"Really? You would... you would just teach me an S-rank art?"
Yugao's voice was barely a whisper, her eyes searching mine for any sign of a lie. To a shinobi, a high-level jutsu or sword style was a life-insurance policy. You didn't just hand them out like candy, especially not to someone who had just tried to use you as a training dummy.
"I'm a man of my word, Yugao-san," I said, finally stepping back and letting her breathe. I leaned against the cherry blossom tree, looking at her with a calm, predatory confidence. "But let's be clear. This isn't the Leaf's basic Kenjutsu. It's a style that demands everything—your focus, your body, and your absolute obedience during our sessions. If you can't handle being pushed, don't waste my time."
Yugao straightened her sweat-soaked tank top, the translucent fabric sticking to her skin in ways that left very little to the imagination. The professional light in her eyes was returning, fighting through the lingering flush on her cheeks. She looked at her own blade, then back at me.
"I can handle it. I've survived ANBU training; I can handle a brat's ego."
"Good."
[System Notification: Training Path Initialized!]
Subject: Uzuki Yugao
Objective: Mentor the target in the Hiten Mitsurugi Style.
Progress: 0/100%
Current Perk: Master's Presence (During training, the target is 30% more susceptible to physical and psychological influence).
"We start tomorrow," I stated, ignoring the blue screen flickering in my vision. "Two hours every morning before the sun hits its peak. I know you have to report for your ANBU shifts, so we'll make it quick and brutal. Don't be late."
Yugao nodded, her grip on her sword tightening. "I'll be here."
"See you at 5:00 AM, Yugao-san," I called out over my shoulder, vaulting back over the fence into my own yard.
[The Training Ground]
I headed towards the training grounds. Kakashi had summoned Team 7 for a mission briefing, and despite my "special status," I still had to play the part of the talented Genin occasionally.
I arrived early. The morning mist was still clinging to the grass of Training Ground 3. I expected to find the area empty, but a lone figure was sitting on one of the three training posts.
Naruto.
He wasn't shouting. He wasn't practicing his seals. He was just sitting there, staring at his hands, his usual boisterous chakra feeling strangely subdued—heavy, like a storm that hadn't quite broken yet.
"You're early, whiskers," I said, walking up and leaning against the post next to him. "Did Ichiraku run out of ramen, or did you finally learn how to tell time?"
Naruto didn't look up. His shoulders hitched, and I heard a sharp, wet sniffle. "Kenji... I found him. I found the Pervy Hermit last night."
I stayed quiet, letting the silence of the woods do the work.
"I asked him," Naruto rasped, his voice thick with emotion. He finally looked at me, tears streaming down his face, though he was trying to force a smile. "He told me. Everything. My dad... he wasn't just some guy who died for the village. He was the Fourth. The Fourth Hokage, Kenji! I... I'm not a monster. I'm his son."
He broke then, a ragged sob escaping his throat as he buried his face in his hands. I didn't offer a flowery speech. I just reached out and gave his shoulder a heavy, grounding pat, letting him vent the decade of isolation and self-loathing that was finally cracking open.
After a few minutes, he wiped his eyes with his sleeve, taking a shaky breath.
"So," I asked, my voice level. "What's the plan? You going to march into the Hokage's office and demand your inheritance? Or maybe tell the villagers to start bowing?"
Naruto shook his head, his blue eyes regaining that stubborn, unyielding light. "No. If I tell them now, they'll only look at me because of him. I want them to look at me. I'm going to earn their trust with my own hands, not my dad's. When I become Hokage... that's when I'll tell everyone who my father was."
"Huh. You're actually quite sensible when you aren't yelling about ramen," I smirked. "The Fourth would probably be proud. Or terrified. Probably both."
"What are you perverts doing together?! Discussing something gross again?"
The high-pitched, abrasive voice of Sakura Haruno cut through the moment. Naruto hurriedly wiped the last of his tears, twisting his face back into his usual goofy, grinning mask before I could even blink.
Sakura marched up to us, her hands on her hips. "You guys look like you're plotting something. Naruto, why is your face red? Were you?"
I looked Sakura up and down, my gaze lingering on her chest area with a slow, bored indifference.
"Actually, Sakura, we were having a very high-level tactical discussion," I said, my voice dripping with mock-seriousness. "We were debating whether you actually bother wearing a bra under that tunic, or if you just don't see the point since there's nothing there to support."
Naruto choked on his own spit, his face turning a vibrant shade of red.
Sakura froze. Her face went from pale to a deep, vein-throbbing purple in record time. "YOU... YOU ABSOLUTE FILTHY PERVERT!"
"I'm just being observant," I shrugged, leaning back. "It's a flat-out fact. Staring at your chest is like looking at a training manual—entirely one-dimensional."
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Sakura screamed, swinging a heavy, chakra-less fist at my face.
I tilted my head an inch to the left, letting her momentum carry her past me. She spun around, trying to catch me, but I was already five feet away, moving with a lazy, effortless grace that drove her even crazier.
"Can't catch what you can't see, Billboard-brow," I teased.
Sasuke arrived a moment later, walking with that familiar, brooding edge. He didn't say a word, just took his spot leaning against a tree, his eyes flicking toward me with a mix of resentment and forced neutrality. He was still reeling from the hospital encounter, his ego bruised worse than his ribs.
"Where's Sensei?" Sasuke muttered, his voice cold.
"Where do you think?" I sighed, looking at my watch. "He probably saw a black cat, or got lost on the path of life, or found a new volume of Icha Icha. We'll be lucky if he shows up before noon."
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