The two moved to a more spacious clearing, far from the prying eyes of those who might disrupt their focus.
Once they reached the clearing, Arthur stood a few yards apart from Shira. Shira looked contemplative and asked, "Are you going to remove your blindfold, Mr. Hoshikaze?"
"There's no need…" Arthur replied as the wind brushed past.
Shira found himself slightly disheartened by the response. He had expected that such a skilled fighter would want to demonstrate his full ability.
"Fine," he declared, "but I'm not going to hold back!"
Without warning, Shira lunged forward, intent on landing a high kick that would surely knock anyone else off their feet. But as he approached with explosive speed, he stopped just inches from Arthur's face.
The sudden halt left the boy feeling confused.
"Why didn't you move?" he incredulously asked, lowering his legs back to the ground.
Arthur remained calm, standing as still as a statue, and simply replied, "I knew you wouldn't attack…"
Shira's brow furrowed in disbelief. "How is that possible?"
Was Arthur even using his Tamashii? For the sake of his training exercise, he wasn't!
"Your movements had an unmistakable quality," Arthur explained. "The wind shifted as you prepared your kick. Then it slowed just before you struck; I presumed you were only testing your reach."
Shira's eyes widened. He hadn't even noticed that shift himself!
"You mean to say you were reading my movements while wearing that blindfold?" he wondered with a confident smirk. "You're unbelievable, you know that… Well, since you hear the wind, I'll put a stop to that real quick."
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Shira focused his chakra, enveloping himself in a cloak that would render his movements silent.
That was the "Silent Fist" technique, a fighting style he had honed into something special, akin to the feathers of an owl, which concealed his presence and made his strikes unpredictable.
It was also the same technique he had used against Rock Lee during the Chūnin Exams a couple of years from now.
Shira, who knew neither how to perform genjutsu nor ninjutsu, still understood how to control his chakra to perform chakra-based moves like those. He was, in a sense, a carbon copy of Rock Lee, putting disgrace to the latter character.
Lee, too, had brought disgrace to the character he was modeled after—Bruce Lee. Both Naruto characters were fit to measure Arthur's strength.
"Alright, this time is for real!" Shira shouted before he lunged forward with a punch aimed directly at Arthur's face.
To Shira's astonishment, Arthur dodged effortlessly, slipping to the side as if he had anticipated the attack long before it began. Not deterred, Shira tried again, aiming for another punch, only for Arthur to evade once more with fluid grace.
Frustration welled within him, but he remained focused; this was a chance to test his own growth.
Shira aimed a kick at Arthur's legs, intending to sweep him off balance. Yet again, Arthur stepped back at the last possible moment.
Shira started to become doubtful—was his technique failing him?
"What's the matter?" Arthur questioned with a calm tone. "You stopped attacking…"
"I haven't even started!" Shira defiantly replied.
Yet the moment he spoke, Arthur seized the opportunity. With one graceful movement, he closed the distance, lunging at Shira.
Caught off guard, Shira was forced onto his heels, barely managing to block Arthur's first strike with his forearm. The power behind the blow was startling; Arthur was as fierce as any opponent Shira had faced before, despite his calm demeanor.
Shira instinctively reached to grab Arthur's wrist, but Arthur easily pulled away from his grip and retaliated with a swift kick to Shira's abdomen.
The impact sent Shira careening backward as saliva splattered onto the ground. He landed roughly thirty feet away, momentarily dazed and breathless.
As he recovered, he wiped the saliva from his lips, still reeling from the intensity of the blow. He was well aware that he needed to step up his game, but to think the level of skill was that great.
And he had another question in mind: just what the heck was Arthur's fighting style?
There was only one way to find out—Shira had to keep attacking.
He charged in again, throwing a wild punch, fueled by adrenaline. Just as he believed he would connect, Arthur ducked under it, evading effortlessly. Seizing the moment, Shira spun instinctively to follow through with a backhand strike—but again, Arthur was absent from the hit, sidestepping at the last second.
Now on high alert, Shira used the momentum from his spin to launch a kick. This time, his foot connected squarely with Arthur's side, creating a booming impact that shot through the clearing.
Shira stood there momentarily satisfied, believing he had finally landed a solid hit. His smirk grew until he noticed that Arthur hadn't even budged.
The stoic figure before Shira seemed entirely unfazed by the strength of the blow.
Arthur then took a fraction of a second to glance in Shira's direction before calmly stating, "Now I understand…"
The boy's expression shifted from triumph to bewilderment. What had Arthur understood? Was he mocking him?
After gaining some space, he became curious.
"Are you talking about my technique?" he wondered. Then clarity struck him. "No… I see what you're doing: since you can't hear my movements, you're waiting until the last split second that I connect for you to feel before dodging."
Just like all the other genius fighters in this world, Shira didn't fall short; he was right.
Arthur by no means could see with the blindfold on. For him to dodge an attack against someone who was capable of muting their sounds, he had to rely on his other sense—touch.
"That's a neat trick," Shira commented, "but it won't work against combos."
That was a fair statement to make, for that was how Shira managed to land that last hit.
Arthur scoffed lightly. This made Shira narrow his eyes at the dismissive tone. How could Arthur think that was all there was to it?
