Satomi Villa.
On the open ground a short distance in front of the villa, two figures were stretched into long, thin silhouettes by the light. At some point, a wooden shuriken target had been set up for practice.
"Take a break first." Mamoru said, looking at Yakumo, who was panting on the field.
"I... I can keep going..." Yakumo brushed the sweat from her cheek with the back of her hand, her breathing still ragged.
"Listen to me." Mamoru said, calm but firm, and handed her a clean towel. "Training like this is inefficient and will only wreck your body."
"...All right." Yakumo hesitated, then took the towel and gently wiped the sweat from her face and neck.
She fell silent for a moment, then looked up, eyes anxious yet hopeful. "How do you think I'm doing now?"
Mamoru followed her gaze toward the target nearby. The wooden face was scarred and chaotic. Most shuriken had missed the center, the uneven gouges telling the story of hard training.
Total mess. The debuff "frail and sickly" was hurting her far more than it appeared.
After spending time together and observing every minute detail with the Six Eyes, he was sure of the root of her problem—Kekkei Genkai illness.
It was the result of overusing or abusing a Kekkei Genkai until the body could no longer bear it. Classic examples were Itachi and Kimimaro.
Yakumo's case was slightly different. The former two had actively chosen to use their Kekkei Genkai, while hers came from the terrifying erosion of an innate gift.
Unconsciously, her body was being worn down by the powerful genjutsu talent she'd been born with. Because she couldn't control that power, the vast spiritual energy kept generating and circulating without proper release, leaving her in chronic overload.
Even a Tailed Beast Jinchuriki, with far greater vitality, might not endure that forever.
Collecting his thoughts, Mamoru chose his words. "There's still... plenty of room for improvement."
"I see..."
Yakumo didn't look discouraged. Instead, her eyes grew more resolute. "Then I have to work even harder."
Mamoru's eye twitched almost imperceptibly. With the wrong approach, effort alone would never bring real results.
Yakumo looked at him, a trace of grievance in her voice. "Didn't you say you'd teach me? Are you just going to watch?"
Instead of replying, Mamoru took several shuriken from his ninja pouch. With a flick of his wrist, cold light flashed in a blur.
Thud... Thud...
Every blade struck dead center.
Even more amazing, each followed a tricky angle, the tip of the next lodging into the split of the previous, until a gleaming metal flower bloomed on the bull's-eye.
That stunning display was his answer.
Yakumo stared, mouth slightly open.
Shuriken... could be used like that?
"Teach me!" She grabbed his sleeve, eyes shining. "I want to learn that!"
"Sure, but first get your accuracy solid." Mamoru chuckled. "Without basics, those tricks are only mirages."
"Got it!"
Yakumo clenched a fist, radiant with sudden understanding.
Without noticing when it had started, the feeling of having something to look forward to filled her with warmth.
She tilted her head, gazing at the boy standing in the morning light, and for a moment, was lost in thought.
An indescribable sense of peace crept through her. If days could stay this calm forever, that would be nice.
Mamoru gently broke her reverie. "I need to step out for a bit. I'll be back soon."
"Mm." Yakumo came back to herself and nodded, her eyes still following him.
At the path's entrance, Mamoru paused, looked back, and smiled warmly. "And don't push yourself. Otherwise, I won't teach you."
Yakumo nodded vigorously. "I understand."
Satisfied, Mamoru turned away, his figure fading into the dusk-shrouded forest trail.
—
Konoha Hospital stood quiet in the bright sun.
A figure drifted down like a falling leaf, landing lightly in the street in front of the hospital without raising a speck of dust. The sudden entrance drew startled looks. Passers-by stopped and whispered about the extraordinary sight.
Hands in his pockets, Mamoru ignored the stares and strolled toward the entrance. As he neared, he heard a troubled nurse inside.
"W-what do you think you're doing? Stop that right now!"
A determined, stubborn counting rang out. "...one-hundred-twenty-one, one-hundred-twenty-two, one-hundred-twenty-three..."
The familiar voice told Mamoru exactly who it was. He looked over.
In the hospital's open courtyard, Lee, body wrapped in bandages, was doing one-arm, one-leg push-ups.
Sweat dripped from his furrowed brow, pooling on the ground. Skin exposed outside the bandages flushed from overexertion.
Mamoru shook his head.
Truly indomitable.
"Lee, please stop! What you need most is proper rest..." The young nurse fretted beside him.
"Don't interrupt my training!" Lee gritted out. "This is my Way of Youth!"
He didn't pause, though ragged breathing betrayed his exhaustion.
Mamoru stepped up, crouched, and met Lee's bloodshot eyes. "Hey, what do you think you're pulling?"
"M-Mamoru." Lee gasped, lifting his sweat-soaked face. "As... as you can see, I'm training. This... this is youth!"
Mamoru sighed, suddenly stern. "Do you realize? With proper rest, those injuries would heal in two or three months. Keep abusing yourself and you'll damage muscles and bones again..."
He paused for emphasis. "You might never be a ninja again."
"Ugh..." Lee froze, his supporting arm trembling.
Panic replaced stubbornness. "M-Mamoru... what should I do? Help me!"
Anyone else he might have ignored, but Mamoru's warning hit home.
Mamoru exhaled. "It's not too bad yet. Lie down and heal."
He stood and motioned to the nurse. "Take him back to his ward. If he acts up again, leave him be. He doesn't want to stay a ninja anyway."
Lee shivered and shrank back.
The nurse hurried to support the pale boy. The scare tactic worked and Lee offered no resistance as he was helped, limping, toward the ward.
Mamoru followed at leisure, entering the antiseptic-scented halls.
He threaded familiar corridors. Sunlight through the windows cast dappled shadows on the floor.
At Hinata's door, he raised a hand to knock, then paused—it was ajar, the room quiet.
He slipped inside: bed neatly made, quilt folded, room empty, even the cup on the bedside table perfectly aligned.
Too late.
Back at the front desk, he tapped the counter.
"When was Hyuga Hinata discharged?" Mamoru asked.
The receptionist lowered her head, rustling through the records. "Hyuga… just checked out a short while ago."
She looked up with an apologetic smile. "About ten minutes ago."
Mamoru scratched the back of his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips.
Which means I arrived right after she left. So, this whole trip was for nothing?