The air of the training field was still, save for the faint stirrings of dawn. Konoha was waking, but here, in this quiet corner of the village, the world had already been in motion for hours.
A fist struck the wooden post. Crack. Another. Crack. The rhythm didn't falter. Each impact sent splinters flying, bruises deepening, knuckles splitting open.
Ryuzen's arms burned, his breath ragged, his throat dry from swallowing the taste of blood. And still—he struck again.
Opposite him, Might Duy was a blur. His body twisted and snapped into roundhouse kicks, sweat flying like rain under the first kiss of sunlight. His every strike landed with the boom of a man who had no right to hit so hard. A genin, they said. Eternal failure, they mocked. But here, his movements shook the ground with the certainty of someone who had carved his truth out of mockery.
They didn't speak.
Not for one hour.
Not for two.
Not for three.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was sacred. The rhythm of fists, the whip of kicks, the ragged wheezing of lungs—this was their conversation.
By the fourth hour, Ryuzen collapsed to his knees, knuckles split wide open, nails torn. His body screamed for him to stop, the system pulsing faintly in his mind:
[Warning: Overexertion Detected. Physical durability dropping.]
[Recommendation: Rest required.]
But Ryuzen ignored it. His hand reached for the post again. Before he could strike, a heavy palm pressed against his shoulder.
Might Duy crouched beside him, panting just as hard, though his eyes still burned bright. "That's enough for now. You'll tear yourself apart."
Ryuzen spat blood and laughed, low and bitter. "You're one to talk. You've been at this longer than me."
Duy grinned, teeth flashing in the light. "That's youth, my boy. It doesn't end when the body screams—it begins there."
Ryuzen looked up, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. "You call this youth? Beating yourself bloody in a forgotten corner of the village, while everyone else climbs higher? While they laugh at you?"
Duy's grin didn't falter. His breathing steadied, his eyes locking onto Ryuzen with a fire that burned deeper than chakra. "Yes. Exactly that. Because youth isn't about recognition. It isn't about rank. It's about whether you can look at yourself at the end of the day and say—'I gave everything I had.' Even if no one saw. Even if no one remembers."
The words settled in Ryuzen's chest heavier than any fist.
For so long, his system had whispered of growth, of power, of survival. Kill and grow. Win and advance. Progress measured in stats and skills, never in something so… intangible.
And yet, watching this man, who couldn't even graduate beyond the lowest rank, who was ridiculed by his peers and ignored by the system—Ryuzen felt small. Small, but… sharpened.
The system pulsed again.
[New Trait Acquired: Endurance of the Eternal Genin]
You have trained alongside one who embodies unbreakable perseverance. Stamina recovery increased by 10%. Pain threshold tolerance increased slightly.
Ryuzen's eyes widened. The system—cold, calculating, absolute—had acknowledged Duy.
He clenched his fist, blood dripping from his split knuckles. "You… You've been doing this every day, haven't you?"
Duy nodded, wiping sweat from his brow with his forearm. "Every day. Ten hours, sometimes twelve. Missions, failures, rejections—it doesn't matter. I return here. Because one day, my youth will be needed. And when that day comes, I'll be ready."
Ryuzen's throat tightened. For the first time, he saw something beyond the battlefield, beyond victories or losses. He saw a man who had already chosen to sacrifice everything—not for glory, not for applause, but for the simple, stubborn belief that he could.
The hours stretched on.
When the sun climbed high, they pushed again. Kicks, punches, push-ups until their arms trembled, laps until their lungs burned.
When the sun fell, they kept moving. The moonlight became their witness, the ground their only audience.
At one point, Ryuzen collapsed again, face-down in the dirt. He wanted to scream, to curse, to rage at the pointlessness of it all. But then Duy's voice carried through the night:
"Get up, Ryuzen. The world will never wait for you to be ready."
Ryuzen pushed. Not because of the system. Not because of survival. But because the man beside him—mocked, forgotten, underestimated—refused to yield.
Hours became a blur. Pain became rhythm. And within that rhythm, Ryuzen felt something bloom. A resolve not tied to missions, nor stats, nor systems. Something older. Something truer.
By dawn of the second day, both men sat slumped against the battered training posts.
Neither could move. Their bodies were bruised, torn, screaming. And yet… both were smiling.
Duy tilted his head back, staring at the pale sky. "You're strong, Ryuzen. But not because of your fists. Not because of your system, whatever it is. You're strong because you refuse to give up. Don't ever lose that."
Ryuzen swallowed hard, staring at the man's profile. A thought carved itself into his chest, painful and certain: This man will one day die for the village. He'll burn brighter than anyone—and no one will understand until it's too late.
He clenched his fists. "When that day comes… I'll remember you. I'll make sure they remember you too."
Duy's eyes widened faintly. Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "That's youth for you—making promises even your bones can't carry. But… thank you."
For a moment, silence.
Then the system pulsed one last time:
[Hidden Quest Unlocked: Flames That Do Not Die]
Train with Might Duy until he entrusts his will to you. Reward: ???
Ryuzen smiled faintly, exhaustion drowning him. For once, the system didn't feel like a chain. It felt like a path.
And beside him, the man called Eternal Genin smiled with the pride of a warrior who needed no title.
Author's Note
This chapter steps away from the war to slow down and breathe. Ryuzen and Duy aren't just training—they're mirroring each other's existence as outsiders. Duy is more than Guy's dad here; he's the embodiment of unshakable perseverance, and for the first time, even the system acknowledges it.
This bond will echo later—both in Ryuzen's growth and in the tragedy we all know Duy carries. Sometimes, the quiet hours change a man more than the battlefield ever can.