Two Minutes of Chaos

Students crowded over at the hallway’s bulletin board as teachers posted printouts of the final exam rankings for the first years. Murmurs and groans of the students echoed throughout the hallway. Students talked about taking the summer supplementary classes to boost their grades else needed to transfer. Ryuji walked over to the top thirty, expecting to find his name among them.

His name was not there.

He stepped to the right to see the next posting, then to the third. He found his name in the fourth list near the bottom.

He felt a familiar light tap on his shoulder.

“Minachi.” Sayuri-san glanced up. “We’re pretty close.” Her usual smile was missing but mixed with soft and sad.

Her name was on the next listing but they were within ten ranks.

Which subject did he bomb? Was it history or literature?

His grades weren’t bad enough for supplementary classes or transfer warnings.

It was his ego that took the hit.

He had to make up for it somehow - and the practicum exam was his only chance.

“Tacchi, you can still make it up in the summer and we still have the practicum exam to pass. I’ll sign up with you and drag Hana-chan and Ko-chan.” Her voice softened and hovered her hand over his back, she gave the tap a tad bit slower than the usual.

She meant well, Ryuji told himself.

He had to shift his focus to the practicum exam.

What he didn’t understand was why Yukiharu-san and Fuyuki-san took the divination instead of martial practicum.

He thought it was the logical choice; the recent attacks and Fuyuki-san’s expertise in judo made more sense for him to at least pick the martial.

Ryuji hadn’t heard Masaki-san’s kihai echo in the gym since the attackers came.

“Tacchi…” Sayuri-san’s voice sounded distant, barely reaching him.

Yukiharu-san puzzled him too. She usually carried herself like a traditional, quiet girl, but every so often she showed a spark—an excitement for challenges and confrontation. When they were given the choice of practicum, martial felt like the natural fit for her. Did she pick divination because of Masaki-san?

Ryuji picked martial practicum because he felt it was something out of his usual field and all the recent events pointed his interest in learning means of protecting himself and others around him.

“Tacchi.” She raised her voice. “I have to go for my practicum. Fighting!”

She placed her hand forward for a sports cheer. He reluctantly joined in. Just the two of them.

He walked over to the practicum field. It looked housing without a roof. Some old furnitures and screens were set up to mimic a crowded house. At the center there was a a bundle of bamboo with a piece of paper with a face drawn on it.

A tall second year student, red sash, stood beside unfamiliar examiner with a clipboard.

“The goal is for you to protect the bamboo doll in the middle of the room for two minutes. The attacker will throw kagebi flames from the building outline. The defender must not move the doll.” The examiner recited the rules in a flat, practiced tone.

Ryuji glanced around the setup. Wooden walls for cover, a single doll to guard, and fireballs thrown from a distance.

Compared to everything he’d dealt with lately, this felt almost too easy.

“Himura, don’t mess this up. Your scoring is depends on how well you strategize to land a hit on the doll. You may not enter the premises. And absolutely no flashy stuff. Try it again and I’ll beat the crap out of you.”

Himura cracked his neck and bound his kagebi and summoned a small ball of flame.

Ryuji did the same to summon his triangle scale.

“On your mark. Get set.”

Sharp whistle reverberated over the sound metallic sound barrier on the edge of the school grounds.

Two minutes.

Himura tossed the flame almost nonchalantly at first, prowling around the perimeter his flame flinging hand crossed the boundaries but not his feet. The simple strategy of going clockwise was predictable and easier to defend.

At this rate, two minutes would crawl on.

He wondered how the others were doing in the divination exam. The teachers didn’t share the details until the day of to prevent students from practicing specifics strategies. Their goal was to train the students to be adaptable.

A flame struck his scale and ricocheted off, singeing an old paper screen behind him.

Flimsy. Slow. Nothing like Yukiharu-san’s first flame throw in their opening class.

Himura’s expression matched the attack—dull, bored. He switched directions.

Then Ryuji noticed it. Himura didn’t summon the flame until his flinging motion was done. Like a baseball pitch where the ball didn’t exist until the instant it left the pitcher’s fingers.

Maybe he was conserving stamina.

Ryuji tried to time the scale summoning on the moment of impact.

He missed one.

The flame slipped past and struck the doll

Himura noticed and stopped on his tracks.

“Hey, first year. Wanna spice up the exam?” the second year yelled into the field.

“Himura, you’re also evaluated here.” The teacher called him back.

