"How about that spar?"
As the question landed on his ears, Kenji furrowed his brow for a moment before nodding.
"Alright." He said and slowly stood up.
It was confirmed, Murakami was strong.
No, he was very strong.
Judging from everything that has happened since today, it was confirmed that Murakami's casual indifference was not arrogance or condescension.
It was exactly what it was.
Casual Indifference.
Quiet Confidence.
'How does he do that..?' Kenji thought as he stood a short distance from Murakami. "How are you so strong?"
Murakami looked taken aback for a moment then tilted his head. "I thought you came up here to prove that you were stronger?"
Kenji snorted, he has been around Murakami long enough to know that Murakami was currently messing with him.
"What was that Genjutsu we fell under when we stepped in here?" He asked as he looked straight at Murakami.
Murakami smiled and tilted his head. "You just called it what it is. A Genjutsu." He said in a matter of fact tone. "It's a simple mechanism that ensures my senses aren't dulled by the comfort of my home."
"So even at home you train?" One of Daichi's teammate, Riku, asked rhetorically.
"Humph." Aiko snorted at him. "Even at home? If only you knew." Saying that she ignored him and turned to Murakami. If only they knew the amount of weight restriction Murakami was currently moving under.
"This Genjutsu makes us face the very thing that we rely on as our main source of strength." Murakami added, then shook his head. "Its nothing but a mental stimuant. Pay it no mind."
Kenji frowned but knew that Murakami wouldn't say anything else from his tone.
Recalling the feeling of helplessness he felt in that inverted reality and the white void that followed, his fists clenched.
If what Murakami said is true, could it be that mean that my strength comes from an inverted chaotic frame?
Kenji wondered but couldn't make sense of it. "Humph." He harrumphed and pointed at Murakami. "I'll just have to win and show you the difference between us."
Murakami smiled and spread his hand invitingly. "That is exactly what I want."
"Whoo! Go! Go! Kenji-kun!" Aiko clapped and cheered, but everyone could see she was being sarcastic.
"Do you have any specific conditions you'd like to add to the duel?" Murakami asked as he signalled for Sora to hold.
Kenji shook his head at that. "It's just to get as much hit in as I can within a minute, right?"
"Right." Murakami nodded.
"Then there is no need to add any special conditions." Kenji said and took a stance then glanced at Sora. "Whenever you're ready."
Sora nodded and flipped the hour glass. "Begin."
The moment the sand began to fall, Kenji moved first, closing the distance between them with a speed that could neither be called fast nor slow.
It was definitely slower than Kenta's speed, but still fast enough to not be taken lightly.
A fast jab was aimed at Murakami's face, but he tilted his head as the fist flew past his cheek.
Kenji didn't pause, his other hand shot forward in a cross, immediately followed by a low kick aimed at Murakami's lead leg.
A classic Taijutsu combination meant to overwhelm defense through layering attacks.
With how knowledgeable Murakami was on Taijutsu, If Kenji knew this tactic, he surely would too.
He stepped back half a foot as the punch skimmed the air in front of his nose, his leg lifting just enough for Kenji's kick to strike nothing but empty space.
There was no wasted motion in his moves, no dramatic dodging. Just… fluidity.
Kenji clicked his tongue and turned, turning the missed kick into a spinning back fist.
Murakami raised his palm.
Tap.
It wasn't a block, but a redirection as the strike slid past his shoulder, with Murakami shifting his weight sideways.
Kenji's eyes narrowed, now that he was finally facing Murakami, he could feel the difference between them more prominently, but he wasn't about to let up.
He pressed forward with a left hook, body jab, right elbow and feint into a knee strike but Murakami's hands moved like drifting water, brushing, guiding, nudging attacks off their line by centimeters.
A hook became a graze.
A jab bent off course.
The final knee strike met Murakami's forearm, not as a stop, but as a slope as Kenji's momentum carried him a step too far forward.
Murakami turned with him, one hand briefly touching Kenji's shoulder.
It was not a grab or strike. Just… a tap, but Kenji twisted and jumped away immediately, resetting distance.
He turned to Sora and saw he was silent and let out a soft breath of relief. 'That wasn't a point.' he thought to himself in relief.
The spectators were silent now.
Kenji exhaled slowly.
"…You're not even attacking," he said.
Murakami gave a small shrug. "You said you wanted to land hits."
Kenji grinned despite himself.
"Yeah," he said, rolling his shoulders. "But now I'm starting to understand."
Murakami raised a brow. What could you have started to understand? The inevitability of your defeat?
Kenji didn't allow his thoughts to run on as he charged at him again. This time, he was more cautious, making the exchange slower.
Kenji began feinting more, testing Murakami's reactions and trying to bait movement from him.
But Murakami answered the same way every time with minimal motion and deflections that stole power from Kenji without looking like effort.
Twenty seconds passed.
Thirty.
Sweat began forming along Kenji's temple while Murakami's breathing hadn't changed.
Kenji kept up on his attacks and Murakami parried until Kenji turned after a deflection, trying to trap the arm but Murakami, as though expecting the move, rotated his wrist, slipping free effortlessly like water through fingers.
Frustrated, Kenji scowled but didn't let up. He stepped in for body contact, trying to force his way into grappling range but Murakami shifted to the side, causing Kenji's forward drive to slide past his centerline, turning into a stumble he barely corrected before jumping away to create distance.
Forty-five seconds.
Kenji laughed under his breath.
"…This is annoying."
Murakami smiled faintly. "You're doing well."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
Kenji nodded once.
