoothly. When avoidance wasn't possible, he deflected, his hands and forearms knocking stones off-course with strong strikes that sent them floating harmlessly away.
All the while, Lee continued making his way toward the stone-wielding ninja. Each evasion brought him closer, each deflection part of a larger pattern of advance. His opponent was clearly talented with earth-style techniques, could manipulate the riverbed's stones with impressive control, but that didn't matter if Lee could close the distance and engage in close combat, his specialty.
When Lee finally arrived in front of his enemy, the gap between them measured in mere feet rather than meters, he didn't hesitate. His leg swept out in a powerful arc, the water adding resistance that would have slowed a normal kick significantly. But Lee's strength, honed through years of wearing weighted training equipment and Guy-sensei's brutal conditioning regimen, was anything but normal.
The amount of force with which Lee struck out surprised even the earth-natured ninja, whose eyes widened visibly behind the distortion of the water. The Iwa shinobi managed to bring his rocky gauntlets up to block, the stone-covered fists intercepting Lee's kick before it could connect with his torso. But even blocking the strike clearly rattled him, the sheer power behind the blow evident in the way his body shifted backward from the impact, the way bubbles erupted from the collision point.
Lee didn't give up after one attack. That wasn't his style, would never be his style. Like a starving piranha that had caught the scent of blood in the water, Lee came at the stone shinobi from all directions, his assault relentless and overwhelming. The water that might have slowed another fighter seemed to barely affect him, if anything, the three-dimensional combat space played to his advantage, allowing him to attack from angles that would be difficult or impossible on land.
A diving heel kick came first, Lee's body inverting as he brought his heel down toward his opponent's head with devastating force. The enemy blocked again, those rock gauntlets proving their worth, but the impact still drove him down slightly. Before the Iwa ninja could recover, Lee converted the momentum of his kick into a backflip, his body rotating smoothly through the water.
The backflip transitioned seamlessly into a spinning roundhouse kick, Lee's leg whipping through the water in a wide arc that targeted his opponent's midsection. Water churned and boiled around the strike, the force of the rotation creating visible currents. Again the enemy blocked, but Lee could see him struggling now, his movements becoming more defensive, more reactive.
After the spinning kick, Lee shifted things up. His legs had done their work, had kept the enemy off-balance and defensive. Now his fists entered the equation, and Lee started pounding his way up the man's torso with rapid-fire punches. Left jab, right cross, left hook, right uppercut: the combinations came fast and furious, each strike targeted at a specific point on the enemy's chest and abdomen.
All while executing this offensive assault, Lee made sure to maintain superior positioning. He kept the ninja below him in the water, constantly forcing his opponent to defend from a disadvantageous angle. In underwater combat, position was everything, the fighter above had more options, could use gravity as well as their own strength, could retreat to the surface if needed. The fighter below was trapped, pinned, with limited avenues of escape.
While the Iwa shinobi was more than capable of blocking Lee's attacks with his stone fist jutsu, the rock gauntlets proving remarkably effective as both offensive and defensive tools, Lee could see something the enemy was trying to hide. Panic was beginning to creep into his opponent's eyes, visible even through the murky water and the chaos of combat.
The reason was simple but devastating: the enemy was running out of air. Lee had been underwater for an extended period already, first during the trash collection and now throughout this entire fight. Minutes had passed since his last breath, minutes of intense physical exertion that would have left most people gasping for air. Yet Lee showed no signs of respiratory distress, no desperate need to surface. His Body Supremacy training extended even to his lungs, his internal organs conditioned to operate at peak rate even with minimal oxygen.
But his opponent had no such advantage. The Iwa ninja had held his breath before diving in, had probably assumed this would be a quick engagement, dive in, use the rock gauntlets to overwhelm the younger opponent, finish it fast. He hadn't planned for a prolonged underwater battle against someone who fought like he'd been born in the depths.
Small bubbles were beginning to escape from the enemy's nose and mouth involuntarily, the telltale sign of someone whose body was screaming for oxygen. His movements were becoming slightly erratic, his defenses less sharp. The panic in his eyes was growing more pronounced as a terrible realization set in: if he didn't surface soon, he would drown.
The Iwa shinobi's hands began speeding through hand signs with desperate urgency, his fingers moving in the precise patterns required for what was probably an escape jutsu. Whatever he was planning, Lee recognized the danger of letting him complete it.
Lee interrupted him with a sharp downward chop to his opponent's hands. The strike landed hard on the enemy's fingers mid-sign, the impact disrupting his control over his chakra and sending a jolt of pain through his hands that would make further sign-weaving difficult. The technique, whatever it was, fizzled out uncompleted.
