Mizuki awoke with a start as the door slammed shut, jolting him out of his cozy blanket fort. The blankets collapsed around him like a defeated fortress, and he groaned, squinting at the clock.
7:40. Damn. Class is at eight.
Suppressing the urge to scream into his pillow, he dragged himself out of bed, hair sticking up in every direction.
"Anko, seriously?" he muttered, voice still hoarse.
Leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed and smirk firmly in place, Anko chirped, "Come on, sleepyhead. We can always nap in class. Let's go train."
Mizuki rubbed his eyes and sighed. Arguing with her was like trying to hold back a waterfall. "Fine, fine. Let's get this over with."
The two soon clashed in a quiet forest clearing, morning light spilling between the branches. Kunai flashed through the air as Anko launched a barrage. Mizuki's hands blurred through seals—
"Earth Style: Mud Wall!"
A slab of hardened soil erupted before him, kunai clinking harmlessly against it. Anko darted in with a spinning kick, forcing Mizuki into taijutsu. Their movements echoed through the clearing—kicks, parries, and sweeps in perfect rhythm. Sweat dripped down Anko's cheek, but she grinned even as she stumbled back, chest heaving.
"It's not fair, Mizuki," she pouted, hands on her hips. "You're good at ninjutsu and taijutsu. What chance do I have?"
Mizuki scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Guess I got carried away… Tell you what. I'll treat you after this."
Her eyes instantly sparkled. "Food? Deal!"
They ended up at Ichiraku, slurping bowls of steaming ramen, laughter mixing with the shop's usual chatter. Afterwards, Anko dragged him to a dango stand, happily munching skewers while Mizuki listened to hushed whispers around them—rumors of growing tension between villages. That familiar heaviness settled in his chest. Peace never lasts forever, does it?
Back home, Mizuki split his attention the only way he knew how: Shadow Clones. Some trudged off to class, others studied at the library, and a few assisted at the hospital. Each clone dissolved hours later, feeding him everything they had learned. It was exhausting—but efficient.
He devoted himself to healing techniques, trading theory for practice. One lucky day, his persistence—and easy charm—earned him a chance to observe a medical-nin demonstrate the Chakra Scalpel. Precision, patience, and chakra control—it was everything he craved to master.
Of course, mornings with Anko were chaos.
The very next day, Mizuki bolted upright, drenched in ice-cold water. He sputtered, glaring through dripping bangs.
"Anko! Every time?"
Arms crossed, she grinned from the doorway. "Works like a charm. You've got five minutes. Move it."
And with a pop of smoke, the culprit vanished—just another shadow clone. Mizuki sighed, summoning ten of his own to juggle his schedule: drills, ninjutsu, and a mad dash to the academy.
Years blurred together in this rhythm. Anko sharpened her shurikenjutsu, mastered Shadow Clones, and even learned the Chakra Scalpel herself. She was climbing to chunin-level skill, while Mizuki edged toward the advanced level.
But some things didn't change. Like how Anko would lean on his shoulder in class, grinning while he tried to focus, or how she demanded dango every single day. Mizuki always pretended to complain, but the truth was obvious: this routine—their routine—was what kept him grounded.