A month passed in what felt like the blink of an eye.
During those weeks, Kaito and Soka had grown together, sharpening their bodies and minds with daily training. What had once been awkward movements were now steady forms; what had once been hesitant chakra control was slowly becoming refined. More importantly, their bond had solidified. Where once they had been strangers connected by a single act of kindness, now they were inseparable companions—laughing, sweating, and pushing each other further every day.
Kaito woke at dawn, just as he had taught himself. His morning ritual flowed naturally now: brushing his teeth, bathing in cold water to invigorate his body, and cooking a simple but filling breakfast. As he ate, his mind already anticipated the day ahead.
Another step forward, he thought, eyes sharp.
When he stepped out into the streets, the morning sun bathed Uzushiogakure in a golden glow. Merchants were arranging goods, shinobi patrolled the roads, and children carried baskets for errands. It was a picture of peace, fragile but beautiful.
Then, amidst the bustle, he noticed her.
A girl with vibrant crimson hair that fell like a fiery waterfall down her back. Her eyes shone with confidence and mischief, her steps light but commanding. Everywhere she passed, villagers dipped their heads respectfully, offering greetings.
Kaito froze for a second. His heart skipped.
Uzumaki Kushina.
The daughter of the clan's patriarch. A name etched deeply into the story he knew, a key figure who would one day leave this village to become Konoha's Red-Hot Habanero—and Naruto's mother.
Seeing her in flesh and blood, alive and radiant, was surreal. She looked younger than he had imagined, but her aura was undeniable.
Without hesitation, Kaito lowered his head, bowing like the others. Kushina noticed briefly, flashing him a bright smile as she continued on her way.
Kaito straightened slowly, his mind spinning. What are the odds? To see her here, so casually, as if she were just another villager…
The thought lingered as he resumed his path. He knew the history: Kushina would eventually be sent to Konoha, carrying the weight of her clan's legacy. He felt a strange mix of admiration and unease. To him, she wasn't just another Uzumaki—she was a symbol of everything to come.
Fate is weaving its threads already, he mused, continuing toward Soka's house. But I can't let myself get distracted. My path is my own.
Still, the image of her fiery hair and confident smile stayed with him as he reached Soka's door.
Kaito knocked once before opening the door without hesitation. A month of daily visits had erased any sense of awkwardness between them. Inside, he found Soka seated at the low table, quietly eating her breakfast.
She looked up and grinned. "Morning, Kaito."
"Morning," he replied with equal warmth.
He sat across from her, waiting patiently as she finished the last of her rice and fish. Between bites, they spoke of training.
"I've been thinking," Soka said thoughtfully. "We've gotten stronger, but maybe we should raise the difficulty. If we don't, we'll stagnate."
Kaito nodded. "I agree. I was considering focusing almost entirely on chakra control from now on. Our reserves are too vast to ignore. If we master control early, everything else will come easier."
Her eyes shone with determination. "Then let's do it. What's first?"
"Tree climbing," Kaito answered simply. "Chakra to the feet. If we can't control our flow precisely, we'll never progress."
By the time they arrived at the training grounds, the sun was high. The tall trees surrounding the clearing cast long shadows, perfect for their exercise.
"Ready?" Kaito asked.
Soka nodded firmly.
They began. Focusing chakra into their soles, they each sprinted toward a tree trunk. The first attempt ended in disaster—Soka slipped almost immediately, landing on her back with a groan. Kaito managed three steps before his chakra sputtered and he slid down, scraping his elbow.
Again and again, they tried. Dozens of times. Each failure left them panting, bruised, and covered in dirt, but they refused to quit. Kaito's determination burned like fire. Each misstep was a lesson. Each slip taught him something new about balance, flow, and timing.
Hours bled into the evening. The sun dipped low, shadows stretching long. Sweat drenched their bodies, but their Uzumaki vitality kept them moving.
Soka leaned against a trunk, laughing breathlessly. "I lost count of how many times we fell."
"Doesn't matter," Kaito replied, wiping his forehead. "Every failure brings us closer."
Her stomach growled loudly, and Kaito's own wasn't far behind. They exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.
"Come on," Soka said, pushing herself upright. "Let's call it for today. Food before we collapse."
Kaito agreed. As they walked back toward the village, he glanced at her, pride swelling quietly. She wasn't just enduring—she was thriving.
But tonight, his path would diverge.
When they reached Soka's home, they bid each other goodnight. She entered, but Kaito kept walking. The hunger in his belly could wait. He had another hunger to satisfy.
For weeks, he had been saving the small allowance given to orphans by the village. Every coin set aside, every indulgence resisted. Tonight, it was time to spend it.
He made his way to the row of shops near the center of the village, where blacksmiths displayed their weapons with pride. Rows of kunai, shuriken, and swords gleamed under lantern light. The scent of oiled steel filled the air.
Kaito's eyes scanned the racks until they landed on it—a tanto, shorter than a katana, perfectly sized for his small frame. Its scabbard was plain, but the blade within gleamed sharp and deadly.
He approached the smith. "How much?"
The man sized him up. "For you, boy? This isn't a toy. It's a real blade."
"I know," Kaito replied firmly. "How much?"
The smith's gaze lingered on his serious expression before he sighed. "Five thousand ryō."
Kaito pulled out his pouch and handed over the coins. It was more than half his savings, but he didn't hesitate. This was an investment, not a luxury.
The weight of the tanto in his hands was grounding, exhilarating. He unsheathed it slightly, the edge catching the light. Perfect.
He imagined the drills he would do, the stances, the forms. Kenjutsu wasn't common among Uzumaki, but that made it all the more valuable. To wield both chakra and blade—yes, that was the path he envisioned.
As he walked home, the tanto strapped securely at his side, he felt pride swelling in his chest. Not childish pride, but the satisfaction of a warrior preparing for the future.
The villagers he passed glanced at him, some curious, others wary, but Kaito paid them no mind. His steps were lighter than ever, as if the tanto had cut through some invisible weight.
When he finally reached his small house, the moon had already risen high. The room felt even smaller now, with the tanto resting on his desk, gleaming in the pale light.
He sat cross-legged, hands on his knees, and closed his eyes. His chakra surged within him, vast and untamed, but tonight it felt steadier. The blade at his side was more than steel—it was a reminder of discipline, of resolve.
Slowly, he refined his chakra, smoothing the turbulent waves into a calm flow. His breathing deepened, his body relaxed, and yet his mind sharpened.
Minutes stretched into an hour. When he finally opened his eyes, sweat dripped down his temple, but his heart felt light.
He glanced at the tanto once more and whispered, "Tomorrow, we begin."
With that vow, he lay down, the fatigue of the day finally pulling him into sleep. His dreams were filled with trees, steel, and the crimson glow of Uzumaki pride.