The rock ninja's mouth opened involuntarily in a gurgle of pain, and water rushed in. His eyes went wide with the sudden realization of his mistake, he'd gasped underwater, had taken in a significant amount of river water into his lungs. His hands flew to his throat instinctively, the universal gesture of someone who couldn't breathe, the rock gauntlets coming apart as his chakra control shattered under the panic.
Lee recognized the moment of vulnerability and moved to capitalize on it. His opponent was drowning, disoriented, defenseless. One more solid strike could end this fight decisively. But just as Lee was positioning himself to deliver a finishing blow that would finish it, he was suddenly struck in the back of the head by something.
The impact wasn't particularly hard, certainly nothing that could damage his conditioned skull, but it was unexpected enough to grab his attention immediately. Combat awareness, drilled into him by Guy-sensei through countless training sessions, demanded that he identify threats before continuing any offensive action. Never assume you're only fighting one opponent. Never focus so completely on your target that you lose awareness of your surroundings.
Lee turned in the water, his body pivoting smoothly to face the direction the projectile had come from. He saw a small pebble drifting gently toward the riverbed, its momentum spent. The stone was unremarkable, barely larger than his thumbnail, exactly the kind of river rock that littered the bottom. But it had been thrown, or more likely propelled by chakra, with enough force and accuracy to hit him from distance while he was moving underwater.
Lee reached up to rub the back of his head in confusion, his mind racing through what the attack meant for the fight as a whole. Someone on the shore had intervened to save his opponent. That meant at least one of the enemy genin had finished their own fight, or more likely, had disengaged to provide support. It meant the battle wasn't isolated duels but a coordinated team engagement.
That small distraction, those precious few seconds of diverted attention, was all his opponent needed. A pillar of earth shot up from the riverbed with explosive force, the stone rising with the kind of speed that only desperate chakra expenditure could produce. The drowning Iwa ninja stood atop the pillar as it surged upward, carrying him toward the surface and the life-giving air above.
Lee realized immediately that he couldn't hope to cut his opponent off in time. The pillar was moving too fast, his position was wrong, and by the time he swam up and around, the enemy would have already reached the surface and gulped down the oxygen he desperately needed. The situation had shifted, what had been a certain victory had become an inconclusive engagement.
It was a good strategy on the part of the enemy team, Lee had to admit. Simple but effective: use a ranged distraction to buy time for an escape technique. He'd been outmaneuvered not through superior combat skill but through superior strategy. The realization stung slightly, not because he'd lost the individual fight but because he'd failed to account for the larger picture.
Lee mentally kicked himself. He'd gotten too caught up in the fight itself, too focused on defeating his opponent through pure combat prowess. He'd forgotten one of the fundamental rules of shinobi engagement: stay aware of your surroundings at all times. This wasn't just a battle between him and another shinobi in isolation. This was a battle between Team 3 and their enemies, a team engagement where coordination and awareness mattered as much as individual skill.
The lesson hit hard because Lee knew better. Guy-sensei had drilled team tactics into them relentlessly during their training. Always be aware of where your teammates are. Always consider how your actions affect the larger battle. Never get so focused on your opponent that you lose track of the bigger picture. Yet here Lee was, having made exactly that mistake in his first real combat engagement against enemy ninja.
Lee began swimming toward the surface, his powerful strokes carrying him upward through the water. He needed to find out what's going on. Needed to see if any of his teammates required help before continuing his personal fight with the big shinobi. Neji and Tenten were great ninja, certainly, but this was a real battle against real ninjas. Anything could happen. People could get hurt. People could die.
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Tenten struggled desperately to deflect the multitude of kunai flying toward her. The enemy kunoichi, a girl roughly Tenten's age with dark hair and the distinctive red attire of Iwagakure, had positioned herself in the forest's shadows and was pelting Tenten with what seemed like an endless stream of projectiles.
Tenten maneuvered the metal bo-staff in her hands to the best of her ability, the weapon spinning and whirling as she attempted to bat away the incoming kunai. She'd pulled the staff from her weapons scroll the moment the fighting started.
But her staff work wasn't perfect, couldn't be perfect when facing such a sustained barrage. For every three kunai she managed to deflect or dodge, one would slip through her guard. Most of these she managed to avoid with desperate twists and turns of her body, but some connected. Not fatal hits, the enemy either not aiming for vital points or not skilled enough to target them consistently while Tenten was moving, but painful nonetheless.
