I woke slowly, feeling the weight of the blanket and the strain in my muscles, accompanied by the faint smell of musk and sex.
Lifting my arm from under the blanket, I rubbed my eyes, blinking against the light. As I shifted, something warm moved with me, and I froze as memories of the previous night flashed back.
There was a head resting against my chest, dark hair, messy, rising and falling with my steady breathing.
Shigure.
She was asleep, her weight light. As she slowly stirred, one arm lay across my torso, holding me possessively.
Damn, that was a wild night, I thought with a smile.
For a few seconds, I lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to her breathe and allowing my heart to slow down. The past few weeks had been filled with noise, orders, explosions, blood, chakra flaring and snapping like overloaded wires. This was nice: just relaxing with a woman in my arms; I didn't want to break the moment.
Her breathing changed as she opened her eyes and slowly looked up at me, resting her chin on my chest. She gazed at me with half-lidded eyes, her lips curving upwards.
"Good morning," she said, her voice rough with sleep.
"…Morning," I replied, a little awkwardly, but smiling nonetheless.
She shifted, propping herself up on one elbow, and the blanket slid with her movement, revealing her nude body. I turned my head away automatically, not giving it much thought. I heard her chuckle quietly.
"Relax," she said. "You've seen everything already."
She sat up fully and stretched before looking down at me again. "I'm going to wash up first. You can have your turn after."
"Yeah," I said. "Go ahead."
She got off the bed, unconcerned about her nakedness, stretched, and padded out of the room. I watched her sashay away and smiled.
This woman...
I lay there for another minute, staring at the ceiling, gaining more clarity from my morning buzz.
A little while later, we sat at her small table.
Her kitchen was simple, equipped with two chairs, a low shelf with neatly stacked dishes, and a window that let in pale morning light. She entered carrying a tray from the aisle, wearing shorts and an oversized T-shirt that covered her upper thighs, she looked comfortable.
She set the food down between us: eggs, rice, some fish, and tea to wash it all down.
I started eating quietly, more focused on the food. My appetite returned quickly, and I didn't bother hiding it. After weeks of field rations and rushed meals, home-cooked food felt like a luxury.
She watched me with an amused expression, sipping her tea.
"Slow down, Basara. We don't need you choking," she said.
"It's good," I admitted with a smile.
She nodded.
Eventually, she spoke again, her tone lighter but cautious. "You know… I hope you're not overthinking last night."
I paused mid-bite and looked up.
She met my eyes calmly. "I mean, we're friends, right? Nothing complicated. I don't want a relationship right now, and you're still welcome to come back to my place." She then smiled with a crooked grin.
I let out a breath, smiling in return.
"Yeah," I said. "That's good. I'm… not really in a place for anything else right now."
She smiled, relieved by my answer. "Good. I thought so."
We finished eating in comfortable silence for a bit.
She checked the time and sighed. "I've got the hospital today. Night shift too, unfortunately. I'll probably be unavailable for a few days."
"That bad?" I asked.
She nodded. "They're rotating medics constantly. Too many wounded, not enough hands. A lot of shinobi came back from the Sand Front still having unknown poisons in them."
Before I could ask more, she glanced at the clock again and swore under her breath.
"I'm going to be late."
"Yeah," I said, standing. "I should head out too."
She moved quickly, taking her finished plate to the sink before rushing to change into her hospital garb. At the door, she paused.
"We'll meet after you're back?" she asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. We'll meet in... three days."
She smiled one last time, then slipped out of the apartment.
I finished eating my fill, collected the dishes, took them to the sink, and cleaned up. After wiping the table, I took a quiet moment in the room, smiling as I thought about my good fortunes, then let myself out a few minutes later.
I stopped by my apartment, changed, and geared up fully with a fresh flak jacket from the provisioning division, still stiff at the seams. There were some subtle changes to it, with more thickness in certain areas. My old one had been shredded beyond repair back in Grass.
My tanto rested where it always did, strapped across my back. I was glad Shigure had picked it up; otherwise, I would have lost an expensive weapon, along with some kunai, shuriken, rations for a couple of days, water, and some field camping equipment. Everything was in its place in a small backpack.
I took the rooftops from my apartment, chakra flowing down into my feet in measured pulses as I moved.
The village had woken up by now.
Market streets bustled below, unaware. Smoke rose from breakfast places. Life went on, insulated from the horrors of war by people like me.
I needed to get stronger. I realized I needed to train my mokuton; I had to be able to use it in case of a life-threatening situation. I couldn't just avoid it, fearing what would happen if I were found out. I wouldn't have made it out alive without it.
I needed a quiet place, somewhere I wouldn't be found training, avoiding the need to explain myself or leave a paper trail justifying my actions during wartime.
I couldn't leave the village without registering at the main gate, and I was pretty sure there were barrier seals monitoring everyone entering and exiting. I didn't want to draw any attention.
I knew exactly where to find such a place.