With determination, Shira charged forward again. He aimed for a strike, but Arthur effortlessly palmed away Shira's fist, leaving him surprised and unsettled by the smoothness of the move. Switching gears, Shira attempted another punch, only for Arthur to sidestep, blocking it with casual grace.
Something was off.
Frustrated but undeterred, Shira continued pressing forward, raising his leg high to bring it down on Arthur, who simply deflected it away. Shira staggered back, now unsure. Arthur then closed the space, launching a jump kick that connected squarely with Shira's abdomen once more.
The force of the kick was overwhelming, and Shira was propelled backward, struggling for breath. Before he could regain his ground, Arthur wasn't done; as the two landed, he raised his other leg, aiming down on Shira's shoulder.
Instinctively, Shira was forced to let go of Arthur's first kick and block the second with both arms. The sudden impact made him stagger even further.
Arthur's strength was undeniably formidable; it was as if he was feeding off Shira's momentum, spinning and twisting with a kinetic elegance the boy had never encountered before.
Shira watched as Arthur bounced off his defense, spinning away purposefully. The boy followed suit, lunging in for two straightforward swings, both of which narrowly missed. Arthur swiftly countered with a kick that Shira anticipated but couldn't evade completely.
He barely managed to dodge; the gust of wind sent by Arthur's kick ruffled his hair.
Not letting up, Arthur executed a double front flip, driving his leg down towards Shira's head. The ground beneath him cracked with the force of the blow as Shira narrowly eluded it, only inches from getting hit.
Now the boy was certain—Arthur's movements were changing, evolving with each interaction. It was as if the more this fight continued, the less of a chance Shira was going to have to do anything.
He took a moment to breathe, analyzing things thus far. He could tell Arthur had begun to adapt and increase his speed. It was unnerving, leaving the boy feeling as though he were fighting against an untouchable warrior.
The inexorable calmness of Arthur's approach also made him feel weary.
How Arthur fought wasn't just through mere flinging of the limbs but also through psychological warfare. Although he hadn't said much, his movements alone were enough to deter opponents.
Determined not to lose ground, Shira steeled himself and charged at Arthur once more. This time, he focused on diverting his attacks, mixing in feints and strikes to keep Arthur guessing.
He unleashed a series of rapid punches. But Arthur was still in control.
He blocked, sidestepped, and evaded, his movements deftly crafted, continuing to read Shira's patterns without breaking a sweat.
The boy felt the frustration mounting, but he gritted his teeth and channeled it into his strikes, throwing all his weight behind a left hook.
Just as he thought he had him, Arthur ducked beneath it, dodging with seemingly effortless grace.
Shira had to figure a way to change tactics. Emulating a boxer, he stepped back, but Arthur pursued him, never giving him time to recover.
Just as Shira felt the tide of battle could shift in his favor, Arthur executed a swift change of direction, throwing a jab that caught Shira completely off-guard. It landed against his cheek, sending him spinning away from the impact.
Recovering, Shira righted himself, tasting blood in his mouth. Although he was angry, he wouldn't let Arthur's nonchalance deter him.
Their exchange continued in the same manner for over half an hour.
Shira stood at the center of the clearing, breathing heavily. The tension of the fight was still evident, and he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that something was elusive in his approach against Arthur.
The way he had evaded every one of Shira's strikes was not by chance. There was skill behind those calm, calculated dodges—a knowledge that went beyond the physicality of taijutsu.
Shira felt his instincts twisting; he knew his Silent Fist technique was effective, yet it felt as though Arthur saw right through it. The boy simply couldn't understand how his opponent was reacting so accurately to his movements.
Was Arthur perhaps cheating by using chakra or activating his Tamashii? Not even close.
Shira had respected Arthur from the first day he saw him, but now he was beginning to understand just how formidable his opponent really was.
The meaning behind Arthur's previous words, "Now I understand," finally registered in Shira's mind: Arthur's still unbeatable!
Aware of Shira's quiet frustration, Arthur believed his early deduction before entering this sparring session was correct; he was keenly aware that Shira would most likely presume that his last-second dodges were intentional.
What Shira didn't know was that Arthur was utilizing two techniques, both of which were strictly related to natural fighting: vibrational changes and non-visual perception.
Vibrational changes allowed him to detect even the subtlest shifts in the air as Shira moved, even if his footsteps were silent. Each motion displaced air and created faint vibrations—tiny pressure changes that a highly trained shinobi could pick up on, especially with their heightened senses.
Perhaps if the Silent Fist technique spanned a larger range, then Shira would have more of a chance. But that technique only cloaked a short distance around the user.
The second technique, non-visual perception, was a method wherein Arthur relied on sounds and other non-visual cues for his combat effectiveness. Being blindfolded enhanced these senses, allowing him to detect Shira's movements with acute awareness.
The only way to combat the latter was if Shira either remained still or was airborne. But even in the air, he would emit a vibrational change.
For someone like Arthur, adept in the intricacies of chakra manipulation, the fight was not merely a battle of strength but one of awareness, intuition, and strategic exploitation of his opponent's psyche.
Fighting Arthur, Shira would discover, was an entirely new level of danger because he was always several steps ahead.