"But in other words, having no weight means you can do this too—"
WHOOSH—
A staff far longer than his height, thicker than his wrist—yet in Hii Kōri's hands, it moved with lightness contradicting its form. Only the air-tearing whistle matched its size.
"Shi—!"
THUD!
Rasa, sneaking up from behind, couldn't even complete his despairing cry before Hii Kōri—swinging the massive staff like a twig—slammed him from above into the ground. He twitched twice, then lay motionless.
That dull sound—probably not just the hollow staff's echo, but the reverberation inside Rasa's skull.
"..."
Outside the training ground, Misawa—already sensing something wrong—had just raised his hand. It fell limply with that blow, the light in his eyes suddenly extinguishing.
Forget it. Let it go. This kid's shown he knows his limits. Rasa's probably fine... right?
Worst case, he loses a few fingers. Not like he'll have to commit seppuku.
With this near-self-hypnosis, Misawa wore an expression of "enlightenment."
Casually dispelling the barrier-constructed staff, Hii Kōri glanced at Rasa—half his face embedded in the ground. After a moment's thought, he flipped him over with his foot.
He'd pulled his punch; at most a concussion. But suffocating face-down in dirt was possible.
Though he disliked Rasa's sour face, he wouldn't let him die over it.
Crouching, he checked Rasa's pupils and the marks on his neck. Confirming he hadn't accidentally killed him, Hii Kōri stood and walked toward the girl behind him.
"Now then, Pakura—your turn."
Sensing the atmosphere shift, the exhausted, collapsed girl instinctively scrambled backward until her bare back hit the chain-link fence.
No retreat.
End of the road.
No options left.
Somehow—no, Pakura knew exactly what she'd done. And she was certain Hii Kōri had noticed.
Hence her guilt.
"Even using underhanded means, you didn't want me to win?"
Hii Kōri's shadow loomed, blocking the sun, enveloping her in darkness.
Backlit, his expression was completely unreal. Pakura could only gauge his mood from his tone. Yet his words carried no discernible emotion.
Anger? None apparent.
Annoyance? Not detectable.
If anything, he seemed quite pleased.
But how?!
"Uh... well..."
Swallowing nervously, Pakura waited uneasily for judgment.
"Speak. I'm listening. But not too loud—you wouldn't want this getting out, would you?"
Seeing Pakura's hesitant demeanor, Hii Kōri "guided" her with steady voice.
Clearly, Pakura's earlier conversation wasn't just curiosity—it was distraction, aiding Rasa's sneak attack.
Against anyone else, they might have succeeded.
Perhaps due to desert terrain, Sand ninja seemed naturally better at concealing presence and footsteps than other villages.
But Hii Kōri was a sensor-type. From the start, Rasa's dust only obscured their vision. Hii Kōri "saw" every move clearly.
If they'd opened with lethal ninjutsu, he might have struggled.
This sensory ability seemed another Uzumaki talent—just a difference in strength and weakness. Only the most extremely developed earned special names like "Kagura Mind's Eye."
Legend had it, with eyes closed and "Mind's Eye" activated, such sensors could sense anomalies within dozens of kilometers through chakra. If locking chakra signature, they could pinpoint position and movement.
Beyond that, this level of perception could conceal one's own chakra from detection—even truth from lies by sensing others' chakra.
The Uzumaki clan's sealing and barrier techniques probably developed from this meticulous perception, achieving unparalleled distinction in the ninja world.
Compared to individual talent, these bloodline, regional, and social characteristic abilities—most easily overlooked—present the most insurmountable gaps.
"How underhanded, Pakura."
Though incapable of Atlas Institute alchemists' divided thinking, basic multitasking came easily to Hii Kōri.
Even with some thoughts drifting, interacting with classmates remained effortless.
Speaking of which—as a jujutsu sorcerer, inability to divided think might have been "hardware" deficiency. With Uzumaki's excellent body, could I try to divide think...
Increased computational power makes divergent thinking even easier. Adapting will take time.
"Eh..."
Facing condescending accusation from the "victim," Pakura, collapsed, knew she was in the wrong. Opening her mouth, she emitted short, meaningless syllables, then embarrassed averted her gaze.
She'd felt uneasy immediately after acting. Already defeated, letting resentment and competitive spirit interfere with those still fighting—shameful.
Even looking away, she felt Hii Kōri's piercing gaze. Uncomfortable, yet unable to complain, she pursed her lips, nervously pressing pebbles to distract herself.
"S-Sorry..."
After agonizing seconds, she squeezed out an apology—faint as a mosquito's buzz.
"...That's it?"
Apparently unsatisfied, Hii Kōri sighed.
He bent slightly, extending his left hand—four fingers together—and lightly tapped Pakura's head.
"There. Punishment."