Chapter 234: Strength Improvement
The night passed without incident. Whatever chaos had unfolded in the shadows failed to leave even a single ripple across the tranquil surface of Konoha. When the morning sun crested over the Hokage Monument, it was as if nothing had happened at all.
At the breakfast table, Kakashi poked at his rice, his brow furrowed in deep thought. "With the village's defensive strength," he muttered, breaking the quiet clinking of chopsticks, "how could those people still manage to sneak inside?"
However, for all his prodigious intellect, Kakashi was still just a child. The labyrinth of adult politics and complex schemes remained entirely foreign to him. After a moment of fruitless pondering, he simply chalked it up to a rare lapse in the Patrol Team's vigilance.
Later that morning, Kakashi headed out to the courtyard to practice his kenjutsu. To his surprise, Sakumo stepped out onto the training ground, drawing his own blade to personally guide his son. Having the White Fang of Konoha physically demonstrate stances and correct his posture yielded results far beyond the usual daily updates scribbled in training notes. In just a single morning, Kakashi's blade work grew noticeably sharper, his strikes carrying a newfound, lethal efficiency.
Playing her part to perfection, Stelle widened her eyes, appropriately expressing utter shock that the mild-mannered Sakumo actually knew how to swing a sword. She scurried into the house, returning with a stack of dry towels that she neatly arranged on the patio table. Settling into a comfortable wooden chair, she gnawed on a piece of toast, her golden eyes tracking the silver-haired duo as they clashed.
She had fully intended to approach Sakumo about her own training regimen once Kakashi paused to catch his breath. Yet, to her genuine surprise, the legendary shinobi beat her to the punch.
Sakumo sheathed his blade and turned to her, his expression warm but carrying an obvious weight. "A-Mu, you will train with Kakashi from now on. I will be guiding both of you."
It wasn't a suggestion. It was a direct notification, delivered with the quiet assertiveness of a seasoned guardian taking responsibility for his ward. He reached into his pouch and pulled out a small, square slip of Chakra Induction Paper, extending it toward her. "Channel your chakra into this."
Stelle pinched the delicate paper between her fingers and pushed a sliver of energy into it. Instantly, the right half of the paper crinkled violently, while the left half grew damp, soaking through with moisture.
Sakumo's eyes lit up with approval. "Lightning and Water affinities. Excellent. Lightning is perfectly suited for practicing my style of kenjutsu. And when combined with Water Release ninjutsu, the resulting destructive power is exceptional."
From that day forward, Sakumo's gentle demeanor vanished the moment they stepped onto the training field. He became a strict, uncompromising instructor, demanding absolute perfection from Stelle. Her new regimen was a carbon copy of the grueling foundational exercises Kakashi had endured years prior. Every swing, every sprint, every chakra control exercise Kakashi had mastered, she was now expected to replicate.
For a time, Stelle's life devolved into an endless cycle of sweat and exhaustion. Her days blurred together into a relentless loop of swinging wooden swords until her palms blistered, running until her lungs burned, and collapsing into bed only to wake up and do it all over again.
The sheer brutality of her schedule even managed to shock Obito. Unwilling to be left in the dust by his friends, the goggled Uchiha decisively threw himself into the meat grinder, joining their daily physical conditioning. However, whenever Sakumo transitioned the lessons to advanced kenjutsu, Obito would excuse himself, sprinting back to the Uchiha compound to seek out Fugaku for rigorous instruction in their clan's signature Fire Release.
Time flowed steadily forward, measured in shattered training dummies and worn-out sandals. The youths of Konoha began to grow, their bodies stretching and their baby fat melting away into lean, functional muscle.
Within the Academy's Elite Class, the concept of 'advancing' to a higher grade didn't exist. Instead, the curriculum simply grew exponentially more difficult. Once the instructors deemed the students' foundational skills sufficiently solid, the Academy began inviting specialized guest lecturers to provide refined, high-level instruction tailored to the students' unique talents.