A kunai grazed her left shoulder, cutting through her sleeve and drawing blood. Another embedded itself in her right thigh, the blade sinking perhaps half an inch into muscle before Tenten's movement pulled her away from the weapon's trajectory. A third caught her upper arm, a shallow cut that burned like fire. Each wound was relatively minor in isolation, but together they were beginning to slow her movements, making her defense less effective with each passing moment.
Tenten gritted her teeth and ignored the pain as best she could. This was real combat. She'd known intellectually that shinobi work involved life or death battles, had trained for years to prepare for it, but knowing something academically and experiencing it viscerally were completely different things. The sharp sting of cuts, the warm trickle of blood down her arm, the throbbing ache where kunai had embedded themselves in non-vital places: this was the reality of the shinobi life she'd chosen.
More importantly, standing in the open while being attacked from a concealed position was suicidal. Basic tactics, things she'd learned in the academy and reinforced through training with Guy-sensei, screamed at her that she needed to change the engagement parameters. She couldn't just defend indefinitely; eventually fatigue or a lucky shot would end the fight decisively in her opponent's favor.
If she wanted to survive, if she wanted to win, she had to close the distance and defeat her opponent in close combat. That was the only path to victory against a ranged attacker with superior positioning.
The only female genin of Team 3 refused to require help from her teammates in a fight like this. Pride was part of it, certainly; she didn't want to be seen as the weak link, the one who needed rescue. But it was more than just pride. This was her chance to prove something to herself. She wouldn't freeze up like she had against those bandits on their first C-rank mission.
In her own way, at her own pace, Tenten would surpass the legendary Lady Tsunade. That lofty goal, stated with such confidence when she'd been assigned to Team 3, wouldn't happen if she lost here, wouldn't happen if she needed her teammates to save her from every fight. She had to stand on her own feet, had to prove she belonged on this team despite lacking Neji's bloodline or Lee's impossible determination.
With that thought burning in her mind like a flame, Tenten pushed forward. She bashed away the flurry of ninja tools flying at her with her staff, the metal weapon creating a defensive barrier as she advanced. Each step brought her closer to the tree line, closer to where the enemy kunoichi was hiding. Kunai continued to rain down on her, but now Tenten was pressing forward with intent, her defensive technique improving as desperation and determination combined.
Her staff work became more fluid, more confident. A spinning block deflected three kunai simultaneously. A quick thrust knocked another off-course. A downward slash batted away two more. The pain from her wounds was still there, still burning and throbbing, but she pushed it to the back of her mind. She could deal with injuries later. Right now, she needed to survive. Right now, she needed to win.
Eventually, after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a couple seconds of sustained advancement, Tenten made it to the hiding kunoichi's position. The enemy was perched in a tree, crouched on a thick branch with a clear line of sight to where Tenten had been standing. But now Tenten was here, close enough to engage, and the advantage had shifted.
The Iwa kunoichi smiled when Tenten brought her staff down toward her head with all her strength. It was a confident smile, almost smug, the expression of someone who had anticipated this exact move and prepared accordingly. That smile should have been a warning, should have triggered alarm bells in Tenten's mind. But she was too focused on the attack, too committed to the strike to pull back.
It wasn't until Tenten heard the familiar sound of explosive tags, that distinctive hissing sizzle that every shinobi learned to fear, that her eyes widened in horrified realization. This wasn't the real enemy. This was a trap.
Both kunoichi's hands flew through hand signs simultaneously, muscle memory taking over where conscious thought couldn't keep pace. Tiger, Boar, Ox, Dog, Snake! Tenten's body was swallowed up by the explosion trap that had been set specifically for her. The explosive tags detonated with tremendous force, the blast radiating outward in a sphere of fire and pressure. The tree branch where the enemy had been crouching was obliterated, wood splintering into thousands of fragments that became secondary projectiles. The air itself seemed to compress and then expand violently.
As the smoke cleared and debris began to settle, a small head popped up from underneath the ground about ten meters from the explosion site. The Iwa kunoichi emerged from her hiding spot with a satisfied smile plastered across her face. She'd executed the trap perfectly, luring her opponent in with ranged attacks, setting up a clone as bait, positioning explosive tags to catch anyone who approached, and using earth-style techniques to burrow underground and observe from safety.
The girl began climbing out of the ground, dirt falling from her clothes as she emerged into the open air. Her smile widened as she surveyed the destruction. There was blood splattered across the scorched earth where the explosion had occurred, clear evidence that she'd landed a solid hit. Her opponent was finished, eliminated from the battle. Now she could go help out her teammates, turn the numerical advantage even further in Iwagakure's favor.
