The grip around the kunai felt perfect. He gripped it tighter to feel the cold metal underneath the wrapping as he contemplated on how to proceed. Masumoto matched his steps with a heckling grin as they kept an unchanging distance between them. Takuma could wait for Masumoto to make his first move, influence him into making the first move, or make the first move himself.

What do I want? Takuma asked himself the question.

He wanted to know more about Masumoto. He had no interest in knowing about the man called Masumoto, yuck—but he had considerable interest in knowing Masumoto the fighter. The man in front of him wasn’t just Bishop—just like Scars wasn’t Takuma. Even then, he didn’t know much, if anything, about Bishop, so his mental image of Masumoto was lacking.

As his wants became clear, Takuma broke the equilibrium and strode towards Masumoto, who grinned wider. The man stood there, welcoming Takuma to have a go at him. Takuma broke into a run and lobbed the kunai at Masumoto. He took another kunai and threw that as well, but this time, he gave it an extra push through augmentation. The second kunai caught up to the first one despite the difference in release.

It surprised Masumoto, but he handled it effortlessly. He avoided one of them and parried the second. But the twin kunai were only the start of Takuma’s offense. He breached Masumoto’s range with a feint. Masumoto moved to block, but the punch was only a cover for the kunai in his other hand.

Masumoto jerked his torso back to avoid the kunai so Takuma switched to a reverse grip and slashed the kunai back. Masumoto latched hold of Takuma’s arm to stop the sharp kunai so he let go of the kunai; it dropped into his other hand and went for a vicious gutting stab. Masumoto, of course, still had another hand that he put in the kunai’s way. The blade ripped through Masumoto’s lower sleeve, but it drew no blood and scratched against a metal arm guard. With his other hand in Masumoto’s firm grip, the other man forcefully redirected the kunai away from his body.

Takuma’s hands were now in Masumoto’s firm grasp. The two fighters looked at each other and moved simultaneously. Takuma tried to overpower Masumoto and bend the latter’s arms into an awkward position—but Masumoto was quicker. He kicked Takuma in the stomach. The hit pushed him back a couple of meters but was now free from Masumoto’s grasp, though not for long.

Masumoto rushed at Takuma, not bothering to feint or force Takuma’s guard down. He overwhelmed Takuma with a dense flurry of combinations. Takuma blocked, dodged, and countered wherever he could but it was clear that he was being pushed back.

‘He’s a melee fighter,’ Takuma deduced. He looked up at Masumoto with a smile, and his heart spiked for a beat when he recognized the look on Masumoto’s face.

The dull brown eyes were looking at him—really looking at him.

Takuma wasn’t the only one observing and making deductions.

Takuma dug his feet into the dirt, his soles skidding on the slippery grass before he could find his feet. He took a stand and turned up the aggression. Takuma used what he noticed and drove a heavy straight into Masumoto’s side followed by a few more solid strikes, but he left himself open to a barrage of kicks that left his lower half throbbing painfully.

Both sides got in satisfying hits as the tactics switched up. Takuma snaked his hands around and under Masumoto’s guard and grabbed him by his clothes, tossed him to the ground over his shoulder with a grunt of effort.. He raised his right fist and his chakra flooded the pathways in his arm, and slammed it down.

Masumoto winced when he hit the ground but gathered his focus in time to see the throbbing vein on Takuma’s forehead and the raised fist capturing the sun behind it. Danger. He slapped away Takuma’s other hand—the one pinning him to the ground—and rolled to the side, using the momentum to continue rolling. The earth exploded and from as far as he was, he felt the ground sink and shudder as he was showered.

Takuma growled as pulled his arm out of the soft ground.

He noticed Masumoto’s dirt-covered face staring at the crater he had just created. Their eyes met, and they sprang into action again. Masumoto, on all fours, turned his back to Takuma and tried to pull away. Takuma leapt forward, grabbed a leg, and dragged his opponent back. Masumoto turned again, now facing Takuma; he kicked him, digging his heel into his shoulder. Takuma’s face twitched with pain, but he didn’t let go and gave a sharp tug to yank Masumoto closer.