Kaito Uchiha, a master of illusions, took the podium to break down the complex mechanics of casting and dispelling high-level genjutsu. On another day, the eccentric Might Duy burst into the classroom, flashing a blindingly bright smile before demonstrating the terrifying physical output of the Eight Inner Gates, leaving the entire class staring in slack-jawed awe at the resulting shockwaves.
Naturally, the curriculum wouldn't be complete without a visit from the Third Hokage himself. Hiruzen Sarutobi, hailed across the elemental nations as the Professor of Ninjutsu, stepped up to the training grounds. With casual flicks of his wrists, the elderly master smoothly chained together devastating jutsu from all five elemental natures, transforming the landscape and earning a chorus of starry-eyed admiration from the aspiring shinobi.
Even the legendary Sannin made an appearance. Tsunade Senju delivered a highly technical, uncompromising lecture on the brutal realities of Medical Ninjutsu. Spotting a spark of genuine talent and precise chakra control, she officially took Rin Nohara under her wing as an apprentice.
Tsunade had actually approached Stelle with the same offer, noting the girl's flawless water-natured chakra control. Stelle, however, decisively turned her down. She had already played the role of a dedicated healer in a past life, and she had zero interest in repeating the experience. This time around, she fully intended to be a high-damage assassin.
Back at the classroom entrance, the infamous evasion trap had evolved into a nightmare. The falling chalk balls had increased to a staggering three hundred, now mixed with a barrage of blunt wooden kunai. The number of students who could cross the threshold without getting dusted remained pitifully small.
Stelle's personal combat prowess skyrocketed with each passing day. As her speed and lethality increased, her assigned sparring partners shifted. She was no longer paired with the gentle Rin, who always pulled her punches out of fear of bruising her friend.
Today, her designated opponent was Asuma Sarutobi.
Whenever Principal Kaito arranged the sparring brackets, he strictly matched students based on their current combat metrics. Having personally monitored A-Mu's explosive growth through two years of hellish, White Fang-sponsored training, he deliberately pitted her against the Hokage's son.
Asuma was a complex opponent. Nurtured by elite tutors since he could walk, the boy possessed a phenomenally solid foundation, even if his current attitude was rebellious as hell.
A large crowd of classmates gathered around the dirt ring, whispering excitedly. A makeshift gambling ring quickly formed, with bets placed on exactly how long the seemingly fragile A-Mu would last before Asuma crushed her. The grand prize on the line was the signature metal senbon currently dangling from Genma Shiranui's lips.
In the Elite Class, sparring matches had no time limits, and verbal surrenders were highly discouraged. A bout only concluded when one party was physically incapacitated or pinned beyond recovery.
Adjusting his dark sunglasses, Ebisu confidently wagered that Stelle would fold within fifteen minutes. Aoba Yamashiro, however, slapped down his bet on her lasting at least a full half-hour. Aoba knew from bitter personal experience just how terrifyingly resilient the girl was; during a previous spar, he had lost to A-Mu purely because the fight dragged on so long that his concentration finally snapped. Asuma was certainly stronger than Aoba, but predicting A-Mu could stall him for thirty minutes was hardly an exaggeration.
Inside the ring, dust kicked up into the air as Stelle and Asuma clashed. Their initial taijutsu exchange was a blur of parries and sweeping kicks, smoothly interwoven with low-level elemental ninjutsu they had recently mastered. A burst of wind here, a splash of water there—the skirmish rapidly escalated, eventually devolving into a high-speed duel of flashing steel as Asuma drew his kunai and Stelle unsealed her short sword.
Sparks flew as their blades met. Suddenly, Asuma parried hard, striking Stelle's wrist. The short sword slipped from her right grip, spinning wildly into the air.
A collective gasp rippled through the audience. Everyone assumed she had been disarmed—that the match was over.
