Five fingers—closing one by one.
Hii Kōri twisted his neck, leaning forward and delivering a clenched fist.
The white crescent of his palm swept across the ground, trailing a shrill whistle straight toward Kitaro's face.
Rising! Dragon! Punch!
Gravity's restraint and the fist's impact clashed on Kitaro's nasal battlefield—0.1 seconds later, gravity declared defeated.
His head, plummeting groundward, snapped upward from the punch. The momentum carried his entire body flying in the opposite direction, tossed over a meter like a ragdoll.
K.O.!
Like a victorious boxer raising a bloodied fist, Hii Kōri held his uppercut pose—an electric current seemed to be coursing through his body.
Traveling back to Sunagakure with Chiyo had maintained a relaxed pace. Now, utilizing full body functions without injury—Hii Kōri's first time.
With his soul completely fused with this body through the Binding Vow's influence, he could clearly perceive what fully activated bodies could achieve.
Double soul, Uzumaki body, superb computational power!
The switch—already flipped.
"You all coming too?"
Slowly, slowly withdrawing his fist and shaking off blood, Hii Kōri bounced on his toes, gaze shifting to the other kids encircling him.
His voice is so smooth—as if he'd just done something trivial.
"You kidding?!" "One guy acting all high and mighty!"
Five-year-olds couldn't handle such provocation. Retreat prompted by his performance instantly buried under false confidence from "numbers advantage." Shouting like cannon fodder, they rushed in—
And were sent flying one by one. (Merciless.)
"Abab! Sa! Yo! Na! Ra!"
Ultimately just low-level warriors—no, not even ninja yet—third-raters. Failing was normal.
"Everyone saw it, right? These guys started it."
Casually wiping blood on the fallen kid's clothes, Hii Kōri faced classmates with a calm expression.
All he saw: confusion and fear gazes.
To them, cool ninjutsu like Rasa and Pakura's, or teachers disappearing shunshin—that was understandable "strength."
But Hii Kōri—each movement is clearly visible, yet incomprehensible how he dodged multiple attackers and effortlessly sent them flying... Like a monster.
"Don't look at me like that. I'm not a demon. Why would I go over something trivial? Worst they got is broken noses. Right, Rasa-kun? Did I get your name right?"
Besides Misawa, a few present understood what he'd done.
Like Rasa, arms crossed, staring fixedly at him.
With small pupils, even expressionless, his gaze looked quite fierce.
"You're... strong. Chakra's thin, but body control is simply impossible at this age."
Acknowledging Hii Kōri's point—or simply unconcerned with trivialities—Rasa stepped forward, meeting his gaze. "As expected of Chiyo-sama's adopted son."
"You're mistaken, Rasa."
Seeing Karura worriedly approaching, Hii Kōri slowly helped up the kids he'd downed, letting Karura escort them to the infirmary while correcting the red-haired sour-face's error.
"What?"
"I'm not strong because the old hag adopted me. She adopted me because I have great talent."
Rasa knowing his identity didn't surprise him. Possessing such a huge chakra at this age, with decent circulation—not pure talent.
By contrast, Pakura's chakra circulation was rougher. Partly due to her naturally restless chakra nature.
But overall, Rasa clearly received meticulous one-on-one counseling from experienced elders.
Such calm families—even if not ninja clans—held considerable influence in Sand. And family news tended to circulate.
"..."
Hearing Hii Kōri's rebuttal, Rasa paused momentarily. His perpetual sour face—like someone owed him custom kunai—momentarily slipped.
Clearly, he hadn't expected Hii Kōri to focus on this point.
But this was precisely Hii Kōri's only concern.
His talent. His wisdom. His techniques—after abandoning countless things, even being accused of disregarding human bottom lines—these remained clutched in his palm.
"Hey, Misawa-sensei. I'd like to request a practical drill with Rasa-kun and Pakura-chan. Is that okay?"
Turning to Misawa—back from the infirmory—Hii Kōri suddenly proposed.
Having witnessed Hii Kōri's skills, Misawa had no reason to refuse. But one-on-one pairings always meant someone fighting consecutive matches.
"Or would you prefer a three-person melee?"
"I don't mind!"
Pakura's interested voice came from distance.
She'd accompanied Karura to the infirmary; returning naturally slower than Misawa's Body Flicker.
But with Hii Kōri's perception, timing suggestions within earshot wasn't difficult.
As a recognized genius of this Academy year, Pakura naturally wouldn't refuse such challenges. Besides, she usually only sparsed with Rasa—others couldn't last a few moves.
A new opponent? How could she refuse?
Now pressure fell on Rasa.
Under everyone's gaze, the reddish-brown haired boy uncrossed his arms and asked one final question.
"That flashy takedown just now—didn't take too much energy?"
"Ha. That was nothing special—just calculation. Cal~cu~la~tion~"
Hii Kōri drew out his words. "Calculate the outcome, then accurately execute the correct action at the correct time. What else is needed?"
"Hmph. Those idiots couldn't recognize strength gaps. But 'you're arrogant'? They weren't wrong abou
t that."
"Ah, that review I'll politely decline."
Scratching his hair, Hii Kōri's already flat tone turned even colder.
"If you replaced it with 'confident,' I'd be happier."