He was going to cave Masumoto’s chest in with an augmented stomp if it was the last thing he did.

Three shuriken headed for Takuma’s face but he raised an arm and hissed painfully when they dug into his upper arm. Masumoto laughed at Takuma’s painful grunts as he pulled away, having secured the time and space he needed to get back to his feet.

As Takuma pulled the shuriken from his arm, Masumoto weaved through several hand seals.

Takuma jumped back and did the same, ignoring the twitch his punctured arm gave.

Fire-Style: Twin Tiger’s Fury

Water-Style: Eight Tentacles

Starting from his fists, Masumoto’s arms were engulfed in fiery flames up to halfway above his elbow. The pooling fire made Masumoto’s fists look thrice their actual size. Each time he flexed, the fires expanded, burning hotter.

“I’m hungry; let’s do some cooking, boy,” Masumoto said as he cracked his neck.

The water in the field rose and collected behind Takuma. With a flex of his shoulder blades, eight whole tentacles shot out from behind his back. Each of them moved like they were alive. Takuma dipped into the pack around his thigh and threw four kunai that were then snatched up from the air by four tentacles.

“I won’t trust you to boil water properly. It’d probably be lukewarm… like you,” said Takuma.

Masumoto chuckled with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes before dashing toward him. Takuma responded in kind and rushed forward as well. Masumoto pulled one of his arms back and punched a jet of fire toward Takuma. It roared as it blasted out of his hands. The water tentacles writhed into action, forming a protective umbrella in front of Takuma.

Despite its usefulness, Eight Tentacles wasn’t a defensive jutsu and while it managed to block out the flames, he felt the intense heat wash over him as though he was standing in front of a furnace.

The water began to boil—and even steam to Takuma’s surprise.

Wasn’t water supposed to have an advantage over fire? Takuma jumped away, but Masumoto didn’t release the pressure, pursuing Takuma and blasting him with consecutive fire jets with incredible reach. Takuma tried his best, but Masumoto was just as fast as he was, and any difference in speed between them was easily made up for by the extended reach that accursed fire jutsu provided.

The heat stung, and Takuma was dripping with sweat. He tried to whip Masumoto with the tentacles in hopes of extinguishing the flames, but they would replenish and lick angrily against his tentacles. Takuma quickly realized he needed to douse all or most of the fire to break the jutsu. The tentacles had already nearly halved in length and he knew they wouldn’t last long, and he couldn’t go in close to knock Masumoto out because of the harsh flames.

“Is this hot enough for you?” Masumoto laughed and punched forth, and Takuma had to pull off his tentacles in front of him to block the fire that was the same size as his body.

Takuma didn’t reply and jumped up high into the sky. The ground cracked under the force of his chakra, pushing him high enough to see the camp stretching across the field. Masumoto was directly below him, his arms still shrouded in fire. The tentacles moved before Takuma, hiding him from Masumoto’s view. Behind the tentacles, Takuma weaved hand seals for Water Release: Wild Water Wave. As Takuma descended, the tentacles moved aside, and Takuma poured down a furious flood  on Masumoto, who failed to dodge it in time.

The fire jutsu broke, and Masumoto was drenched from head to toe. His hair was flat against forehead and Takuma laughed, the sight reminding him of a wet dog. The pressure of the jutsu, acting with gravity, weighed down on Masumoto, forcing him to kneel and then lie flat against the ground. Even though it didn’t have high offensive power, Wild Water Wave was still a C-rank jutsu.

Takuma landed and two half-length tentacles dropped their kunai into his hands. He launched both forwards; one nicked Masumoto’s shoulder but he caught the other. He rose shakily and stumbled back when Takuma charged at him. It was clear that he was still feeling the battery from the Wild Water Wave. He threw the kunai back at Takuma, but it was so weak that Takuma didn’t even think of slowing down when he stepped out of its way.

