Two Months Later – Growth:
Two months had passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. The summer sun now bathed Uzushiogakure in warmth, and the training grounds that had once seen clumsy falls and hesitant movements now echoed with sharp strikes, steady chakra control, and the sound of steel slicing air.
Kaito stood in the clearing, tanto in hand, his crimson hair sticking to his forehead as sweat dripped down. With a swift exhale, he slashed forward three times in rapid succession, the steel cutting through the air with precision. His movements were no longer sloppy or hesitant—each strike carried intent, refined through countless hours of practice.
The Ryūtai-fū had grown alongside him. Where once it had been a fragile breeze, now it allowed him to subtly shift the air around his body, improving his balance, sharpening his awareness, and granting him a new sense of precision. It wasn't overwhelming or absolute, but it was progress—a steady climb.
Soka mirrored his growth. Though a step behind him, her determination never wavered. She had learned to channel chakra more efficiently, her scarred face glowing with pride each time she managed a perfect climb, a flawless strike, or a precise dodge. Her body had grown stronger, her reflexes sharper. Together, they had pushed each other forward.
Kaito now stood at a level that could rival and surpass a standard genin fresh from the academy. His swordsmanship, combined with his immense chakra and budding jutsu, gave him an edge beyond his years. And Soka, always at his side, wasn't far behind.
The days of stumbling and falling had been replaced with fierce determination, laughter at small victories, and the quiet bond of two friends sharpening themselves against the world's edge.
But in the back of Kaito's mind, shadows loomed.
A Realization of Doom:
That morning, as Kaito left his home, his chest felt heavy. The streets of Uzushiogakure were alive with activity: vendors setting up stalls, children chasing each other, shinobi walking with quiet confidence. The familiar sights should have brought him comfort. Instead, unease twisted in his gut.
If Kushina is six years old now… then in one or two years…
The thought struck like a kunai to the heart. The destruction of Uzushiogakure—one of the greatest tragedies in the history of shinobi. Countless Uzumaki slaughtered, their sealing arts targeted, their homeland reduced to ashes.
Kaito stopped walking, clutching his chest. His heart raced. The weight of the revelation pressed down on him, almost suffocating. He wasn't just a child here. He knew what was coming.
I have to grow stronger. Faster. If I don't… everything here will vanish. Soka, Kushina, this entire village…
The thought lit a fire within him. Without hesitation, he sprinted toward Soka's home, ignoring the curious glances of villagers as he dashed past. Their red hair and warm eyes followed him, but Kaito had no time for greetings. His mind was set.
He burst through the door of Soka's house without knocking. She blinked at him from the table, halfway through her breakfast, startled by his sudden entrance.
"Kaito? What's wrong?" she asked, tilting her head.
He stood before her, breathing heavily but with eyes burning with resolve. "Soka… we need to change everything. Our training, our focus—it's not enough. From now on, we'll push harder. Taijutsu will be our foundation. And… we'll dig deeper into our Uzumaki bloodline."
Soka's chopsticks froze mid-air. "Taijutsu?"
"Yes. Chakra control and ninjutsu are important, but taijutsu is the root. Without strong bodies, without unshakable stamina, everything else collapses. And our bloodline… it's our greatest weapon. Our vitality, our chakra reserves—we have to learn how to use them."
Her scarred face hardened with determination. She set her chopsticks down. "Then let's do it. I'll follow you, Kaito. Whatever you decide, I'll keep up."
For a moment, his chest eased. Despite the looming shadows, Soka's trust gave him strength.
Together, they stepped out of her home and headed toward their usual training grounds, the sun now high and bright, the future heavy on Kaito's shoulders.
Training in Taijutsu:
The training grounds welcomed them once again, the grass still damp from the morning dew. But today felt different. Today marked a new beginning.
"Warm-ups first," Kaito said firmly, recalling passages from a small book he had purchased: The Basics of Taijutsu, Academy Edition. Though neither of them were formally enrolled yet, Kaito had memorized its contents.
They stretched, ran laps around the clearing, performed push-ups, squats, and sit-ups until their muscles trembled. Soka groaned, collapsing into the grass at one point.
"You're… trying to kill me…" she panted.
Kaito smirked, though sweat streamed down his own face. "No. I'm making you stronger."
Once warmed up, they moved into drills. Kaito explained the basic stances of taijutsu, how to shift weight between the legs, how to guard vital points. They sparred lightly at first, Soka struggling to keep her balance as Kaito pressed her with simple punches and kicks.
Again and again, she fell—but she stood back up each time, determination burning in her eyes.
"You're improving," Kaito encouraged. "Your balance is better. Keep your guard tighter."
Hours passed. The sun climbed higher, shadows shortening, their bodies drenched in sweat. They drilled punches, kicks, and defensive maneuvers, Kaito correcting Soka's form while testing his own strength.
By midday, both of them collapsed onto the grass, panting heavily.
"Taijutsu is… brutal," Soka muttered, her scarred cheek pressed to the dirt.
Kaito laughed softly. "That's why it works. Our chakra will make us strong, but our bodies will keep us alive."
Eventually, they dragged themselves back to Soka's home, exhaustion in every step.
Inside, the comforting scent of food filled the air. Together, they prepared a simple meal, Kaito taking the lead as he often did. They ate ravenously, laughter breaking through their fatigue.
Afterward, they washed up, the cool water soothing their aching muscles. Both brushed their teeth side by side, exchanging playful remarks about whose technique was "better."
When it came time to rest, Soka crawled into her bed, her eyelids drooping. "Goodnight, Kaito," she murmured sleepily.
He pulled a blanket over himself on the sofa, gazing at the ceiling. "Goodnight, Soka."
The room fell quiet. For a brief moment, despite the looming storm he knew was coming, Kaito felt peace. The world outside was cruel and unforgiving, but here, in this small corner of Uzushiogakure, he had a home.