Chapter 22

"Winner, Ando Yoshio!" The referee's voice rang out, followed by a smattering of cheers and applause from the crowd.

Ando straightened, his breathing steady, and stepped back from Hamada, who lay sprawled on the ground, his chest rising and falling heavily. For a moment, Ando simply looked at him, his expression unreadable. Then, he extended a hand.

Hamada turned his head, his gaze locking onto Ando's outstretched arm. His fists tightened against the ground, and for a moment, it seemed like he might refuse. The pride that had driven him to push so hard was now at odds with the sting of defeat. But as the silence stretched on, he let out a slow, shaky breath and gritted his teeth. His hand moved, hesitant at first, but then firmly clasped Ando's.

With a steady pull, Ando helped Hamada to his feet. The movement was quick, almost effortless, as Hamada stumbled briefly before regaining his footing. The two stood face-to-face for a moment, the weight of the fight lingering in the air.

"You've come a long way," Ando said, his tone neutral but not unkind. "Keep pushing. You'll get there."

Hamada's jaw clenched, his pride still raw, but he gave a small nod. "Next time," he muttered, more a promise to himself than to Ando.

Ando didn't respond, offering only a faint nod in return before turning away. As he walked away, the noise of the crowd faded into the background. At the edge of the ring, Ando paused, glancing back briefly.

Hamada still stood there, his head lowered, fists clenched at his sides. His shoulders rose and fell with heavy breaths, but he made no move to leave.

For a brief moment, Ando considered whether he should have gone easier on Hamada. The thought came and went quickly. Holding back would have been more disrespectful to him.

Between the two, what had started as a rivalry, fueled by their past animosity, had changed ever since Ando defeated Hamada months ago. Hamada now saw Ando as a benchmark, a goal to surpass. As for Ando, he was simply focused on keeping his edge, determined to stay ahead and not let anyone catch up.

As Ando mulled over his thoughts, a man appeared beside Hamada—a tall figure clad in a standard flak jounin jacket. His presence was commanding but calm.

"You did good," the man said, his voice quiet but carrying faintly across the distance to where Ando stood.

Hamada stiffened, his fists loosening slightly as he turned his head toward the man. His gaze remained downcast, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—recognition, or perhaps frustration.

The man crouched slightly to meet Hamada's eye level. "You've improved," he continued, "But improvement isn't enough on its own. You need to think. Adapt. Use what you've learned to overcome, not just endure."

Hamada's lips tightened, and he gave a small nod, his jaw still clenched.

The jounin straightened, his gaze briefly flicking toward Ando, who stood silently observing the exchange. Their eyes met for an instant, and Ando felt a subtle but unmistakable weight behind the man's calm expression. It wasn't hostility, nor was it admiration. It was an appraisal, the look of someone gauging potential and quietly taking measure.

Curious, Ando activated Observe on the man, but to his shock, nothing appeared. No stats, no question marks—just an empty void where information should have been. His brow furrowed as he tried again, willing the system to respond, but the result was the same: nothing.

A pang of unease settled in his chest. To test whether Observe was malfunctioning, Ando shifted his gaze to Hamada, still standing nearby with his head lowered. The information appeared immediately, crisp and clear: Hamada Yutaka, Level 14. Everything was functioning normally.

A troubled expression settled on Ando's face as he started observing the man's appearance. The jounin must have sensed Ando's scrutiny, for he glanced back and flashed a brief smirk—casual, almost knowing. Startled, Ando quickly looked away, his pulse quickening. He turned on his heel and walked off.

Though the encounter lingered in the back of his mind, the tournament soon drew his attention back. As the matches continued, Ando found himself more focused on the fights unfolding around him.

Initially excited about the competition, he couldn't help but notice, after observing enough of his peers, that he had likely already surpassed most of the students in his year.

It wasn't just Ando who noticed. The spectators, too, were beginning to realize this. With each match, his strength became more apparent. He faced off against a Hyuga, then an Inuzuka, showcasing his skills and superiority. Despite being skilled, none of the fighter managed to truly push Ando back.

And finally, Ando made into the final match, which pitted him against an Akimichi—a towering figure compared to Ando, with a bulk that promised raw power.

From the stands, a few spectators cheered enthusiastically for the Akimichi, their voices confident. But among the academy students, there was a near-silent tension. For the first time, an orphan actually made it into the finals.

Standing across from Haza Akimichi, Ando planted his feet firmly, his posture steady and composed. He made no move to strike first, instead giving a subtle tilt of his head, inviting Haza to come at him.

