"Alright…" Yohei said cautiously, "I'll bite. What are we looking at, sensei?"
Team Five was, once again, gathered at Training Grounds Twelve – seated on the ground and facing Hayama, who had produced from apparent nothingness… a wheel.
The wheel, made of painted wood, stood roughly as tall as Hayama's shoulders and was nearly twice his width. It was divided into four sections, each marked with bold lettering:
Duels.
Free-for-All.
One versus Three.
And finally-
S U R V I V A L.
Yohei had a bad feeling about it.
"This," Hayama said, sweeping a hand over the object with uncharacteristic theatricality, "is the Wheel of Fate. A little something your senpai from my previous team inspired me to create."
As he spoke, he traced his fingers slowly along the curved edge, a nostalgic smile tugging at his lips – one that sent a collective chill down the genin's spines.
"I use it when I decide that the focus of the final day of the week should be combat training," he continued, "rather than a mission simulation or something similar. As is the case today."
None of them liked the sound of that.
"The mechanics are simple enough," Hayama went on. "One of you will step forward and spin the wheel. Whatever it lands on will determine the format of today's training."
He raised a finger.
"Duels are exactly what they sound like. One of you versus another, with victory conditions being immobilization, incapacitation, simulation of an otherwise lethal strike… or being thrown out of bounds."
Another finger.
"Free-for-all follows similar principles – except instead of two participants, it will be all three of you against each other. There are no victory conditions beyond my personal judgment."
He smiled pleasantly.
"I will, of course, interrupt if I feel one of you is injured enough to be unable to continue. So… I suppose it's not actually the same at all."
Their unease deepened.
"One versus Three," Hayama said, voice light, "is similar to the original task you faced during your Genin Exam. All three of you against me."
Yohei swallowed.
"I won't attack or escape," Hayama continued. "Only defend myself and counterattack."
A pause.
"…Unless I feel one of you is taking too long to participate."
His smile widened.
"We wouldn't want you getting lazy, would we, my dear genin? So if any of you takes more than five seconds to attempt a strike, I will go on the offensive to… motivate you."
Yohei and Ren exchanged commiserating looks as their sensei gazed at them like a wolf watching lambs being led to the slaughter.
'I think we're actually cooked this time,' Yohei conveyed silently.
'You think?!' Ren shot back, eyes wide with disbelief.
Souma, meanwhile, seemed just as unbothered by the threats as he was curious about the missing detail.
"And what's Survival, sensei?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
Hayama's response was a wide, toothed smile.
"My favorite."
'No, really?' Yohei thought sarcastically, staring at a pertinent detail about the wheel.
Namely, that while it was technically divided into four sections, the first three together barely occupied ten percent of the surface.
The remaining ninety percent was painted a vivid, aggressive red, with the dramatic word 'S U R V I V A L' splashed across it in jagged black letters.
"Now then," Hayama said pleasantly, "who's going to be the lucky one to spin the wheel?"
Souma, despite his apparent calm, only glanced sideways – toward his two teammates.
"You do it," Ren said immediately.
Yohei squinted. "Why?"
"So I have someone to blame when we get fucked, obviously," Ren replied, rolling his eyes.
"If you take too long," Hayama added mildly, "I'll spin it myself."
"Go, go, go!" Ren urged, pushing – and lightly slapping – Yohei to force him to his feet and toward the front.
Grumbling, Yohei looked back at his teammates' anxious faces, then at his sensei's eager one. Letting out a long sigh, he clapped his hands together and bowed his head.
'Our Sage who art in heaven,
Rikudō Sennin, progenitor of chakra,
Revered be thy Six Paths.
Thy wisdom pass down,
Thy balance be maintained,
On this shinobi world as it was in the Age of Myth.
Grant me today a training that does not kill me.
Forgive me my poor chakra control,
As I forgive my sensei for smiling like that.
Lead me not into… S U R V I V A L.
But deliver me from attrition, ambushes, and prolonged suffering.
For thine are the Paths, the Beasts, and the broken power scaling,
Now and for all filler arcs.
Amen.'
"I think I'm going to spin it," Hayama mused.
Yohei's eyes flew open.
"Nope-!" he yelped, lunging forward and grabbing the wheel before his sensei could move.
He spun it hard.
As the wheel began to whirl wildly, Yohei only then noticed the final insult built into its design.
It was weighted.
The tiny sections labeled Duels, Free-for-All, and One versus Three were noticeably heavier than the rest, forcing the wheel to tilt sharply whenever they passed under the arrow at the top.
Only by balancing perfectly – briefly, precariously – could any of them ever land.
The vast red stretch of SURVIVAL, meanwhile, required no such effort.
Hurriedly clapping his hands together again, Yohei squeezed his eyes shut and bowed once more.
'Hail Kaguya, Mother of Chakra,
Full of power, the Byakugan is with thee.
Blessed art thou among the Ōtsutsuki,
And blessed in the world you keep fucking dooming.
Holy Progenitor, First Shinobi's Mother,
Pray for me, extremely mortal idiot,
Now, and at the moment the wheel stops turning.
