Father and Daughter

Two figures stood poised in the center of the arena: a father and daughter, Kitsuchi and Kurotsuchi.

Each eyed the other with confidence. The announcer darted at them both, wondering if he had inadvertently stumbled into a silent standoff. Yet he sensed that there was much riding on this moment—not mere combat but a critical test of bond and strength.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" the announcer boomed. "If you don't know who these two are, let me introduce them. In this corner, we have the fierce and dedicated Kurotsuchi, fighting for honour and skill!" The crowd erupted into applause for the resilient daughter, the sudden introduction making her smile. "And in the opposite corner, the formidable Kitsuchi, a well-trained shinobi and, most importantly, a father!"

Kitsuchi was not expecting this. The boisterous announcer was hyping him up for what he believed to be no reason. But that wasn't enough to stop the cheers.

Both fighters stood stoically, each refusing to break the gaze locked between them.

"With that, let us commence!" the announcer incredulously said.

Kitsuchi subtly inclined his head, signaling to Kurotsuchi to take the first step. It was a decision that would either thrill or haunt him, she would be in control to start, though he knew instinctively that it was a double-edged sword.

"That's a mistake," his daughter sneered playfully, assuming a combat stance.

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, she launched into the air, her fist aimed squarely at her father's face. Time slowed as the crowd sucked in a collective breath. Her punch connected with a smack. The force of her determination propelled Kitsuchi back a few paces, causing a trickle of blood to escape from the corner of his lips.

The crowd gasped, shocked at the audacity of a daughter striking her father with full intensity.

"Good," he murmured, his thrill evident even despite the sting of her blow. There was an unmistakable glimmer in his eyes, quickly eclipsed by the instincts of a shinobi.

With fervour, he attacked, closing the distance between them with impressive speed. Their bodies danced around each other.

Kurotsuchi moved with determination, each kick and punch being thrown wildly. Yet, no matter how strong she was, Kitsuchi was more experienced, an impenetrable wall of skill that's been honed throughout the years.

As Kitsuchi defended against the torrent, it dawned on him that he had underestimated the tenacity within his own daughter. She was relentless, and with each parried blow, he felt a sense of exhilaration and trepidation.

But soon the momentum shifted. Kurotsuchi found herself fighting to keep up, her body pushing to stay in rhythm while exhaustion threatened to take its toll.

After a particularly intense exchange, a moment arrived when she drew back, seeking space—a rare lapse in their brawl. She knew better than to pause, yet the instinct for strategy kicked in. It was evident on her face: Doubt was starting to worm its way into her mind.

"Kurotsuchi!" her father's voice boomed with authority, breaking through the noise of the crowd. "You won't have the time to think of a strategy in a real battle! Move!"

His words struck her with a sense of urgency that ignited her bright red cheeks with embarrassment. Her heart started racing as she bit her bottom lips and returned hastily, saying, "I'm sorry!"

The moment was fleeting, however.

With such an immediate shift, he was already advancing. The crowd marveled at the intricate display before them. This wasn't simply a fight; it was a lesson, and they grasped the depth of their family bond with keen interest.

In every exchange, Kitsuchi was not only testing his daughter but imparting invaluable sense upon her—something only a father who cared could convey.

Kurotsuchi struggled to keep pace as sweat trickled down her brow. The sun was high in the sky, causing her face to shine. The heartbeat of competition pushed her blood to quicken; she refused to succumb to fatigue.

With every block and jab, she endured them all.

As she pressed on, Kurotsuchi felt her energy waning. Although she was getting tired, he wasn't going to relent his weighted strikes.

Finally, as she felt her joints protesting, she paused with her hands on her knees and a heavy breath. "I won't give up," she declared. It was that same stubbornness that her grandfather displayed when he fought Madara Uchiha. "Come on, dad! Give me all ya got!"

This was a battle against her father, but more importantly, a battle for herself—to prove her mettle, to honour both his teachings and their family heritage.

With one final surge, she charged at him, her movements driven by sheer spirit. She pretended to attack, drawing back as if to strike at his midsection but instead dove forward with a fierce jab aimed at his arm.

But Kitsuchi, her very own trainer, was prepared for her feint. Before Kurotsuchi could make contact, her body betrayed her!

The fatigue that had been creeping in became a strong wave, one that overwhelmed her senses. Her legs wavered beneath her, strength draining away. Just as she sensed herself teetering, her vision became blurry. And in that moment, she fainted, collapsing before her father in an arc, surrendering to the exhaustion that had finally claimed her.

Kitsuchi's instincts kicked in. His heart raced, not with the adrenaline of combat but with a swell of protectiveness. He lunged forward just in time, his arms reaching out to catch her form before she could hit the ground.

As he lifted her effortlessly, he felt a rush of emotions; concern, care, sympathy—she had given him everything she had, pushing herself to the limits he had instilled in her.

So he cradled her in his arms like an infant, drawing her close against his chest, her head resting against him as her chest rose and fell. The world around them faded into a soft blur as she struggled to open her eyes.

"Did… did I win, dad?"

"Yes… You did; you fought well, Kurotsuchi."

"Haha… I'm…. glad I came here then," she finally said before closing her eyes to rest.