“Throwing tiny embers is no fun, the real fight would be close combat, don’t you agree?” Himura cracked his knuckles with a grin. He widened his stance and stepped over the line.

He was almost a head taller than Ryuji, just as tall as Fuyuki-san

“Himura stop right now!” the teacher ordered.

“Sensei, at this rate he’s going to ace the test and I am going to flunk it. Just let me hit the damn dummy at least my way.” He took off the haori jacket and loosened the shirt buttons.

He gathered his hands at his hip with a loud kihai, about fifteen meters away. The flame grew to the size of a volleyball, then kept swelling. At the moment of release, it expanded into a giant beach ball of fire, wider than Ryuji’s shoulders. It hurled toward him slowly but with too much mass to deflect with his small scales. If it burst, it would scorch everything.

Ryuji grabbed the doll, rolled aside, and ducked behind a wooden screen.

The heat wasn’t intense but hot enough when it struck the cover it erupted and caught the area on fire. Several screens and furnishings were lit and Ryuji narrowly dodged catching his hakama on fire.

“Face me, young man.” He dashed forward and enveloped his fist with ball of flame like a boxing glove and punched through the cover. Wooden splinters shattered everywhere and ablazed from the heat. Ryuji tugged the doll closer and rolled back. He wasn’t pulling punches.

“Come on first year, say something. Himura Takeshi, fists of fire.” He introduced and swung his fiery fist.

“Minato Ryuji!” He replied in reflex and parried with the triangle.

“Greetings, dragon’s port.” He struck the scale once more. He wasn’t just punching. The scale trembled under high impact. His strike exploded forward when he struck the scale. The impact caused a shockwave and his ears rang. People started to gather at the field to see what was going on.

Ryuji just wanted to pass the exam.

“I’ve met a worthy foe this day!” Himura shouted with glee. “I think I can go all out.”

All out?

He relaxed his shoulders. The fiery boxing gloves disappeared. He darted forward and threw a jab with his left hand and Ryuji could barely keep up with the movement. He shifted the scales to the rough trajectory of his fist and deflected its direction away from himself and the doll. Ryuji caught a glimpse of flame shrouding Himura’s fists before they concentrated on his knuckles

“Crimson Tiger Roar!” He shouted. A jet stream of fire bellowed. The wooden frame cover was engulfed in flames.

The doll was fine. But this was not fine.

“Himura-senpai, can you...”

He swung his fist again, deflected. “Show me your moves, young man.”

Himura looked like a villain in a manga.

A whistle blew. Himura’s fist stopped moments away from Ryuji’s face covered with two triangle scales. Walls toppled over. There was a cheer from a distance and Ryuji noticed a whole crowd of student spectators surrounded the test field.

“Himura!” a tall wiry teacher with thick glasses came over with a rolled text book and smacked the back of second year’s head.

“Did I hit it young man?” He asked Ryuji.

He singed the doll’s head and the torso. He nodded.

“Are you out of your damned mind? I’ve warned you not to use your charms like that!” The teacher yanked Himura’s ear and dragged him out of the wrecked testing ground. That’s when Ryuji realized Himura wasn’t using Kagebi charm in the first place. It was something else. A chill ran down his spine. A binding could be feinted—its power shaped to look like something entirely different.

“I’ll see you later young- Ow ok sensei. Let me go.”

Ryuji’s legs gave out, if it wasn’t for Himura’s banter, he would have collapsed sooner under the pressure. The smell of burnt wood and paper lingered in his clothes.

He’d let the attacker hit the doll twice and moved the doll multiple times.

He might have flunked the exam, no thanks to Himura.

Three days later, the practicum grades were posted. Thankfully, he scored pretty high. He assumed because he was one of the first in the group, it set a precedent for everyone after. He clenched his fist with a silent “yatta”.

“Great job Minachi, I heard you made quite a scene.” Sayuri-san slapped his back playfully.

“It was nothing to be proud of… Where’s everyone else?”

“I don’t know they left early, saying they have family stuff…”

Figures. Still, he wished he could see Yukiharu-san and Masaki-san. He wanted to tell her he’d actually wished she’d taken the martial practicum. Maybe even share what happened with Himura.

“Minachi, you should free up this weekend. There’s a fireworks festival, and we are going to see it together.”

“…We?”

“Yeah, we.”

Did she just ask Ryuji on a date?