The night in Konoha was oppressively quiet.
In the stillness, the only sounds were the faint, measured footsteps of patrol shinobi passing through the streets.
Kagura sat alone in a dim, cramped room within Root's underground headquarters. A single oil lamp flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows of his figure against the wall.
His face was half-swallowed by darkness. Only his eyes remained visible—heavy with contemplation and something far older than his years.
On the small table before him lay the tools from his mission:
A kunai that had drawn blood, now wiped clean.
Several unused shuriken glinting coldly in the faint light.
They rested in silence—
Yet in Kagura's heart, they struck like hammer blows.
The mission had been declared a success. The target was dead.
But the mistakes he made along the way pierced him like needles.
When he recalled the moment he first confronted the merchant, frustration and self-reproach filled his gaze.
In that instant, his mind had gone blank.
All his training—
All his techniques—
Collapsed under the weight of tension and fear.
The shuriken he had so meticulously prepared were forgotten entirely. Instead, he had instinctively drawn a kunai and rushed forward recklessly, like an untrained brawler.
On the training grounds, he had struck straw targets countless times.
Whether landing precise long-range throws or using shuriken at close range to disrupt an opponent's rhythm, he had performed admirably—earning praise from others.
But facing a living, breathing human being—
One who resisted, whose eyes burned with fear and the desperate will to survive—
Those familiar skills vanished.
Kagura drew in a slow breath.
He understood now.
It was fear of real combat that had suppressed his rational thinking.
Fear bound his limbs and silenced even his muscle memory.
In that life-and-death moment, his body no longer obeyed his mind. It obeyed instinct—raw, unrefined fear.
He clenched his fists.
He would find a way to overcome it.
Fear could never again become an obstacle in his missions.
He began analyzing how to correct it.
Future training would include simulated combat under high-pressure conditions. He would spar against opponents of similar strength, recreating the chaos and unpredictability of real encounters.
Only by tempering himself repeatedly in realistic scenarios could he grow accustomed to the tension of battle—
And make shurikenjutsu instinctive once more.
His thoughts shifted to ninjutsu.
As a shinobi, ninjutsu should have been one of his greatest weapons.
Yet during the mission, it had become his greatest regret.
While grappling with the merchant, the techniques he had memorized so thoroughly simply disappeared from his mind.
All that time and effort—
Wasted in the moment that mattered most.
Kagura frowned, deep in thought.
His prior training had been superficial.
He had repeated movements mechanically, without truly integrating them into combat strategy.
Each technique had its proper timing and battlefield application—
But he had never internalized that understanding.
That would have to change.
He resolved to create complex simulation environments within the training grounds:
Enclosed rooms. Forest terrain. Water sources. Limited visibility conditions.
He would practice applying techniques in context.
For example:
In confined indoor spaces, he could employ small-scale Fire Release to generate smoke and obstruct vision.
Near rivers or lakes, he would refine his Water Release control, ensuring it could be deployed fluidly in combat.
Ninjutsu had to become reflex.
Not theory.
Not memorization.
Instinct.
Even after killing the merchant, his performance had been lacking.
The escape—
He grimaced at the memory.
Overwhelmed by panic, he had thought of only one thing:
Run.
Exhausted and shaken, he had collapsed without first surveying the area.
He had not checked for pursuit.
He had not scanned for ambush.
His mind had gone blank.
That, he now understood, was a grave lack of battlefield awareness.
As a shinobi, every decision could mean life or death.
Even a minor oversight could result in failure—or worse.
He resolved to study environmental analysis and risk assessment.
He would learn common ambush tactics, trap placement, and pursuit patterns.
Before every future mission, he would conduct thorough reconnaissance, leaving no blind spots unchecked.
If he did not fix these weaknesses—
The next mistake could cost him his life.
The following morning, before even the first ray of sunlight reached the training grounds, Kagura was already there.
Beside him lay the tools he had prepared.
He began with shuriken practice.
Again and again, he threw toward distant targets while companions created distractions—shouting, throwing objects, simulating battlefield noise.
Each throw was accompanied by controlled breathing.
He forced himself to steady his mind, smoothing his movements until fear no longer disrupted his aim.
Next came ninjutsu.
He arranged artificial terrain within the grounds: clusters of trees, mock cave formations, shallow water trenches.
He moved through them, adjusting his techniques to match the environment.
Within forest cover, he used Wind Release to manipulate branches and distort enemy movement while concealing himself.
Inside confined cave spaces, he practiced Earth Release to construct defensive barriers against incoming attacks.
Every technique was executed with deliberate thought:
How could the environment amplify its effectiveness?
How could it be deployed under pressure?
To strengthen his crisis awareness and adaptability, Kagura invited several experienced Root operatives to engage him in combat drills.
They set unexpected traps.
Forced him into disadvantageous positions.
Created dilemmas that demanded immediate decision-making.
Each session was punishing.
Each mistake, costly.
Reports of his intensified training eventually reached Danzō.
Only then did Danzō give a small, satisfied nod.
Of course, he had never truly intended for Kagura to complete his first mission alone.
A Root operative had shadowed him from beginning to end—
Both to monitor him and to clean up any complications.
Though Kagura's performance had not been flawless—
He had completed the mission.
And that was sufficient.
For a first step—
It was acceptable.