I vaulted off the last building and landed in a wide clearing. Beyond it rose a massive fence, reinforced with steel, thick beams rising with seals etched along the supports. On the other side, the canopy loomed dense and dark, with large trees packed so tightly they swallowed the light.
The Forest of Death.
Training Ground 44.
It was dangerous, a place even shinobi rarely visited.
I ran along the fence at an easy pace, my boots thudding softly against the packed dirt. The perimeter stretched far, curving with the land. Eventually, I reached a small observation booth built into the fence line, right next to a large gate.
Inside the concrete cabin sat a chūnin slouched in his chair, feet propped up, one hand holding a worn paperback novel. He didn't even look up when I approached.
I cleared my throat lightly.
He glanced over, his eyes dull with boredom. "Yeah?"
"I need entrance to the training ground," I said, keeping my tone polite.
He sighed as if I had personally offended him, reached for a clipboard, and slid it across the counter. "Name. Rank. Time in. Reason for entrance. Write it down."
I filled it out quickly.
He scanned it without interest. "You know the risks."
"I do."
"There are no patrols inside currently. If you get hurt, you have crawl back out."
"Understood."
He pressed a button beneath the desk. Somewhere deep in the fence, locks disengaged with a heavy metallic clunk, and the gate opened.
I felt a slight chill run down my spine as I entered.
The chūnin waved me through without looking. "The gate'll lock behind you."
I stepped forward.
The moment I crossed the threshold, the sounds of the village dulled. The gate shut with a final, echoing boom behind me, seals flaring briefly before fading.
I was inside.
I shook off the feeling, exhaled once, and pushed chakra into my legs.
Then I jumped as the forest swallowed me whole.
The world snapped vertical as I launched upward, hands catching bark, feet finding purchase on the rough trunk. Branches rushed past as I climbed, then leapt again, deeper into the canopy.
Light filtered through the leaves in broken shards. Vines hung low, brushing my shoulders. The air was thick, humid, and alive. Every sound echoed strangely, a bird call too sharp, a rustle that lingered a second too long.
I slowed once I was deep enough, moving by instinct, weaving through branches until I found a natural clearing high above the ground, a rough platform formed by thick branches, with sightlines broken by foliage on all sides.
I settled into a low crouch and closed my eyes.
First things first.
I spread my chakra outward, just listening.
Trees.
Thousands of them.
Their roots knotted together beneath the soil, ancient and patient. Leaves whispered overhead, each carrying its own faint presence. It wasn't like sensing people; it felt different, strange in a way i coudnt explain, like a background hum that resonated within me.
And beneath it all, something deeper.
Something that answered me.
Then again, this place was nurtured by Hashirama.
I pushed off the branch and moved.
Chakra flowed into my feet and hands, allowing me to cling to bark and branch as I ventured deeper into the forest.
The further I went, the more I could feel its presence all around me.
Then I sensed them.
Chakra signatures. They were duller and broader, spread through muscle and bone and instinct rather than through coils and pathways.
Chakra beasts.
I realized they were creatures that had lived too long in places like this, where chakra pooled naturally in the land. They weren't summoning beasts, just animals that had adapted and learned to use chakra in a crude manner.
I frowned slightly as I sensed one pass below me, another further off, smaller but sharper, its presence flickering as it moved.
I kept moving.
Eventually, the forest opened into a clearing wide enough to let light filter through unhindered. At its center sat a small pond, the water dark and still, ringed by moss-covered stones.
I paused and closed my eyes.
None close by.
Good.
I dropped down silently and approached a massive tree near the pond, its roots thick and exposed, twisting up from the earth like the ribs of something ancient. I slid between them, settling into a natural hollow where the trunk met the ground hidden from most angles, sheltered, grounded.
I sat cross-legged, my back against bark that felt warm despite the shade.
Alright...
I raised one hand, palm up, resting it in front of me, and closed my eyes again.
Focus.
I divided my attention carefully. One stream of chakra shifted toward Suiton—cool, fluid, responsive. The other flowed toward Doton—heavy, resistant, demanding will.
Doing either alone on two hands was easy enough now.
But combining them in a single hand was another matter, especially without molding them with hand signs.
My brow furrowed as I guided both conversions at once, keeping them separate yet adjacent, like two currents flowing side by side. Sweat beaded on my skin almost immediately. My chakra coils protested, straining under the unfamiliar demand.
My hand trembled.
Then my chakra responded to my demand, and I saw a thin shape begin to form above my palm. At first, it was uneven and warped, a lump trying to resemble wood but failing, cracking apart into damp splinters that fell away like sawdust.
I hissed softly and stopped, breathing hard.
Again.
I re-centered myself, letting the forest's presence steady me. Roots beneath me, water beside me, life all around.
I tried again.
This time, the shape held longer. A narrow growth pushed upward, its surface rough yet solid. As I poured in a little more chakra, I instinctively adjusted the balance and slowly shaped it into a stake.
I knew instinctively that I was stronger than metal.
Then, I raised my other hand and formed a half ram seal, molding my chakra to manipulate the stake as large thorns grew out of it. I smiled when it worked.
Well, would you look at that...