Like Izumin, Hideki possessed powerful ocular jutsu which made him a difficult opponent. His Byakugan was already highly developed, allowing him nearly 360-degree vision and the ability to see chakra points with terrifying precision. To be frank, even Yuki wasn't sure if Sayaka could win. She was undoubtedly one of the strongest in the class—her chakra reserves were massive, and her taijutsu had brute force behind it—but the Hyūga fighting style was notoriously difficult to overcome at this level. One wrong move and her chakra network could be shut down before she landed a hit.
The match began, and neither fighter moved for a long moment.
They stared each other down in complete silence. Sayaka's fists were loosely clenched, and lightning chakra crackled faintly around her arms, her body humming with restrained power. Hideki stood still as a statue, Byakugan activated, his white eyes emotionless, tracing the currents of chakra flowing within her body.
They were calculating. Measuring. Waiting.
Then, with no warning, Sayaka struck first.
She blitzed forward, a burst of chakra propelling her like a bullet. Her fist came screaming toward Hideki's chest, surrounded by a flicker of lightning. But he pivoted with inhuman grace, sidestepping her blow and delivering a palm strike toward her shoulder.
She twisted just enough to deflect it—but the air rippled from the impact, and Sayaka's arm went briefly numb.
Hideki was already back in his stance, eyes cold, reading every twitch of her muscles.
Sayaka didn't let up. She came again—this time with a feint, ducking low and launching a sweeping kick aimed at his legs. He leapt over it, twisting midair and attempting to jab at her exposed back mid-rotation.
She barely managed to block, but her forearm sparked with chakra backlash. The Gentle Fist strikes were penetrating her defenses little by little.
The pace quickened.
Hideki's movements were efficient, almost dance-like. He didn't waste a single motion. Every dodge was a setup for a counterstrike, and every counterstrike came within a hair of disabling a vital chakra point.
Sayaka was fast, strong, and relentless—but her strength couldn't touch him.
Every hit she threw missed. Every time she tried to lock him down with a powerful blow, he slipped away like smoke. Her lightning chakra surged wildly with each failed attempt, crackling louder, more unstable. Sweat beaded on her brow.
"He's reading me too well," she thought, teeth gritted. "If I can't land a solid hit soon, he'll shut me down."
She stepped back, panting slightly. Her arms were covered in bruises, and her chakra felt erratic. Hideki had struck several points already—just grazing blows, but enough to start impairing her control.
Across from her, Hideki looked calm. Focused.
But he wasn't unscathed.
Sayaka's lightning had left faint burn marks along his uniform, and his breathing was a bit heavier now. She had forced him to work, and that meant something.
Then she saw it—just the smallest misstep.
Hideki's left foot slipped just a little as he pivoted. A fraction of a second. Maybe fatigue. Maybe overconfidence. But it was the first mistake he had made the entire fight.
Sayaka didn't hesitate.
She surged forward, this time compressing her lightning chakra into her legs for a burst of speed beyond her norm. In an instant, she was at his side, not in front where he expected. Her fist ignited with crackling chakra.
Hideki turned, but just a fraction too late.
Her punch connected.
A direct blow to the ribs, lightning chakra discharging on impact.
The shock sent Hideki sprawling across the arena floor. He rolled, came up in a crouch—but his movements were slower, sluggish. The lightning had disrupted his chakra flow for just a moment.
And in battle, a moment was everything.
Sayaka pressed the advantage. She unleashed a barrage of blows, lightning-infused strikes hammering toward him. Hideki dodged two, three—but the fourth landed squarely on his shoulder, sending another surge of chakra disruption through his body.
He tried to retaliate with a palm strike, but his form faltered. The precision was gone. The control—off by a fraction.
Sayaka ducked under it and swept his legs out from under him. He fell, and before he could rise again, she pinned him down, fist crackling and hovering inches from his throat.
The proctor raised a hand.
"Match over! Winner—Sayaka Senju!"
The crowd roared.
Sayaka backed off and offered her hand to Hideki, who stared at her for a moment before accepting the gesture and nodding once in quiet respect.
It had been a grueling match. A near loss. But Sayaka had held on, stayed alert, and in the end, capitalized on the one opening Hideki gave her.
She had earned this win.
As she returned to her side of the arena, lightning still buzzing faintly from her fingertips, Sayaka met Yuki's eyes across the room. He gave a small smile and nodded.
She smiled back, heart still pounding, and whispered to herself:
"One step closer."
After Sayaka's fight, there were a couple more matches that managed to be entertaining, though none quite captured the intensity or drama of the earlier bouts. Some students surprised the crowd with unexpected bursts of skill, while others crumbled under pressure. Slowly but surely, the bracket continued to shrink, leading to the final match of the first round.
"For the final match of the first round of sparring, Yuki Kazanari vs. Shinji Inuzuka!"
With the announcement, a small wave of cheers and applause swept through the audience. The tension in the air rose slightly. Many had high hopes for Yuki based on his performances so far—his sharp mind, overwhelming chakra control, and unorthodox frostfire style had earned him a glowing reputation among students and teachers alike.
But Shinji was no pushover. Like most Inuzuka clan members, he fought alongside a loyal ninken and relied on brutal, fast-paced close-quarters tactics. His feral speed, unpredictable movement, and aggressive style surely would pose a challenge even for a prodigy like Yuki.
As the two boys stepped into the ring, a hush fell over the arena.
Shinji cracked his knuckles and gave a lopsided grin, his small ninken Raku growling beside him in anticipation. "Hope you're ready, Kazanari. We don't pull punches."
Yuki gave a small, respectful nod, one hand resting lightly on the hilt of his training sword. "Neither do I."
They stood across from each other, sizing one another up. The air was thick with tension—not from hostility, but from the mutual awareness that both were top-tier talents, each bringing very different strengths to the table.
The proctor raised a hand.
"Begin!"
And just like that, the match was on.