Haza didn't hesitate. With a burst of speed that belied his bulk, he charged straight at Ando, aiming to crush him with his momentum. But Ando was ready. As Haza's large frame closed in, Ando sidestepped smoothly, letting the charge sail past him.

Undeterred, Haza quickly pivoted, spreading his arms wide for another lunge, attempting to trap Ando in his grasp. Ando rolled to the side, keeping his movements light. For a moment, he tested Haza's resilience, dodging charge after charge, noting the boy's surprising agility for his size. But soon, it became clear that Haza wasn't adapting his strategy; he was relying solely on ingrained tactics, charging forward with brute force instead of adjusting to the flow of the fight.

Even worse, the boy was following a predictable patern—a heavy pivot, a wide lunge, and a desperate attempt to close the distance. It was reckless. And easy to exploit. When Haza lunged again, Ando didn't dodge. Instead, he stepped forward into the charge, twisting his body at the last second to sidestep while maintaining his balance. As Haza stumbled past, caught off-balance, Ando struck with precision—a single, sharp elbow to Haza's side.

The impact sent the larger boy crashing to his knees, gasping for air. The fight, which had promised excitement, came to an abrupt and anti-climactic end.

The crowd was silent for a moment, absorbing what had just happened, before the referee's voice rang out. "Winner, Ando Yoshio!"

Scattered cheers and applause broke out, though they were subdued. The referee's tone carried a trace of enthusiasm, but the mixed reactions of the crowd mirrored the match itself—unexpectedly underwhelming.

As Ando stepped off the ring, the noise of the crowd barely registered in his mind. The muted applause, the murmurs of the clan kids, and the quiet pride of the orphans all blurred into background noise. The matches so far hadn't been as challenging as Ando had hoped, and the final one was no different. In fact, his fight with Hamada had been more satisfying; at least there, he hadn't needed to hold back as much. Against Haza, the result felt inevitable from the start. None of his opponents so far had pushed him enough to warrant using the new jutsus he'd been training.

"Ando Yoshio, step forward," Shimamoto Kin's voice rang out, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. The academy headmaster rarely involved himself in tournament proceedings, leaving such acknowledgments to the instructors. For him to personally call on Ando was unusual, and it sent a ripple of curiosity through the spectators.

Ando hesitated, his eyes briefly flicking toward Soda, who gave him a subtle nod of encouragement. He approached Shimamoto, keeping his posture composed, his hands by his sides. "Sir," he said simply, tilting his head slightly in respect.

Shimamoto regarded him for a moment, his piercing gaze examining Ando as if assessing more than just the young boy's skill. Then he spoke, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the audience. "Your performance today has been remarkable, Ando. Strategy, timing, and precision. These are qualities of a shinobi who thinks before he acts."

Ando's lips twitched into a faint smile, though he quickly suppressed it.

"Your victory is not only deserving of recognition but also reward," Shimamoto continued, producing a silver card. "5 thousand academy coins, a commendation for your tactical approach and composure."

A hushed gasp rippled through the crowd. Five thousand Academy Coins was a significant sum, enough to exchange for months' worth of resources—or some quite useful jutsu scrolls. What's more, the usual prize money for the winner of the tournament was usually around three thousand coins.

"Ando," Shimamoto went on, "in addition to your coins, I am granting you unrestricted access to the agility course and the second-level sparring dummies in the training hall. These privileges are typically reserved for third years. Use them wisely."

Ando's eyes widened briefly before he masked his surprise. He bowed deeply. "Thank you, Headmaster. I'll make good use of them."

Shimamoto nodded approvingly. "See that you do. Konoha needs shinobi who not only endure but also innovate. You show promise, Ando Yoshio. Don't squander it."

With that, Shimamoto handed over the card and stepped back, signaling the end of the brief ceremony. The applause resumed, now mixed with begrudging respect from some of Ando's peers and open admiration from others.

Ando turned on his heel, his grip tightening around the card. His thoughts were already racing. Five thousand coins, the agility course, and advanced sparring equipment—it was a windfall he couldn't have anticipated.

As he walked towards his teacher Soda, a beaming smile was plastered over the man's face, "Congratulation kid! It looks like someone's moving up in the world!"

Ando mirrored the man's smile. "Thank you, Soda-sensei." His tone was genuine. One had to know that Soda has done a lot for him. From extra ninjutsu lessons, to subtly adjusting the curriculum to give Ando the combat experience he needed.

Soda's support had been invaluable.

The orphan wished he could offer something up to show his sincerity, but all he had on him were coins. He doubted Soda would have any need for them.

