The tree stood tall in the clearing, its entire trunk riddled with thousands of shuriken marks from years of academy drills past. Kusuo Hatake stood at its base, panting hard, his sword Gray Fang strapped on his back. Sweat streamed down beneath his mask as he glared up the trunk.
"Impossible…" he muttered bitterly, head tilted skyward. Atop the tree, Uchiha Shigure stood calmly on a branch with hands folded, already running through his next jutsu sequence as if it were nothing.
"How could he climb all the way on his first attempt?" Kusuo clenched his fists. "I won't let him get ahead of me!"
He launched himself at the trunk again—chakra gathered too hastily under his sandals. There was a screech of bark tearing, but halfway up his foot slipped and he crashed back down with a thud.
"Again!" He growled, dragging himself upright.
Byakugan veins bulged faintly across Hizashi Hyūga's temples as he watched his squad. He folded his arms, nodding once. "Shigure has already passed the chakra control test. Not only can he run freely up trees, he is walking water surfaces already. Kusuo, Akane—you two must catch up."
Akane's cheeks flushed faintly. Her hands clenched tight around a kunai as she pressed her sandal into the bark. I can't remain the weak one. I can't drag them down anymore, she thought fiercely. I have to become stronger… or I'll never be able to stand beside him.
She steadied her heartbeat, adjusted the pressure of chakra at her soles—this time her feet clung true, pulling her upward. Inch by inch, she pressed forward, teeth biting her lip as determination outshined fear.
Above them, Shigure stood perfectly, arms folded. From his vantage, the world below looked so far removed. His Sharingan gleamed faintly with pale tomoe. He wasn't just practicing balance—he was already reviewing the scroll of techniques copied into his mind.
Kakashi Hatake could mimic a thousand jutsu. But even with genius, his chakra pool was limited. He needed precision, caution.
His lips curved faintly. But I am not Kakashi. The Otsutsuki blood within me has no ceiling. My chakra… already rivals Kage.
He blurred through seals and then flickered out of sight.
Shushin no Jutsu.
He reappeared across the clearing in the blink of an eye. Chakra control so perfect, his teleport step wasn't clumsy or exhausting, it was silent and lethal.
He tested it again—vanishing, reappearing above, below, left, right. In Shigure's hands, even this humble D-rank technique became the reaper's herald.
If others try this against me, they die before their second step. As for me… I upgrade even the weakest techniques.
"Zishi… Shen… Wu…"
He traced hand seals over and over; sweat dripped from his brow in rivers. Every syllable, every finger-lock, faster, cleaner. Ninja like Itachi could carve six signs in a second. Shinobi like Haku had formed seals one-handed mid-battle.
If my hands can sing that song, no one will match me.
Around him, five shadow clones mirrored his movements. Hours later, as Hizashi called an end, Shigure released them. Whump! Their day's worth of lessons and muscle memory slammed back into his body all at once. He staggered slightly, exhilarated and exhausted in equal measure.
"…Worth it," he muttered.
When they regrouped, Hizashi's eyes swept all three students. "Enough. Rest. Protect your stamina—missions are not won by training alone."
Shigure inclined his head silently. Kusuo scowled but obeyed. Akane exhaled, face glowing faintly from the effort.
Noguchi, the lumbering bearded client, coughed into his sleeve. "These past days… I'm sorry. I misjudged you children before. You are far more reliable than I expected."
Shigure's gaze lingered on him, unreadable. He only said, "All that matters is we finish the mission."
Several uneventful days passed. Each night they rotated watch. Each day Hizashi pressed them harder on chakra control—tree climbing, water walking. Kusuo improved as pride fueled his stubborn drive. Akane broke through her fears, progress steady. And Shigure's growth was terrifying; by the week's end he could snap through three seals per second, his movements rivaling even seasoned shinobi.
Hizashi watched in quiet shock. A Genin with this control, these reserves… such gifts haven't been seen since Madara himself.
Finally, their journey neared its end. Vegetation thinned; human presence thickened. The enormous forge-chimneys of the Craftsmen's Village loomed ahead.
"We made it," Kusuo exhaled, relief hidden behind his mask.
The streets stretched long—but the air felt tense. Faces behind stalls carried panic, suspicion. Few villagers lingered openly, those that did kept weapons close at their hips.
"It's wrong." Shigure's eyes sharpened, his hand resting on his kunai pouch. "This village feels… lifeless."
Akane nodded faintly, scanning tense faces. "Everyone looks like they're preparing for war."
Before they could question further, Noguchi suddenly rushed forward, his gait oddly eager.
Minutes later, he reemerged with too-wide a smile. "Wonderful! The analysis of the meteorite iron is complete! You've done well—mission complete! Congratulations!"
But the words rang hollow. Shigure's body stiffened instantly.
Then the man moved too quickly.
Steel flashed—shuriken darted toward Kusuo and Akane with lethal intent.
"Move!!" Shigure roared. His body blurred, flickering between them before the blades struck. He shoved them aside, steel grazing his sleeves instead of their throats.
Kusuo's mask tilted sharply. Akane gasped.
The faux Noguchi clicked his tongue, shocked his ambush had failed. His chakra surged dark as the disguise peeled away with a puff of smoke. No longer Noguchi—but the wounded rebel from Kumogakure, eyes bloodthirsty, killer's grin wide.
"You—!" Hizashi's gaze snapped sharp.
"Hahaha!" The Cloud missing-nin sneered, scars gleaming. "You stopped me once, brat, but I won't fail again. Not with the ore so close at hand!"
"Sensei!" Kusuo drew Gray Fang, stance tightening.
Shigure's white tomoe burned to life, pale eyes scanning every chakra vein in their ambusher. "An ambush… they must have been waiting all along."
Fog filled with chakra signatures—dozens, everywhere.
Hizashi's veins bulged, Byakugan snapping open with force. His low voice rumbled: "They've already surrounded us."
The Cloud missing-nin sneered, kunai gleaming.
"Our goals clash with your mission. Which means… none of you walk back alive."
And thus, as the Craftsmen Village loomed before them, Team 7's mission shattered from escort… into survival.
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