Hayama Shirakumo's patience was reaching its breaking point. He truly couldn't fathom why he had ended up with such a volatile, hot-headed student.
He had initially hoped that participating in the Chunin Exams would temper Tatsuhiko's arrogance. Instead, the boy had become even more insufferable. Now, he was actually attempting to start a physical altercation, showing absolutely no respect for Hayama's presence as his sensei.
Tatsuhiko caught the murderous glint in Hayama's eyes and flinched. He instinctively pulled back his fist, muttering curses under his breath.
"Lee, that's enough," Might Guy said, offering a symbolic reprimand. "We're all Leaf shinobi. Who knows? You might even need to watch each other's backs on a mission someday."
Guy sighed inwardly. The pleasant atmosphere he'd hoped for had been thoroughly soured by Tatsuhiko's behavior.
Before the four Jonin could breathe a sigh of relief, Tatsuhiko's eyes darted around. He'd found a way to reclaim his "honor" by baiting Lee further. "You can talk all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that you're a total loser. Being a ninja isn't about hot blood and hard work; talent is everything. Strength is the only thing that matters in this world. If you're so offended, why don't we settle this with a spar?"
"Tatsuhiko! Have you not had enough? Do you really want to keep embarrassing yourself?"
Hayama was shaking with rage. His student's relentless, unreasonable behavior had finally pushed him past the point of no return.
"Hayama-sensei, am I your student or is he?" Tatsuhiko's voice dropped, his face twisting into a mask of feigned innocence and indignation. "You're defending him so much... have you even considered how I feel?"
Hayama stood there, stunned. His mind was a mess of frustration. Wait, am I the one in the wrong here? He felt his face go pale with pure irritation.
Asuma shot Hayama a look of deep sympathy before glancing at the defiant Tatsuhiko. After a moment of thought, he spoke up. "Hayama, I have a suggestion. Tatsuhiko wants to test his skills against Lee. Why not let them have a quick bout outside? What do you think?"
Hayama's eyes widened. He looked at Asuma in disbelief. The situation was already an uncontrollable disaster, and now Asuma was adding fuel to the fire. Was he really that bored?
"Asuma, don't joke like that," Hayama hissed. He wanted nothing more than to drag his team out of there before Tatsuhiko could humiliate him any further.
"Let the kids settle their own grudges," Asuma countered with a shrug. "Whoever loses just has to deal with it. Our food hasn't even arrived yet; think of it as a bit of entertainment. Guy, what do you say?"
Might Guy was just as torn as Hayama. He couldn't quite figure out what Asuma was playing at. However, looking at Tatsuhiko's smug face and remembering the insults Lee had endured, he made his decision. He didn't answer for Lee, but instead turned to his student. "Lee, it's up to you."
Lee was about to say he found the whole thing boring and had no interest, but then a sudden thought sparked in his mind.
"I don't mind," Lee said casually. "But a simple spar is a bit dull, don't you think?"
"Dull? I think you're just afraid of losing!" Tatsuhiko sneered, thinking his plan was working perfectly.
"Winning or losing... it's hard to say," Lee said with a small smirk. "But since it's 'boring,' let's make it interesting. I'll bet fifty thousand Ryo on it. I win, you give me fifty thousand. You win, I give you the same. Do you have the guts?"
The state of his house was dire. He needed cash for repairs immediately, or he'd be sleeping under the stars.
"Gambling..." Tatsuhiko hesitated. He did a quick mental calculation. Not only could he humiliate the "Dead Last," but he could get paid for it too? "Fine! A bet it is! Who's afraid of you?"
Lee smiled thinly. "Excellent. Let's put it in writing."
He pulled a small notebook from his ninja tool pouch and quickly scribbled out a simple contract. He signed his name and bit his thumb, pressing a bloody fingerprint onto the page. "Just so you don't back out later. Sign and thumbprint, please."
"Tch. I'm the one who should be worried about you crying when you lose!" Tatsuhiko looked at the contract. He hesitated for a split second—why was the Loser so confident? Had he mastered some secret technique?
No way. He can't even use Ninjutsu or Genjutsu. There's no way I'd lose.
With a surge of arrogance, he pressed his own bloody thumbprint onto the paper.
Lee wasn't finished. He tore the page out and placed it on the table in front of the four Jonin witnesses. Then, he pulled out his wallet and began counting out bills. It was exactly fifty thousand Ryo.
"I value money quite highly," Lee said, his tone dead serious. "Here is my stake. Now, show me yours."
Tatsuhiko felt a headache coming on. He wanted to scream, but there was nowhere to direct the anger. He gritted his teeth and pulled out his own wallet. Fifty thousand Ryo was essentially his entire savings from six months of grueling missions. He comforted himself with the thought of doubling it in a few minutes.
The Loser is so stupid. He's just handing me free money! Haha!
Lee's clinical, business-like behavior had left everyone at the table dazed. It took them a few moments to process what was happening.
"Well, this just got a lot more interesting," Asuma said, rubbing his chin. His own gambling itch was starting to flare up. Kurenai shot him a warning glare.
"Don't even think about it," she whispered.
Asuma gave a sheepish, submissive laugh. "Right... of course. Don't worry about me."
By now, other shinobi in the tavern had noticed the commotion. A few recognized Asuma and came over to investigate. Asuma gave them the cliff notes, and one particularly drunk ninja let out a roar of excitement.
"Hey, everyone! Check this out! Two brats are about to duel outside! There's a massive bet on it! Come look!"
"What? Where? I want in on the action!"
"Who is it? If there's money involved, count me in!"
In an instant, the rowdy crowd of shinobi surged toward their table. The four Jonin found themselves surrounded by a sea of thirsty, cheering spectators.
Asuma immediately began to regret his suggestion. The scene had spiraled out of control. These ninjas had been drinking and were looking for any excuse for a thrill; within seconds, the tavern had transformed into an impromptu gambling den.
Lee watched the chaos with a twinge of regret. He should have set himself up as the house and taken a cut of the local bets. But he knew Guy would never allow that.
The "Three Prohibitions of a Shinobi"—women, gambling, and alcohol—were strictly enforced for someone his age. The fact that Guy hadn't stopped the initial fifty-thousand-Ryo bet was already a massive concession.
A few ninjas recognized Tatsuhiko and began whispering.
"I saw that kid in the exams. Hayama's student. He's actually pretty decent. I'd put my money on him."
"Agreed. Making it to the second round as a rookie is no joke."
"Who's the opponent? Might Guy's student, Rock Lee? Oh, I've heard of him. He's the one who can't use Ninjutsu or Genjutsu. A total dead last."
"Damn, then it's a shut-out. Why would anyone even bet on Lee?"
Tatsuhiko's ego inflated as he overheard the comments. "Hear that, Loser? You don't stand a chance. Why don't you just forfeit now and save yourself the bruises?"
Lee remained expressionless. He simply shook his head. "Empty words are meaningless. Only the weak rely on their tongues to win."
"You really are a piece of work! Fine! Outside, now! Let's see if your fists are as sharp as your mouth!"
As the two of them headed toward the alleyway, the crowd of shinobi followed, their excitement reaching a fever pitch.