Naruto: One Eye Tenseigan

The ground trembled beneath Tomaru Minakura's feet as he surged forward, his fist slicing through the air with a ferocity that made the dust around him scatter in every direction. Each step carried the weight of his determination, every strike honed through countless hours of practice.

But Sayuri Koizumi was faster.

Her movements were a study in grace, fluid and precise, as though the fight itself were an extension of her will. With a subtle shift, she sidestepped, her jacket brushing against Tomaru's knuckles as his punch missed its mark. Her balance was immaculate, her posture unshaken, as if she hadn't exerted any effort at all.

Tomaru's eyes narrowed, calculating his next move. Without hesitation, he planted his foot firmly and spun into a low sweeping kick aimed to take her legs out from under her. Sayuri reacted in an instant, leaping back with a dancer's poise, her heel grazing the dirt as she landed smoothly.

Before Tomaru could recover, she closed the gap, her palm slicing toward his ribs in a sharp, decisive strike. He twisted his torso just in time, the air stirred by the force of her blow brushing his side. He countered with a snap kick aimed high, forcing her to retreat.

From the edge of the clearing, Tomaru's new teammates, Mai Kisaragi and Mina Harada, watched in stunned silence.

Mai's fists clenched at her sides as her amber eyes tracked every exchange. "He's keeping up with her," she muttered, her voice taut with disbelief. "That's... impossible."

Mina, the quieter and more analytical of the two, adjusted her glasses, her sharp gaze never leaving the sparring match. "No," she said softly, her tone tinged with fascination. "It's not just that. Watch closely—he's not just reacting. He's adapting."

Mai turned to her, her frustration palpable. "Adapting? Against a jonin? That's insane."

"Isn't Tomaru supposed to be the same age as us?" Mai whispered, her amber eyes wide. "How is he moving like that?"

Tomaru pressed forward again, his attacks now sharper, more deliberate. His strikes came in quick succession—a jab, a feint, a spinning backfist—all aimed at forcing Sayuri into a defensive stance. Yet, no matter how precise his attacks, she deflected each one effortlessly.

Sayuri's movements were a blur, her hands flowing seamlessly between blocks and counters. The rhythmic scuffs of their boots against the dirt mixed with the faint chime of the bells tied to her waist, the sound both melodic and unsettling in the growing tension.

Tomaru's breath remained steady, his focus unwavering. He spun low again, aiming another sweeping kick at her legs. This time, Sayuri didn't leap back. She raised her leg with minimal effort, balancing perfectly as his attack passed harmlessly beneath her.

But Tomaru was ready. Using the momentum of his failed sweep, he pushed off the ground, twisting mid-air into an elbow strike aimed at her head. The move was faster—more calculated than before—but Sayuri leaned back with practiced ease, the edge of his sleeve grazing her cheek.

She stepped in close, her palm shooting toward his chest in a rapid counterstrike. Tomaru barely managed to block, crossing his arms to absorb the impact. The force sent him skidding back several feet, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust.

Sayuri's expression remained calm, though a flicker of something crossed her features—respect, perhaps, or curiosity. "Impressive," she said, her voice steady but edged with intrigue.

Tomaru smirked, rolling his shoulders to ease the tension. "I'm just getting started."

From the sidelines, Mai's hands trembled as she watched. Her mind reeled at the impossibility of what was unfolding before her. "How... how is he doing this?" she whispered.

Mina's eyes narrowed as she studied him.

Back on the field, the rhythm of the battle intensified. Tomaru's movements became smoother, his attacks more fluid, as if every strike and counter had been choreographed to test his limits. There was no hesitation in his actions—only an unyielding hunger to grow stronger.

Sayuri, for the first time, adjusted her stance. Her posture remained impeccable, but there was a shift in her focus, an edge that hadn't been there before.

He's improving faster than I expected, she thought.

Tomaru lunged again, this time with a spinning backfist that came dangerously close to connecting. Sayuri ducked, countering with a low sweep aimed at his legs. Tomaru leapt, twisting mid-air, and landed fluidly, transitioning into a backward strike toward her shoulder.

