Enomoto rubbed the back of his neck as he stood in front of the door. He took a deep breath before entering the room to be greeted by the crowd gathered to watch one of the rare events in the Ring— the debut of a newcomer in the ninjutsu category. It wasn't every day when the Ring allowed one of their fighters to enter the ninjutsu category. A "regular" ninjutsu category fight was rare enough, but when a new fighter debuted in the arena, people with time, money, and influence on their hands used the fights as an excuse to socialize. He looked around the area, and as expected, he recognized everyone he laid his eyes on—old shinobi with too much time on their hands and younger ones looking to network for their benefit. Enomoto wondered how many of them had actually come to watch the fight.

It was universally known that Tsubura's sense of taste was horrible, but it seemed that even the Ring's boss knew better than to force it upon his important guests. Tasteful music filled the room at an appropriate simmer so that people could converse without shouting; gorgeous civilian men and women served alcohol and food and to entertain if the patrons desired. The décor was kept simple and spacious, with enough seating to maximize practicality and comfort without excessive gaudiness, which Tsubura was known for.

Enomoto picked up a glass from a waiter and sedately walked through the room to see who he should talk to first. There was some time before the fight, and he might as well make small talk with some people.

He listened for the conversations in groups and found the one he could slip into easily.

"I heard this Scars is quite young. How young are we talking?" said a middle-aged man Enomoto recognized from the Hidden Leaf Mining Division, the governance office which handled mining activities that came directly under the purview of the Hidden Leaf.

None in the group seemed to know the answer. Enomoto saw his chance and seamlessly stepped in.

"I believe he's younger than fifteen," said Enomoto, garnering the group's attention. "They say he was thirteen when he started, and it has been a year since he began, so fourteen would be a good guess, but the management might have fudged the numbers to put attention on his young age— thus, fifteen or less."

In truth, Takuma was twelve and a half when he began. Being that young, Tsubura had decided to keep Scars' age vague in case someone "above ground," as Tsubura put it so eloquently: "tried to bullshit my position away from me!" In truth, the whispers Tsubura had asked his team to spread were that Scars was anywhere from thirteen to fifteen as to put Scars as someone who had at least one year as shinobi under his belt and not some green-as-grass rookie who had been duped into joining the Ring.

"And who might you be?" asked the man.

Enomoto smiled and introduced himself. "Chunin Enomoto, iryo-nin from the Medical Training Division."

Enomoto saw interest rise in their eyes when they heard that he was an iryo-nin. He smiled and continued to make small talk with them as any iryo-nin would. Never had his decision to pursue iryo-jutsu when he was a new genin let him down.

"What more can you tell us about this Scars fellow?"

He took a moment to spin a tale. "Not much is known about Scars as he never joined a team," a smart move given Takuma wanted to keep himself as anonymous as one could be, "but I've heard a few things about Scars…"

The group physically leaned closer to him. Many looked down on gossip, but it held a strong power over people. There were few who didn't like to hear gossip. No one wanted to miss out on something others knew; it made them feel they were involved. And when people heard something interesting, they would pass it along regardless if they knew it to be true or not in an attempt to make them seem interesting and in-the-know.

"… It has only been a year since Scars appeared in the Ring arena, and he's about to make his debut ninjutsu category," which was highly unusual; usually, it took several years of hard work to reach the stage, "and because of that, it's believed that he's from a great clan tasked with conquering the Ring as soon as possible— and from the looks of it, he's doing well."

If it were anywhere else, the charm would've been if Scars hadn't been from a clan, but in the Ring, which didn't see clan shinobi ever, a fighter from a clan held a certain charm to it. Moreover, almost everyone in the room belonged to shinobi clans or families; the story of a clan shinobi reaching Ring's pinnacle at record speed established a sense of superiority over non-clan shinobi. He was simply telling the people what they would like to hear while chuckling inwardly, knowing Takuma was as far from a clan shinobi as possible.

The false gossip had its intended effect. They continued to look interested and now were looking pleased.

"Which clan?" asked a kunoichi.

"Nara or Yamanaka," replied Enomoto. They looked confused and interested, so he continued. "There have been several complaints against Scars about his use of chakra augmentations, so it was speculated that he's close to Akimichi Tsubura…"

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"The boss?"

"…Indeed. But one look at Scars will tell anyone with half a brain that the boy isn't an Akimichi. So, who else could have Tsubura overlook so many complaints but someone strongly allied with Akimichi? Thus, Nara or Yamanaka. Personally, I think it's a Yamanaka. A motivated Nara, if one exists, would turn their eyes somewhere other than the Ring."

The group laughed in response.

"It seems the fight is about to begin," Enomoto commented as everyone turned towards the arena below. "Let's get seated."

He enjoyed networking, but today, he had come to see Takuma. Now that they had deepened their 'friendship,' Enomoto was more invested in Takuma than before, not to mention every Scars victory meant a bit more money into his pocket. It was chump change, but that change did build up.

"Chunin Enomoto, would you like to engage in some friendly betting?"