Please don't let it be S U R V I V A L.
Amen.'
The wheel gave one final, decisive click.
"Huh. Would you look at that." Hayama's voice sounded surprised – though unmistakably amused.
Yohei opened his eyes.
Right there under the arrow was the word:
Duels.
"Oh, thank fuck."
-~=~-
"Alright, let's go over the rules again," Hayama said as Yohei and Souma – the first two selected – walked toward the center of a clearing a short distance from their usual training spot.
Apparently, this was where Hayama and Souma had practiced kenjutsu a couple of days earlier. The evidence was still there: blade-like gouges in the dirt, and deep cuts carved into the surrounding tree trunks.
"You'll spar as you did in the Academy," Hayama continued. "Unlike the Academy, however, you are not restricted to Taijutsu. Feel free to use Ninjutsu, Genjutsu, or weapons as you see fit. I'll be supervising and will intervene if either of you is about to seriously injure the other – so don't hold back."
He smiled faintly.
"As stated before, victory conditions are as follows: immobilization or incapacitation of your opponent, the simulation of an otherwise lethal strike, or being thrown out of bounds."
"What bounds?" Yohei asked, frowning as he glanced around. There were no markings on the ground – nothing that suggested an arena.
In response, Hayama drew his sword from its scabbard.
In less than a second, it was enveloped in a violent, rushing sound – like a vacuum cleaner on steroids.
He swung twice, parallel to the ground.
Blades of compressed wind tore free from the sword, gouging deep lines into the earth with a sound like stone being shredded. The vibration made the hairs on Yohei's arms stand on end.
Then Hayama vanished.
A blink later, he reappeared on the opposite side of the clearing – a position that would have required him to pass directly between Yohei and Souma without either of them noticing.
He swung twice more.
"Those bounds," Hayama said casually, sheathing his sword and nodding toward the rough square carved into the earth, the two genin standing neatly within it.
Souma let out a low, impressed "Ohhh," clapping softly as he studied the cuts.
Yohei and Ren, meanwhile, stared at their sensei with identical flat looks.
"You just wanted to show off, didn't you?" Yohei said.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, my genin," Hayama replied blandly.
He vanished again in a rush of air that blew Yohei's hair back, reappearing beside Ren outside the improvised arena. Ren looked at him, unimpressed.
"Now," Hayama said cheerfully, "are you both ready?"
Yohei stared at Souma.
The white-haired boy had stopped admiring their sensei's handiwork and was now looking back at him with focused, eager eyes, one hand resting firmly on the hilt of his sword.
'Am I ready?' Yohei asked himself, snorting internally. 'Fuck no.'
How was he supposed to beat Souma?
If this were hand-to-hand, he'd feel confident – eight times out of ten, maybe more. But with a sword? Souma had both speed and range on him. Yohei didn't have anything reliable to threaten him from afar either. Kunai and shuriken existed, sure, but between the time he reached for them and actually threw, Souma would already have steel at his throat.
And with the arena being this small, there was no real way to disengage, reposition, or bait him into overcommitting.
'Great,' he thought dryly. 'Guess I'll have to get psychological.'
"I am," Yohei finally said.
Souma nodded.
"Then perform the Seal of Confrontation," Hayama instructed.
They both complied, raising their right hands – index and middle fingers extended, ring and little fingers folded down, thumb pressed against them.
"Start!"
Both genin immediately leapt backward, creating distance and placing themselves near opposite corners of the improvised arena.
Despite that initial burst of movement, neither of them advanced. They simply watched each other, tense and wary.
Yohei knew why he was waiting. Even with a plan forming in his head, he was painfully aware that if Souma decided to go all-in and blitz him, he could very well lose before that plan ever came into play.
Souma's hesitation, however, likely came from something else entirely.
That… inflated impression he had of Yohei.
Yohei had no idea when or how it had happened, but whatever reputation he'd accidentally cultivated had almost certainly grown after yesterday's little revelation about his supposed prodigiousness.
"Aren't you going to use Extreme Muscle Assault?" Souma asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
Yohei smiled, shaking his head – careful not to take his eyes off the swordsman for even a second.
"What makes you think I'm not using it already?"
He'd activated the jutsu the moment they started moving from the riverbank to the clearing, keeping the chakra flow low enough that his muscles only gained a slight pump instead of ballooning as they usually did.
Maintaining it like this wasn't easy, but it saved precious time – and it was excellent for catching people off guard.
Which, of course, he couldn't do anymore.
But he hadn't said it without reason.
If Ren were standing in front of him, Yohei might have gambled on a sudden burst of power to overwhelm him. Souma, though, was fast enough that it wouldn't matter.
By being upfront, Yohei was feeding him a different idea.
That this duel was going to be honest.
Straightforward.
A clean test of skill.
…Which it absolutely wouldn't be.
Because that just wasn't how Yohei rolled.
Seeing Souma's eyes widen slightly as recognition set in – and his gaze sharpen as it took in the subtle swell of muscle beneath Yohei's baggy clothes – Yohei smiled.
'Hook, line, and sinker.'
He moved first.
Slowly, deliberately, he raised his arms to either side of his head. The motion was unhurried, but it was enough to snap Souma fully out of his wandering stare and into a proper stance – knees bent, posture low, eyes locked forward as he drew his sword partially from its sheath.
Still, Souma didn't advance.
Instead, he watched with open perplexity as Yohei, rather than assuming any recognizable martial stance, settled into something… else.
He stood upright, feet planted close together, weight evenly distributed. His arms were raised wide and high, elbows slightly bent, hands open as if claiming the space around him. His chest was pushed forward, shoulders rolled back, completely exposing his torso without the slightest attempt at guarding it.
"This…" Ren muttered from a few meters away.
Yohei tilted his head downward, eyes fixed on Souma as he gave him a confident, almost challenging look.
"…is the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen," Ren finished flatly. "There's not a single weak point that isn't exposed."
Hayama snorted beside him.
Ren frowned and looked back to the field, expecting to see outrage on Souma's face – anger at the sheer disrespect of the stance.
Instead –
"Why is he eating that up?" Ren asked incredulously.
Souma was smiling. Beaming, even. His eyes practically sparkled.
'Because that's exactly the kind of guy he is,' Yohei thought smugly. 'Someone who loves straightforwardness. The romance of combat.'
For someone like Souma, was there anything cooler than an opponent who held nothing back? Who walked forward without fear, embracing danger, exposing himself openly, daring you to strike?
'Behold,' Yohei crowed internally, 'even in another world, Yujiro Hanma's dumbass pose still makes teenage boys lose their damn minds.'
And so Yohei began to walk forward.
Calm. Unhurried.
With each step, he fed more chakra into his muscles, pushing Total Muscle Assault closer to its limit. The subtle swell turned pronounced, veins standing out as power coiled beneath his skin. His smile sharpened into something predatory.
Souma responded in kind.
He fully drew his sword, blade gleaming, and advanced to meet him – matching Yohei's pace step for step as the distance between them vanished.
Until they were nearly face to face.
'Now I'm close enough,' Yohei thought. 'Close enough to reach him.'
That was when he attacked.
He surged forward, dumping a final burst of chakra into his fast-twitch muscles, arms snapping down as he went for a grapple.
Souma was faster.
Before Yohei's hands were even halfway through the motion, Souma's sword was already moving – sliding up in a clean, precise arc toward Yohei's abdomen. A perfect strike for the simulation of an otherwise lethal blow condition.
Souma didn't hesitate.
He trusted Hayama to intervene before real damage could be done. Besides, he knew Yohei always wore a mesh undershirt. At worst, it would be a deep cut – not a disemboweling.
So he committed.
The blade flashed.
It sliced cleanly through Yohei's baggy jacket and shirt –
Shiii – ing.
The blade slid across Yohei's abdomen –
And found no purchase.
Instead of cutting, it skidded upward, scraping uselessly until its path was abruptly halted by Yohei's right forearm coming down to block it. At the same time, his other hand completed its original motion, fingers snapping shut around Souma's shoulder –
Only for the grip to fail.
Souma reacted instantly, leaping backward and slipping free as Yohei was left clutching nothing but fabric. The white-haired boy shrugged out of his dark purple, shawl-like cloak mid-motion, letting it slide away as he retreated out of reach.
Yohei clicked his tongue as Souma landed several meters back.
"Guess that didn't work."
Souma ignored him, eyes locked on the torn fabric at Yohei's midsection. He looked closer, peering through the sliced clothes – and froze.
Beneath the ninja mesh was a layer of flexible, metallic needles, tightly packed together into a makeshift padding.
"…What?" Souma breathed.
"Cool, right?" Yohei said with a grin, tugging the shredded cloth aside to give him a better look. "Spent the whole night getting it ready."
And part of the morning, too – before heading to the Academy.
Yohei had figured the odds of today's training involving combat were high. He'd assumed it would be against their sensei – so he'd spent some time planning how his team might pull a win against him, since the rewards for that were bound to be amazing.
This had been one of his tricks.
A hidden layer of armor, made using Needle Jizō. Something he could use as a surprise – tank a hit he otherwise had no business surviving, and strike during the inevitable moment of hesitation.
It had been far more work than he'd expected.
When he trained Needle Jizō the previous day, it seemed cheap – activating it and maintaining it barely cost any chakra at all. That, he'd realized, was because most of the chakra wasn't being spent so much as circulated, returning to his body when the technique was undone.
That illusion shattered the moment a needle was removed.
Any needle taken out – or launched, he suspected – was a permanent loss. The chakra used to create it was gone for good.
And the needle had to be fully removed. Cutting it off wasn't just difficult – the transformed hair was hard as hell – but also pointless, since it would revert back to normal hair after a while.
So he and his mom had improvised.
They spent hours plucking out the transformed strands. Yohei eventually passed out from chakra exhaustion, and she'd taken over from there – filing down the tips so he could wear them without turning himself into a human pincushion.