By the fifteenth minute, Tomaru's stamina hadn't faltered. His strikes came faster, sharper, his movements more fluid. Sayuri observed the subtle adjustments in his technique—the way he adapted to her counters.

He's learning as we fight, she thought, admiration flickering in her eyes.

Sayuri tilted her head just enough to avoid the blow. Her lips curved into a faint smile. "Good," she murmured. "But not enough."

Sayuri sidestepped another punch, her body flowing like water as Tomaru's fist barely grazed the sleeve of her jacket. She shifted her weight, her stance never faltering, and countered with a quick palm strike aimed at his sternum.

Tomaru twisted, evading her attack by the slimmest margin, and retaliated with a low sweep. Sayuri raised her leg effortlessly, her balance perfect, and followed with a downward kick aimed at his shoulder.

Anticipating her move, Tomaru rolled away, using the momentum to spring back to his feet. He surged forward, closing the gap in an instant, and launched a feint jab toward her head. Sayuri deflected it with ease, but her eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed the subtle shift in his weight.

He's setting me up.

Tomaru pivoted mid-strike, his real attack—a spinning back kick—hurtling toward her ribs. Sayuri blocked it just in time, though the force sent a sharp vibration through her arms.

Tomaru pressed his advantage. His movements were sharper, more deliberate, as if each exchange with Sayuri unlocked another level of skill within him. He jabbed at her midsection, followed by a feint, then spun into a roundhouse kick.

Sayuri ducked under the kick, her movements fluid, and closed the distance with a swift palm strike aimed at his side. This time, Tomaru didn't evade. Instead, he met her strike head-on, absorbing the impact and using it to pivot into a counterattack.

He drove his elbow toward her shoulder, forcing her to lean back. Sayuri caught his arm mid-strike, twisting it to throw him off balance, but Tomaru anticipated the move. He used the momentum to spin into another roundhouse kick, forcing her to release him.

The kick missed, but Sayuri noted the fluidity of his movement. He's not just reacting. He's controlling the flow of the fight.

"You're improving," she noted, her voice calm, though a flicker of acknowledgment danced in her eyes.

Tomaru took a deep breath, his stance unwavering.

From the sidelines, Mai's frustration boiled over. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "He's not supposed to be this strong!" she hissed, her amber eyes glued to the fight.

Mina, ever composed, adjusted her glasses as she observed the exchange. "It's not strength alone," she said, her voice steady. "Look at how he moves. He's learning every detail of her fighting style and adapting in real-time. It's..." She trailed off, searching for the right word.

"Unnatural," Mai finished bitterly, her tone laced with a mix of awe and resentment.

Mina shook her head, her sharp eyes narrowing. "Not unnatural. Extraordinary."

Mai's lips thinned, her gaze fixed on Tomaru. For someone who prided herself on her taijutsu skills, watching him match a jonin like Sayuri was a bitter pill to swallow.

From the sidelines, Mai's frustration turned to disbelief. She watched as Tomaru dodged a flurry of rapid strikes, each one aimed with deadly precision.

"This is insane," she murmured. "He's keeping up with her... no, he's matching her."

Mina nodded slowly, her expression unreadable. "He's more than just skilled. He's... relentless."

Back on the field, Sayuri's strikes blurred, her motions faster than the eye could track. Yet Tomaru moved with her, his reactions uncanny, as if he could see the attacks coming before she launched them.

The fight reached a crescendo as their movements became a blur of speed and precision, neither giving an inch.

Sayuri's lips curved into a faint smile, her eyes gleaming with something beyond amusement. "Show me more, Tomaru."

Tomaru's smirk deepened. "You asked for it."

Tomaru lunged, feinting a low kick before pivoting into an upward strike aimed at Sayuri's chin. She leaned back, her hair shifting with the wind of his attack, and retaliated with a spinning heel kick. The force of her strike sent a sharp crack through the air as Tomaru barely dodged, the kick grazing his shoulder.