She turned away from the blast site, already planning her next move. The long-haired Hyuga looked like the most dangerous of the remaining Konoha genin, those pale eyes notorious for a reason. If she could attack him from behind while he was engaged with her teammate, they could probably take him down before-
The thought was interrupted by a vicious strike to the dome that came from absolutely nowhere. Tenten's bo-staff connected with the Iwa kunoichi's skull with a solid, meaty thunk that would have been deeply satisfying if Tenten had the mental capacity to appreciate it. But she was operating on pure adrenaline and combat instinct now, her mind barely processing what was happening beyond the most basic level: enemy, attack, survive.
The enemy staggered from the unexpected blow, her hands flying to her head as stars exploded across her vision. She'd been so certain her opponent was out of the fight, so confident in her trap's success. How had... when did...
Tenten didn't give her time to think, didn't allow any opportunity for recovery or counterattack. She did her best as she brought her staff down over and over again in a sustained assault, each strike angry and full of vengeance. This wasn't wild flailing or panic, this was a girl letting out her frustration and anger of being nearly killed.
She targeted the enemy's legs first, bringing her staff down in sweeping strikes aimed at knees and shins. The goal wasn't just to cause pain, though that was definitely a bonus with one of the enemy's yelps were any indication, but to slow her movements, to limit her mobility. A shinobi who couldn't move quickly was a shinobi who couldn't dodge, couldn't create distance, couldn't escape.
Once the Iwa kunoichi's movements became visibly hampered, one leg buckling slightly with each step, Tenten changed focus. Her staff shifted to target the enemy's hands, striking at fingers and wrists relentlessly. The logic was simple: hands were required for weaving the signs necessary for ninjutsu. Injured hands meant no ninjutsu. For any shinobi, eliminating an opponent's ability to use techniques was absolutely critical. This was something she stole from Lee but would never admit it to him.
The enemy kunoichi tried desperately to defend herself, to create space, to weave hand signs for some escape or counter technique. But with damaged legs limiting her movement and Tenten's relentless assault giving her no breathing room, she couldn't execute anything more complex than basic blocks. And those blocks were becoming increasingly ineffective as her hands accumulated damage.
Tenten prepared to finish it off with a decisive strike upside the head. Her staff rose, then came down in a clean arc aimed at the sweet spot just behind the ear where even a moderate impact could induce unconsciousness. Unfortunately, at the last possible second, the Iwa kunoichi managed to pull out a kunai with her less-damaged hand. The blade came up just in time to intercept Tenten's staff, metal meeting metal with a sharp clang that sent vibrations down the length of Tenten's weapon. The finishing blow was blocked, the opportunity lost.
The enemy used her remaining good leg to push off the ground in a desperate leap, gaining some precious distance from Tenten. She landed awkwardly, favoring her injured leg obviously, her damaged hand hanging somewhat uselessly at her side. Down a hand and a leg in practical terms, things weren't looking good for the rock kunoichi at all.
But she could still talk, apparently.
"Why do you hit so hard, you gorilla girl?!" The Iwa kunoichi's voice carried genuine frustration and no small amount of pain. Her eyes were wide with disbelief, as if she couldn't quite process how she'd lost so decisively to someone she'd clearly underestimated. Tears pooling around her eyes.
"Who are you calling a gorilla, you mole?!" Tenten's response was immediate and sharp, her voice rising with indignation. Gorilla girl? GORILLA GIRL?! She was lean and athletic, thank you very much. Her muscles were toned from training, yes, but she certainly didn't look like some muscled freak. And besides, the enemy had literally been hiding underground like a rodent, so who was she to criticize anyone else's appearance?
"Look at those muscles of yours!" The Iwa kunoichi continued her tirade despite her injuries, apparently deciding that if she was going to lose this fight, she was at least going to get under her opponent's skin first. "What kind of girl has muscles that big?! Ape girl! Ape girl!" She punctuated her insults by gesturing at Tenten's arms and shoulders with her good hand, her expression equal parts pain and malicious glee. She'd found a nerve and she was going to hammer it as hard as Tenten had hammered her legs.
"Shut up! I look totally cute and normal!" Tenten's retort came out more defensive than she'd intended, her voice hitting a higher pitch that probably undermined the confidence she was trying to project. But the insults were getting to her, making her self-conscious in a way that had nothing to do with combat and everything to do with being a teenage girl who suddenly had her appearance criticized.
