Chapitre 5: CH_5

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———

The Academy's Training Field No. 2 was Takuma's least favorite place in the world. Even the lush and soft mat of cleanly cut grass that covered the entire field that had given him the best nap of his life and the best sleep he had ever since arriving in the miserable world of shinobis didn't give the place a higher rating in his mind's internal review system.

"Hideaki," Kibe called from his place in the middle of the wide circle formed by his students sitting beside each other in a single line of the perimeter. A tall and wide eleven-year-old got up from his and lumbered his way to the middle of the field like a fat bull. Kibe looked around in the circle before calling, "Takuma."

Takuma, sitting with crossed legs, had an old and frizzy jute rope in his hands. He was working on practicing the sheet bend knot when he heard Kibe call his name out and flinched. He looked up from his lap and found that he hadn't misheard and Kibe was indeed looking at him. And the sight of Hideaki picking his ear made Takuma pull a face.

"Get up, quick," Kibe said, his voice sharp and snippy.

Takuma reluctantly made his way to the center of the circle as he pocketed the length of the rope he had stolen from the side of a shop that was using them to hang potted plants off the ground. Coming to Training Field No. 2 meant that the class was going to practice taijutsu, and sitting in a circle told they were going to spar— and Takuma hated nothing more in the world than taijutsu sparring. Running butt-naked through a street was better than sparring in front of an audience he saw daily.

"Let's start," Kibe said and stepped back near the perimeter.

Takuma saw Hideaki raise his right hand and form the Seal of Confrontation and quickly copied him to do the same. Every taijutsu spar in the academy started with both parties with the Seal of Confrontation; he didn't know its significance, but it just did, and Takuma followed it.

Kibe looked at them for a pause-second before he signaled: "Start!"

Hideaki lazily raised his arms and crossed them over his chest, forming an X. Then straight up charged towards Takuma like a raging bull.

Takuma bit the inside of his cheek as he raised his hands up in guard. There was no academy taijutsu kata that involved crossing arms and charging at the enemy, not even close. And even though Takuma was in no way an expert at Akimichi clan's taijutsu, he was sure there was nothing like this there as well. Hideaki was making fun of him.

It was no secret that Takuma was the weakest in the class at taijutsu (well, at everything), and even those who were weak at taijutsu could wipe the floor with Takuma. Hideaki Akimichi of the clan that prided themselves on their strong bodies could send Takuma to the next year if he wanted to.

Takuma clenched his fists and shrunk his body as he saw Hideaki close in on him. He was supremely tempted to pull a kunai and ram it into Hidekai's face but knew that taking out a weapon would be an open invitation for his opponent to pull out his own weapons— the last thing that Takuma wanted. He had no confidence in blocking or parrying a blade and was no fan of getting himself cut. That was not considering that if he pulled out a kunai, he could get a hit in in the first place. So, he waited until Hideaki was close enough before jumping out of the way. Alas, Hideaki uncrossed his arms and spread them wide, and in doing so, hit Takuma's shoulder with the side of his fist.

It hurt, Takuma winced. He staggered a few steps back before getting his balance back in control. At the same time, Takuma and Hideaki faced each other. Hideaki once again charged at Takuma without his hands crossed. Takuma held his arms up in a boxing guard. Hideaki, despite his size, was faster than Takuma and was inside the latter's personal space in a jiffy. Hideaki made a fist and punched Takuma's guard. Takuma clenched his arms, but Hideaki's punch split his guard and dug into just below the chest.

Takuma didn't feel the pain until his back hit the ground. He coughed; the punch had knocked the air out of him. Takuma was barely read when he saw the sole of Hideaki's sandal coming down at him and narrowly missed him as he rolled out of the way.

Hideaki humphed as he firmly dug the foot that had missed the stomp and used it to pivot his chunky body and kick Takuma's back with his other leg. "Gah!" Takuma was sent rolling on the ground with a force that he dragged chunks of grass with him.

