It's okay to be a little cheesy sometimes.
Who knows what went through that soft stuff between Sathoggua's ears when he pleaded to have his traditional battle in such a sappy, untraditional location: THE ACADEMY. He probably wanted to motivate the kids. Maybe show off... a little. An above average student and average combatant made for a slight advantage. He didn't know his opponent, but he knew the outcome; how couldn't he be confident! His consistent confidence cascaded down his spine and into his stomach last night, swimming and slushing with a fish sandwich. And cheese.
The first sense to return was touch. He felt the grains of sleep deprivation prodding his lids, but upon opening them, the light made dry eyes water in irritated protest. He slammed them shut, concentrating on his own smell. Clean. Girly, maybe? Whatever. How could anyone take a guy serious if his scent wasn't immaculate?
No sane woman sticks around for man-stench.
Or fish-breath. Good thing there wasn't a girl strewn in his arms, he could almost taste her words of laughter and distaste. Why, why must the delicious things pollute your palate? We must really be alone in the world; you can be the greatest mathematician, or the wisest history student, but follow any string of education far enough and it all leads to a yarn ball of philosophy.
"Can you... not?!"
Sleep was like a wondrous orchestra, and he the audience. Her kisses were a sweet, sweet subtle spell. It only took one inconsiderate son of a bitch to leave his ringer on and ruin the whole sensation. That was what he was dealing with when he lashed out at the alarm, daring to peek one eye at this false world they told him was real. His ears jerked his consciousness open upon the clang of breaking your sixth alarm that year.
Wait, it's... already.... SON OF A BURNT FISH STICK
Somewhere between buckling an oversized belt one-handed, and swishing bristles on his teeth, he managed to snatch up his red shirt with the rounded edge of his leather boot. All he could think about was the match, and in all his enthusiasm he neglected to set his alarm for thirty minutes earlier. Gushing out the front door, he was all but aware that he'd forgotten his synovitis medicine.
He's not always like this; it was probably his worst start yet.
The most pivotal day in his life, so far, can blind the most thorough tactician. Given, normally not enough for him to blunder down his own steps and twist an ankle.
"Come on. Please?"
"He still has a few minutes left in the window."
"It's Sathoggua. No matter how hard he fights, what makes you think this year is any different from last year? The year before? Six? He never follows through!"
"By my watch, two minutes. Enough."
"Okay. After that, you better call it!"
"Not... today... elder...!! Oh, Erika?" Panting his dismay, her own slugged him right in the arm.
"That's for making me wait!... wait, why are you out of breath, Sathos?"
"I see that you have made it here with twenty seconds to spare. While I question your motivation as a Kawaguchi, you may now--"
"Ouch!! Not all Kawaguchi rely on their blood all the time. What if you woke up tomorrow without a Kekkei Genkei! You'd be useless! Dead weight!"
"Ahem. You may now commence--"
"What! How can you even call yourself Kawaguchi? Actually, go figure a Kawaguchi would have issues with--!"
"Don't you dare say it!"
Their senior backed away from the chalked circle, nearly biting a mouthful of kick as the pair ruthlessly crossed tibias.