"I bet you don't even have a boyfriend, gorilla girl!" The Iwa kunoichi pressed her advantage, her smile turning absolutely vicious despite the pain she must be in. "What boy would like all those muscles instead of curves like this?"
She highlighted her own slim and admittedly curvy figure with her good hand, striking a pose that would have been ridiculous under the circumstances if it hadn't been so obviously calculated to provoke. And provoke it did.
"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Tenten rushed toward the girl with her staff raised, anger overriding clear thinking. She was eager to put this insulting enemy in her place and stop that mouth from talking permanently. The approach she'd been using moments before, tearing her opponent's combat capability apart piece by piece, was forgotten in favor of pure aggressive intent.
As she charged forward, a terrible realization struck Tenten with the force of a physical blow: She hadn't even realized that trying to keep up with the freaks on her team would also turn her into a freak!
The thought was horrifying in its implications. Lee with his impossible physical conditioning, Neji with his Hyuga genetics and rigorous clan training, both of them pushed their bodies to extremes that normal people couldn't match. And Tenten, in her determination not to fall behind, had been pushing herself just as hard. All that training, all those exercises, all that effort to prove she belonged on Team 3...
Had she really developed muscles that made her look manly? Was this enemy just being cruel, or was there truth in the insults? Would boys really find her athletic build ugly? These thoughts swirled through her mind even as she closed the distance to her opponent, her staff ready to deliver a strike fueled by equal parts combat necessity and personal indignation.
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Neji saw the brown-haired ponytail shinobi weaving through hand signs with his Byakugan before the technique could even manifest. The Hyuga bloodline limit provided him with an overwhelming advantage in one-on-one combat, the ability to see chakra flow meaning he could predict jutsu before they were executed, could identify weaknesses in defenses, could track opponents' movements with perfect clarity.
The earth itself began to shift and move in response to the enemy's chakra manipulation, responding to commands woven through the hand signs. Rocks and soil started rushing toward Neji's feet, clearly the beginning of some kind of binding or immobilization technique. Earth-style jutsu were particularly effective for controlling an opponent's positioning. Once your feet were trapped, mobility was severely compromised.
But Neji had no intention of allowing the technique to complete. Neji grabbed the trashed fishing net, the one Lee had so annoyingly thrown at him earlier, and flung it at his opponent with considerable force. The weighted net spread as it flew through the air, creating a large surface area that would be difficult to dodge completely. It wasn't meant to capture or significantly damage the enemy; it was a distraction, something to occupy their attention and hands.
Simultaneously, Neji leaped into the air in the direction of his attacker. Carrying him over the reaching earth and directly toward the Iwa shinobi. His trajectory was calculated perfectly, he would land within striking distance just as the enemy was forced to deal with the incoming net.
The enemy shinobi's eyes widened as he recognized the dilemma. He was in the middle of utilizing his ninjutsu, chakra flowing in carefully channeled patterns. He either had to cut off the connection to his technique, abandoning it incomplete and wasting the chakra already spent, or somehow use the technique in a way that would protect him from both the net and Neji's aerial approach.
He chose adaptation over abandonment. The earth manipulation shifted from a ground-based binding technique to a defensive structure. The earth itself rose up in a multitude of spikes to greet Neji as he descended, sharp stone protrusions erupting from the ground like the teeth of some massive beast. The formation was impressive, dozens of rock spikes arranged in a pattern that would make landing anywhere near the enemy extremely dangerous.
But Neji had anticipated some kind of defensive response. His hands flew through their own sequence of signs even as he descended. Tiger, Boar, Ox, Dog, Snake! The substitution jutsu, executed mid-air with the kind of precise timing that only constant practice could develop.
Neji switched places with a log that had been lying nearby, the basic but effective technique saving him from impalement on the stone spikes. The Iwa shinobi's face grimaced as Neji cleared his defense and descended toward him. The enemy brought his arms up in a defensive posture, but it was already too late. Neji struck down with two fingers extended in the precise formation of the Gentle Fist, his attack aimed at a specific point on the enemy's raised arm.
The enemy managed to block the physical impact of the strike, his forearm intercepting Neji's fingers before they could reach his torso. But blocking a Gentle Fist strike and avoiding its effects were two entirely different things. Neji's gentle fist made contact with the blocking arm, and through that contact, he sealed one of the chakra nodes located there.
The effect was immediate and devastating. The enemy's arm went partially numb, chakra flow disrupted through that entire limb. His eyes widened in shock and the beginning of fear as he felt his chakra pathways close off, experienced firsthand what made the Hyuga clan so feared in close combat.
