Chapter 6: Shared Sweat and Sharpened Steel (Patreon)

In Naruto With an Achievement System

Chapter 6: Shared Sweat and Sharpened Steel

- Anko Mitarashi -

This was stupid. Utterly, completely stupid. Standing here in the cold morning air before the sun was even properly up, waiting for him. Kagurazaka. The guy who’d embarrassed her yesterday. Twice.

Kurenai had talked her into it. “Just go see, Anko,” she’d said, all calm and reasonable like always. “He offered. Maybe understanding why he’s strong will help more than just challenging him again.” Easy for Kurenai to say; she hadn’t been the one slammed in the gut hard enough to nearly puke. Still… Kurenai was usually right about stuff like this. And Anko was curious. How did he get that strong? It wasn’t just skill; she’d felt the solid power behind that palm strike.

She shifted her weight, kicking impatiently at a loose pebble. Training Ground Four was deserted at this hour, dew still clinging to the sparse patches of grass around the edges of the packed earth. It felt weird being here so early, waiting for someone else instead of just starting her own drills.

Just as she was about to decide this was a waste of time, she saw him approaching. Kagurazaka walked onto the field with that same annoying, neutral expression he always wore. He didn't even seem surprised to see her, just gave a brief nod that could have meant anything, and walked past her towards an empty corner.

He started with stretches – normal ones, at least. Arm circles, leg swings, torso twists. Stuff they did in class. Okay, maybe this wouldn't be so weird after all. But after finishing his basic warm-up, he walked over to the lumpy sack he'd brought – a big, rough-looking thing. He knelt beside it and pulled out some thick-looking ropes.

Anko frowned, walking closer out of curiosity. "What are you doing?"

He didn't answer immediately, just started maneuvering the heavy sack onto his back, grunting slightly with the effort. Then he began wrapping the ropes around the sack and his torso, securing it tightly.

"What the hell is that thing?" Anko asked, gesturing at the bulging sack now firmly strapped to his back. "Rocks?" It looked incredibly cumbersome.

Kagurazaka paused in tying a knot, glancing back at her. "Need weight." He gave the knot a final tug.

"Rocks? Seriously?" Anko repeated, incredulous. "That's your big secret? Training with rocks?" It sounded ridiculous.

Before he could start moving, Anko pointed at the sack on his back. "Let me see that thing." Driven by disbelief, she reached out and grabbed the side of the sack while it was still partially resting on the ground as he adjusted the straps. Planting her feet, she pulled with both hands. Nothing. She strained harder, putting her weight into it, gritting her teeth. The sack shifted maybe an inch upwards off his lower back before his posture fully took the weight, making her stumble slightly. Holy crap, how much did this weigh? It felt cemented to him.

Kagurazaka just finished adjusting the final strap around his waist, settling the weight fully. "Now, are you going to stand there gawking, or are you going to train?"

Without waiting for an answer, he immediately launched into his routine. He started running laps around the field, weighed down by the ridiculous sack, each footfall heavy on the dirt. After several laps, he stopped, barely pausing for breath before dropping and starting intense push-ups, the sack pressing down on him. Then came weighted squats, jumps, lunges, all performed with relentless intensity, sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead. It looked brutal.

Anko glared at his back, then where the sack had been on the ground, then back at him as he continued his grueling circuit. Rocks. He trained with fucking rocks. It was insane. But… she couldn't deny the strength it clearly built. She hadn't even been able to properly lift that thing off him, and he was exercising with it.

Fine. Whatever. She wasn't going to be outdone. Muttering under her breath about lunatics and rocks, Anko stalked off to another part of the field and started her own warm-up routine – stretches, stances, basic strikes against the air. But she pushed herself harder than usual, her movements sharper, faster. And every so often, she found herself glancing back towards Kagurazaka and his stupid, heavy sack of rocks. This truce, or whatever it was, felt weird. But maybe… maybe Kurenai was right. Maybe there was something to learn here, even if it was just how crazy some people were.

Later that day, the afternoon sun beat down on Training Ground Four as Class 1-B gathered for their taijutsu lesson. The initial weeks of drilling basic stances had laid a foundation, and Midori-sensei was clearly ready to build upon it, moving beyond static postures.