"Alright, that's it, stop!" Kibe ordered, and Hideaki stepped back, returning to the middle of the encirclement. Takuma stood up with pain both in his front and back and wondered if any of the pain was worth it.

He walked to the center and faced Hideaki. Even though Hideaki hit hard, he was one of the easiest to fight. The Akimichi member was lazy and always wanted to end the fight as soon as possible and would move into disabling the opponent at the quickest, even if his methods to do so were crude. There were others— total pissants— who would drag out the soar; those were the hardest and would sting the most in the aftermath.

"End it," Kibe said.

Takuma and Hideaki put their hands forward and joined their Seals of Confrontation to form a Seal of Reconciliation that marked the end of every spar in the academy. Takuma had seen it done many times; some did with grace, some looked like they despised each other, and even the thought of touching each other when it wasn't fighting revolted them. But he didn't know what it meant and doubted Hideaki knew either— if he had been told about it before was another matter all along.

Kibe called another pair as Takuma returned to his spot and continued with his knots on his frayed ropes.

There was no rest for the wicked... and even less for the weak.

———

Takuma stood in front of a thick wooden log on the side of a field. The log had several spots that looked like they had been kicked in, so much so that the dark bark had been stripped away, revealing a curve in the light insides. How much did one have to kick and punch to cave in a tree trunk, and how did their limbs not break before? He couldn't imagine.

The sun shone orange over the many training fields littered across the village. Being THE shinobi village of the Hi No Kuni, the Land of Fire, the village had many training fields of various sizes. However, with the number of shinobi active in the village at any time, those fields were in use or reserved by others, and an academy student like Takuma couldn't get in. So, he had to use small make-shift clearings with logs made into unofficial training fields by other people with similar problems. The same people who had kicked in the log.

Takuma traced his finger at the writing made with a kunai over one of the curves in the log. Every curve had a name carved around it, marking the ones who had made it. A common thing perhaps, Takuma didn't know. He had no desire to do the same— who knew if he would be using the same log the next day.

The academy had reserved fields for student use, but Takuma rarely used them. He suffered enough embarrassment during school hours and didn't want any more afterward. So, he used these unofficial fields and would switch around if anyone else was around. He preferred to do his taijutsu kata alone, away from judging eyes.

He began using the log as the heavy bag. It stung every time he hit the tough wood. Apparently, the concept of hitting pads didn't exist in this world, and no protective gear was used during spars. Every punch and kick hurt against the wood.

"You are not going to improve like that, child," a voice sounded out in the silence.

Takuma was in the middle of a kicking kata when he heard the voice. He kicked the log and then lost his balance to the ground. Hurriedly, he turned toward the voice. A gangly old man stood with a slight hunch in his back and dark wrinkled skin from too much time in the sun. Takuma didn't say anything and stared at the old man with a vigilant look in his eyes.

"You're pulling your moves; that's no way to improve," the old man said, pointing his bony finger towards the wood log.

Takuma narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Isn't introducing yourself first before asking for someone else's name a common courtesy?" smiled the old man.

"You talked to me first, so you say your name first," Takuma said. He observed the old man, and one glance at his thin chainmail shirt, the brown vest, and the tapped ankles over shinobi sandals told Takuma that the old man in front of him was a shinobi. He's old, thought Takuma. He hadn't seen such an old man since his arrival half a month ago.

"This humble one goes by the name Kosuke Maruboshi," said Murboshi and then looked at Takuma expectantly.

"Takuma..."

Muboshi smiled, accentuating the lines collected through the years on his face. "It's commonplace to go light in training and sparring, but the way you're pulling your moves is inviting a bad habit to creep into your form. You won't be able to tell, but your opponent will see openings to exploit, which they will do mercilessly. You need to be firm and confident when performing your katas."

Takuma frowned, "It hurts if I completely commit to the moves." He was constantly scared that the wood would splinter and stab into his limbs.

