Chapitre 134: C134
After a really filling early lunch with Daichi, they went their separate ways. Haruto let the shadow clone continue working on the new fūinjutsu material while he decided to head to the hospital to practice his ninjutsu and ask Shizune if she was still interested in going fishing with him tomorrow. She had mentioned in the past that she would be up for it, and tomorrow would be his last free day for a while, as missions were about to start.
As Haruto walked toward the hospital, his mind wandered to the reality of what those missions might entail. He had trained hard, mastered his techniques, but now there was a very real possibility that he would kill his first human being. Not in a spar, not in controlled combat—but truly ending someone's life. The weight of that realization settled on him in a way he hadn't fully anticipated.
In his past life as an MMA fighter, violence was a necessary part of the job, but it wasn't what drove him. Hurting people wasn't something he ever craved or sought out—it was just part of the experience. In the ring, it was about the challenge, two warriors facing each other, pushing their limits, knowing the risks but accepting them. There was a kind of mutual understanding in those battles, a thrill of testing yourself and your opponent. Each fighter entered the ring knowing what they were getting into. That's what Haruto had lived for—the adrenaline, the challenge, the raw intensity of two people pushing themselves to their breaking points.
But being a ninja was different. Here, the fight wasn't about facing your opponent head-on or testing your limits in a fair match. In this world, if Haruto did his job right, his target wouldn't even see him coming. There was no mutual understanding, no sense of challenge between two equals. It was stealth, efficiency, and getting the job done—whether your target knew you existed or not. If he did his job correctly, his target wouldn't even realize what happened until it was too late. That was the reality of being a shinobi.
It wasn't about thrill anymore—it was about survival. The mission came first. You didn't get to relish the fight or take pride in the risk. Instead, it was about making sure the other person didn't walk away, and doing it so swiftly and cleanly that they never even had a chance. This world demanded a different kind of strength, and for the first time, Haruto wondered how it would feel when he took that step.
Would it feel as disconnected as hurting someone in the ring? Or would it weigh on him in ways he couldn't yet imagine? It was a question he didn't have an answer to yet, but he knew he'd find out soon enough. This was the life he had chosen. The life of a shinobi was one of silent kills and unseen victories. The strong survived, and the weak disappeared without a sound.
By the time Haruto reached the hospital, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. There was no use dwelling on it now—he'd face that when the time came. Right now, there were techniques to refine and more important matters to handle. And besides, he had to check in with Shizune and see if she was still up for fishing tomorrow. He wasn't sure how many chances he'd get to relax once the missions started rolling in.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone