The official start of classes had finally arrived.
For first-years, the curriculum was mostly general education: Mathematics, Literacy, History, Geography—basic subjects meant to bring everyone up to speed.
As Harima-sensei explained, the real training—ninja training—would begin in the second year. First, we had to prove we could handle the academic load.
The lessons themselves were... fine. Nothing remarkable.
For someone like me—someone with a college-level education and years of last-minute cramming burned into muscle memory—it was all painfully basic. Frankly, I didn't care.
I mean, who doesn't already know how to count or write? Maybe civilians who have only recently chosen the shinobi path. But for anyone raised in a clan or given even minimal instruction, these classes felt like filler.
I was halfway lost in thought when Nawaki's voice cut through the haze of boredom.
"Hey," he called, nudging my arm. I turned to see him watching me with concern. "Where'd you go? I couldn't find you after class."
Nawaki Senju.
Not much was written about him—just that he was Tsunade's younger brother and the First Hokage's grandson. Died young during the Second Ninja War. A short life, barely a footnote in history.
Now that I was really looking at him, the resemblance to Naruto was almost eerie. Those same expressive eyes, that same reckless optimism. The kind of grin that couldn't hide a single thought. Reincarnation of Asura? Yeah. I could believe it.
"I was training," I said, plain and honest. No point in lying. If light novels taught me anything, it's that deception in worlds like this always backfires.
"Training?" His eyes lit up like firecrackers. He leaned in, practically vibrating. "Seriously? What kind? Did you unlock chakra? What're you doing?"
I shifted the weight of my pack and shrugged. "Just the basics. Meditation, physical drills, trying to get a feel for my chakra network."
His jaw dropped. "You're already doing chakra control?! That's, like, semester two stuff! You gotta teach me, man!"
I blinked. Nawaki was about as subtle as a thrown kunai. But his excitement was real. No hidden agenda, no calculations—just energy and drive.
"I didn't say I was good at it," I said with a small smile. "My control's crap. I'm just messing around."
"Still! That's way more than anyone else is doing." He lightly punched my shoulder. "Come on, you can't keep that to yourself."
I hesitated. Sharing knowledge in a world like this was risky. The wrong person could turn your own techniques against you. But Nawaki didn't give off that kind of vibe. And besides—I didn't come here to hide in the background forever.
"Well… I could show you next week," I offered. "I get my village stipend then. I'll be renting the training grounds again."
His grin could've powered the whole courtyard.
Looks like I made a friend.
________________________________________________________________________________________
Time passed faster than expected.
Nawaki and I walked the familiar dirt path to the training grounds, kicking up dust as we went. I'd paid to rent the space again—not a huge sum, and more than worth it if it helped either of us improve.
The grounds were quiet, just like before. The sun hung low, casting golden light across cracked earth. A cool breeze stirred the leaves, carrying the scent of pine, sweat, and old soil. The kind of place that remembered effort.
But this time, I wasn't alone.
"So?" Nawaki's voice cracked the silence like thunder. "Show me what you do!" His eyes sparkled with anticipation, and he bounced on his heels like a kid before a festival.
I dusted off my knees and smirked. "It's nothing fancy. Just something I came up with to stay in shape."
"Then can I try?" he said, without missing a beat. "I want to be strong. Like my big sis."
That made me pause.
Nawaki didn't usually talk about Tsunade. His admiration for her was quiet, implied—but now, I could hear the fire in his voice. It wasn't about impressing anyone. It was about catching up.
I considered him for a moment. Still young. Still learning his limits. I didn't want to crush his enthusiasm with something brutal right off the bat.
"Alright," I said. "But we'll start light. If you're still standing at the end, we'll go harder next time."
He nodded like a bobblehead. "I can handle it!"
"We'll see," I said, chuckling. "First: push-ups. Twenty-five."
Before I could even finish, he dropped to the ground and got into position. "Easy," he grinned.
I raised an eyebrow and knelt beside him. "Back straight. Don't rush."
"Got it!"
We started together. The clearing filled with the sounds of breath, the thud of palms hitting dirt, the occasional grunt. I kept glancing at him—his form needed work, but his effort was real. He didn't complain once.
Push-ups. Sit-ups. Squats. Sprints. Chakra meditation. By the end, Nawaki was drenched in sweat, chest heaving as he sprawled out like a broken puppet.
The sun dipped below the horizon, and the last rays of light kissed the clearing.
"Haah… haah… That… was intense… You do this every week?" he wheezed.
"Yeah... obviously, I don't do much... just the basics... unlike you, I have to start now instead of later."
After I caught my breath, I sat up straight to continue my grind. The [Elite Navy Training] booklet in my hands practically ordered me to continue striving for success. With this kind of solid foundation, future powers will be easier to acquire.
Nawaki stood there, fists clenched at his sides, breathing hard—but not from exhaustion anymore.
"What do you mean by that?" he repeated.
I glanced up at him, then down at the booklet in my hands. For a moment, I considered brushing it off. A joke. A deflection. That would've been easy.
But the way he was looking at me—serious, searching—made it clear that wouldn't fly.
I closed the booklet and set it aside.
"It means," I said slowly, choosing my words, "that people like us don't get the luxury of waiting."
He frowned. "People like us?"
I gestured vaguely around the clearing. "Not prodigies. Not clan heirs with private tutors and secret scrolls. We don't start ahead—we start late. So if we want to survive… we have to start now."
Nawaki stared at the ground for a long moment. Then he let out a small, humorless laugh.
"Yeah. That sounds about right."
I looked up, surprised.