"Hurting is necessary if you want to temper your bones and muscles." Muboshi assumed the same kata that Takuma had been practicing before, but unlike Takuma, he looked stable, as if he could maintain the form for hours as easy as standing. "You expect the pain, your fear builds it up in your mind, but when it arrives, you find that it was nowhere near as bad as you thought. Moreover, using the correct form hurts less." He cycled through the katas with a smoothness and a ferocity so unlike a weak old man. "Now, you try it."

Takuma's brows furrowed together. He pursed his lips before asking, "I want to see it again, do it again."

Muboshi complied with a smile and performed a short cycle of basic taijutsu kata. Takuma watched intently. He had seen his classmates, those best in taijutsu in class, and even his layman's eyes could tell they were nowhere as good as Muboshi.

'Well, he's old, obviously a shinobi, and they're academy students; of course, there's going to be a skill difference,' Takuma rolled his eyes at the comparison in his head.

He took a stance and did his best to copy Muboshi. Takuma's imitation was leagues apart; it didn't even look the same. But Takuma felt the difference from before, it was minute, but he could tell from the way his boy moved that the movement flowed better, and he felt that if he hit someone now, it would do more damage.

"Good job," Muboshi said before giving further tips. They spent the next half hour together before Muboshi said. "Remember well, young Takuma. Repetition doesn't make one better. It's using repetition to hone one's technique like sharpening a blade against a whetstone."

Takuma nodded and said his thanks to Muboshi, who waved it off and went his merry way, leaving Takuma alone in the field. Takuma watched Muboshi's back until he disappeared from the field. He was grateful for any little help he could get. He turned towards the wood log and sighed.

Hitting it still hurt.

———

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Chapitre 6: CH_6: Guidance

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———

"Lower your hip more when you're preparing to launch forward. It will help you project ahead with more speed, and the closeness to the earth improves stability, allowing you to control your direction, and it takes a lot of weight off your ankles in case you need to stop."

Takuma furrowed his brows but lowered his hips anyway and repeated the kata he was practicing. He launched forward and found him getting to point B quicker than before, and his foot skidded less when he made a stop. He eased his stance as he turned to Maruboshi and gave him an appreciative nod.

After the day Takuma had met Maruboshi, the aged shinobi had always found him during the evenings while he practiced his taijutsu. He would come and advise Takuma as he cycled through the academy kata. Takuma was grateful for it. There was only so much taijutsu one could learn from still images on a scroll, and Maruboshi's adjustment instructions helped tremendously improve his lousy skills. They were still pathetic even when compared to his classmates, but he thought that he saw some improvements when he was able to sidestep an attack— even though the next moment, he had been kicked in the gut hard enough to end up on the ground with a senbon each, inches away from his eyes.

"How young are you, young Takuma?" Maruboshi asked.

"Ten," said Takuma as he attacked the wooden log. Even though he had come to terms with the fact that he was now a ten-year-old boy, it still felt strange to voice out the reality. What was he doing when he was truly ten years old? Whining to parents about wanting more toys, spending time outside with friends doing absolutely silly things, or whatever your run-of-the-mill ten-year-old did on a daily basis.

'Now though...' Takuma sighed. He was learning how to turn his body and mind into a weapon— and doing so very badly. He guessed at least that was typical of an average ten-year-old.

"That would put you in the last year of the academy... Your taijutsu skills are poor— very poor— for someone in their last year," Maruboshi's voice suddenly snapped Takuma out of his wandering thoughts.

Takuma froze up. He turned to Maruboshi, who had been sitting on a nearby rock with a kunai and a wood block that he had been carving. He stared at the old man for a moment before asking, "What are you trying to say?" Takuma was surprised at how guarded he sounded.

