Morning passed quickly.
Konoha, washed clean by dew, gleamed under the early sun. After years at the Academy, Senju Mayū had long since adapted to a ninja's schedule, even if his soul still remembered a lazier life. But today, there was something different in his eyes.
The night's training had left its mark.
His mental endurance had grown. Not dramatically. Barely a sliver, perhaps a single step forward. Yet in a domain so difficult to touch, even that mattered. The change came with a subtle benefit. His sense sharpened. The moment before events unfolded felt… slightly longer.
Barely noticeable.
But real.
He had improved.
The thought briefly ran wild, and he immediately slapped himself in the face while washing up.
Get a grip.
The monsters of this era did not care about clever tricks. Tailed beasts were captured like tools. Meteors fell from empty skies. Compared to that, his small advantages meant nothing if he grew careless.
Breakfast passed under his mother's watchful eye. He yawned through her scolding, then let Minato drag him half-awake to class.
Training the mind did not replace sleep. Anyone who said otherwise was lying.
The morning lecture disappeared beneath his desk nap. His usual standing as top of the theory rankings spared him punishment. Sitting was far more comfortable than standing anyway.
The afternoon, however, allowed no escape.
Practical class.
The three foundational techniques had been taught long ago. Clone, Substitution, Transformation. Compared to kunai drills or close combat, many students treated them as dull necessities.
That was a mistake.
The instructors knew it too. Monthly assessments always returned to these techniques, this time with emphasis on real application. Today, students paired up, forbidden from using weapons or advanced jutsu.
Normally, Mayū would seek out Minato.
And normally, he would lose.
Minato's movement was terrifyingly efficient. Even without refined techniques, his instincts carried him straight into lethal range. Against him, fights ended instantly. Even foresight offered little help.
But today, Mayū was tired.
And tired people made sensible decisions.
He began edging away, hoping to find another partner when the instructor called for pairings.
Unluckily, someone else was moving with purpose.
Uchiha Wataru.
The Sharingan user advanced straight toward Minato, drawing a clear line through the field. Even Wataru knew he was slower. But he had trained. He had awakened his eyes. And this time, he believed.
Students stepped aside.
Only Mayū didn't notice.
Two bodies moved in opposite directions.
They collided.
Bone struck bone with a dull thud. Mayū winced internally. That had to hurt.
"Sorry," he said reflexively, scratching the back of his head and reaching out. "You alright—"
Steel flashed.
Mayū leapt back without thinking.
A kunai hissed through the space where his chest had been.
"What's wrong with you?!" he shouted.
Wataru did not answer.
His eyes burned red as a single tomoe spun into place. Rage tightened his movements as he lunged, kunai aimed for the kill.
Smoke burst.
The figure he struck vanished, leaving behind a splintered log pierced clean through.
Substitution.
Wataru clicked his tongue.
With the Sharingan active, chakra flow betrayed everything. Substitution alone would not save him. He sprang forward, vaulting through the branches in pursuit.
"Stop running!"
Above, crouched on a higher limb, Mayū exhaled sharply.
So troublesome.