Crude, but effective.
A decent substitute for real armor – at least until he finished "creating" the Iron Body Technique.
"Well," Yohei said casually, tearing the ruined clothes the rest of the way off and tossing them aside, fully revealing the improvised armor beneath, "that was a waste of time and a perfectly good outfit."
Souma laughed despite himself.
"You're really something, Yohei."
He settled back into a ready stance, eyes sharper now, advancing without any intention of playing along with tricks again.
Yohei grinned.
He had no intention of playing fair either.
"Release!" Yohei shouted, snapping into the Rat hand seal and detonating the many smoke bomb tags he had lined along the inside of his clothes.
Before his teammate could recover his bearings, Yohei dropped low and ran through another quick series of seals.
Thousand Sound Perception.
The world sharpened.
Even through the lingering pops and hisses of the bombs, his chakra-enhanced hearing picked it out –
'There.'
Souma's footsteps. Soft. Controlled. Moving.
Rat → Dog → Monkey → Tiger.
Hardened Blade Claw.
Yohei forced his focus away from the unpleasant sensation of his nails splitting the skin of his fingers rearranging themselves as they elongated into claws. At the same time, he deliberately reduced the flow of chakra through the rest of his body, letting his muscles deflate and his mass drop –
Then dumped everything he had into his legs and glutes.
The ground cracked beneath his feet as he launched himself toward the sound.
To Souma's credit, he hadn't been standing around like a sitting duck. He hadn't tried to flee the smoke since crossing the arena bounds would mean an instant loss – but he had stayed alert, fully expecting Yohei to strike at any moment.
The instant he heard stone fracture, Souma raised his guard toward the sound.
Blind as he was, though, it didn't mean much against –
'DINAMIC ENTRY!' Yohei shouted.
Mentally, of course. He wasn't an idiot.
The kick slammed into Souma's chest, knocking the breath out of him and stunning him for just long enough for Yohei to wrap his arms around the boy's torso, dragging him down into a grapple.
No matter how much faster or more technically skilled Souma was, Yohei still had the edge in raw strength – and he was far more experienced in hand-to-hand combat. Once he got in close and forced the fight to the ground, it took only moments to secure the win.
As the smoke finally cleared, Hayama and Ren were greeted by the sight of both boys on the ground.
Souma lay flat on his back, legs kicking uselessly as he tried to gain leverage, while Yohei had his sword arm trapped in a tight arm lock – his teeth clamped onto the flat of the blade to keep it from shifting and stabbing him somewhere inconvenient.
"Stop!" Hayama called.
Both boys froze.
"Victory goes to Yohei."
Ren squinted, eyes flicking to where Yohei's clawed hand dug into Souma's arm – a long, wicked talon hovering just above the brachial artery.
"…Sneaky fucker," he muttered, grinning.
Yohei let go of Souma with a grunt, his skin prickling as he let his chakra stop cycling and the effects of the many jutsu he had been running concurrently finally wore off.
That took a lot more out of me than I expected, he thought with a small frown as he rolled to the side and pushed himself up.
The frown didn't last long.
The familiar tug in his awareness made him grin as the Chaos Scroll activated once again, signaling yet another reward.
'Worth it.'
"Now, do the Seal of Reconciliation," Hayama instructed.
Turning back to his teammate, Yohei saw that Souma was already on his feet. He had retrieved his cloak and draped it back over his shoulders, looking entirely too composed for someone who had just lost a match. Yohei was fairly sure he himself looked much more disheveled by comparison.
"Sorry for all the tricks," Yohei said with an embarrassed laugh as he extended a hand. "I don't think I could've beaten you without them."
Souma smiled and clasped his hand, their fingers locking firmly. "That's what being a ninja is about. If anything, you should be praised for tricking me." He inclined his head slightly. "Thank you for the experience. I still have a lot to learn."
"It's good that you know that," Hayama said as they separated, "but knowing and understanding are two very different things."
He turned his attention to Yohei first.
"Good work on your preparation and improvisation. Your plan was unorthodox – and unlikely to work against a real enemy – but that's not the point. We adapt our approach depending on the situation." His gaze sharpened. "That said, I believe this match showed you what it was meant to, yes?"
Yohei nodded. "I don't have any good options against an armed opponent who's faster than me, aside from outsmarting them."
"Correct. You're very strong at close range, but you lack mid- and long-range options beyond thrown weapons, and your bukijutsu isn't reliable enough to depend on." Hayama tapped his chin. "We'll see if Water Release can help cover that weakness. Until then, keep it in mind while you workshop your techniques – and speak with Gōdō about weapon training. The Strong Fist style does incorporate some."
He shrugged lightly. "You'll never match someone who dedicates themselves entirely to a weapon, but having anything to deflect a blade that isn't your own body wrapped in improvised armor would already be an improvement."
Then Hayama turned to Souma.
"You, on the other hand, should have won this match." Souma stiffened. "Instead, you chose to play along and were tricked not once, not twice, but three times."