"The academy's curriculum is formed in such a way that the last year doesn't involve much new learning. The last year is dedicated to strengthening the learnings from past years and ensuring that the student can utilize the learned skills smoothly on missions. The teachers schedule lots of spars, survival outings, and classroom simulations to prepare the children for what they might face when they become genins."

"I don't understand..."

"Young Takuma, before you told me, I thought you were a tall child in the second year of the academy."

Which meant he was as bad as a seven-year-old. He should've known that a shinobi who survived to such an old age must be very skilled. 'I should've lied about my age,' Takuma thought, but he had no such foresight beforehand. He looked down at his body. Fixing his diet was definitely the right step; he already saw an improvement in his complexion and felt more energetic in the morning. But it was too early for it to take total effect— he still looked like a thin twig— most girls in his class had more meat on them than he had.

"Is taijutsu a weak subject for you?" Maruboshi asked.

Takuma nodded. But then he bowed his head and muttered, "I'm bad at everything..."

"I'm sorry, I missed that." Maruboshi chuckled, "My ears must have gotten weak; would you mind repeating for this old man?"

"I'm bad at everything!" Takuma said and then glared at Maruboshi, daring him to try and make fun of him for it. It wasn't his fault that he was awful at shinobi skills. 'I'm not even terrible; I just started out!' he thought furiously.

"Everything?"

"Everything," and that somehow broke the dam as Takuma's frustrations poured out. "I can't beat anyone in sparring, I can't hit the targets, I can't perform jutsus— I can't even mold chakra" — he had tried to follow his learning plan and go by the years, but the temptation of harnessing chakra had beat him, and he ended up reading up on it, but just like everything else, he was awful at him, he couldn't sense chakra in his body— "I can't tie the knots fast enough, or start a fire, or hunt, or build a shelter in the wild. I don't understand ambush strategies or tailing tactics. Everything's confusing, and there's no one I can ask for help. I have less than one year before graduation. I will fail like this. I don't want to fail. I do not want to fail."

Takuma breathed out deeply to calm himself because he would've broken down into a hyperventilating mess if he didn't. It had happened before; it wasn't something he wanted to experience again.

"Calm down, little one," said Maruboshi in a soothing voice. He sat Takuma down and handed him a canteen of water.

"I'm sorry; that was unsightly of me," said Takuma after he had settled down. He couldn't look at Maruboshi as he apologized in fear he would see mocking in his eyes as he had seen in everyone else's. "I shouldn't have reacted that way."

"It's okay. There's nothing for you to be ashamed of. It happens to the best of us," Maruboshi said with a soothing smile.

"Even you?"

Maruboshi's eyes glazed over for a moment and a faraway look appeared on his face before a brief bitterness flashed in his eyes. It was gone in an instant as Maruboshi focused back on Takuma. He nodded, "Even me. I have found myself lost one too many times. And I believe I have found my way back every time."

"What should I do? I will truly fail if I continue on like this."

Maruboshi didn't reply immediately. Instead, he took away the canteen from Takuma and put it back. He kneeled on both his knees and sat down facing Takuma. "Do you truly want to pass and graduate from the academy?" he asked seriously.

Takuma was confused, but he nodded. "I have to pass at graduation. I'm an orphan, but because I'm in the academy, I live alone in an apartment. They give me an allowance, but the moment I'm out of the academy— pass or fail— that will end. If I don't have a good job, I won't be able to pay rent... And I can't go back to the orphanage; I'll be an adult at eleven, regardless of whether I become a shinobi or not."

It was the harsh reality of the situation. The moment the boy(OG Takuma) stepped out of the orphanage and into the apartment, he had no way of returning. An eleven-year-old with no trade skill training wasn't going to get a job with an income high enough to afford rent, even in the cheapest area of the Leaf village. His tradecraft was supposed to be a mercenary for hire, for which he had been trained for five years... but now, that seemed like an impossible dream.

"If... If I offer to train you, will you train seriously?" Maruboshi suddenly asked.