He landed on one knee, his breathing quickened but his eyes sharp. Without missing a beat, he pushed off the ground, launching into a flurry of punches aimed at her midsection.

Sayuri deflected each blow, her hands moving faster than the eye could follow, but Tomaru's relentless onslaught began forcing her back.

She adjusted her footing, her bells chiming softly with the motion. Her eyes narrowed, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at her lips. "You're relentless," she said.

Tomaru smirked, his stance unwavering. "And you're holding back."

Sayuri stepped back, reassessing. Sweat dotted her brow, though her expression remained calm. "You're better than I expected," she admitted.

Tomaru grinned, his breathing steady despite the grueling exchange. "I'm not done yet."

The fight reached its crescendo as Tomaru surged forward, his strikes a seamless blend of power and precision. He spun low, aiming for her legs, then twisted into an upward elbow strike that forced Sayuri to sidestep.

She countered with a palm strike aimed at his chest, but Tomaru caught her wrist mid-motion. Using her momentum, he twisted, pulling her forward into a spinning back kick. Sayuri released her wrist from his grasp at the last second, ducking just in time to avoid the blow.

The ground beneath them was scuffed and worn from the sheer force of their movements, and the faint jingle of Sayuri's bells mixed with the heavy sound of their breathing.

Sayuri paused, her stance shifting slightly. "You've proven your point, Tomaru."

But Tomaru didn't stop. His determination burned brighter now, his strikes becoming even more precise.

He lunged forward, his fist driving toward her midsection. Sayuri sidestepped, but this time he anticipated her movement. Twisting mid-strike, he shifted his weight, his other hand slicing toward her side.

Tomaru's speed increased, his strikes coming harder and faster. He jabbed at her midsection, spun into a backfist aimed at her jaw, and transitioned into a sweeping kick that forced Sayuri to jump back.

He didn't relent. His hand darkened suddenly, the skin taking on the sheen of polished stone as he channeled chakra into it. [Earth Release: Earth Spear]

Mai gasped audibly. "What is that?"

Mina adjusted her glasses. "Chakra flow manipulation... that's advanced. Not something a genin should know."

Tomaru dashed forward, driving his stone-hard fist toward her torso. Sayuri sidestepped, but the blow grazed her jacket, tearing through the fabric with ease.

Without hesitating, Tomaru pressed his advantage. He drove his fist down again, the impact splitting the air as it collided with Sayuri's form. Her body flew back, slamming into the trunk of a tree with a deafening crash.

The sound of splintering wood echoed through the clearing, and a cloud of dust rose from the impact.

Mai and Mina watched from the sidelines, their eyes wide with shock.

"Did he... win?" Mai whispered.

"This isn't a fight between a jonin and a genin," Mai said, her voice trembling. "This is... something else."

"He never needed to prove himself," Mina murmured. "He's known all along how strong he is."

Mai clenched her fists, watching Tomaru move beyond her imagination. "He's not like us," she said bitterly. "He's on a different level."

Mina thought back to the moments before this fight—the way Tomaru had stood quietly while Mai teased him about being the only boy on the team. He had taken her jabs in stride, always calm, always composed.

"I thought he was just laid-back," Mina murmured, her voice tinged with disbelief. "But now... It's like he's been waiting for this moment."

Mai didn't respond immediately. Her amber eyes flicked between the two fighters, watching Tomaru push Sayuri further and further. Her confidence in her own taijutsu had been shaken, her pride dimmed by the sheer gap between her and her teammate.

The clearing fell silent, save for the settling of dust and Tomaru's measured breathing. He stood, watching the motionless silhouette amid the haze. His teammates remained frozen, unsure whether to cheer or fear what they'd just witnessed.

Then, as the dust began to clear, Sayuri's body shimmered unnaturally.

"No," Mina whispered, her voice laced with awe. "That wasn't her."

Sayuri's form dissolved into a cascade of water, splashing onto the battered ground.

"A water clone," Mina said, her sharp tone betraying her surprise.