Souma lowered his gaze.
"I saw when you realized your mistake and became serious again – but that seriousness is something you should've had from the beginning. We train like this so you don't die out there. By not treating these matches with the gravity they deserve, you're not only doing yourself a disservice, but your teammates as well." His voice softened slightly. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, sensei," Souma answered immediately, his tone firm.
He bowed deeply. "Please forgive my disrespect. I won't hold back anymore."
Hayama stared at Souma for a few moments longer before letting out a quiet sigh and smiling.
"Good. In that case, please step out of the field so Ren and Yohei can have their match."
"Wait, already?" Yohei asked, startled.
Hayama nodded. "The enemy won't give you time to rest and recover your strength, and neither will I. The winner stays in. The loser swaps out. We repeat until one of you can no longer fight – or until I'm satisfied."
He paused, then smiled thinly.
"I suspect the former will happen long before the latter, so give it everything you have."
Ren stepped into the arena, rolling his shoulders. "Disappointed you're not getting time to set up more traps?" he teased, though there was a hint of tension behind his grin.
Yohei scoffed. "As if I'd need something like that to deal with a weakling like you, Wimpy-kun."
Brushing dirt from his clothes as best he could, Yohei moved back to the center of the field, stopping just a few meters from his smirking teammate.
"Are you both ready?" Hayama asked.
At their nods, he continued. "Seal of Confrontation. Now – start!"
Yohei knew Ren well enough by now. If Yohei was tricky, then Ren was worse. He wouldn't be baited into a bad position, and Yohei had already burned through most of the surprises he'd prepared.
On the other hand, Ren wasn't nearly as dangerous in a straight fight as Souma was.
'I can take him head-on,' Yohei told himself. Sure, he was tired. Sore. Muscle Assault wasn't active...
'Actually, I better blitz him before he sets anything up.'
The moment Hayama called the start, Yohei lunged forward instead of retreating, throwing everything into a single, decisive rush.
And for a heartbeat, it worked.
His fist connected cleanly with Ren's chin –
– and passed straight through.
The image shattered like a mirage.
Before Yohei could even process it, a hand touched the back of his head.
Then his entire existence became pain.
Fire.
Agony exploded through his body, his nerves screaming as though he were being burned alive from the inside out.
Yohei screamed.
He knew it was a genjutsu. He knew that. But his thoughts refused to come together. There was no room for chakra control, no space for technique – only the overwhelming need to make it stop.
He collapsed, rolling on the ground, clawing at himself as he screamed, begging the fire to end.
And then –
It stopped.
The pain vanished like a bad dream, leaving him gasping, eyes wide, chest heaving.
Standing over him was Ren, smirking down with a senbon poised a hair's breadth from Yohei's eye.
"You okay there, dumbass?"
Yohei tried to say something, but his tongue felt thick and uncooperative.
"T-that hurt," he finally managed.
Ren nodded carefreely. "Yep. Promised I'd give you third-degree burns in our first match, and my mom didn't raise no liar. I mean, sure, they were all in your head – but making you feel them through your whole body kinda evens things out, don't you think?"
Yohei let out a breathless, incredulous chuckle. "You're kind of crazy, aren't you, Wimpy-kun?"
Ren snorted. "Look who's talking."
"Victory goes to Ren," Hayama announced calmly. "Now, the Seal of Reconciliation."
Yohei accepted the offered hand, locking fingers with Ren as he pulled himself to his feet. He patted at his chest, arms, and stomach, half-expecting to find scorch marks despite knowing better.
"…Yeah," he muttered. "Still whole."
"When did you even get me under a genjutsu?" Yohei asked, genuinely curious.
Ren grinned and snapped his fingers.
The illusion peeled back.
All around the arena, a ring of red fire flared into view, with a faint trail leading directly to the spot where the illusory Ren had been standing.
"I wasn't planning on using this," Ren said smugly, "but when I saw you pulling out prepped tricks, I figured it'd only be fair."
Yohei stared at him flatly. "That's a fucking lie."
Ren nodded without missing a beat, grin completely unchanged. "Yep. I was just waiting for the opportunity."
Yohei laughed. "This won't work again, you know."
"Maybe," Ren replied calmly. "But it worked once. And in the real world, once is all I need."
"How poetic," Yohei said with a grin. "Let's see if you can keep that energy after Souma's done pummeling your ass now that he won't be holding back."
"You say that like you won't get yours right after," Ren shot back.
They both turned to look at Souma.
The white-haired boy stood perfectly still, eyes sharp and unblinking, every detail of the field reflected in his focused gaze. His grip on his sword was firm, knuckles pale, his face stripped of any hint of emotion.
"We're fucked, aren't we?" Yohei muttered.
"Completely," Ren agreed. "Up the arse without lube."
"…Fuck."
-~=~-
As both of them expected, Ren lost almost instantly to Souma. The white-haired boy moved like lightning the moment Hayama announced the start of the match, his blade already resting against Ren's neck before the smaller boy could even finish blinking.
…Yohei didn't fare much better, either.