Neji landed gracefully on the ground in front of his opponent, his Byakugan still active and tracking every detail of the enemy's chakra system. He could see the sealed node clearly, could see how it was affecting chakra circulation through the arm, could already identify the next several points he would target to strip this opponent's combat capability down to nothing.
"How lucky, a member of the famous Hyuga Clan all for myself..." The Iwa shinobi's sarcasm was heavy, his tone making it clear that he considered this anything but lucky. Facing a Hyuga in close combat was nightmare fuel for most shinobi, their ability to see chakra pathways and shut them down with targeted strikes making them exceptionally dangerous opponents.
"This was over before it began. It's simply fate." Neji's response was cold and matter-of-fact, delivered with absolute confidence. He didn't unleash a series of strikes immediately, he wanted his opponent to understand the futility of resistance first. Wanted him to recognize that from the moment they'd engaged, from the moment a Hyuga's Byakugan had focused on him, his defeat had been inevitable.
Then Neji attacked. The series of strikes that followed was a textbook demonstration of why the Gentle Fist was feared. Neji's fingers moved like striking snakes, each attack precisely targeted at specific chakra nodes throughout the enemy's body. Two fingers to the shoulder, sealing another node and further compromising arm function. A palm strike to the chest, disrupting chakra flow near the heart. Fingers jabbed into the enemy's side, targeting the liver meridian.
The stone shinobi did his best to defend, to dodge, to create distance. His remaining functional arm came up to block. He attempted to weave hand signs for some escape jutsu. He tried to leap backward, to buy time and space to formulate a strategy. But it was useless against a prodigy of the Hyuga Clan.
There was a reason that the Gentle Fist was known as the strongest taijutsu style. It wasn't just about the physical strikes, though those were devastating enough. It was the ability to attack an opponent's chakra system directly, to shut down their ability to use jutsu, to cripple their combat effectiveness without necessarily causing major external injuries.
An opponent could survive massive trauma if treated quickly enough, could fight through broken bones and severe lacerations on adrenaline alone. But sealed chakra nodes? That was a different kind of damage entirely. No amount of willpower could force chakra through pathways that had been shut down by a Hyuga's strike. As far as he knew.
Within five seconds of sustained assault, the enemy was essentially incapacitated. His arms hung limply, too many nodes sealed to maintain proper muscle control. His legs were compromised, making standing an effort. His chakra flow was so disrupted that attempting any ninjutsu would be impossible.
When Neji had thoroughly subdued the enemy shinobi, leaving him swaying on his feet and barely conscious, a realization struck him with uncomfortable force: This opponent was trash compared to Lee.
The thought was intrusive and unwelcome, but Neji couldn't dismiss it. An average genin paired against someone like himself should be nothing but complete fodder. A training dummy useful only for practicing techniques against. The combination of the Byakugan's perfect vision and the Gentle Fist's devastating effectiveness made most opponents helpless once engaged in close combat.
This Iwa shinobi had fallen exactly as expected, quickly, decisively, with no real chance of victory or even effective resistance. His taijutsu had been mediocre at best, his combat awareness poor, his strategic thinking limited to basic techniques that any competent opponent could counter. Even Tenten would have fared decently well against someone of this caliber, Neji thought with clinical assessment.
But Lee? Lee was different. During their sparring sessions, Neji had never been able to subdue his teammate so easily. Despite Lee's complete inability to use ninjutsu, despite lacking any bloodline limit or special techniques, he remained frustratingly difficult to defeat decisively. Why was that? The question gnawed at Neji as he stood over his incapacitated opponent.
Was it simply because they were teammates, and Lee was learning more and more about how Neji fought through repeated exposure? Analyzing the patterns of his Gentle Fist and thinking of ways to counter it? That would make sense, familiarity bred adaptation, and Lee was nothing if not dedicated to improvement.
But Neji suspected it was more than that. Lee's raw physical capabilities were genuinely extraordinary. His speed, his strength, his endurance, all pushed far beyond normal human limits through that insane training regimen. And his combat instincts, his ability to read an opponent's movements and adapt in real-time, were sharp in a way that had nothing to do with chakra or special techniques.
The comparison infuriated Neji on a level he didn't fully understand or want to examine. Despite his victory over his opponent, despite the clean and decisive nature of that victory, he wasn't happy about it at all. This guy was nothing. Defeating him meant nothing. It was like crushing an insect, necessary perhaps, but hardly an achievement worth celebrating.