"Alright, class," she announced, her voice cutting through the low murmur of tired students. "We've established the core stances. Today, we focus on movement between those stances, and incorporating basic defensive actions. Fluidity and control are key, not just holding a position. We'll start with transitioning drills, then move onto Ukemi – learning to fall and roll correctly to minimize injury and regain your footing quickly."

She demonstrated first, her movements economical and precise. She flowed seamlessly from a low defensive guard (gedan-no-kamae), knees bent, weight centered, into a forward-moving striking stance, her body coiling and uncoiling smoothly. Then, with a swift pivot on the ball of her foot, she shifted into a sideways evasive posture, ready to move laterally. "Observe the shift in weight," she instructed, her eyes scanning the class. "Feel how your center of balance moves. The placement of your feet is crucial for stability during movement. Avoid jerky transitions; aim for a continuous flow."

We spread out and began practicing the transitions she demonstrated. Moving from the low guard to the middle guard (chūdan-no-kamae) and back. Shifting from a forward-facing offensive stance to a side-on defensive one. It required more concentration than simply holding a stance, demanding coordination between footwork, hip rotation, and upper body posture.

Remembering Midori-sensei's advice about building a proper foundation, I consciously focused on the technique she was teaching. I resisted the easy temptation to rely purely on the enhanced speed or balance granted by Attribute Distribution. Instead, I visualized the smooth, controlled arcs of the bokken cuts I'd been practicing, trying to translate that sense of centered, flowing momentum into my body's movements between the taijutsu stances. I focused on keeping my weight low, my steps deliberate but not stiff, ensuring my balance remained stable throughout the transition. It felt different – less about raw capability and more about achieving precise, efficient execution. My movements probably weren't as naturally graceful as Hayate's, who seemed to pick up the flow almost instinctively, but they felt more solid, more controlled than they had been just a week prior.

Midori-sensei walked the lines, observing, her sharp eyes missing little. She offered corrections frequently. "Keep your shoulders relaxed, Ibiki – tension hinders movement." "Smoother pivot, Kurenai – don't lift your heel so high." When she passed me, she watched me execute a transition from a low block stance, shifting weight smoothly into a forward step and simulated strike. She didn't say anything this time, but I caught a brief, almost imperceptible nod before she moved on down the line. A small sign, perhaps, that she recognized the shift in my approach, the focus on fundamentals.

Next came Ukemi – the art of falling. Midori-sensei demonstrated forward rolls, backward rolls, and side falls onto the hard-packed earth, emphasizing tucking the chin to protect the neck, slapping the ground with a forearm to disperse the impact, and using momentum to roll back onto one's feet smoothly. "Taking a hit, losing your balance – these are inevitable in combat," she stated bluntly, dusting herself off. "Knowing how to fall correctly can be the difference between getting back up immediately and staying down for good. Practice."

This was more physically demanding and less intuitive than the stance transitions. We practiced on the packed earth, and the impacts were jarring, even with the proper technique. The training ground filled with the sounds of awkward thuds, clumsy rolls that ended halfway, and students ending up sprawled awkwardly instead of smoothly regaining their feet. I focused intently on Midori-sensei's instructions, tucking my chin tightly, rounding my back, trying to make the rolling motion fluid rather than a series of jarring impacts. My enhanced physical attributes undoubtedly helped absorb some of the shock, making the landings less painful than they might have been otherwise, but mastering the technique itself still required dedicated practice and repetition.

During a brief water break, Hayate ambled over, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He offered a small, tired smile, looking less drained than some of the others but still showing the exertion. "Your transitions are looking smoother, Yuuki," he commented, his voice quiet as usual. "Less… jerky than before. More connected."

I nodded, taking a grateful sip from my water canteen. The cool liquid was a welcome relief. "Trying to focus on what Sensei said," I replied honestly. "Getting the form right before trying to be fast or strong."

Hayate nodded in understanding, leaning against a training post. "Good idea. Rushing leads to bad habits. Hard to unlearn later." He coughed lightly into his hand, a brief, dry sound, before taking a drink from his own canteen. The break was short-lived, however, and soon Midori-sensei called us back to practice Ukemi again, the repetitive thuds of bodies hitting dirt resuming under the increasingly hot morning sun.

After the physically demanding taijutsu session, we returned to the relative cool of the classroom for the final lessons of the day. Midori-sensei, showing no signs of fatigue herself, moved straight into new material, capitalizing on the chakra control foundation we'd been building with the leaf sticking exercise over the past week.

