Chapter 93: Specialization
At the center of the training field, Taichi and Kakashi stood facing one another. They exchanged opposing hand seals—the spar began.
Taichi struck first.
Stepping forward, he opened with a powerful downward slash. Unlike the Hatake sword style, which emphasized ambushes and assassination, Taichi's current Kenjutsu was bold, domineering, and frontal.
The difference came down to application.
Hatake Kenjutsu excelled at skirmishing and killing strikes—naturally so, given that Sakumo often carried out covert missions. His style evolved to match the demands of stealth and precision.
Taichi, on the other hand, used his blade far more often in head-on combat, so his Kenjutsu developed accordingly.
That didn't mean Hatake Kenjutsu lacked value. On the contrary—Taichi had much left to learn from it. After all, his entire foundation had been forged using Hatake techniques.
Facing Taichi's slash, Kakashi met it head-on. His short blade lightly caught Taichi's tip, redirecting the force. Using the momentum, Kakashi's blade slid toward Taichi's throat in a smooth counter.
Feeling the subtle strength in the deflection, Taichi remained calm. He withdrew his blade and raised it horizontally, blocking the cut. As they passed one another, he reversed his grip and slashed toward Kakashi's ribs.
The exchange was fast and relentless, forcing Kakashi to retreat step by step. Taichi pressed the advantage, advancing with follow-up slashes and thrusts that drove Kakashi into continuous defense.
Only after dozens of consecutive attacks did Kakashi stabilize the situation—now it was his turn.
Kakashi's body shifted fluidly, circling Taichi. His blade struck like a venomous snake, darting toward Taichi's weak points with deadly precision. This was the true sharpness of Hatake Kenjutsu.
Their blades clashed repeatedly. With each exchange, Taichi absorbed more of the style's subtleties—details impossible to grasp through solo practice alone.
Yet as the fight continued, Kakashi grew increasingly alarmed.
Though they appeared evenly matched, he could clearly sense that Taichi still had strength in reserve—while he himself was already giving everything.
The realization struck hard.
Has he really grown this much?
For the first time, Kakashi wondered if he had grown complacent.
"Careful, Kakashi—you're distracted."
The warning came too late.
A sharp pain shot through Kakashi's wrist. His blade slipped from his grasp, and in the next instant, Taichi's knife rested against his throat.
"I lost," Kakashi said plainly.
He accepted the outcome without bitterness. His father's praise of Taichi had once seemed exaggerated—but now Kakashi had seen only the tip of the iceberg.
The spar ended. Taichi sheathed his blade.
"You're really strong, Kakashi. I gained a lot from this."
That wasn't politeness—the system made it very clear.
[Sword Sparring: Advanced Kenjutsu EXP +100]
"Don't say that," Kakashi replied wryly. "Compared to you, I feel like I've wasted this entire period."
"Haha, maybe it's just because I'm a year older," Taichi laughed. "A bit more strength, a bit more speed. Besides, my style's better suited for frontal combat."
Kakashi nodded thoughtfully, unsure whether he truly agreed—but he didn't argue.
They trained together until evening, exchanging several more friendly spars. Each ended with Kakashi's defeat, yet instead of discouragement, his motivation burned even stronger.
For a moment, Taichi almost imagined seeing Might Guy's silhouette behind Kakashi—thumb raised, white teeth flashing, laughing toward the sky.
---
Back home, Taichi began planning his next stage of training.
Taijutsu wasn't an issue—but ninjutsu required careful planning.
Among the Five Nature Transformations, Fire, Wind, and Water were his strongest. Yet none truly stood out.
Taichi began considering whether he should specialize—focus all his effort on one element to raise its power quickly.
After all, the same technique could differ vastly in strength depending on the user.
One person's Great Fireball might barely reach a meter in size, while Uchiha Madara's could engulf buildings.
An ordinary Wind Release could cut down trees—Danzō's Vacuum Blades could cleave through a Susanoo.
The difference lay in mastery and understanding of chakra nature transformation.