Enomoto looked towards the group. It didn't happen often, but he was out-ranked by everyone in the group. He could clearly see in it in their eyes that they were trying to have some fun at his expense, who wasn't part of their group. He wanted to laugh. They were looking down at him. He felt something inside him bubble up, telling him to wipe those smirks off their faces. It wasn't a pleasant feeling because he knew he couldn't do so.

"Since you seem to think so highly of this Scars fellow, are you willing to set"

He turned to look at the arena below; there stood Takuma donning his mask. He might have been the one to recruit Takuma into the Ring and had kept a check on his performance through the year, but when it came to personally watching the fights, he hadn't seen many. Knowing the results was one thing, but knowing the fine details of how said fights progressed was another.

It wasn't wise, he thought to himself. If he lost the bet, he would be humiliated.

'I should politely refuse and say… that I do… not partake in betting. I should refuse…' But with every passing moment, the smirks felt more and more like mocking smiles.

"Of course, I'm more than willing," Enomoto smiled, keeping the smile on his face, "Let's spice things up, shall we?"

He wanted to see those smirks wiped off their faces.

———

.

Down in the arena, Takuma focused on his breathing with his eyes closed. Tsubura had come to see him when he was getting changed, and just the look of the blob of a man's face was enough to anger him. No matter what Masaaki said about Akimichi's greatness, he knew one of them was a spoiled piece of horribly gamy meat.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. The arena was bigger, and the cage was higher. There was only one ninjutsu category arena in the Ring due to the rarity of such fights. According to Tsubura, Takuma would have to wait for at least a month before he got a chance to participate in another ninjutsu category fight— and that was only if Takuma gave him more 2v1 fights, which Takuma was more than happy to give him.

Takuma resumed focus on his breathing. He needed to focus on the current fight instead of thinking about the next one.

The arena wasn't the only different thing about the ninjutsu category. Takuma looked down at the gear he was wearing. Due to the involvement of ninjutsu, the fighters were allowed a set of gear of their preference approved by the Ring. Takuma had chosen what he usually wore during the day.

In the moment, the chainmail draped over his torso felt like an unbreakable armor. He felt powerful.

"Are you ready, sir?" the fight referee asked him.

Takuma looked at the man with a strange expression hidden behind his mask. 'Sir?' But he nodded, nevertheless. He hadn't been called that before. The respect in the man's voice felt strange and foreign. The last time he had felt something similar was the gratitude from the villagers he had saved from bandits in the Land of Frost.

He shook the thought off his head and turned towards his opponent.

Viper. A tall and skeleton-like woman with a slightly hunched back and inky black hair that flowed beneath her butt. Her armor was lighter than his, which told Takuma that she was more concerned with her speed than protection. He noted down the observation for later.

But the most striking thing about her was her mask. Unlike the flat mask that most Ring fighters wore (including Takuma,) Viper wore a mask that was in the shape of a snake with a surface texture mimicking a snake's scales. It was stylized to suit her. The mask reminded him of another stylized mask he had seen before. Slash Baron, the leader of the Troupe, a famous team in the Ring, wore a stylized mask.

When a fighter won their first ninjutsu category fight, they were rewarded with a stylized mask as a sign of prestige.

If Takuma won today, he would be awarded a mask of his own.

———

.

The person Takuma had thought of had come to watch Takuma's first ninjutsu fight. In a private booth reserved for prestigious Ring fighters, a handful of them, all wearing stylized masks, sat to spectate the fight.

Among them was Slash Baron, sitting in the front. The other ninjutsu category fighters had left the seats around him empty. Most of them were active fighters, which meant they were genin— and the few who had been promoted to chunin, too, didn't dare sit near Slash Baron.

They could feel it. Even though they all wore stylized masks showcasing their status, the man sitting in the front was far beyond what they could handle. Their instincts as shinobi honed by numerous fights in the Ring told them that if Slash Baron wanted, he could kill all of them combined without breaking a sweat.

Which was why none of them said a thing about the woman Slash Baron had bought along with him, even though the booth was reserved for ninjutsu-category fighters.

"I didn't think I would be hearing about him so soon," said Slash Baron to the woman beside him. "He has progressed much faster than you anticipated."

"Faster than I anticipated? You had a different opinion?" the masked woman shot back.

Slash Baron shrugged. "I hadn't thought about him since I last saw him. I charged you to keep an eye on him for a reason."

The woman clicked her tongue.

Slash Baron chuckled before turning his eyes back to the arena.

'He has changed,' thought Slash Baron as he observed Scars in the arena. The fight hadn't started, but he could already tell from how Scars held himself to the progress the young shinobi had made.

He understood that Tsubura wouldn't have allowed Scars if he didn't think the latter wasn't ready. It meant that Scars had indeed progressed enough that he had a chance to fight in the ninjutsu-category against opponents who would use ninjutsu to tear their opponents down.

Slash Baron looked to the woman at his side, ""So, what has he been doing outside the Ring… Sango?"