The two of them kept alternating turns against Souma for several matches, each fight ending quickly and decisively in the swordsman's favor – until, somehow, Yohei managed to grab hold of Souma's blade.
It would have been a much nastier cut if his hand hadn't been reinforced by Extreme Muscle Assault.
With a roar of effort, Yohei spun, hauling Souma off balance like a ragdoll and hurling him bodily out of the arena and into the surrounding woods.
Seeing that the more brutish approach actually worked, Yohei leaned into it.
In his next match against Ren, he kicked hard into the ground, dumping chakra into his leg and sending up a cloud of dirt and stone shrapnel. The sudden barrage broke Ren's concentration just long enough for Yohei to land a solid punch to the solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs and dropping him to the ground.
That made them even, as far as Yohei was concerned.
It also had the rather fortunate side effect of making the Chaos Scroll flare to life once more, signaling yet another reward waiting for him back home.
In the end, the training session wrapped up earlier than usual – not because Hayama was satisfied, but because all three of them were simply too exhausted to keep going.
The sun was still high in the sky when Yohei finished bathing in the river, scrubbing away blood and grime before changing into the spare clothes Hayama had advised them to bring.
He was more than ready to stumble home and collapse onto his bed after checking what the Chaos Scroll had given him – especially since he still needed some time to recover before his mom got home and started his medicine lessons.
Before he could leave the training grounds, however, Hayama placed a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Ah – yes, sensei?" Yohei asked groggily, chakra reserves scraping dangerously low. "Did I forget something?"
Hayama shook his head, smiling faintly. "No. I just wanted to tell you that I read through the material you gave me this morning. I approve of your trip to Training Ground Eighteen to look for a… tameable chakra beast."
Yohei straightened a little despite himself.
"On a related note," Hayama continued, "I know you're exhausted, but if you're up for it, I can arrange that introduction to an Inuzuka we talked about."
Yohei blinked dazedly for a few seconds before the words actually sank in – then his eyes widened and he nodded far too fast for someone who claimed to be tired.
Hayama chuckled. "Come on, then. There's somewhere we need to stop on the way."
-~=~-
The place they had to stop turned out to be a small stall near the edge of the commercial district, selling tsukune – skewered, grilled chicken meatballs.
Hayama bought an alarming number of them and stuffed the skewers into a paper bag, while Yohei focused on devouring the five he'd gotten for himself, hoping the protein and grease would help him claw back a bit of energy before meeting whoever his sensei wanted to introduce him to.
"Oh, looks like we're in luck," Hayama said with mild surprise as they stepped through the doors of what looked like a strange hybrid between a clinic and a pet shop. "I thought you'd be in the back."
The person he was speaking to was a beautiful young woman.
A decade older than Yohei, if he had to guess. She had an aristocratic-looking face that paired unexpectedly well with the sharp eyes typical of the Inuzuka – especially when framed by the two loose bangs that had escaped the high ponytail she kept her hair in, and the traditional red clan markings on her cheeks.
She chuckled at Hayama's words, and Yohei felt heat rush to his face at how good it sounded.
Sharp, but also… soft.
Like a blade wrapped in velvet.
'Fantastic,' Yohei groaned internally. 'I'm thinking in purple prose now.'
"Most of the pups got assigned to their partners this week, so things have been slow," she explained as she rose from behind the counter. Her nose twitched faintly – cutely – as she walked over, raising an eyebrow while taking the bag of tsukune Hayama was offering. "Can I at least know what you're trying to bribe me for before I accept it?"
"Hana," Hayama said mildly, "you already took it from my hands."
She blinked, glancing down to see that one hand was holding the bag, while the other had already grabbed a skewer and brought it to her mouth.
"Huh. Guess I did." She bit into the meatball, humming contentedly before looking back at him. "So what did I just agree to?"
Hayama chuckled and shook his head before gesturing toward Yohei. "This is Kuroyama Yohei – one of my new genin. Yohei, this is Inuzuka Hana. I was her captain for a few missions, back when she was a fresh chūnin."
"A few for you," she corrected dryly. "For me, it was basically all of them until I became a medic. Honestly, it felt like I never stopped being a genin – just got reassigned a new sensei."
Hayama merely shrugged, smiling. She snorted, then turned her attention fully to Yohei, giving him an appraising look from head to toe before smiling.
"Nice to meet you, kid. You're in good hands – Hayama-san's a dependable leader, despite his tendency to attract weird people."
Then she tilted her head in a way that reminded Yohei painfully of a puppy, grinning just enough to show a hint of her fangs.
"Though if you're his genin," she added cheerfully, "you're probably a weirdo too."
"Meet you nice to- " Yohei blurted out, before coughing and hurriedly trying again. "I mean – nice to meet you!"
Hana gave him an amused look. "Cute." She hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing a fraction. "Now that I think about it, I recognize you. You're one of Kiba's classmates, right? I've seen you around when I went to the Academy to pick him up."