"Now that your basic chakra control and concentration are improving," she announced, standing at the front of the room, "we move to the first of the fundamental Academy ninjutsu: the Clone Jutsu – Bunshin no Jutsu."

She held up her hands, forming a sequence of seals clearly and deliberately: Tiger, then Boar, then Ox, finishing with Dog. "Unlike the Henge, which alters your own form, the Bunshin creates illusory duplicates of yourself. These clones," she emphasized, "have no physical substance. They cannot attack, they cannot interact physically with objects, and they will disperse upon significant contact or if the caster loses concentration. Their primary purpose," her tone turned serious, "is misdirection, confusion, and basic scouting. An enemy facing multiple targets, even illusory ones, can become overwhelmed, hesitate, or make critical mistakes."

She performed the seals again, this time channeling chakra. With a soft poof of smoke, two identical copies of herself appeared flanking her. They looked remarkably solid, perfectly mimicking her stance and neutral expression, though if one looked closely, a very faint, almost imperceptible shimmer seemed to hover around their edges. "Creating stable, convincing clones requires splitting your focus and chakra evenly between yourself and each clone you intend to create. Too little chakra allocated to a clone, and it will be faint or dissipate quickly. Too much focus on one clone, and the others may fail to form or destabilize. Practice the hand seals first until they are smooth."

We spent the next ten minutes diligently practicing the new sequence: Tiger -> Boar -> Ox -> Dog. It felt slightly more complex than the three seals for the Henge, requiring quicker, more precise transitions between finger positions. My own fingers felt clumsy at first, tangling occasionally.

Once Midori-sensei seemed satisfied that most of the class had a basic grasp of the seals, she instructed us to attempt the jutsu itself. "Alright. Focus your chakra, perform the seals smoothly, and visualize splitting your image – creating a duplicate beside you. Start by aiming for just one stable clone."

I took a breath, focused my chakra as I formed the seals, and tried to divide my mental image and energy flow as instructed. Tiger, Boar, Ox, Dog... Poof! A hazy, indistinct shape shimmered into existence beside me for barely a second before dissolving into nothing more than swirling chakra particles. Okay, splitting focus evenly was definitely harder than it sounded. I tried again, concentrating harder on maintaining the split. Poof! This time, a single, blurry clone appeared. It held its form for maybe three seconds, flickering noticeably like a bad projection, before winking out of existence.

Looking around the classroom, I saw similar struggles. Most students produced nothing, or faint shapes that vanished instantly. Kurenai, however, seemed to have a knack for it. After only a couple of attempts, she produced two fairly stable, clear clones that held their form for a good ten seconds before she let them disperse with a focused breath, earning a distinct nod of approval from Midori-sensei. Hayate, after several tries, managed one decent clone that lasted about five seconds, looking slightly surprised himself. Yugao, sitting near me, produced a flickering one similar to mine on her third try. "Try focusing your chakra on one point for the clone's 'core'," Hayate whispered helpfully across the aisle, noticing my struggle. "Like an anchor for the image." I nodded, deciding to try his suggestion on my next attempt. Anko, meanwhile, managed to produce three aggressive-looking clones simultaneously, but they shimmered violently and vanished almost immediately in angry puffs of smoke, earning a sigh from Midori-sensei. Ibiki, near the front, was still having trouble just getting the hand seals right consistently, his brow furrowed in intense, frustrated concentration.

During a short break Midori-sensei gave us to rest our focus, wanting to lighten the mood and also test my Henge refinement under less pressure, I subtly formed the Henge seals while Midori-sensei was briefly consulting her notes. Poof! I transformed into a perfect replica of Hayate. I walked casually over to Yugao's desk, mimicking Hayate's posture.

"Hey, Yugao," I said, pitching my voice to match Hayate's slightly tired drawl. "Did you finish the history notes from yesterday? I think I missed a few points near the end."

Yugao looked up from her own practice, blinked in surprise for a fraction of a second, then a small, knowing smile touched her lips as she recognized the jutsu. "Nice Henge, Yuuki," she replied dryly, playing along without missing a beat. "Very convincing. And yes, I finished them. Need to borrow them later?" The real Hayate, overhearing from his desk, just shook his head with a faint, amused sigh, used to my occasional antics by now. I dropped the Henge with another poof, grinning slightly before settling back down as Midori-sensei called for practice to resume.