This enemy's taijutsu and combat awareness were atrocious compared to what Neji faced during daily sparring sessions with Lee. The gap was almost embarrassing. How could someone be a genin, presumably having graduated from their village's academy, having passed whatever tests Iwagakure required, and still be so thoroughly outclassed?
Neji prepared to deliver a finishing blow. His fingers positioned for a fatal strike. But just as his hand was descending, just as the strike was about to land, Neji's Byakugan caught movement. A small object flying through the air at incredible speed, aimed directly at his head. His enhanced perception allowed him to track the projectile's trajectory with perfect clarity, to calculate its velocity and point of impact.
Neji swayed his head to the side in a minimal, economical movement, avoiding the incoming object by mere millimeters. A pebble, small and unremarkable, exactly the kind of river stone that littered the area, flew past where his head had been and continued on into the forest beyond.
Someone had thrown that pebble, or more likely propelled it with chakra, with enough force and accuracy to potentially cause serious injury if it had connected.
Neji's eyes narrowed as his Byakugan swept the area, searching for the source of the attack. Did one of those failures manage to lose against trash like this?
______________________________________________
A familiar voice boomed across the battlefield, cutting through the sounds of combat with the authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed.
"Hold your positions!" Might Guy's declaration cut through the tension like a blade through silk, immediately grabbing everyone's attention. His vibrant green spandex stood out starkly against the backdrop of the forest, making him impossible to miss or ignore. Even in the midst of combat, even with adrenaline pumping and violence erupting around them, that voice carried weight that demanded acknowledgment.
"We are on a C-rank mission to clean this river of pollution! There's no reason for unnecessary conflict!"
Guy's words resonated across the battlefield, each syllable carefully chosen to diffuse the situation. He wasn't just ordering his own team to stand down, he was extending an olive branch to their opponents, providing them with a possible exit from a confrontation that could easily escalate into something far more serious.
The statement accomplished several things simultaneously. It reminded everyone that Team 3 was here on legitimate business, on a mission sanctioned by Konoha. It emphasized the non-combat nature of that mission, trash cleanup, hardly something worth dying over. And it offered the Iwa team a justification for withdrawing: 'We're not retreating because we're losing; we're leaving because there's no legitimate reason to fight.'
Both teams hesitated, the momentum of combat broken by Guy's intervention. Team 3 held their positions: Lee treading water in the river, Tenten standing over her injured opponent with her staff raised, Neji beside his incapacitated enemy. The Iwa genin similarly paused, their attention shifting to their jonin instructor for guidance.
Guy watched as the female jonin of the stone shinobi slowly stepped back, the tension in her muscles gradually loosening. She was a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, wearing the standard Iwagakure uniform with several tears and bruises on her skin that suggested her confrontation with Guy had been intense. Her expression was carefully neutral, giving away nothing of her thoughts or intentions.
For a long moment, silence stretched between the two jonin. Each was assessing the other, calculating odds, considering options. Guy maintained his ready stance but made no aggressive moves, his body language open to negotiation. The Iwa jonin's eyes flicked between Guy and his genin team, clearly evaluating the situation.
"Very well. We'll be on our way then if you find that acceptable?" Her question was phrased politely, but there was an edge to it. She was testing, seeing if Guy was genuinely offering peaceful resolution or if this was some kind of trick. Her hand remained near her weapons pouch, ready to react if this offer of peace turned out to be a ruse.
"Perfectly acceptable. No need for any pointless loss of lives. We both just want to protect our students, right?" Guy's response was immediate and sincere. His expression softened slightly, the fierce combat-ready jonin giving way to the concerned teacher. He was appealing to her on that level, not as enemies from different villages, but as instructors who both bore responsibility for young lives placed in their care.
The foreign ninja didn't respond verbally. She simply held Guy's gaze for another moment, searching for deception and apparently finding none. Then she turned and walked toward her genin team, her movements careful and unhurried. She was keeping Team 3 in her peripheral vision, ready to react if they attacked during the withdrawal.
Team 3 grouped together instinctively as the Iwa jonin gathered her students, maintaining a wide distance between the two teams. None of Guy's genin relaxed their guard, all three remained ready for combat, weapons at hand, eyes tracking the enemy movements. They'd been trained well enough to know that a retreat could be a feint, that relaxing too early could prove fatal.
The Iwa jonin collected her students. She helped the one Neji had incapacitated to his feet, supporting his weight as sealed chakra nodes left him unsteady. She checked the injuries on the kunoichi Tenten had been fighting, her expression tightening slightly at the damage but making no comment. The larger shinobi who'd fought Lee emerged from the river, still coughing up water, his rock gauntlets dissolved and his expression shaken.
