Mei Terumī walked into the combat area and stood within the marked white lines.
Two boys stood opposite her, half a head taller, sizing her up with their arms crossed.
They had cat-and-mouse smiles on their faces.
The corners of their mouths were slightly upturned, and their eyes were filled with mockery, as if they were watching a game destined to be very interesting.
Mei Terumī. You're quite cute."
One of them intentionally drawled, lazily enunciating every word:
"We'll go easy on you in a bit, don't worry."
The other one started laughing too, his shoulders shaking: "Exactly, don't be a crybaby. No one's going to hand you a handkerchief if you cry."
Mei Terumī said nothing. She only raised her eyes, glanced at them, then lowered her eyelids again and took a starting stance.
Hands raised, center of gravity lowered, knees slightly bent.
A standard Taijutsu opening; every angle was precise.
The teacher stood by the side of the field and raised a hand.
That hand hung in mid-air, paused for a moment, and then fell sharply.
"Start!"
As soon as the words fell, the two boys rushed forward simultaneously.
Their coordination was clearly practiced. The one on the left attacked head-on, while the one on the right circled to the flank, sealing off her retreat from both sides.
Their footsteps thudded against the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
Mei Terumī stepped aside, dodging a straight punch from the left. The wind from the fist brushed past her ear, fluttering a few strands of hair.
At the same instant, a side kick from the right swept in. Unable to dodge completely, she could only raise her arm to block.
Thump. A dull sound of impact.
The force of the impact traveled through her arm to her whole body. She was jolted back two steps, her heels dragging two shallow marks in the sandy ground.
Before she could steady herself, the boy on the left closed in again, throwing a punch toward her abdomen.
She twisted her body, narrowly avoiding it. The fist grazed her clothes, the wind it generated fluttering the hem of her shirt.
But the boy on the right had already circled behind her and kicked the back of her knee. It was fast and ruthless, impossible to avoid.
Mei Terumī fell to one knee.
Her knee struck the gravel, and a sharp pain exploded instantly. Looking down, she saw a small, dark wet patch soaking through below her knee.
Blood was seeping out of the broken skin. It stained her pant leg red and dripped into the sandy ground.
"Yo, down already?" The boy behind her laughed, his voice filled with blatant smugness.
Mei Terumī didn't make a sound. She pushed off the ground and stood up. Her palms pressed against the gravel, digging in painfully.
But she had no expression on her face as she simply resumed her starting stance, as if nothing had happened.
Second round.
She took the initiative to attack.
The boys opposite her clearly hadn't expected her to dare to attack.
This isolated trash, this silent blockhead, should have just obediently surrendered after being knocked down!
She actually dared to rush them?
In that moment of hesitation, Mei Terumī had already rushed in front of the talkative boy on the left and slammed a fist into his ribs.
The fist sank into soft flesh, making a dull thud.
The boy let out a muffled groan and staggered back two steps, the smile finally vanishing from his face.
But at the same time, the boy on the right pounced.
He was faster and more ruthless than before, slamming hard into Mei Terumī from the side.
Both of them fell to the ground together.
A cloud of dust rose from the sandy ground.
Mei Terumī was pinned underneath, her shoulders held down firmly, her back against the ground, the gravel digging in painfully.
She tried to roll over to get up, but the other's knee pressed down, pinning her waist and nailing her to the ground.
"You can actually fight," the boy panted, pressing his knee down further as if trying to grind her into the dirt. "But that's as far as it goes."
The boy on the left walked over while rubbing his ribs, stood by her head, pulled out a Kunai, and looked down at her.
The smile was back on his face, the corners of his mouth turned up even more, and his eyes held blatant contempt.
"Beg me a little, and I won't kill you."
Mei Terumī didn't speak.
She lay on the ground, face up, looking at the face staring down at her.
The gray sky spread out behind him like a faded old curtain.
Her peripheral vision swept over the hand pressing on her shoulder, the bloodstains on the gravel, and the crowd of onlookers—those standing outside the white lines, those gazes.
Indifferent, voyeuristic, gloating. No one spoke, no one moved, no one felt anything was wrong.
She still had trump cards. Lava Release. Boiling Release. Those two Kekkei Genkais hidden within her body were the last things her mother had left her.
If she used them, these two would be no match for her at all.
She could break free from the suppression within three seconds, take them both down within five, and have them kneeling on the ground begging for mercy within ten.
But what then? Tomorrow, the Anbu would come knocking. The day after, she would "accidentally disappear."
Just like her mother, just like those purged Bloodline Limit clans, she would vanish silently in this eternally gray Village.
No one would ask why, no one would speak up for her, and no one would think anything was wrong.
She couldn't use them. Now was not the time.
"In your dreams!"
Mei Terumī violently broke free from the hand pressing on her shoulder. The boy clearly hadn't expected her to still have the strength to struggle.
In that moment of daze, Mei Terumī scrambled out from under him, staggered to her feet, and resumed her starting stance.
Her knee was still bleeding, and her palms were covered in dirt and blood.
Her forehead had been scraped open at some point, and blood was trickling down her cheek, tracing an itchy path across her skin and dripping onto the sandy ground.
"Again?"
The boy opposite her frowned, a strange emotion flashing in his eyes for the first time. It wasn't sympathy; it was bewilderment:
"You trash are actually quite ruthless."
Mei Terumī didn't answer. She just stood there in her stance, her gaze burning like torches.
Third round. She was kicked down. She climbed back up.
Fourth round. She was thrown to the ground. She climbed back up.
Fifth round. She was struck in the abdomen by a punch, doubling over in pain, barely able to stand. But she still straightened up and resumed her starting stance.
Her knee was torn, her palms were scraped, and the blood from her forehead flowed down her cheek, past her chin, and dripped onto the sandy ground.
Her clothes were covered in dust and blood, and her hair had come loose, sticking to her cheeks.
She stood there, breathing heavily, her chest heaving, but those eyes were still open, watching the two people opposite her.
The murmurs from the sidelines grew louder, surging toward her like a tide.
"Is she crazy? She still won't accept her fate?"
"She can really take a hit; if it were me, I'd have been down long ago."
"What's the point? She can't win anyway."
"But then again," a voice lowered slightly, carrying an indefinable tone, "to be able to endure like this is also quite terrifying."
"Terrifying? People from those evil clans should all die off as soon as possible."
Mei Terumī couldn't hear those words clearly. Her ears were ringing as if countless insects were buzzing.
Her vision was a bit blurry; the two figures in front of her began to double—one became two, two became four.
Her whole body hurt. Her knees, palms, abdomen, forehead—every part was screaming in pain, as if someone were slashing her with a knife over and over.
But she was still standing. Facing the two boys, who were also panting.