For two days, me and Genta were put through training that felt like it should have been for grown shinobi, not kids barely nine years old. But Takemaru didn't care. Or maybe he did, in his own rough way.
We woke up at dawn for raw stamina work. We ran laps around the compound walls without using chakra, each lap with light sandbags strapped to our backs. The weights weren't heavy enough to mess up our backs, but they made every step feel like climbing a mountain. If we slowed down too much, Takemaru barked at us to push harder. Sometimes he made us sprint in the middle of a run just to drain every bit of strength we had left. If one of us slacked off, we both had to run an extra lap together.
After the runs, we dropped the weights and got right into strength drills. Nothing fancy. Just push-ups, squat holds, and planks on the courtyard dirt. Takemaru watched our form closely. If our shoulders sagged or our backs curved too much, he smacked the ground near us with his stick, loud enough to scare us back into position. He didn't want injuries that would put us out for weeks. He wanted us stronger, not broken.
Flexibility came next. He forced us through deep stretches, pulling and guiding our arms and legs slowly so we didn't tear anything. Right after that, he made us twist, roll, and bend low even when our legs were shaking. He always reminded us that a stiff body was as good as dead in a real fight.
Then came light impact conditioning. We stood braced while Takemaru tapped our shoulders, arms, and ribs with a training stick. Not hard enough to do real damage, just enough to teach us how to stand our ground. If we flinched too much, he reset the count and made us start over. He always checked our bruises afterward. If he thought it was too much, he called it off for the day. But he was experienced enough not to let it go that far. He wasn't trying to break our bones, just toughen our skin and teach us how to take a real hit without panicking.
By the time he finally let us rest, we'd be crawling back to the house, muttering every curse word we knew under our breath. Genta complained the whole way but still showed up at dawn with me the next day. Under the pain, I could feel it working. The soreness faded a little faster. The running didn't drain us the same way. The hits didn't make us buckle so easily anymore.
It wasn't about showing off. It was about making our bodies strong enough to handle real pain when it came. Takemaru made sure we'd remember that, but never at the cost of breaking us for good.
He truly lived up to his promise about the Senju style being demanding and difficult to stick with. But I knew it was the right one for me, so I stayed resolute. Genta was the one who surprised me. I had the benefit of lightning chakra circulation, which boosted my body and made me tougher than any kid out there. Genta didn't have that. Instead, he relied on his natural Senju gift. The Senju were known for being full of life and chakra, their bodies naturally strong and hardy.
Days passed, and just when we got used to a certain training load, Takemaru increased it little by little, pushing us further. Genta and I didn't have exactly the same plan. I didn't know the full Senju taijutsu yet, so I spent more time drilling the basics while Genta moved on to advanced applications he already knew. I figured I'd catch up before the end of the Academy's third year. Takemaru said I absorbed things like a sponge, which Master Shuzo told me once too.
When I thought about Master Shuzo, I remembered how tough the Control Enhancement Seals were to learn. They were complicated because they needed a perfect balance between the seal's pattern and my chakra flow. Shuzo made me draw the basic shapes over and over until my hands cramped. Then he made me test them on harmless trap systems.
Some days I sat there covered in ink and sweat, carefully drawing every swirl and line, only for Shuzo to glance at my work and tell me to start over. When it worked, maybe only one or two traps would activate, never all at once. It was miserable, but the kind of misery that paid off if you stuck with it. And Shuzo made sure I stuck with it, whether I liked it or not.
The Control Enhancement Seals worked together with Chakra Channeling Seals. One helped with smooth movement and precision. The other made sure chakra flowed exactly where it needed to go without leaking everywhere.
Shuzo drilled it into my head that Chakra Channeling Seals were all about direction and efficiency. Chakra by itself was like water. Powerful but messy. You could pour it into something, but without a path, half of it would spill out and do nothing. A good Channeling Seal worked like a pipe or a wire. It carried chakra cleanly from one point to another, keeping it steady.
He showed me simple versions first. A basic seal on a training stick so chakra ran through the wood without splintering it. Another drawn right onto my forearm so I could feel how the flow stayed steady while practicing. I felt the difference right away. The chakra stayed smooth, didn't sputter out halfway, and lasted longer.
But drawing them was a pain. Even the smallest seal needed perfect lines and the right amount of chakra. If I rushed or forced too much through, the lines warped and the seal fizzled out. Shuzo never held back his criticism when that happened.
Still, when they worked, they opened up a lot of quiet possibilities. Tools, traps, weapons, anything that needed steady chakra could handle more stress and waste less energy. They weren't flashy, but Shuzo always said true strength came from things people never noticed until it was too late.
The thing I was most sad about was only seeing Shizuru once a week for our regular walk. The Senju compound was too far from her place, so we met halfway. On the bright side, Genta joined us on the walk, so the more the merrier. I'd already sent Shizuru a message about my transfer to the Senju compound. She seemed a bit sad I didn't move to the Nara compound, but she never said it. I wouldn't have moved there anyway. The Nara were too gloomy for me. If the energy around me is low, I end up the same way. Shizuru was still working hard on her shadow technique, and I kept noticing small but steady improvements in how sharp and controlled her chakra felt.
Days kept moving until it was finally time for my kenjutsu training. The training ground was tucked away near the edge of the village. After a long run and a walk-through dense trees that blocked the view, I reached a wide, quiet clearing. The ground was full of deep slashes, some cut into the stone in wide arcs. I wondered if they were done by adding chakra to the swings.
My thoughts were cut off by a mocking voice.
"Look at that. The kid actually showed up. I thought you'd be some rich, pompous brat who wanted to look cool by learning kenjutsu in a day, then carry around a legendary sword to impress your friends. The kind who'd run away after ten minutes of real training. But you look like you might last an hour."
A vein popped on my forehead as I looked around, not sensing anything at first. Then I felt it. A sharp blade poked lightly into my back. He chuckled behind me.
"You sensory types always rely too much on your chakra sensing and not enough on your actual senses. You never notice death coming."
I sighed and turned slowly, my eyes widening a bit at what I saw.
Standing behind me was a man who looked like he'd rolled out of bed and grabbed a sword on the way. His hair was ash-grey, tied back in a loose tail that still looked wild. A few strands fell over sharp eyes that held a lazy, half-amused squint. I couldn't tell if he was impressed or planning to stab me for fun.
He wore a simple training gi, sleeves rolled up, arms covered in old scars that probably all had stories. His blade was long, thin, and so well-kept it had an ominous shimmer, even in the shade. It wasn't the size of the sword that worried me, though. It was the way he held it, like it weighed nothing and could end me before I even blinked.
He looked me up and down, a smirk tugging at his lips like he already saw every mistake I'd make before I even tried. He rested the flat of his blade on his shoulder and tilted his head a bit, studying me like I was a stray dog that wandered into his yard.
Then he spoke again, voice laced with intrigue. "Your physique doesn't look half bad. This could actually be interesting."
I chuckled and shrugged. "I'm Noa. Nine years old, proud of it. How old are you, old master? Or do they stop counting birthdays once your hair turns that color?"
He barked out a short laugh. "Name's Hatake Tetsuya, kid." His smile turned sharp as his tone dropped. "Try not to bore me before lunch."