After completing a full lap around Training Ground 3, Tatsuma and Minato slowed by mutual, unspoken agreement. They transitioned from a dead sprint to a light jog to regulate their breathing. The bowl-cut young man followed suit a beat later, mirroring their pace.
After another lap of jogging, the three came to a halt. Minato and Tatsuma looked at the man beside them. Despite the intensity of the run, he wasn't even breaking a sweat. Minato looked up in genuine awe.
"Ninja-sama, your taijutsu must be incredibly powerful!"
Hearing someone address him as "Ninja-sama" for the first time, Might Duy froze. He let out an embarrassed laugh and rubbed his bowl-cut head.
"Ahahaha! I'm actually just a Genin. I don't have much talent for ninjutsu, so I have to make up for it by training my body. Don't call me 'Lord' or anything—just call me Might Duy!"
Tatsuma observed the man before him. This was one of the legendary figures of the Hidden Leaf's lower ranks—the man who would eventually teach the Eight Inner Gates and the philosophy of "Self-Rule" to Might Guy, a son who would nearly kick the series' final boss into early retirement.
To be a shinobi was to endure what others could not. Might Duy, who spent his life adhering to his self-imposed constraints, was perhaps the ultimate representative of that creed.
However, Tatsuma knew that Duy wasn't quite as naturally powerful as the future Might Guy. Many fans liked to hype him up, but in Tatsuma's estimation, Duy's feat of taking out four of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist was likely his absolute limit.
The difference was evident even when Guy was a child. The father and son had trained together frequently; once, when they were running laps, Might Duy had collapsed from exhaustion at lap 1,500. Guy, still a young child, had pushed through to finish a staggering 5,000.
Duy focused solely on taijutsu because he had to; it was his only path. Guy, on the other hand, actually possessed Wind and Lightning chakra natures and a massive chakra pool—he simply chose to specialize in taijutsu to honor his father's legacy and path.
Of course, whether it was Duy or Guy, both were infinitely more powerful than the current Tatsuma, whose "Genin-level" strength was still barely passing.
Faced with this eccentric but earnest man, Tatsuma flashed a brilliant smile. "Duy-oji-san, you're the most hardworking shinobi I've ever seen. I often see you pouring your heart and soul out in front of the Hokage Building..."
Tatsuma trailed off. He realized Might Duy had gone completely rigid, looking for all the world like he'd been turned to stone. After a long silence, Duy spoke in a hollow, trembling voice.
"Uncle? But... I'm only eighteen..."
Eighteen?! Tatsuma screamed internally. This man is eighteen?!
Both Minato and Tatsuma stared at him, giant question marks practically floating above their heads. They looked at the thick eyebrows, the weathered, rugged face, and the dense stubble of Might Duy, and fell into a stunned silence.
After a few moments of awkward quiet, Tatsuma remembered: Duy died during the Third Great Shinobi War at age thirty-five. Mathematically... eighteen made perfect sense.
"So... training taijutsu makes a person look mature that much faster?" Tatsuma blurted out, trying to break the heavy silence he had created. "Minato, it looks like we need to train even harder from now on!"
Minato caught on quickly and nodded vigorously. "Right! Only by looking mature can we truly be seen as reliable!"
"You... you two actually meant it... like that?"
Tears and snot began to stream down Duy's face. He looked at them with profound guilt. "I thought you were saying I looked old! It seems my commitment to youth isn't thorough enough! I actually doubted the power of Youth for a second!
"It's decided! I'm going to run a hundred laps around this field before I sleep! If I can't finish, I'll do five thousand finger-tip pushups!"
Without waiting for a response, Might Duy took off, a blur of green charging back into the night to shed more sweat and blood under the stars.
Tatsuma watched him disappear in a cloud of dust. He glanced at his system and saw that his Speed potential had officially broken the 1,000-point mark. He turned to Minato. "Minato, you should head back. I want to train a bit more tonight."
"To chase after Duy-san's footsteps, right?" Minato smiled, using Tatsuma's own favorite phrase against him. "As expected of you, Tatsuma! Count me in—I'm not letting you stay out longer than me!"
Tatsuma let out an infectious laugh and bolted, chasing after Duy's retreating back.
Under the night sky, two more reckless boys joined the "Youthful" sprint.
The consequence of their nighttime madness was that the next morning, Minato and Tatsuma arrived at the Academy for their final exams looking like the walking dead. They had dark circles under their eyes, bloodshot pupils, and unsteady footsteps. They were practically leaning on each other just to stay upright.
Minato's appearance was manageable, but Tatsuma looked like a disaster. Because he hadn't had time to wash his hair, his natural perm had expanded into a massive, frizzy "explosive" style that would have made any trendy grandmother jealous. Such were the woes of the naturally curly-haired.
"You two..."
Their teacher, Goppu Sarutobi, stared at them. He opened his mouth to scold them, but seeing their state, he softened. "Are you even capable of taking the test? Do you want to rest? I can arrange for you to test with another class this afternoon."
"I'm fine!" Tatsuma croaked. His competitive spirit was a lifelong affliction. He glanced at his friend. "Minato is talented, sure, but maybe he should wait until the afternoon?"
The competitive spark, buried under layers of exhaustion, flared up in Minato. He'd lost the final two laps of their run last night and wasn't about to lose again. He gritted his teeth. "I'm fine too, sensei! And my score will be better than Tatsuma's!"
Normally, a polite kid like Minato might have made a grand declaration about taking the top spot in the class. But in his current state, he only had enough energy to focus on beating Tatsuma.
Goppu looked at them and sighed. He'd always known Tatsuma was hyper-competitive, but he hadn't expected the boy to drag a "good kid" like Minato down into the gutter with him. Still, he respected their choice and sent them to the waiting area.
There, they found someone in a similar state: Shikaku Nara.
"Yo, Shikaku. Did you pull an all-nighter training too?" Tatsuma asked, collapsing onto the bench beside him.
Shikaku looked like he was recovering from a terminal illness. "Found a Shogi manual with some complex end-game puzzles," he muttered weakly. "Stayed up all night playing against myself."
"Did you solve them?" Minato asked curiously.
Shikaku's face went gray—a shade of pale usually reserved for the morgue. After a long moment of silence, he regained a flicker of life and grumbled, "Just give me one more day. One more day and I'll have it. Why do we have to have exams now? What a waste of time."
Tatsuma looked at Minato (who was unintentionally twisting the knife) and then back at Shikaku. "Why didn't you apply for the afternoon session?"
"And waste a whole morning?" Shikaku rolled his eyes.
Tatsuma let out a tired chuckle and used his catchphrase: "As expected of you."
The first round of the finals was weapon projection again, but the distance had been increased to ten meters. Kunai and shuriken were mandatory; senbon were optional but earned extra credit.
It was soon Shikaku's turn. The genius of the Nara clan walked up to the line and performed a technique that looked suspiciously like Jiraiya's "Throw Everything at Once" style. Not a single projectile hit the target. Under Goppu's murderous glare, Shikaku shuffled back to his seat.
"Tatsuma! Minato! You two better show me some actual effort!" Goppu barked.
Tatsuma flashed a weak smile and put on a mockingly arrogant face. "Please. It's just target practice. I could do this with one hand."
But the moment he picked up a kunai and tried to grip it, his right hand suffered a massive, agonizing cramp. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his right hand with his left, hissing through his teeth.
"AH! Ow, ow, ow! Pain! Too much pain!"