Skill proficiency was easy—practice solved that.
But chakra nature transformation had hit a bottleneck.
Even though his Fire, Wind, and Water transformations had all reached Lv.8, advancing further had become painfully slow.
That forced a choice.
War was looming. There wasn't time for slow, balanced growth.
After careful thought, Taichi decided to specialize in Fire Release.
Konoha had the most Fire Release users, meaning abundant records, theories, and references. That alone would accelerate his progress.
To Taichi, the essence of Fire Release boiled down to one thing:
Heat.
Not tricks. Not shape.
But extreme temperature—heat capable of incinerating everything in an instant.
That was his goal.
To achieve it, he needed more Fire Release techniques—not necessarily high-tier ones. Quantity mattered more than quality. He needed samples, contrasts, and comparisons.
And for that, he remembered something important.
I have a teacher.
Last time, he'd foolishly let Jiraiya trick him into exchanging mission records for techniques. Now that he thought about it, it was ridiculous—he wasn't some orphaned civilian ninja.
He immediately sat down and wrote a letter.
First, an embarrassingly affectionate greeting.
Then an update on his recent situation.
Finally, his request:
Fire Release techniques.
The more, the better.
After rereading it and nodding in satisfaction, Taichi summoned a small slug.
"Sorry to trouble you again, Katsuyu."
"Of course, Taichi-sama."
With everything planned, Taichi reviewed his short-term goals, confirmed nothing was missing, and finalized his training schedule.
Only then did he collapse onto his bed and fall into a deep sleep.
---
Training continued like this until the fourth day, when Taichi returned to the hospital.
Today, Yōhei and Saori were being discharged.
He expected to see their families—but the large ward held only the two of them.
Gekkō Sora and Nakamura Rei had already left.
Sakumo had been discharged the very next day.
As for their parents—
Yōhei's father had stayed only one day before leaving with a single sentence:
"You're already a mature shinobi."
Saori's father followed suit, leaving the two to recover alone.
"Haha… your fathers are really something," Taichi joked. "Just leaving you here like that."
"They saw we only had external injuries," Yōhei replied. "Figured we'd be fine after a few days."
"Alright," Taichi said. "Everything packed? Time to head out."
"Yes! I can't stand this place anymore," Yōhei groaned. "This forbidden, that forbidden—I was going crazy!"
"That's because you kept chatting up the nurses," Saori teased with a smile.
"I was bored…" Yōhei muttered.
"Oh? That explains the strange looks I got earlier," Taichi laughed. "So this is why."
The three of them chatted and laughed as they completed the discharge procedures and left the hospital together.
"Come on," Taichi said with a grin. "Let's go to my place. First day out of the hospital—I'll cook for you myself. I promise it'll be delicious and good for your recovery."
"Oh? Really?" Yōhei's eyes widened dramatically. "Taichi, I can't even remember the last time I ate a meal you cooked yourself!"
Saori's eyes sparkled as well—she was clearly just as excited.
Talking about everything under the sun, the three made their way to Taichi's home. True to his word, Taichi prepared a full table of medicinal dishes specially suited for people recovering from serious injuries—flavorful, nourishing, and restorative.
Yōhei and Saori could clearly feel the care Taichi had put into the meal. They said nothing, turning their gratitude into appetite, and cleaned every plate until the table was spotless.
Afterward, the three lay flat on the tatami, quietly digesting.
"…What do you think things are like for Makoto's family right now?" Yōhei suddenly asked, voicing what had been weighing on his mind.
Silence fell over the room.
"This is what it means to be a shinobi," Taichi finally said softly. "From the moment you choose this path, you have to understand that constant vigilance is required. One mistake—and your life is gone."
Yōhei sat up and looked at Taichi seriously.
"Taichi… if there were no conflicts in this world, do you think people would still fight each other like this?"
Taichi stared at him in surprise. Even Saori straightened up, clearly caught off guard by the question. No one had expected Yōhei to ask something like that.
