Months later
Daigo's days had become simple, almost monotonous.
Wake up before dawn.
Train.
Academy.
Train again.
Sleep.
And repeat.
During those months, Daigo dedicated nearly all his time to one thing: his earth affinity. At first, it had been frustrating. The sand slipped through his fingers, crumbled when he tried to compact it, playing him like a challenge as if it weren't impossible to control—but he was patient enough to keep going.
But little by little, something changed.
Daigo realized that his chakra responded more naturally, as if it were normal to control the element when it came into contact with the earth. It was a gentle, gradual response—not intense, nor violent. When he pushed his chakra, the sand hardened, though it returned to normal once he stopped.
Two months.
That was all it took for him to complete the basic sand hardening training—something that, according to Chiyo, usually took a year or more, even for talented adults.
Chiyo didn't say it out loud, but Daigo noticed.
The way she watched him in silence.
How her eyes narrowed when the sand solidified under his small hands.
That afternoon, after seeing him complete the exercise without failing, Chiyo handed him a scroll.
"It's a simple jutsu," she said, "but it's a good start. It's called Doton: Doryūheki."
An earth wall.
Daigo accepted it with both hands, bowing in respect.
"Thank you, Grandma Chiyo. I'll train it until I master it."
And he did.
He not only mastered the jutsu but learned to raise the wall faster each time, reducing chakra consumption, adjusting the shape, reinforcing weak points. It became his first real defensive technique—something that could save his life.
But Daigo didn't stop there.
At the academy, he had already learned the three basic jutsu: Bunshin, Henge, and Kawarimi. He could use all three without issue, though Kawarimi caught his attention the most. It was simple, versatile, and could mean the difference between life and death.
So he trained it over and over.
Until it became instinctive.
He could have graduated early if he wanted. Become a genin, go out into the field. But Daigo was in no hurry. He knew this time was a gift—an opportunity to build solid foundations before facing the real world.
Meanwhile, his relationship with Sasori progressed... in its own way.
Sasori remained cold. Distant. A bit tsundere.
He never admitted anything.
But they trained together.
Every week they sparred, and at first, Daigo usually had the advantage in hand-to-hand combat. His strikes were clean, his stance firm. However, everything changed the moment Sasori brought out a puppet.
Hidden weapons.
Invisible threads.
Poison.
Daigo was forced to retreat, to think, to accept that charging head-on was a bad idea. He didn't always win. And he liked that.
Chiyo and Ebizo, seeing his steady progress, decided to invest more in him.
They gave him two new earth jutsu.
The first: Doton: Double Suicide Decapitation Technique.
Bury the enemy up to the neck, completely immobilizing them.
The second: Doton: Rock Spears.
Stone spikes emerging from the ground, ideal for controlling the terrain and punishing careless movements.
Daigo trained both techniques seriously. He didn't let excitement take over. He knew that, while useful, they weren't enough.
A prepared chūnin could survive them.
A jōnin... wouldn't even hesitate.
So he trained more. Faster. More efficiently.
His chakra reserves grew along with his body. At six years old, Chiyo was clear:
"Your reserves are at the level of a high chūnin."
That was good. Very good. But Daigo knew chūnin-level chakra wasn't enough—he'd need Kage-level chakra to survive against the strongest.
That night, sitting on the roof of his house, Daigo watched the reddish sky of Suna as he thought. The hot wind hit his face when an idea formed in his mind.
Moving underground.
A perfect jutsu for ambushes. To evade common sensors. To attack from where no one expected.
"That'll be the next one," he murmured.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
Daigo turned his head just in time to see a tall figure approach and sit beside him.
"Oh, Dad," he said. "You're back from your mission?"
His father sighed, looking at the horizon.
"The borders are heating up. Skirmishes are frequent. Nothing big... yet. All the villages are recovering."
"That's normal," Daigo replied. "The Second War lasted many years."
His father glanced at him sideways, surprised by the calm in his voice.
"I came to train you," he said finally. "I know you've improved a lot with the help of Chiyo-sama and Ebizo-sama... but as your father, I also have something to teach you."
Daigo raised an eyebrow.
"But you're a chūnin, Dad. Chiyo-sama is an elite jōnin. What could you teach me that she doesn't know?" Daigo asked curiously.
The man blinked... and then fell backward, defeated by the words.
"That hurt."
Daigo smiled faintly.
"But it's true."
His father let out a short laugh before sitting up.
"She's a puppeteer. You don't want that path. I fight on the front lines. Real taijutsu. Dirty combat. Survival."
He stood up and stretched his neck.
"And tonight, we'll train that."
Daigo's eyes lit up.
"Perfect. I won't hold back. I'll go all out... and no jutsu."
"Good," his father replied. "Neither will I."
They went down to the backyard. Sand under their feet. Absolute silence.
"Attack whenever you want," his father said.
Daigo didn't hesitate.
He lunged forward, throwing a direct punch to the face. His father twisted his body, deflecting the attack with his forearm and countering with a sharp blow to the abdomen. The air rushed out of Daigo's lungs in a gasp.