"You're welcome. It's only normal for a teacher to guide his students. Though, I haven't been the only one helping in that matter."

Ando glanced at where Soda was looking, and his smile stretched on even more.

"Yo! Congratu—" Chika's cheerful greeting was cut off as Ando pulled her into a sudden hug.

"Whoa!" Chika froze for a moment, stunned by the uncharacteristic gesture. Then, with a small laugh, she awkwardly patted his back. "Well, this is new," she teased, though her voice carried unmistakable warmth.

Ando stepped back, still smiling. "I couldn't have done it without you, Chika. You've been there from the start, helping me train, pushing me to think smarter, fight better."

Chika smirked, crossing her arms. "Damn right I have. But don't go getting all sappy on me now. You're gonna ruin my reputation."

"Too late," A familiar voice interjected with a playful tone. "I think everyone just witnessed you being hugged by the tournament champion. Might as well own it."

Chika turned around and shot Okawa a mock glare but didn't reply, her lips twitching upward in spite of herself.

"You really went and did it, huh, champ?" Ando's gaze shifted to the edge of the gathering, where the fourth-year orphan, Okawa, was steadily marching over. The older boy's presence was as steadying as ever, his rough-hewn features softened by a smile. He stepped forward, holding up a small tin of pomade, the same brand as the one he had lent Ando before.

"I planned on giving this to you after the tournament. But it seems like you've gotten too good to actually need it."

Ando's smile grew warmer as he accepted the tin. "Thanks, Okawa-senpai. Maybe I'll really have to use it in the afternoon's tournament."

Behind Okawa, a small cluster of orphans stood, their faces colored with hesitation. They looked like 1st years, just like Ando, and it was clear that Ando's victory had struck a chord with them. The one standing at the front, a wide-eyed boy with messy hair, stepped forward hesitantly.

"Ando-san," the boy began, his voice barely above a whisper, "you were amazing out there. Congratulations."

Ando's eyebrow rose, giving the boy a skeptical look. You didn't care when I was weaker, he thought, the words lingering unspoken. A flicker of old memories surfaced—back to the days when he was little more than a punching bag for the clan kids. He remembered the way these same orphans had gone out of their way to avoid him, unwilling to associate with someone at the bottom of the pecking order.

The hesitation in the boy's voice and the nervous glances from the others made it clear—they all remembered too.

The messy-haired boy lowered his head, his voice trembling. "I… I'm sorry, Ando-san. We should have treated you better before. It wasn't right."

One of the other orphans stepped forward, their voice quieter but resolute. "We avoided you because we were scared. But seeing you today… it made us realize how wrong we were. You've gotten so much stronger, and we're still stuck."

The tournament had been an eye-opener for many. They were all orphans, yet Ando had risen as the champion while most of them couldn't even last beyond a single exchange in the ring. The stark difference gnawed at them, forcing them to confront their shortcomings—and their excuses.

"Hm-hm!" From the side, Soda cleared his throat meaningfully, his expression practically begging Ando to respond.

Ando sighed, glancing briefly at Soda before returning his gaze to the group of orphans. His sharp eyes softened, but his voice remained steady. "I started just like you—getting beaten, ignored, written off. The only reason I'm standing here now is because I didn't stop working."

He let the words settle over the group, noting the flickers of uncertainty in their eyes. "If you're serious about changing, stop waiting for someone to pull you up. Start climbing on your own. If I can do it, so can you."

The messy-haired boy looked up, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and determination. He nodded vigorously, and quiet murmurs of agreement rippled through the group as their hesitance began to shift into something resembling resolve.

Ando studied them for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. He wasn't trying to be their hero, nor was he looking for their admiration. He just didn't have it in him to chastise them—what would be the point? They were just kids, struggling to find their place in a world that rarely offered second chances.

In a rare moment of maturity, Ando chose to let go of his lingering bitterness. Instead, he inclined his head slightly, offering a gesture of encouragement. "You've made a start," he said, "What matters is what you do next. Don't stop."

Soda smiled from the sidelines, clapping his hands together with mock enthusiasm. "Well said, Ando. Just make sure you're not slacking off while you're giving advice."

Ando rolled his eyes, though a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. "Yeah, yeah, Sensei. I won't."

AN:

You're probably wondering: where are the experience prompts? What about the gains Ando earned after tearing through an entire tournament? Don't worry, I haven't forgotten them. I decided to keep them in the background for this chapter to avoid disrupting the flow. Stay tuned—they'll show up soon enough!

As always, thanks for reading, and see you soon!