Then they began to flee, moving away from the river and into the deeper forest with the practiced speed of experienced shinobi. The Iwa jonin brought up the rear, her watchful eyes never leaving Team 3 as they withdrew. Her expression was difficult to read, perhaps she was in disbelief that Konoha shinobi would really let them go so easily after initiating hostilities. Or perhaps she was surprised that the rumors of Konoha being such kind, idealistic pushovers were actually true.
Guy watched them go without moving to intercept or pursue. Only when they'd disappeared completely into the forest, when even the sounds of their movement had faded, did he allow his combat stance to relax fully. His shoulders dropped slightly, tension draining away as the immediate danger passed.
Regardless of the Iwa jonin's thoughts or motivations, the outcome was clear: Team 3 had come out relatively well in this encounter with enemy shinobi. No deaths, no critical injuries, no captured teammates. For a genin team's first real combat engagement against enemy shinobi forces, that was about as good as could be hoped for.
Guy immediately shifted into caretaker mode, his concern for his students overriding everything else. He helped patch up Tenten's wounds first, since she'd taken the most visible damage, with several kunai cuts that needed cleaning and bandaging. His hands were gentle but quick as he cleaned the injuries, applied antiseptic, and wrapped them properly.
"You did well, Tenten," he said softly as he worked. "Facing a trap and surviving it, then turning the tables on your opponent: that takes skill and courage."
Tenten didn't respond, but her expression suggested she was still processing everything that had happened. The combat, the injuries, the insults about her appearance: it was a lot to absorb.
"I should've done better." Tenten wasn't satisfied. She had a lot more training to do. Well, her shinobi skills at least. Physical conditioning? Maybe that can take a small step back…
Neji walked over to where Lee was examining a small cut on his arm. The Hyuga's expression was as sour as ever.
"Pathetic." The single word was delivered flatly as Neji looked at Lee. The criticism could have referred to several things.
"Haha, it was my first time fighting underwater, Neji. I think that deserves a little credit, at least." Lee rubbed the back of his head, bandaging his own arm. His tone was light, unbothered by Neji's criticism. He began wrapping the cut on his arm with practiced ease, clearly not the first time he'd had to patch himself up after training or combat. "I learned a lot from that fight," Lee continued cheerfully. "Fighting in water is completely different from on the ground. The way water fights you at every turn, the different avenues of attack, and even dodging is something you have to relearn."
He seemed genuinely enthusiastic about analyzing the experience, already thinking about how to incorporate the lessons into his training.
Neji chose not to respond, his expression remaining carefully blank. But internally, his mind was working. Lee's comment about underwater fighting had struck a nerve, raised a question he hadn't previously considered: how would he himself have fared in an underwater battle with his Gentle Fist?
The question was uncomfortable because Neji genuinely didn't know the answer. The Gentle Fist relied on precise strikes to specific points on an opponent's body. Water resistance would affect strike speed and accuracy. The three-dimensional combat space would complicate aiming for chakra points. And if the fight lasted long enough, breathing would become a critical factor.
Perhaps he should include underwater combat training in his regimen soon. A shinobi could never be too prepared, could never afford to have blind spots in their skillset. If Lee had identified aquatic combat as a potential weakness and worked to address it, then Neji would be foolish not to do the same.
The admission, even if only to himself, that Lee had identified and addressed something Neji hadn't thought of was galling. But Neji was pragmatic enough to learn from it, to take the lesson and apply it to his own development. To ensure that someone like Lee could never overtake him. And he stays below him, where he belongs.
As Team 3 finished patching themselves up and prepared to return to their mission, or more likely, to report this encounter to Konoha and let higher-ups decide whether the trash cleanup could continue, each member carried their own private thoughts about what had just occurred.
[Taijutsu Proficiency +532 points!]
[Chakra Control Proficiency +613 points!]
Host: Rock Lee
Age: 13
Rank: Genin
Skills: Taijutsu B (10,232/100,000), Ninjutsu F (0.090/10), Genjutsu F (0.090/10), Shurikenjutsu C (1,840/10,000), Chakra Control B (3,818/100,000), Nunchaku Mastery C (7,420/10,000), Teaching E (42/100), Muscle Mimicry D (310/1,000)
Unique Skills: Body Supremacy Jutsu, Chakra Enhanced Strength
Equipment: Weighted Wraps, Weighted Nunchaku, Shinobi Tools (Kunai, shuriken, flash bomb, smoke bomb)