Takuma pushed off his back leg and swung his fist wide as he dropped over Masumoto. The augmented force hit Masumoto’s forearms, blowing him away—he rolled like a tumbleweed in the high wind. Takuma could feel that this was his chance to pull the victory into his court and gave chase. He covered ground in one long leap, and jumped up high to then descend right over Masumoto, intending to re-do the augmented stomp he had missed—but this time with both of his feet.

Masumoto’s arms trembled from the force of Takuma’s blows and his face was flushed beet-red with pain. He saw Takuma coming down on him once again and rolled away at the last moment. A crater thrice the size of the previous one marred the earth.

Takuma was irritated that he missed again but Masumoto was close this time and he didn’t intended to miss a third time. His fist grew hot at the amount of chakra flowing through it and he brought it down.. Masumoto, who was struggling to get up from the ground, suddenly lashed his arm towards him.

Takuma saw a fistful of dirt headed for his face and squeezed his eyes shut.

His heart sank when he opened his eyes to see Masumoto up and in a solid ready stance.. His arms were still trembling, but everything else looked perfectly fine. Strangely, he held a kunai between his teeth.

Takuma realized what had happened because he had done it before.

The next moment, he felt a foot smash into his knee from the side, destroying his balance and forcing him to kneel awkwardly. Takuma wanted to laugh because of how familiar it felt. He had fallen into a trap. Masumoto had first pretended to be hurt, then took real damage from his augmented diving punch to sell it, and lured Takuma in to have a possibility for a dirty sneak attack.

Masumoto weaved hand seals before grabbing the kunai in his mouth. The metal sizzled before the blade turned a glowing red with wisps of flames burning on the surface. He brought down the scorching kunai down at Takuma’s outstretched thigh.

Takuma was forced into a vulnerable position, but he wasn’t defenseless. He gritted his teeth and stopped the kunai with both his hands. The kunai didn’t cut him, but the ninjutsu burned the skin and flesh of his hand.

Masumoto had a sadistic smile as Takuma screamed in his face.

“Hot enough?” Masumoto said, eerily calm.

Masumoto didn’t try to force the kunai as his arms were still recovering from Takuma’s augmented hit. He released the kunai, and so did Takuma, who truly realized that he was back to fighting a real Ring fighter when Masumoto struck him in the throat.

Takuma felt his ability to breathe to go away—but he didn’t panic.

It had been a while, but he was a Ring fighter too.

Masumoto performed a spinning sidekick and smashed it into Takuma’s jaw. Takuma swayed dangerously and the world felt like one massive marshmallow beneath his feet. Masumoto pulled out a kunai and went in to gut him. Takuma moved his hand in kunai’s way at the last moment to successfully save his stomach.

“Respect, brother,” said Masumoto, sounding strangely genuine about it, “but this is the end.”

The last thing Masumoto saw before he blacked out for a moment was the crazed look on Takuma’s face before he headbutted him in the face and he sagged to the ground. When he came to after a couple of seconds, Masumoto felt a world of pain and disorientation so extreme that he instantly vomited. His nose was broken, he had orbital fractures, his lips was split—his face was just one bleeding mess.

All of that was from a single headbutt.

Out of pure instinct, Takuma’s chakra rushed to augment his forehead—it was the first augmented headbutt of his life.

Takuma completely ignored it and put some distance between him and Masumoto despite seeing the state of his opponent. He needed a moment to get his head and balance straight and knew a Ring fighter of Bishop’s level wouldn’t go down so easily.

He looked down at the kunai-shaped burn wound branding his hands. His palms flared at the slightest movement. He clenched his fists. The more pain he felt, the clearer his head became.

He looked back at Masumoto; the man stood up and stared Takuma down as he snapped his dislocated jaw back into place. Even his messed-up face couldn’t hide the anger he was feeling.

Weaving hands seals hurt, but Takuma did it without letting it show on his face.

Water Style: Water Clone Jutsu

The water rose from the wet ground, forming a moist mass that took the shape of Takuma’s body contours, morphing into a perfect clone of himself.

“Scars,” said Takuma, assigning the role to himself.

“Takuma,” said the clone, doing the same.

If one of him was having a difficult time ending the fight then this ought to solve that problem.