Instead, Stelle violently twisted her torso, her left hand snapping out like a viper to snatch the falling hilt mid-air. Without missing a single beat, she lunged forward. Her left-handed thrust was terrifyingly faster than her right, striking from a bizarre, unnatural angle that completely bypassed Asuma's guard.
Before Asuma could even register the shift in momentum, the flat of her blade slammed into his wrist. His entire arm went numb. The kunai slipped from his deadened fingers, clattering uselessly into the dirt. In the next fraction of a second, Stelle hooked her leg behind his calf and wrenched his right arm painfully behind his back.
His knees buckled under the sudden shift in use. With a heavy thud, Asuma was slammed face-first into the ground, his shoulder locked in a joint manipulation so tight he couldn't twitch without risking a dislocation.
Breathing perfectly evenly, Stelle looked up from her pinned victim, flashing a bright, utterly shameless smile at the stunned crowd. "Sorry, Genma! Looks like I won today. Hand over the senbon."
"Fine, fine, you win! Just let go, my shoulder is killing me!" Asuma yelled into the dirt, surrendering as quickly as his pride would allow.
His face burned scarlet. Heaven knew how mortifying it was to be effortlessly manhandled and pinned to the floor by the softest, most harmless-looking girl in the entire class.
If he had known this was going to happen, he would have gladly volunteered to fight Kakashi instead. Sure, Kakashi would have beaten him black and blue, but at least losing to the resident prodigy was a socially acceptable defeat! Everyone lost to Kakashi. Hell, even fighting Obito would have been vastly preferable. Dealing with the Uchiha's newly awakened Sharingan was a massive headache, and getting singed by Fire Release hurt like crazy, but it was still infinitely better for his reputation than being folded like laundry by A-Mu.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to push that hard!"
Stelle immediately released his arm and scrambled to her feet. She shrank in on herself, her shoulders slumping as she looked down at Asuma with wide, teary eyes. She looked exactly like a bullied child who had accidentally broken a vase. "I'll... I'll be more careful next time," she whispered weakly, her voice trembling with perfectly manufactured guilt.
Asuma rubbed his aching shoulder, staring up at her in utter bewilderment. Wait a minute. Just three seconds ago, her strikes had been utterly ruthless, and the cold, dead look in her golden eyes had sent a genuine chill down his spine. How the hell did she instantly transform back into a helpless, quivering soft bun the moment the match ended?
A horrifying thought crossed Asuma's mind. If they ever ended up on a real battlefield together, he seriously suspected this 'soft bun' would ruthlessly slaughter enemy ninja while sobbing uncontrollably, and then politely apologize to their fresh corpses.
The mental image was so incredibly bizarre and disturbing that Asuma violently shook his head to clear it.
Yet, looking at her trembling form, an inexplicable surge of protectiveness welled up in his chest—like an exhausted father worrying about his overly timid daughter.
Coughing to regain his composure, Asuma adopted a solemn, encouraging tone. "A-Mu, there's no need to apologize. When we do combat training, we're supposed to give it our all. How else are we supposed to find our shortcomings? You didn't do anything wrong. Next time, please continue to fight with your full strength. In fact, the fiercer you are, the better."
"I understand," Stelle murmured, offering him a shy, grateful smile. "Thank you, Asuma."
Having successfully reassured his seemingly fragile classmate that he wasn't angry, Asuma immediately turned around and sprinted straight over to Principal Kaito.
"Principal," Asuma hissed, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper. "For the next combat rotation, please, I am begging you, do not assign me to A-Mu. Literally anyone else is fine. Put me against Kakashi, I don't care!"
His glorious, tough-guy image was on the line! How could he let it be ruined like this? If Kurenai ever saw him getting pinned to the dirt by the class's softest girl, unable to even twitch, he would die of sheer embarrassment. What if Kurenai started looking down on him?
No, it was absolutely essential that A-Mu continued to fight with her full, terrifying strength against everyone else. As long as the rest of the boys in the class got beaten up far more miserably than he just did, his reputation would remain perfectly intact!
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