Takuma's confusion turned into a startled shock. He looked into Maruboshi's eyes, trying to figure out where the offer had come from. He then snapped out and realized he had been silent for a moment now.

"Yes!" he shouted. "I mean! I will train seriously!"

Maruboshi frowned deeply. The kind man looked unkind for the first time since Takuma had seen him. "You had five years to learn. You didn't learn then; why should I believe you will change now?"

Takuma wanted to scream that it wasn't him who didn't learn. He had seen how Kibe and his classmates treated him. The boy had no friends. The only figure of authority in his life had deemed him worthless. Yet there was no animosity against him. His classmates didn't hate him; they simply ignored him. It couldn't be more clear that the boy was a bad student, someone on the lower string of the social ladder, someone who was forgotten and unseen because he had nothing special or of interest. His reputation wasn't Takuma's fault. He had been trying his best since he had come here.

But he couldn't say any of it, so he clenched his fist as an outlet.

"I can't give you money, for I don't have any," said Takuma.

"I don't—"

"But, I will give you my life... I can give you my mind, body, and obedience. If you can teach me to be a shinobi, I will do everything and anything you say. Your words will be commands, and I will be yours to order. You say jump; I will ask how high." Takuma matched his eyes with Maruboshi and said, "You asked why you should believe me... I'm desperate and in a corner; there's nothing I won't do to get out of it. I can see my life about to be destroyed" — it already had — "and I will do anything to get it back on track."

His life had already been taken away from him. He had no choice but to build himself a second one. And he would rather be a safe one than one of endless misery.

"I don't have a devil to make a deal with," Takuma looked up at Maruboshi. "So, I will make this one with you... Teach me and I will owe one with no questions asked."

"You don't need to owe me."

"I have already offered it. If you don't want to, then it's your choice to not claim it. It's the only thing I can offer," Takuma said. He felt better knowing that he was offering something in return— regardless of how small it may be.

Maruboshi didn't reply. Instead, he stood up. For a moment, Takuma thought he would back out, and his heart sank deeper than Tartarus's depths.

Maruboshi stared down at Takuma for what seemed like an eternity. "I will teach you..."

Takuma's heart sang songs of heavenly joy upon hearing Maruboshi.

"But at any point, I feel that you're not putting effort, our agreement will end," said Maruboshi, and it sounded solemn when coming from someone as elderly as him. "But if you give me your all, I shall do my best to reciprocate to the best my old bones can manage."

Takuma hurriedly got off the ground. "You won't feel the need," he said resolutely. He had been in the world long enough to observe some of the culture, so he bowed deeply to Maruboshi.

"Thank you for this opportunity... thank you..."

Maruboshi patted Takuma on his shoulder. "It's too early for you to be thanking me. If you want to thank me, do it after you graduate. I would gladly accept it then," he said. "How much time till your graduation?"

"Less than a year," Takuma said. He had been in the world for three weeks, and the school year had started two weeks before that. Meaning that one month had already passed. An academy school year was eleven months long with no summer break and only a single month respite between years. "I have roughly ten months until the last test."

"Ten months..." Maruboshi squinted as he said.

"Is that not enough time?" Takuma asked, knowing well it wasn't enough.

"It is not," Maruboshi said. "We will have to work long and hard every day. I will guide you best, but I can't promise progress. It's only you who can guarantee that."

"I... I understand," Takuma nodded. If he screwed up, it would be all on his head — that's what it sounded like to him. And he didn't like the sound of that at all. "When do we start?"

"Tomorrow. Meet me here in the morning at five."

"... Five?" Takuma blinked. He repeated it, hoping Maruboshi would correct himself, but the old man just smiled before vanishing in a whirlwind of leaves.

Takuma stood alone in the field, wondering the last time he had been awake at five. He had stayed awake through the night playing games, but it had been a while since he had done that.. He looked up at the sky and wondered what the sky would look like at five in the morning.

———

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