The mist enveloped the arena, not particularly thick but enough to confuse the trajectory of the crystallized blood projectiles. Misaki moved cautiously, her control over the blood requiring even more concentration in the reduced visibility.
"This little trick won't save you!" Her voice betrayed more frustration than anger now. Ren's persistent silence seemed to wear her down more than any response.
A kunai emerged from the mist, forcing her to deflect it with one of her blood blades. The metal wrinkled at the contact with the crimson crystal. But it was only a distraction - Ren was already elsewhere, his movements as silent as the mist itself.
Misaki began to show signs of fatigue. Maintaining the crystallized blood required a constant expenditure of chakra, and the mist forced her to divide her attention between offense and defense.
'I can't keep up this pace much longer,' Ren thought, noticing how each Kawarimi consumed his already limited chakra. The weight of the equipment seemed to increase with each movement.
It was then that Misaki did something unexpected. Instead of scattering her blades in random attacks, she began to converge them methodically, narrowing the area in which Ren could move. It wasn't a display of power, but a patient and calculated trap.
'Clever,' Ren thought. 'She's using my own mist to force me into an increasingly limited space.'
When the last escape route was blocked, Ren found himself effectively trapped. The blades of crystallized blood formed a deadly cage around him, unspectacular but undeniably effective.
It was then that Ren lowered his hands, dispelling the mist.
"Match," Fujimoto-sensei said, his voice betraying no emotion.
Misaki held her blades in check for a moment longer, studying her opponent suspiciously. But Ren remained still, his face a mask of calm acceptance.
The crystallized blood slowly dissolved, returning to a liquid state before falling into the arena like a crimson rain.
As they left the arena, Misaki looked up at him, still trying to decipher his silence. Ren paused for a moment:
"Next time will be different."
A simple, ambiguous phrase - it could be a threat, a promise, or a simple statement. But in the context of the village of mist, where each word could have multiple meanings, its weight was undeniable.
Fujimoto-sensei watched the two students walk away, thinking that sometimes the most important lessons are learned at the most unexpected moments.
From the bleachers, Jun'ko watched thoughtfully as Ren returned to his seat. "He didn't use tanto," she muttered, more to herself than to the others.
"Technically," Aoi began, adjusting his glasses despite the residual pain from his fight, "his strategy was surprisingly conservative. He only used basic academy techniques, and yet..."
"He lasted longer than anyone expected against a kekkei genkai," Yukiko completed, her neutral tone belying a deeper interest.
High up in the stands, the two ANBU exchanged a silent look through their masks.
"Young Mizutani," the one in the wolf mask murmured, his voice barely a whisper. "His movements are... interesting."
"Too precise to be random," the one in the crow mask agreed. "But too imprecise to be natural. It's as if..."
Fujimoto-sensei stepped forward into the arena, now cleared of traces of crystallized blood.
"Next match: Yuki Yukiko versus Tsuki Jun'ko."
A shudder ran through the stands. After the last two matches, the anticipation for this match was palpable. Jun'ko stood up, her usual carefree attitude gone from her face.
"Hey, Jun'ko," Shinji called, awake for once. "Try not to make a pink fog."
A faint smile crossed Jun'ko's face. "No," she said softly. "This time will be different."
As the two kunoichi made their way to the arena, Ren noticed how the temperature of the air was already starting to drop imperceptibly around Yukiko. The ANBU stopped their conversation, their attention now completely focused on the upcoming match.
'This match,' Ren thought, 'will reveal much more than a simple victory or defeat.'