"No conflict, huh…" Taichi leaned back, gazing at the ceiling as if his eyes could pierce through the roof and into the distant sky. "That's even harder than world peace."
"Do you know the Sage of Six Paths?" Taichi asked.
"Yeah," Yōhei nodded. "There are records in the clan. He founded the Ninja Sect, and chakra was passed down from him."
Taichi looked back at Yōhei, slightly surprised. For someone usually so carefree, Yōhei knew even these distant legends—truly the upbringing of a great clan.
"Legend says the Sage of Six Paths spread chakra to eliminate conflict," Taichi continued. "He wanted to connect people's hearts, so they could understand one another—so that conflict would disappear and a better world could be created."
"That sounds great," Yōhei said, puzzled. "Then why did it fail?"
Instead of answering, Taichi asked calmly, "Yōhei… do you have secrets?"
"Of course," Yōhei replied without hesitation. "Who doesn't?"
At that moment, understanding dawned on Saori's face.
Seeing her expression, Taichi smiled. Saori figured it out already, but you're still stuck, his teasing glance said, instantly lightening the heavy mood.
"Let Saori explain," Taichi said, giving her a nod.
Yōhei scratched his head and turned to Saori expectantly.
She looked a little embarrassed, but gathered her courage and asked him the same way Taichi had:
"Yōhei… would you be willing to tell us all your secrets? Every single one?"
"Uh—of course not!" Yōhei said awkwardly. "There are things you just can't tell anyone!"
"Exactly," Saori said gently but firmly. "If even you won't share all your secrets with us, how could people in power—or people who already hate each other—do that?"
That hit home.
Yōhei fell silent, turning her words over in his mind. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made—and the less he could argue.
"Human hearts are selfish," Taichi added quietly. "Instead of wishing for a world without conflict, it's more realistic to hope for world peace."
"At least if the world were truly at peace, the biggest conflicts would be gone, and fighting would be far less common."
"Do you think the world will really become peaceful one day?" Saori asked. It was clearly Yōhei's question too.
"Haha, that's not something you should ask me," Taichi laughed. "You should ask the Hokage. I'm younger than both of you—how would I know the answer?"
Then his expression softened.
"But I believe it will happen someday. If another shinobi appears—someone even stronger than the First Hokage—then at least while they're alive, the world should be at peace."
And in his heart, Taichi silently vowed to become that person.
"I really hope that day comes soon," Yōhei said sincerely.
"Then we'll just have to work hard," Taichi said encouragingly. "Who knows? Maybe that person will be one of us."
The three exchanged smiles.
"Whether or not we ever become someone like that," Yōhei sighed, "we definitely need to work harder right now."
"Yeah…" Saori agreed softly, her voice trembling. "This mission was terrifying. You don't really feel it in daily training—but when something actually happens, you realize how weak you are."
"So what are your plans?" Taichi asked.
"My father's sending me back for special training," Yōhei said. "I've awakened the three-tomoe Sharingan, and there's a lot I still need to learn about using it."
As he spoke, he opened his crimson eyes—three tomoe slowly rotating within them.
"Same for me," Saori said. "My father wants to personally train me too, especially in sealing techniques. I barely contributed with them during the mission…"
Her guilt was obvious.
"You both have plans—that's great," Taichi said. "But no matter how important individual training is, don't forget teamwork."
He paused, then smiled.
"How about this—our rest period is long anyway. Let's meet once a week and train together for a full day. We can keep our coordination sharp and stay updated on each other's progress. What do you think?"
Yōhei and Saori immediately agreed. They were a team, after all—understanding one another's strengths was essential.
With everything decided, Taichi walked his teammates out, then returned to his own relentless training.
That night, while practicing taijutsu, Taichi suddenly felt a familiar summoning tug. The rhythm was unmistakable—just as he'd agreed with Katsuyu.
Tsunade's reply.
Remembering what he'd written in his letter, excitement surged through him. Unable to wait, .Taichi immediately formed hand seals.
"Summoning Jutsu."