She tilted her head, studying him. "So. What exactly is your sensei trying to bribe me into doing for you? If it's a ninken, I'm afraid you'll have to go through the proper steps like everyone else – though I could probably get you closer to the top of the list."
Yohei glanced at Hayama. His sensei met his eyes and gave him an encouraging nod, but otherwise stayed silent, clearly leaving it up to him how much he wanted to say.
"Uh – actually, no," Yohei said, scratching the back of his head as he noticed the faint crinkle of mirth at the corners of her eyes. "I just got Hayama-sensei's permission to go look for a chakra beast to tame."
That earned him a visible reaction.
Hana bit into another meatball, chewing as her shoulders shook with silent laughter. When she swallowed, she turned to Hayama.
"Shirakumo," she asked casually, "how many genin from your last team came to you with the bright idea of 'finding a chakra beast in the forest'?"
"Two," Hayama replied easily, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.
Hana nodded. "Figures. Back on my genin team, Saisu – my teammate – got the same idea into his thick skull." She looked back at Yohei. "How many of yours actually found what they were looking for?"
"None," Hayama answered without hesitation.
"Yeah. Same with Saisu," Hana said dryly. "Dumbass wasted weeks of free days camping out and trying to befriend every mutated thing he stumbled across. Ended up with half a dozen scars and no contract to show for it. At least it made him better at outdoor missions."
She sighed, then fixed Yohei with a serious look.
"Kid, there's a reason the village doesn't regularly send teams out to comb the forests looking for tameable chakra beasts. The odds are abysmal."
She gestured vaguely with her skewer. "Animals that mutate like that in a single generation – rather than slowly over time? Their minds can't keep up with their bodies. Their chakra throws their hormones completely out of balance. They're hyper-aggressive, even toward their own species."
"That's why most of them don't multiply," she continued. "They're far more likely to kill a potential mate than reproduce. Finding one that isn't like that is already like winning the lottery."
Her eyes sharpened.
"And even then, what you usually get is the mind of a normal wild animal stuffed into the body of a monster. You've got about as much chance of 'taming' that as you do a regular wolf or bear."
She paused, then added bluntly, "Which is to say: sure, it might treat you like family – right up until the day you hit the wrong trigger and it mauls you in your sleep."
Yohei swallowed.
"What shinobi actually mean when they talk about a chakra beast partner," Hana said more quietly, "is an animal that didn't just mutate, didn't just avoid becoming a hormone-fueled murder machine – but had its mind elevated by the transformation."
"Something that can think. Understand. Coordinate with humans. Like our ninken."
She shook her head slightly. "Most shinobi will live their entire lives without ever seeing one like that."
"Most people aren't me," Yohei said with a grin.
Which is to say, of course, that most people don't already have a chakra beast in hand before they even start looking.
Of course, Hana had no way of knowing what he was thinking. All she saw was a cocky brat boasting in front of a pretty woman.
Normally, she would have been irritated by someone brushing off her advice so casually – but there was something… different in the way he said it.
That didn't mean she didn't feel like making him pay for running his mouth.
"Is that so?" she asked, one eyebrow lifting.
"That is so," Yohei confirmed easily. "I've got it on good authority that I'm a lucky bastard. Ask Hayama-sensei."
"He is quite lucky," Hayama agreed from the side, watching with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Hana huffed a laugh. "Well then. Since you're so confident, how about a wager?"
She stepped back behind the counter and crouched down. When she straightened, she was holding a nondescript brown-and-green scroll, the character for summon repeating across its surface.
"I'll give you this scroll," she said, tapping it lightly. "You'll have – let's say – a month to come back here with your chakra beast. If you succeed, both the scroll and the lessons you asked about are free."
Yohei's grin widened. "And if I don't?"
"If you fail," Hana replied sweetly, "or if you try to bullshit me with some feral monstrosity, I'll kick your ass six days to Sunday."
She leaned forward slightly. "And you'll still pay for the scroll. Not with money – I'm not interested in the pocket change of a genin – but by working here at the clinic until the next Chūnin Exams start."
She glanced sideways at Hayama. "Sound fair to you, Shirakumo?"
"It does," Hayama said, amusement clear in his voice.
Hana turned back to Yohei and extended the scroll toward him, her grin flashing just a hint of fang. "There you go. Your sensei approved. What do you say, Yohei-kun? Still feeling confident?"
Yohei pretended to hesitate.
It took an unreasonable amount of effort not to just snatch it out of her hand.
'Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes-'
He took the scroll.
The instant his fingers closed around it, his eyes widened as he looked down at it.
Hana laughed, clearly mistaking the reaction for dawning regret.
"No take backs!" Hana declared cheerfully. "Oh, the pups are going to love their new stress toy. I mean-" she added, correcting herself with obvious insincerity, "-their new caretaker."
Seeing that Yohei still hadn't reacted, his gaze locked on the scroll in his hands, she flicked him on the forehead.
"Ow-!" He blinked, shaken out of his thoughts, looking at her dazedly.
She smiled. "Come on, kid. Too late to regret it now. But in the interest of fairness, let me show you how to use that thing."