He had no time to react.
A sweeping kick made him fall. Before hitting the ground, his father already had a knee on his chest.
"Dead," he said calmly.
Daigo gritted his teeth.
He got up.
Attacked again.
And fell again.
Each attempt ended the same. Taken down. Outmatched. Controlled.
After the fifth fall, Daigo stayed on the ground, breathing heavily.
"Do you know why you lose?" his father asked.
Daigo shook his head.
"Because you rely too much on your talent. On your jutsu." He leaned toward him. "In war, that kills. I've seen supergeniuses die before a chūnin like me."
Daigo clenched his fists, knowing his father was right.
"Daigo, I may be a chūnin, but even a civilian can kill the strongest ninja. You should never underestimate anyone, no matter their rank or position," his father said, helping him up.
"Dad, why aren't you a jōnin? I think you're pretty strong," Daigo asked.
"I've thought about it, but it's not that simple to become a jōnin. I'm someone who loves the adrenaline and being in the main battles. A jōnin only goes out into the field for important moments—that would mean waiting around, and I don't like that," his father said.
"I understand, but wouldn't it be better for improving if you were a jōnin? And wouldn't it be safer?" Daigo asked.
"I thought about it, but Daigo, not everyone has talent as great as yours to keep advancing. Right now, my talent prevents me from getting stronger than a jōnin, so I prefer to stay a chūnin. Besides, being a shinobi means not fearing death. I've seen it enough, but look at me—I'm still here," his father said.
"That was cool, Dad. I hope I'm ready when my turn comes. Dad, where did you learn your combat style?" Daigo said.
"Ah, that—I learned it from your grandfather. He dedicated almost all his years to creating it. It's pretty strong, and I can't even unlock its full potential. That's what I wanted to teach you, but first, I'll tell you the story of my father—your grandfather," his father said.
They both sat down to rest, and then Daigo's father began to speak.
"Your grandfather was nobody. A genin his whole life. No clan, no special affinity, no talent or genius. But he came back alive from over a hundred missions in this hell of sand. Do you know why?"
Daigo shook his head.
"Because he invented this." Haru placed a hand on his chest. "He called it Breathing of the Seven Heavens. He said that in the desert, there's only sky above and sand below... and if you control your breath, you control your life."
Daigo's eyes widened.
"Seven Heavens...?"
—That name sounds familiar— Daigo thought to himself.
"A taijutsu technique?" Daigo asked curiously.
"That's right. Your grandfather created it. He went through everything so we could have a different future from his. He told me to pass it on to my son and never let it be lost. Do you want to learn it, Daigo?" he asked.
"I'd love to learn it, Dad," Daigo said.
"Alright, but first, I want you to promise me and my father that you'll never tell anyone about it. You can only pass it to your children or someone worthy of using it," he said seriously.
"I promise, in the name of my grandfather Shira and my father Haru, that I will teach this technique only to my children and someone who is worthy, in the name of Daigo," Daigo promised, bowing his head with respect and seriousness.
"Alright. Now I'll tell you how it works. The first point is breathing. You inhale more oxygen than any normal person. You mix it with your chakra and distribute it throughout your body. Your muscles swell with energy. You run faster, hit harder, endure longer. That's how it works—simply, without needing too much learning," Haru said.
"I understand. There's more, right?" Daigo asked.
Haru just nodded and continued.
"There are seven levels, like seven heavens. First: it only accelerates your pulse and reflexes. The second increases those effects more. The third: your skin heats up, your eyes change, amplifying the previous effects even further. Then there's the 4th and 5th, where it allows your chakra to move easily through your body—you can control it more effortlessly, and your body increases in strength, density, and agility to a very high level while you keep it active. That's as far as your grandfather and I could go. There are two more levels where the effects aren't 100% confirmed, but they could be even stronger than the previous ones," Haru explained.
"I understand, Dad. It sounds pretty strong just hearing about it, but I imagine there's a price to pay for using this technique, right?" Daigo asked.
"That's right. As your grandfather said, nothing in life is free. When using this technique, your lungs will hurt, along with your body, if you use it for too long. Though we believe that with a well-trained body, those effects will be less damaging. And with the last two levels, it could be more than that," Haru said.
"Interesting, Dad. This technique is the best. When do we start?" Daigo asked.
"When you're ready. First, we have to train that body of yours, along with your lungs. As you are now, you won't even be able to access the beginning of the technique. If it were that simple, your grandfather wouldn't have spent so long creating it," Haru said.
"Understood, Dad. Tell me what I have to do, and I'll train as hard as I can," Daigo said with renewed energy.
"Well, for today, rest. Tomorrow I'll wake you up—we'll start early, before you go to the academy," Haru said, standing up.
"Understood. I'll rest well," Daigo said.
"I hope so. Hungry, right?" Haru asked with a smile on his face.
"Is that another effect of the technique?" Daigo asked.
"That's right. I forgot the most important effect. Well, let's go eat."
End of chapter