The shouts of the spectators brought them back into existence, dimming the two with honour and affection. The announcer, momentarily at a loss for words, paused in the midst of declaring the match.

Kurotsuchi's fainting had shifted the atmosphere of the arena from that of a competition to one of poignant tenderness. The crowd couldn't help being caught in their delicate moment that unfolded before them.

As he held her, he understood that the expectations he wanted to see his daughter meet had been exceeded. It was more than just a match; it was an experience that touched their hearts.

He had pushed her to her limits, yes, but she had responded with a ferocity that proved why she would become the next Kage in her village. Something like that, however, wouldn't happen for at least a decade.

So, for now, her reflection still rested in her father's hold, a symbol of potential waiting to be nurtured further.

The crowd, having observed the intimate moment, began to stir. Whispers of admiration spread like wildfire as spectators appreciated the depth of the bond displayed between father and daughter.

As Kitsuchi looked out at the audience beyond the comforting confines of his embrace, he felt a sense of community. They weren't just there to witness violence but also to understand the struggles, the loss, and most importantly, the love that fueled every heart-pounding battle.

The cheers and shouts that had erupted moments ago turned into appreciating murmurs, a response of respect for both fighters, but especially for this moment of strength and vulnerability intertwined.

The announcer, regaining his composure, cleared his throat and said, "Due to Kurotsuchi's… unexpected fainting, it has been determined that Kitsuchi is the victor of this match!"

He faced the audience with her still in his arms—a picture of unity. The cheers for victory melded with awe, reverberating throughout the arena and deepening the moment into a valued memory.

"Did you see that?" William pointed, looking at Margaret and Jada.

The two players understood what he was getting at. Yes, it was a touching moment, but it was also a moment never truly witnessed by most fans of the series as a whole.

"See what?" Naruto asked, skeptical of William's rashness.

Lee began to cry, aware of the scene. It made him think of his respect for Guy-sensei. When Neji saw this, he tried to assure him that he didn't need to get so emotional.

"Guy-sensei! I love you!" he cried into the sky, hoping his words could be heard.

Walking alone on an empty trail to the Leaf Village, in the Fire Country, Might Guy suddenly sneezed.

Back at the arena, amidst the revelry, there was one figure who had watched with a muted expression. Arthur, arms crossed, stood silently. He had witnessed the entire exchange between father and daughter with a sense of detachment, not at all moved.

How could he be? The embrace shared between those two struck him as overly sentimental, too dramatic for his tastes. On top of that, not once has a single match piqued his interest yet.

Perhaps he had become too accustomed to battles devoid of such emotional flourishes. Or maybe, he wondered, the bond they shared was simply a reminder of the familial ties he almost forgot about due to having remained in this world for so long.

Regardless of what it was, he brushed it aside, knowing that the remaining fights would be worth his attention.

Those who enjoyed the thrill of combat would likely never survive in Arthur's predicament. Because if they put the warmth of familial love first, their battlefield would be laced with imminent destruction.

As the crowd cheered Kurotsuchi's tenacity while simultaneously celebrating Kitsuchi's prowess, Kitsuchi looked down at Kurotsuchi again. She was strong, but also very delicate. Perhaps it was time he took her home to get some real rest.

To him, today had been just a stepping stone, and it was a beautiful one.

With a smile, he whispered, "Rest now, my little kunoichi. I can sense strong opponents here that you might have to face when I'm not around. So grow stronger before that time comes." Although unconscious, she nodded against his arms as if she had heard her father's advice.

As he rejoined his team, he addressed his group, who had gathered with concerned looks, and said, "I'll be leaving early to ensure she gets some rest and aid. She pushed herself hard today, and she deserves proper care."

The team nodded in agreement. "You're right, Kitsuchi," Han said. "Family comes first."

"We'll keep an eye on the tournament for you," Monga added.

"Absolutely," chimed in Atsuchi. "We'll fill you in on the rest of the matches once we return to the Stone Village. You just focus on her."

Feeling grateful, Kitsuchi offered a nod and a brief smile before turning his attention back to Kurotsuchi, still curled comfortably in his arms. He eventually stepped out, and the large monitor in the arena showed the names of the next fighters.

Excitement continued through the crowd once more as the announcer said, "Next up, we have Fū and Hana Inuzuka!"

Fū, caught off guard by the sudden announcement, blinked in surprise. She pointed at herself disbelievingly as she asked in astonishment, "Is it my turn already?"

The others near her laughed, specifically the players, due to her catching attitude. Her wide-eyed expression made the moment even more endearing.

"You got this, girl!" Margaret cried out. "Show her who's boss!"

When Hana heard that, she scowled at Margaret. Those two were from the same village, so it was a tad inappropriate—to the point of disrespect—to be cheering for another.

"Sorry, Hana!" Margaret apologized. "We just became friends, so you understand."

"Oh, I understand," she said, staring at Margaret as she walked up to the stage. "After I win this, you're next."

Naruto and William couldn't help but giggle quietly at their exchange. Margaret simply rolled her eyes, believing Hana would be no match for Fū.

Besides, the players had made names for themselves in the Leaf Village. She was not ashamed.