Then launched himself and threw a punch to Murakami's face in one final attempt to land a hit, but Murakami seemed to flow past it and held his wrist, and before Kenji could react, he experienced a state of weightlessness.
'Huh?' was the last thought he had before his back hit the ground with a loud thud.
Just then, the last grain of sand fell.
"Time," Sora called. "Murakami wins with one point."
Kenji, gritting his teeth through the pain, forced himself up and looked incredulously at Murakami. He had seen Murakami use this move against Kenta but didn't think much of it.
He believed that as long as he was careful enough, he wouldn't fall for it, which is why he made sure to maintain a distance after a failed attack attempt.
Funny enough, Murakami stood exactly where he stood at the beginning of the fight, a soft smile on his face as he looked back at him.
Completely Untouched.
Kenji exhaled, then gave a crooked smile.
"…Yeah," he said quietly. "I get it now."
Murakami tilted his head. "Get what?"
Kenji stood and wiped sweat from his chin.
"You're not hard to hit because you're fast," he said.
Murakami raised a brow but said nothing.
Kenji smirked.
"You're hard to hit," he said, "because you're never where I think you are."
Murakami's smile deepened just a little. "Hmm, you seem to have grasped something. Then, what do you think constitutes strength?"
Kenji sighed. "A minute ago, I would have said technique with confidence, but I don't think that is the case."
"Hmm." Murakami nodded, then turned to the group. "What do you all think is the reason I won?"
Silence hung in the room for a moment.
Riku scratched the back of his head. "Because… you're just way stronger than him?"
Aiko glanced over her shoulder. "Idiot."
"What? That's the obvious answer."
Daichi folded his arms, eyes locked on Murakami. "Not strength," he said slowly. "Control."
Murakami's gaze shifted to him. "Control of what?"
Daichi hesitated. "…Everything?"
A faint smile touched Murakami's lips, but he didn't confirm it.
"Distance," Sora spoke next. "You never let him fight at his distance."
Kenji's eyes flickered slightly.
Murakami gave a small nod. "Closer."
"Timing," Aiko said confidently, her arms crossed. "You moved exactly when you needed to. Neither early nor late."
Murakami looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded once more. 'As expected of my student,' he praised internally.
"But," he said quietly, turning back to Kenji, "those are all symptoms."
Kenji frowned. "Then what's the cause?"
Murakami lifted his hand and loosely clenched it into a fist.
"Most people think strength is what you can do," he said. "How fast you move. How hard you hit. How much chakra you possess. How many techniques you know."
He slowly opened his hand again.
"But real strength," he said, "is what you don't have to do."
"Just like in the words of the wise man who said: a wise man knows that he knows nothing. So I'll tell you now. I am strong because I know one thing. I am weak."
The group stayed silent, but Murakami didn't elaborate and stepped closer to Kenji.
"You threw dozens of attacks," he said calmly. "Every one cost you energy, every miss cost you balance, and every adjustment cost you time."
Kenji swallowed, but didn't look away.
"I," Murakami continued, "only moved when you forced me to."
He gestured lightly toward the floor between them.
"You were fighting me," he said. "I was fighting the space you had to move through."
Kenji's brow furrowed deeper.
Murakami thought he was beginning to sound too serious and mysterious so he smiled. "You were trying to land a hit," he said. "I was making sure there was nowhere for that hit to exist. And when I finally attacked, I merely used your momentum against you."
Aiko let out a quiet breath. "…That's terrifying."
Murakami ignored the comment. The truth of the matter was that Kenji was weak and slow. Kenta was faster by a margin and if Kenji had Kenta's speed, he might have posed a remarkable challenge.
"Strong force," he raised his right hand and said, "tries to overwhelm."
"Weak force," he continued as he raised the left, "borrows from an external force."
Then he brought them together lightly.
"But the level above both… removes the need to clash at all." That was the principle of Taichi Murakami had been able to integrate into his Taijutsu.
It was remarkably similar to the Hyüga clan gentle fist, but while the Hyüga's gentle fist focused on rapid attacks like flowing water, Murakami's movement focused on evasion, for as long as his body could allow.
Kenji let out a slow breath, shoulders relaxing slightly.
"…So strength is efficiency of movements?" he asked.
Murakami tilted his head. "Partly." He looked toward the hourglass. "Strength is understanding," he continued. "Understanding distance. Timing. Intent. Yourself. Your opponent."
He glanced back at Kenji.
"And most importantly…" he said quietly, "understanding what is unnecessary."
The space stayed silent again.
One of the boys muttered, "That sounds exhausting to think about in a fight."
Aiko rolled her eyes. "That's because you barely think outside of fights."
"Oi!" The boy glowered at Aiko who directly ignored him.
Kenji huffed a quiet laugh, then looked back at Murakami.
"…So if I want to get stronger," he said, "I should stop trying to be stronger?"
Murakami smiled faintly. "No," he said. "You should stop trying to win every moment."
Kenji blinked, confused.
Murakami turned slightly, gesturing loosely toward the training space.
"Learn to lose space," he said. "Lose exchanges. Lose positions."
Then he looked back over his shoulder.
"So you can choose the one moment that actually matters."
Kenji stared at him for a long second, then laughed under his breath. "…Yeah," he said. "That sounds like you."
Murakami's expression softened. "Good," he said. "Then next time…"
Kenji raised a brow.
"…Try to make me move first."
A small, sharp grin spread across Kenji's face.
"Deal."
Across the room, Sora quietly flipped the hourglass upright again, resetting it.
"Who wants to go next?"