The scene that had just unfolded plunged the entire training ground into a vacuum of stunned silence. Every student's face was a canvas of incredulity, their minds struggling to process the visual data their eyes had just transmitted. The silence held for a breathless second, two, before shattering under a wave of explosive murmurs.
"What… what just happened?"
"Was that… was that even a real Great Fireball? Did Kakashi mess it up?"
"Didn't you feel the heat?! It was real! Ren did something to it!"
"But how? With his fist?"
"How is that even possible?!"
The collective whisper was a tide of confusion and awe. Their foundational understanding of ninja combat—that ninjutsu was countered with ninjutsu, that taijutsu was separate—had just been violently upended.
They had witnessed a C-rank fire technique, a symbol of chakra mastery, disintegrate not before a water wall or a powerful wind, but before a single, concentrated physical blow. It defied logic, existing outside the framework of their young education. They were left with nothing but raw, bewildered shock.
"This is…" Hyūga Tetsu, a scion of the famed clan, had unconsciously activated his Byakugan the moment the fireball formed. The veins bulged around his eyes as he witnessed the event not with mundane sight, but with the clan's all-seeing visual prowess.
What he saw made the shock within him deeper, more technical, and thus more profound.
"Such an exquisite, instantaneous application of chakra…" he muttered, his voice barely audible. "How can someone so young achieve such control? Even some of the jōnin in our clan might not execute it with that precision…"
The Hyūga's Byakugan, while still a significant bloodline limit, was not as temperamental or trauma-gated as the Uchiha's Sharingan. Combined with their rigorous clan training, many children awakened it early.
Tetsu's Byakugan had seen it clearly: not a ninjutsu, not a secret technique, but a supremely controlled, violent explosion of raw chakra concentrated at the point of Ren's fist at the exact millisecond of impact. It was chakra reinforcement elevated to an art form—a brutal, efficient art that bypassed hand seals and elemental transformation entirely. The sheer, focused power had simply overloaded and shattered the fireball's structural integrity.
"This…" Even Teacher Oda, a seasoned chūnin, was at a loss. His mind raced through a catalogue of defensive taijutsu and obscure kinjutsu, but nothing fit. Had Ren used some unknown, seal-less ninjutsu? The notion was as unsettling as it was unbelievable.
In the center of the ring, amidst the last drifting embers and tendrils of smoke, Ren flexed his right hand, a slight wince crossing his features.
"Can't say I recommend it," he remarked casually, as if commenting on a mildly spicy meal. "That was… quite scalding."
The spectacle of shattering a fireball with a punch was undeniably cool, but the searing heat that had licked over his knuckles carried a very real, painful reminder. Reckless heroics had their cost. Next time, a different approach might be wiser.
Kakashi Hatake: "..."
Just… scalding?
His tactical mind had already mapped out several counters assuming Ren would evade—a follow-up shadow clone, a feint into a lightning-style jab (if he dared use it), a repositioning strike. He had been prepared for a battle of movement and counter. He was not prepared for his opponent to literally punch through his signature technique. The surprise was a physical jolt, momentarily freezing his usual analytical process.
"Is this the trump card you mentioned?" Kakashi's voice was tight, all traces of earlier casualness gone, replaced by a razor-sharp focus. "As expected of you, Ren. But the match isn't over!"
Combat instincts overrode shock. The spar continued. Kakashi's eyes narrowed, his grip on the wooden short sword firming. He pushed off, closing the distance once more, the practice blade slicing in a controlled, horizontal arc aimed at Ren's torso—an attack meant to maim, not just score a point.
"You should be careful too," Ren replied, his body already in motion, leaning back just enough for the wooden blade to whisper past his uniform. "My fists aren't exactly gentle."
He moved to counter, but Kakashi's recovery was seamless. The horizontal cut flowed into a downward chop, the angle shifting unpredictably. Ren was forced into a second, quicker evasion. Kakashi pressed the advantage, his attacks becoming a relentless, methodical storm.
Each strike—thrust, slash, feint—was deliberate, economical, and dangerous, born from early training with a master. It was no longer a child's brawl; it was the nascent form of a shinobi's kenjutsu style.
