Training Ground 3 was a kiln.
The midday sun beat down on the grass, baking the earth until the air shimmered with heat haze. Cicadas screamed from the trees, a relentless, drilling buzz that drilled right into the center of Tsunade's temples.
She adjusted her haori, feeling the sweat prickle at the back of her neck. She hated training in this heat. She hated training Genin. And most of all, she hated that she was currently staring at an empty field.
"Sylvie!" Tsunade barked, her voice cutting through the insect drone.
There was a splash.
Tsunade turned her head toward the river that bordered the training ground. Standing waist-deep in the murky water, fully clothed, was Sylvie. The girl was shivering despite the heat, her hands forming a seal that rippled the water surface around her hips.
Tsunade blinked. Her eyebrow twitched.
"...what are you doing?"
Sylvie looked up, startled. She nearly lost her footing on the slippery riverbed.
"Uhm," Sylvie stammered, the water lapping against her belt. "Training?"
Tsunade closed her eyes. She took a deep breath through her nose. She could feel the vein on the side of her forehead pulsing, a distinct, rhythmic throb that usually preceded property damage.
"Get out," Tsunade said. Her voice was terrifyingly calm.
Sylvie scrambled. She waded to the bank, her boots sucking loudly in the mud—shluck, shluck—and hauled herself onto the grass. She stood there, dripping wet, smelling of pond scum and anxiety. A puddle formed rapidly around her feet.
"Uhm, Tsunade-sama?" Sylvie asked, wringing out the hem of her shirt.
Tsunade kept her eyes closed. She forced a smile onto her face. It felt tight, like stretching old leather. She clenched her fist at her side, the leather of her glove creaking.
"Yes, Sylvie-chan?"
"I just thought..." Sylvie gestured vaguely at the river. "Anko-sensei was the one who taught me about my chakra nature. And my Stillwater jutsu. So I assumed we were continuing..."
Tsunade's eyes snapped open. The fake smile vanished.
"Wait, really?"
She looked at the soaking wet girl. Nature transformation? At Genin level? And Anko—that wild, uncontrollable woman—had managed to teach her a specific elemental control technique?
Tsunade felt a flicker of genuine impressiveness. But immediately, it was crushed by a wave of irritation directed at a certain silver-haired Jōnin who had seemingly done nothing for months.
That lazy, perverted scarecrow, Tsunade thought. He left her to figure this out with Anko while he read porn in a tree?
The rage flared hot and white.
Tsunade spun around. She didn't use chakra. She didn't wind up. She just threw a backhand fist into the trunk of the massive oak tree beside her.
CRACK.
The sound was like a cannon shot.
The tree didn't just break; it exploded. Wood splinters the size of kunai sprayed across the clearing. The upper half of the fifty-foot oak groaned, tilted, and then crashed to the earth with a ground-shaking THUD, sending up a cloud of dust and startled birds.
"THAT GOOD FOR NOTHING ONE-EYED SCARECROW!" Tsunade roared at the sky.
Sylvie stood frozen, clutching her wet shirt. She stared at the decimated tree, then at Tsunade, and then tilted her head slightly, a look of genuine confusion crossing her face.
Tsunade caught the look. She knew what that look meant. Every woman in the village had that look when Kakashi was mentioned—a mix of frustration and mystique. They all wonder why he's single, Tsunade thought bitterly. It's because he's turned down every date for twenty years to visit a grave.
Tsunade cleared her throat. She dusted a piece of bark off her shoulder.
"Anyway," she said, her voice dropping back to a professional register. "Let's get to your next step of training. Dry off."
Sylvie nodded, wringing her hair out. She looked small against the backdrop of the training ground.
Tsunade watched her. She studied the way the girl stood—weight shifted back, shoulders slightly hunched, hands hovering near her pouch but never quite committing to a grip.
She remembered the reports. Support specialist. Trap user. Long-range engagement.
"Stand up straight," Tsunade commanded.
Sylvie snapped to attention, her wet boots squeaking.
Tsunade put her hands on her hips, projecting the confidence that held the village together.
"I've read your file," Tsunade said. "And I can tell you like to hang back in battles. You prefer traps. Sealing. Distance."
Sylvie nodded enthusiastically. "Right. Strategy."
"Wrong," Tsunade said.
Sylvie blinked.
"It's not because your specialty is Fuinjutsu," Tsunade said, stepping closer. She saw the girl flinch—a microscopic movement, but Tsunade saw everything. "It's because you're scared."
Sylvie's mouth opened, then closed. She looked down. Yeah, but ow, her posture screamed.
"You aren't scared of getting hit," Tsunade continued, her amber eyes boring into Sylvie. "I saw you take a hit from Kabuto. You have guts. No..."
Tsunade leaned in.
"You're scared of hurting people."
Sylvie's head snapped up. Her eyes were wide, unguarded. Shock rippled across her face.
Tsunade held her gaze. She knew the type. The empathetic ones. The ones who saw the enemy as a person first and a threat second. It was a good trait for a medic, but a fatal one for a soldier.
"I get it," Tsunade said, her voice softening just a fraction. "But hesitation kills your teammates. I'm going to teach you how to fight in a way that works for you. A way that ends the fight before you have time to feel bad about it."
Sylvie swallowed hard. She nodded. The fear was still there, but the resolve was hardening over it.
"Okay," Sylvie whispered. "Let's do it!"
Tsunade smirked. "Good."
She stepped back. She brought her hands together in a cross-shaped seal.
"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu!"
POOF.
Smoke burst beside her. A second Tsunade stepped out, looking exactly as imposing and terrifying as the first.
Sylvie stumbled back, her jaw dropping. "Wait... what?!"
Both Tsunades crossed their arms in unison.
"I'm too physically strong to spar with you, kid," the original Tsunade explained. "If I hit you, you turn into paste. And I am sure you understand by now that most adults don't bother with Shadow Clones."
"Why?" Sylvie squeaked.
"Because we don't have the insane chakra reserves that spiky-haired menace contains," Tsunade grumbled. "Splitting my chakra in half is exhausting. It gives me a headache."
Somewhere in the distance, miles away in the village, a sneeze echoed on the wind. Achoo!
Tsunade ignored it. She pointed at her clone.
"This clone has roughly 1/16th of my total physical power," Tsunade said. "It hits like a normal Jōnin, not a Sannin."
She cracked her knuckles. The sound was wet and heavy.
"Try not to die."
Sylvie blinked.
The clone didn't wait. It blurred.
Before Sylvie could even raise her hands, the clone was in her personal space, a fist driving toward her gut with the force of a battering ram.
Sylvie screamed.
Tsunade sat down on a nearby stump to watch. Sink or swim, kid, she thought. Preferably swim.