Today's training wasn't over yet. Practicing Limitless was basically a daily compulsory course for Mamoru.
After a period of repeated practice, he had summarized some experience—he couldn't release a Blue with too much output too close to himself, or it would trigger an explosion.
Furthermore, Blue required precise targeting, which made dealing with high-speed moving enemies a disaster, as Chakra control became exceptionally tiring and cumbersome.
Six Eyes—Activate!
His black eyes suddenly turned blue.
Mamoru narrowed his eyes, perceiving everything around him to confirm there was no surveillance nearby.
He then straightened his right hand, palm slightly open, and aimed at the depths of the forest. He circulated the Chakra in his body, channeling it into Limitless engraved within him.
A pale blue light sphere the size of a ping-pong ball suddenly shot out.
Bang!
At the moment of impact, the sound of the explosion erupted.
The thick tree trunk appeared incredibly fragile before that unreasonable gravitational force, instantly becoming twisted and torn, turning into flying wood chips. The large tree, losing its support, crashed heavily to the ground with a series of cracking sounds.
But it wasn't over.
With a flick of his wrist, Mamoru fired a second Blue toward a nearby tree.
As trees collapsed one after another, Mamoru sat down on the ground. The blue in his eyes gradually faded, and a strong sense of fatigue washed over him like a tide. He propped himself up with his hands and took several deep breaths in succession.
That series of operations just now had consumed too much.
After resting on the ground for a bit, Mamoru resumed his repetitive practice.
An unknown amount of time passed. The surroundings were already a mess, strewn with broken branches and wood chips.
He brushed off the debris clinging to him, stretched his aching limbs, and then, dragging his exhausted body, slowly left the training ground.
Not long after leaving the woods, a pebble-paved path appeared.
After training in this practice ground for so long, Mamoru had never chosen this trail before. Usually he took the main road home. Today, for some reason, he found himself drifting onto this detour.
He ambled along the secluded path, swinging a branch he'd picked up in the woods like a 'holy sword', yawning every so often. His youthful face was etched with exhaustion, his steps heavy.
Mid-stroll, he stopped.
Someone was blocking his way—three backs, more precisely, planted squarely across the only route forward.
A faint sob drifted from up ahead.
He took a few more steps and nasty voices reached his ears.
"Weird eyes... look at that white-eyed monster."
"Hey, cat got your tongue?"
"Not only freaky eyes, but a mute as well."
"Hahaha…"
Three little brats danced around a timid girl, spewing every ugly insult they could think of, then burst into another round of laughter.
The girl stood frozen like a cornered animal, soft whimpers escaping her as tears rolled down her cheeks.
"Tch… what a pain." Mamoru frowned, muttering Shikamaru's favorite line.
He crept up behind the trio and kicked the loudest one square in the rear.
"Oi, outta my way!" He shouted.
"Aah—"
The kid in the middle yelped and landed flat on his face.
The sudden attack startled the other two, they spun around to find only one boy behind them. When they recognized his face, their panic melted into scorn.
"Jerk!" The fallen boy snarled, rubbing his cheek as he scrambled up.
Once he got a good look at Mamoru, surprise flickered in his eyes.
The three exchanged glances, identical sneers forming.
"Oh, it's an Uchiha." The middle one drawled, lip curling.
"Heard your whole clan's dead, what's there to act tough about?"
"Always acting so high and mighty. Show us a Sharingan, then."
Their shrill voices buzzed like flies.
A vein throbbed at Mamoru's temple, anger igniting bit by bit. He was dead-tired, ready to collapse on the spot, even lifting a finger felt like a chore.
Kids these days sure knew how to push buttons—max-level taunt.
Looks like he'd have to shelve his adult 'dignity' and give these brats the lesson their parents forgot.
Right now, he was furious.
He hurled the branch like a shuriken, it smacked the ringleader square in the face.
"Agh—"
Before the shriek ended, Mamoru charged, planting a foot in the kid's gut and sending him sprawling.
The sudden assault stunned everyone and even the bullied girl stopped crying.
Usually it was these three ganging up on others, they'd never met someone who hit back.
Today they'd run into Mamoru, a rule-breaker who struck faster than he spoke. Their formation shattered—they'd messed with the wrong person.
While they were still dazed, Mamoru lunged at the nearest one, slammed him down, and slapped him silly.
"Talk no Jutsu, huh? Talk no Jutsu!" He grunted with every slap.
The pinned boy bawled in pain.
Mamoru was getting into it when someone tugged his shirt. He ignored it and kept swinging. Then a fist clipped his face. Stunned, he glanced up and locked eyes with the culprit for two seconds.
"You dared hit my face? You're dead!"
Fury flashed across Mamoru's face. He roared, smashed the kid in the nose, tripped him, and mounted him for a relentless pounding.
"Aaaaah!"
Howls rang out.
The boy covered his head, blubbering, "I-I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Waaah..."
"Too late now. Didn't you want to see a Sharingan?"
Mamoru kept hammering. "Let me show you what color a Sharingan is."
The other two, loyal to the end, heard their pal's screams and scrambled up, lunging at Mamoru together. The scuffle turned into a chaotic free-for-all of shrieks and thuds.
Soon the dust settled.
Panting, Mamoru straightened up, surveying the battlefield like a victorious general, one step away from shouting: Anyone else?
The "Suicide Squad" lay groaning on the ground, every face swollen and bruised.
"Tch."
Mamoru touched the cut at the corner of his lips and winced.
If he hadn't over-trained that morning, he could've floored these three without breaking a sweat.
He kicked the nearest kid again. "Keep your eyes open next time, or I'll beat you every time I see you."
The trio played dead, silently whining: We're gonna be late, just leave already.
Having delivered his threat, Mamoru turned to go.
"Um…"
A timid voice piped up beside him.
Mamoru glanced over.
Rhe girl he'd rescued stepped forward. When he recognized her, he blinked.
What a small world.
White eyes, short hair—the invisible girl in the class.
Realizing the time, he had no patience for small talk. Clutching his sore mouth, he jogged off, muttering, "Crap, I'm late. I'm gonna get chewed out."
She could've finished those three with Gentle Fist.
Getting bullied with that skill? Pathetic.
And where were the Hyuga guards for their main-house heiress? Ridiculous.
Dragging himself home, Mamoru found the house empty—Sasuke had left for school ages ago.
In the bathroom mirror, he checked the damage: a split lip and faint red blotches—nothing too obvious.
After a shower, while towel-drying his hair, he mused, "I'm already late, might as well skip."
Then he remembered Fatty-sensei's nagging and thought better of it.
No idea when Iruka had become Sasuke's homeroom teacher.
Mamoru shook the thought off, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed out.