The final bell signaling the end of Academy classes for the day finally rang, a welcome sound after the mentally taxing Bunshin practice. Students began gathering their belongings, the usual end-of-day chatter filling the room. I was packing my bag, tucking away my notes and the now-empty water canteen, exchanging a brief word with Hayate about the Bunshin homework Midori-sensei had assigned – "Practice making three stable clones simultaneously by tomorrow," a task that seemed dauntingly difficult right now. Yugao nodded in agreement beside him, adding, "Splitting focus that much is tricky."

Just as I zipped up my bag, I noticed two figures approaching our desks: Anko Mitarashi and Kurenai Yuhi. They stopped a few feet away. Anko looked distinctly uncomfortable, shifting her weight from foot to foot and pointedly avoiding looking directly at me, while Kurenai stood calmly beside her, offering silent support. I'd seen them hanging out together frequently during breaks; their friendship seemed solid despite their contrasting personalities.

Kurenai offered a polite, neutral opening, perhaps sensing Anko's hesitation. "Kagurazaka-san," she said, her voice calm and even. "Anko wanted to speak with you for a moment."

Anko visibly took a breath, glancing quickly at Kurenai before forcing herself to look somewhere in the vicinity of my shoulder. "Hey... Kagurazaka," she started, her usual loud, abrasive tone replaced by a lower, slightly strained voice. She paused, clearly finding the words difficult. "Look... about last night..." Another awkward pause. She scuffed her sandal against the wooden floor. "Thanks," she finally mumbled, the word rushed. "For... you know. Not... making it worse after... yeah." She took another breath. "And the offer this morning... seeing your... weird rock training..." She shrugged, a quick, jerky motion. "Yeah. Okay. I get that you train hard. It's... intense." She finally flickered her gaze up to meet mine briefly before looking away again. "So... thanks. And... sorry about jumping you." The apology sounded slightly rehearsed, as if she'd practiced it, but the underlying sincerity seemed genuine enough, likely bolstered by Kurenai's presence.

Kurenai offered me a small, almost imperceptible nod, confirming her role in this détente.

I was slightly surprised by the directness of the apology, especially delivered jointly. I kept my own expression neutral, accepting the truce for what it was – a necessary de-escalation. "Okay," I replied simply, my voice even. "Accepted, Mitarashi." I paused, then added, recalling her reaction that morning, "Offer still stands if you want to join the warm-up sometime, just... maybe find your own weights. Rocks are kind of my thing."

Anko nodded quickly, looking visibly relieved that the interaction was over without further conflict. She exchanged a quick glance with Kurenai, a silent communication passing between them. "Right. Yeah. See ya," she muttered, before turning abruptly and walking away, Kurenai falling into step beside her.

As Anko and Kurenai disappeared down the hallway, the immediate tension seemed to dissipate from the classroom air. I turned back to Hayate and Yugao, who were finishing packing their own bags. An idea sparked, building on Midori-sensei's advice and Hayate's earlier offer of pointers.

"Hey," I started, rubbing the back of my neck slightly, feeling a bit hesitant. I genuinely liked hanging out with them and didn't want them to think I was just using them for training connections. "Do you guys... want to maybe head to the training grounds? Midori-sensei gave me a bokken," I gestured towards the wrapped wooden sword in my bag, "and I was hoping to practice some basics. I'd love some pointers, if you wouldn't mind?"

Hayate let out a tired sigh, stretching his arms above his head. "Urgh, unlike you, Yuuki, neither of us are monsters of stamina," he said, giving me a pointed look. "Those Ukemi drills wiped me out today. But," he added, stifling a yawn (or maybe a cough), "I don't mind giving some pointers tomorrow morning. We can bring our own bokken too. Meet up early?"

Yeah, easy for me to forget they can't just shift points into Stamina when they're tired, I thought wryly.

"Bah, you guys just need to train more," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Both Hayate and Yugao rolled their eyes simultaneously. "With rocks?" Hayate deadpanned, a hint of amusement in his tired voice.

"Hey, it's not a bad idea!" I whined playfully, putting on an exaggerated pout. "It clearly works! Don't knock the rocks 'til you try 'em!" Sometimes, letting myself act like the child I physically resembled felt surprisingly good, a release from the constant internal pressure.