He dropped down beside me, sitting cross-legged in the dirt. His voice was quieter now—no bounce, no sparkle.
"Everyone thinks being a Senju means I've already won," he said. "Like strength just… happens. But when I train with my clan? I'm always behind. Always messing up."
He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed."Tsunade-neesan never says anything. She just smiles. That somehow makes it worse."
That hit harder than I expected.
Because I knew that smile. Encouraging. Loving. And utterly incapable of fixing the fear underneath.
"So I figured," Nawaki continued, forcing a grin that didn't quite stick, "if I just work harder, eventually I'll catch up. But sometimes I wonder if I'm just… pretending."
I didn't respond right away.
Instead, I stood up and extended a hand.
He blinked. "Huh?"
"Stand up," I said. "Chakra exercise."
He took my hand, and I pulled him to his feet.
"Close your eyes," I instructed. "Don't mold chakra yet. Just listen."
He did.
The clearing was quiet—crickets chirping, leaves rustling, distant training shouts echoing faintly from somewhere far away.
"Feel your heartbeat," I said. "Your breathing. That's not pretending. That's proof you're here. Alive. Trying."
His shoulders slowly relaxed.
"Talent doesn't matter if you quit," I continued. "And lineage doesn't mean anything if you don't put in the work. You're here. You trained. You didn't stop."
I met his eyes.
"That already puts you ahead of a lot of people."
For a second, he just stared at me.
Then his grin came back—smaller, but real.
"Heh… You talk like an old man."
I snorted. "You should see my knees."
He laughed, loud and free, echoing across the training ground. The sound felt… right. Like it belonged here.
After a moment, Nawaki held out his fist.
"Train with me," he said. Not joking. Not bouncing. "Every week. Even when we're tired. Even when it sucks."
I looked at his fist.
In canon, this boy would die young.In canon, he wouldn't get the chance to grow.
But this wasn't canon anymore.
I bumped my fist against his.
"Deal."
Something settled between us then—not loud, not dramatic.
Just solid.
__________________________________________________
Not far from where Nawaki and Kiyu trained, Tsunade stood atop a tree branch, cloaked by the shadows of the canopy. Arms crossed, her golden eyes followed their movements in silence. She remained there for a while longer, watching without a word, before finally turning to leave.
She had been observing Kiyu since last week—stalking him, if she were honest. Ever since Nawaki mentioned his name more than once in conversation, Tsunade's instincts flared.
She wasn't the type to meddle in her little brother's friendships, but she was the type to ensure he wasn't being taken advantage of.
Nawaki had a big heart—too big sometimes—and though she admired that about him, she also knew it made him easy prey for leeches who wanted the clout of a Senju name without putting in the work.
She remembered the first time she caught sight of Nawaki surrounded by a few overly friendly classmates. Their smiles were just a bit too wide, their words dipped in flattery.
It didn't take a genius to see they wanted to ride his coattails straight through the Academy, using the grandson of the First Hokage as a shield and stepping stone.
Tsunade had nearly stormed over right then and there, fury in every step. It took two ANBU and a direct order from Hiruzen himself to calm her down—and to make sure those kids stayed far away from Nawaki afterward.
So when Nawaki began tagging along after this Kiyu kid, Tsunade was wary. Paranoid, even. She wasn't afraid of her brother getting roughed up—he could take a few bruises. But manipulation?
That left deeper scars.
She worried that Kiyu would act nice at first, maybe ask for something small—advice, a spar, a favor—and then slowly build it up until Nawaki was trapped in some kind of one-sided loyalty. She'd seen that kind of slow bleed before.
But now, after nearly an hour of quietly observing the two at the training grounds, Tsunade's fears were... not gone, but they had dimmed.
She had watched as Nawaki stumbled through the exercises, panting, sweating, barely keeping up. She saw Kiyu guide him without mocking him, offering corrections in quiet tones, sometimes laughing but never condescending.
There was no sign of arrogance, no smug superiority. Just calm, steady discipline.
And then there was Kiyu himself. The way he moved, the way he trained—it wasn't flashy or performative. There was no audience to impress, no sense that he was doing it for praise or attention.
His training was relentless, repetitive, and clearly self-imposed. Tsunade had seen enough gifted shinobi over the years to know the difference between ambition and obsession. What Kiyu had was... something else.
He trained not to impress, not to rise above, not even to lead. He trained simply to be strong. For strength's own sake. It wasn't about climbing ranks or chasing titles.
He didn't speak of becoming Hokage or winning tournaments. There was a clarity in his purpose that Tsunade found rare—especially in someone so young.
It was raw. Focused. Maybe even a little lonely.
But most importantly, it was real.
"Maybe... he can be friends with Nawaki," she murmured to herself, a faint smile curling her lips.
She hadn't realized how much she'd been hoping for that.
Friendship, she knew from painful experience, wasn't about shared bloodlines or tactical alliances. The best friends—the ones worth keeping—were the ones who stood beside you without needing a reason. They bickered, they fought, they disagreed. But when the real battles came, they were your greatest shield. Your strongest anchor.
Nawaki could use someone like that.
And maybe... just maybe, Kiyu could too.
Tsunade glanced at the two boys one last time before vanishing into the trees, her steps light as falling petals.
As she moved through the branches back toward the village, another thought came to her—smaller, but warmer.
"Now that I think about it," she mused, "Nawaki's birthday is coming soon."
A mischievous spark lit in her eyes.
"I'll find something he'll actually like this time."
Would you like this to lead into a birthday chapter or scene? It could be a great moment to deepen character bonds or introduce conflict.