Ren's advantages lay elsewhere. His dynamic vision was exceptional, his reflexive speed honed by intense taijutsu practice and his unique physiology. He weaved and dodged, a red-haired ghost within the perimeter of Kakashi's bladework, always a fraction ahead but finding few openings to launch his own, more decisive attacks. The fight became a captivating, high-stakes dance far removed from the clumsy exchanges of their peers.
To the surrounding students, it was both thrilling and deeply humbling. Their own earlier matches felt like playground scuffles in comparison. The gulf between 'talented student' and 'genius' was being measured in real-time, and it was a chasm. Many felt a sinking feeling of futility.
So this is the level they've been operating on while we struggled with basic forms…
"They're already at genin level…" Teacher Oda murmured, awe and professional assessment warring in his tone. "No, in terms of technical execution and speed, they exceed some fresh genin."
He was suddenly reminded of another blond-haired prodigy from his own academy days, one who had also moved and fought with this preternatural grace and power at a tender age: Minato Namikaze. The shadow of the future Yellow Flash seemed to fall across these two boys.
'A bit troublesome. My actual combat experience is too lacking…' Ren thought, slipping under another swift slash. His physical specs were high, but Kakashi's drilled-in combat flow and swordplay created a continuous pressure that experience would have known how to break. He was reacting, not dictating.
'I need to disrupt his rhythm. Create my own opening.'
The plan formed quickly. The next time he dodged—a vertical chop this time—Ren didn't retreat. Instead, he used the momentum of his dodge to coil and then explode forward, closing the distance aggressively. The space between them vanished in a single, powerful stride.
"Try this!" he called out, not as a taunt but almost as a courtesy. His right fist shot forward in a straight, piston-like blow, the air compressing around it with a sharp crack. This was no probing strike; it was a full-powered, fight-ending punch.
"…!" Kakashi's instincts screamed. Taking that hit directly was not an option. But he also saw what Ren's committed, linear attack offered: a moment of vulnerability if it missed. His trained reflexes took over. In a blur of motion, he employed the Body Flicker Technique, not to retreat, but to shift minutely to Ren's left flank, perfectly positioned to exploit the perceived opening. The wooden sword was already rising for a punishing side-strike.
'He took the bait…' A faint, knowing curve touched Ren's lips. For all his genius, Kakashi was still five, his combat patterns still predictable to a mind versed in tactical theory. The 'opening' had been deliberate, a hunter's snare.
Clap!
The wooden blade descended.
Instead of trying to dodge the now-unavoidable strike, Ren's left hand shot up, palm forward. Chakra flared over his skin, forming a dense, protective layer. The practice sword struck with a solid thwack, the impact stinging his palm but failing to cut or break his guard. His fingers closed like a vice around the blade.
"Got you!"
With a powerful yank, Ren pulled hard on the captured sword. Kakashi, committed to his strike, felt his center of gravity lurch forward uncontrollably. In that split-second of imbalance, Ren's right fist—already drawn back from its 'missed' punch—smashed forward in a short, devastating hook aimed at Kakashi's now-exposed guard.
"Tch!" Kakashi's mind raced. Dodging was impossible; disengaging would be too slow. His only option was to mitigate. He released the sword hilt, crossing his arms in a tight 'X' over his chest, bracing to absorb the impact.
Bang!!
The sound was like a mallet striking a training post. A numbing, explosive pain erupted through Kakashi's forearms before the residual force drove into his chest. The air was forced from his lungs in a pained grunt. The world blurred as he was bodily lifted off his feet and hurled backward through the air.
He defended well, Ren acknowledged. But the fight wasn't over.
Forcing discipline through the pain, Kakashi twisted in mid-air, managing to land in a controlled, if staggered, crouch several meters away. He gasped, arms throbbing, chest aching. What kind of monstrous strength…?
He had no time to recover. A shadow fell over him. Looking up, his visible eye widened.
Ren was already there.
Having used the recoil of his own punch and a burst of chakra to his feet (a crude, self-taught imitation of the Body Flicker's principle), Ren had pursued instantly, closing the distance Kakashi's flight had created. His fist was already drawn back, a final hammer poised to fall.
This strike would connect. The outcome was decided.