Yohei blinked once more, then grinned and bowed deeply. "I'll be in your care, Hana-senpai."
-~=~-
Yohei stared down at the three new seals on the Chaos Scroll, all of them painted in silver.
"One for beating Souma, one for beating Ren… and the third one for… what, exactly?" he muttered to himself.
Well, no point guessing. He'd find out soon enough.
He activated all three seals at once, leaving himself holding three identical brown scrolls as the Chaos Scroll dissolved and returned to its resting place inside his chest.
"Alright," he said, setting two of them aside on the table. "First, the one for beating Souma. That should be another jutsu…"
He unrolled the scroll.
[乳腺活性化の術 – Nyūsen Kasseika no Jutsu – Milk Gland Activation Technique]
|E-Rank Ninjutsu|
This technique allows the user to induce lactation in a target within their direct line of sight, provided the target possesses the biological structures necessary for milk production. By channeling Yang-nature chakra through the eyes, the user emits a focused stream of life-aspected energy toward the target. Upon contact, this chakra stimulates the target's mammary glands, activating dormant or inactive functions and supplying the metabolic energy required for secretion.
Yohei read the description once.
Then again.
Carefully, he rolled the scroll back up and placed it on the table.
"…This is not the kind of long-range attack I was looking for," he muttered, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
After a moment, his gaze slid to the remaining unopened scrolls. He sighed, straightened in his chair, and picked up the next one.
[音波増幅の術 – Onpa Zōfuku no Jutsu – Sound Wave Amplification Technique]
|E-Rank Ninjutsu|
This technique allows the user to amplify all sounds they produce, greatly increasing their volume and effective range. When released at sufficient volume, the amplified noise can overwhelm an opponent's auditory senses, causing disorientation, pain, loss of balance, and temporary deafness.
Yohei smiled.
"Now that's more like it," he said approvingly. "A bit indiscriminate, so definitely situational. It'll completely ruin any attempt at subtlety or stealth…"
He nodded to himself.
"But in a straight fight, where I don't have to worry about anyone else around? Perfect."
He unrolled it further, his eyes skimming over the lines of text describing the theory behind the jutsu, along with the illustrations showing the hand seals and the precise pattern traced by chakra inside the user's body during activation.
"If I'd had this earlier today…" Yohei muttered. "Well, Souma still would've beaten my ass – but it would've been perfect for dealing with Ren. No need to figure out where he is when the attack is omnidirectional."
Satisfied, he rolled the scroll back up and set it aside before picking up the last one.
"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see what you've got in store for me."
[屑鉄飴 – Kuzutetsu Ame – Scrap Iron Candy]
|E-Rank Pill|
A crude, iron-rich candy with a taste true to its name. When consumed, the candy releases trace minerals and densely packed chakra stimulants that reinforce the user's body from within. The compounds circulate through the chakra network, subtly hardening skin, muscle, and connective tissue, resulting in a temporary increase in physical defense. The effect lasts approximately thirty minutes, after which the reinforcing properties fully dissipate.
"And now it seems there's a whole new category of rewards…" Yohei mused, his grin widening as he opened the scroll further. "A pill, huh?"
He tapped the parchment thoughtfully.
"Probably the same deal as with Ninjutsu and Taijutsu rewards – same category, different labels. So this is an Item kind of reward?" He hummed. "Guess I'll have to figure out what triggered it. Was it the wager with Hana-san? Or getting the Summoning Scroll itself? Or getting it because of the wager?"
Seeing nothing else inside besides the storage seal and more detailed diagrams explaining the pill's effects, Yohei activated the fuinjutsu without hesitation.
Poof.
He was left holding a small, wrapped candy about the size of his thumb.
The wrapping was cheap – plain white paper twisted at the sides to keep it closed. Unwrapping it, Yohei lifted the candy closer to his face for inspection.
It was a dark, uneven gray, dotted with slightly darker spots. Porous, irregular, and far heavier than any candy of similar size had any right to be. When he pressed it between his fingers, it didn't deform at all. The surface was hard, cool, and smooth – more like metal than sugar.
It felt less like food and more like a rough iron bead.
"…Is this even safe to eat?" he wondered aloud, a crooked grin tugging at his lips.
He rolled it between his fingers. "I mean, it wouldn't be the strangest thing the Scroll's given me that I've eaten, but still. Hm… thinking about it, those bloodline candies were single-use too, but at least their effects were permanent."
He frowned slightly.
"I know this is only E-Rank, but… just one? Are there higher-grade versions that come with more doses?"
That was when he noticed something odd.
Every other time he'd received a consumable reward – like the bloodline candies – the scroll had vanished the moment he drew the item out.
This one hadn't.
The Scrap Iron Candy scroll was still hovering above his table. And more importantly, right where the storage seal had been, a small black spot had appeared.
Yohei leaned closer.
The spot was spreading – slowly, deliberately – ink bleeding outward as the seal began to reform itself.
"Well now," he said, a sharp grin spreading across his face. "Isn't that interesting?"