"Are you sure about this?" Satoru managed between ragged breaths, his voice strained under the pressure crushing his small frame. His knees trembled, threatening to buckle, as he fought to remain upright. His arms dangled awkwardly at his sides, weighed down as though the earth itself had reached up to cling onto him.
In front of him stood Itachi, lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable save for the faint upward curl at the edges of his mouth. He was smiling—subtly, barely there, but enough for Satoru to notice.
Next to him, Shisui stood with a semi-serious expression, though the twitch of his lips betrayed the smile he was trying, and failing, to suppress.
Satoru scowled, his sweat-drenched hair sticking to his forehead. "You're enjoying this way too much," he muttered, glaring between the two.
The weighted chainmail clung to his small frame like an unforgiving parasite.
Each metal link pressed heavily against his shoulders and chest, digging into him with every twitch and movement. He shifted his weight slightly, and the links clinked together with a dull metallic chrrnnk, reminding him of the sheer burden he carried.
'How the hell did Shisui lift this thing so easily earlier?' Satoru thought, grimacing as he took another shaky step. His back hunched forward, and it took a conscious effort not to collapse flat on the dirt. He'd seen Shisui heft the chainmail earlier, toss it lightly as though it weighed nothing, and slap the sealing tag to activate its full weight. Watching that had almost been comical—until the thing ended up on his shoulders.
"You're doing great," Shisui said encouragingly, his tone far too casual for Satoru's taste.
He crouched slightly, "Now you just need to channel your chakra properly."
Satoru's eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait—channel chakra? Don't tell me…" His voice cracked in mock outrage. "You want me to make the weights heavier?!"
The chainmail shifted with another heavy clang as Satoru flailed his arms slightly. His face contorted, halfway between disbelief and panic. "I'm not sure if that's training or actual torture!"
Shisui chuckled, shaking his head. "Relax. Not like that. I don't want you to make the weights heavier, at least not yet."
His eyes sparkled mischievously as he added, "We'll get to that once you're strong enough."
Satoru groaned, loudly enough that even Itachi's faint smile twitched into something closer to amusement.
"No," Shisui continued, "What I want you to do is channel chakra through your body to fortify it. Reinforce your muscles, your bones, your stance. The chainmail isn't just for strength; it's to force you to adjust, to synchronise your physical body with your chakra flow."
Itachi finally spoke, "When the Sharingan awakens before proper training, the body struggles to keep up. The eyes see faster, the mind reacts faster, but the body lags behind. Unless the body is strengthened, it won't keep pace. And if you can't keep up with your own eyes, then copying enemy movements becomes impossible."
Satoru blinked, absorbing every word. His chest still heaved from the weight, but inside, his mind was whirring with rapid-fire thoughts.
'Ooh, so this is basically resistance training. Of course. Makes sense, they're trying to make sure I don't end up with a body that can't handle what my eyes might one day be capable of. They're future-proofing me.'
He shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. Slowly, deliberately, he directed his chakra outward, threading it through his limbs. At first, the sensation was clumsy, like trying to pour water evenly across a cloth with holes in it. Too much in his legs made his calves twitch. Too much in his arms, and the weight seemed to dig cruelly into his shoulders.
"Steady… balance it…" he muttered to himself under his breath.
Gradually, the crushing weight on his shoulders lessened. It didn't vanish; it was still there, pressing down with an oppressive heaviness, but his body no longer screamed in panic with each movement. The burden had shifted, dispersed, becoming something he could work against rather than simply endure.
His lips curled into a small grin as he opened his eyes. "Done! Now what's next?" he asked, his tone filled with the cocky eagerness of someone who had just climbed a mountain and was ready for the next.
For the briefest instant, Shisui's smile froze.
His eyes widened ever so slightly. The surprise was subtle, hidden beneath layers of his easygoing mask, but it was there. He had not expected that. Neither Itachi nor Satoru seemed to catch it.
"He did it that quickly?" Shisui thought, disbelief flashing in his mind. He straightened slowly, glancing at the boy with narrowed eyes.
The chainmail was more than just a weight. Its seals were carved with meticulous precision, designed to make chakra flow more sluggish, more unwieldy. It dampened control, forcing users to fight against the resistance of their own energy.
For most academy students, it would take minutes, sometimes hours, to properly balance themselves under its influence, hence why it was recommended for Genins and above. But Satoru… he had managed it in mere seconds.
'That kind of control… it might even surpass Itachi's,' Shisui admitted silently, his eyes flicking momentarily toward his younger cousin standing nearby. But then he tempered the thought with a sharp reminder. 'Too bad his reserves don't even come close. In the end, control without stamina is like a blade without a handle.'
Still, the feat was impressive. Too impressive.
"Well then," Shisui said at last, masking his surprise behind a grin. "Next step is simple." He pointed toward the perimeter of the training ground. "Run a few laps around the clearing."
Satoru blinked. "That's it?"
Shisui nodded. "Yep. Since this is your first training session, I'll take it easy on you. You only have to run… oh, let's say… five laps."
The word "only" hit Satoru like a shuriken to the chest. His eye twitched violently as he surveyed the training ground.
The area was enormous. One lap alone would feel like a trek. Five? That was practically a death sentence with this chainmail pressing him into the earth.
He turned his head back toward Shisui, his gaze flat, his expression deadpan. "Only, huh?"
Shisui raised a brow, feigning innocence. "What? You're the one who begged me to train you, remember?" His grin widened to reveal the faint flash of teeth.
Satoru groaned, muttering under his breath, but he knew there was no escaping it. His pride wouldn't allow him to back down now. He forced his legs to move, each step sending a metallic clink-clank through the clearing as the chainmail dragged slightly with his motion. His first strides were awkward, sluggish, but soon he found a rhythm.
"Grhh…" he grunted low in his throat, sweat dripping down the side of his face. Each footfall was heavy, a dull thump-thump on the packed dirt. His breath came sharp and quick, puffing white in the cooling evening air.
Behind him, Shisui watched, arms folded, expression still hovering between mischief and something more thoughtful. He leaned slightly toward Itachi, his lips curling as he muttered just loud enough for the other boy to hear, "Look at you communicating…"
The words carried, drifting across the training ground.
Satoru's eyes widened mid-stride. His foot caught slightly on a root, and he stumbled before catching himself.
"H-Huh?!" he thought in alarm. For an instant, he almost wondered if Shisui had read his mind, plucked his thoughts directly from his skull. But then realisation dawned.
No—it was worse than that.
Just like Itachi before him, he'd become one of Shisui's victims.
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