Kyudo * Setsuna

They quickly bought the Inari Sushi.

It was already dark by the time I got home.

There were no streetlights in the village; only the light leaking from the windows of the houses along the street cast warm yellow patches of light on the stone pavement.

Madara walked ahead carrying the sushi, while Izuna walked alongside him carrying the bag of bok choy.

"... And then, guess what Kasuga said to me?"

"What did you say?"

Izuna made a deliberately profound expression, "Am I not handsome enough?"

Ban couldn't help but curl the corners of his lips into a smile.

"I'm telling you, it's not a matter of being handsome or not, it's that you're completely expressionless! If you went up there to act, you'd freeze the entire audience."

So he gave up?

Izuna was exasperated. "No! I'm serious, he has plenty of missions every day, so why does he always find time to bother me?! It's not just him, it's everyone else too. Damn it, they're taking advantage of my kind heart to bully me, aren't they?!"

Ban pouted, "Don't you already know that? If you can't stand being bothered, why don't you just refuse?"

"Brother, can you really refuse Hashirama?"

Ban thought for a moment, "I actually can."

Izuna choked.

Just then, a sharp sound pierced the air.

"Zheng--"

It was the sound of a bowstring vibrating. The sound wasn't loud, but it was exceptionally clear in the quiet evening.

Izuna was startled, but since no music played, he slowly relaxed.

Then another sound followed.

Because he stood there listening, he heard it very clearly; the sound came through the courtyard wall, making his eardrums itch slightly.

The wall surrounding the courtyard in front of us was not high, and a few pruned pine branches peeked out from the top of the wall.

Upon looking at the house number, one sees the Uchiha Family Crest engraved on it, with a name below— Setsuna.

"It's Setsuna's house," Izuna said.

He surveyed the size of the estate and wondered if there was a Kyudo practice area in his backyard.

No wonder he's such a talented actor Nasu no Yoichi Suzuki; he must be really rich.

Izuna clicked his tongue in amazement and followed Madara away.

So, how's Shūichi doing learning from Setsuna?

In fact, Hyuga Shūichi was the one who initiated that bow's cry.

Shūichi stood in front of the shooting position in the backyard, holding a bow in his hand.

Dusk pressed down from the wall, enveloping the courtyard in a thin layer of dark blue.

The air was filled with the lingering warmth of grass leaves after a day in the sun, mixed with the scent of Pine Resin from the bowstring.

The bow was a Setsuna from Setsuna. It wasn't big, just right for a child his age. The handle had been worn into a shallow groove by the previous user, which fit perfectly into the web of his hand.

The bowstring was new and extremely taut. When he pulled it back, he could feel the string pulsating slightly under his fingertips, like a living thing struggling.

He gripped the bow, his eyes fixed on the target ahead.

The target was set up thirty paces away. Its surface was riddled with holes from the previous arrows, but only one arrow was very close to the red circle in the center, and there were a few more on the ground.

He had three arrows left in his quiver, their fletchings slightly damp from sweat.

He drew a bow, nocked it, took a deep breath, and pulled the string to his ear.

With a steady hand in front and a tight grip behind, with a deep breath, the bullseye shrinks to a single dot in your vision.

This is it!

He let go.

The bowstring propelled the arrow, which streaked across the twilight and embedded itself in the target.

However, it only barely hit the outer edge of the bullseye, almost missing the target.

Shūichi stared at the arrow, his chest heaving.

Sweat slid down his forehead, past his eyebrows, and clung to his eyelashes.

He raised his arm and wiped it; the muscles in his arm were trembling.

From afternoon to evening, he had lost count of how many arrows he had shot.

Even with the protection of Chakra, the fingers of his right hand were still red from being cut by the bowstring, and the web of his left hand was chafed painfully by the bow handle.

He reached for his quiver, only to find it empty.

All the arrows have been fired.

He let his arms hang down, his shoulders slumped.

Another bowbeat rang out in the courtyard.

It's much crisper than his, like taking a bite of an apple, crisp and pleasant.

In Setsuna, she stood three steps away from him, holding a longer bow in her hand. The bow was lacquered black, and the string was made of twisted white wax. The curve from the bow tip to the bow end was extremely tight, like a crane with its wings folded.

His quiver hung on his back, with only a few arrows left inside.

Shūichi watched as he drew his bow and shot an arrow; the entire process took no more than the time it takes to breathe.

When the bowstring twanged, the arrow was already on the target. Immediately afterward, the second arrow was in his hand. When the third arrow was nocked, the fletching of the first arrow was still trembling slightly on the bullseye.

The target was densely covered with rows of arrows.

The central circle of red paint was already filled, so the later arrows couldn't squeeze into the center and had to be placed at the edges. Circle after circle, neat and orderly.

Shūichi glanced at the target in front of him.

A few sticks, crooked and uneven, were stuck into the target.

The arrow closest to the bullseye was the first one he shot this afternoon.

Each subsequent arrow flew further and further away from the center, as if being pushed outwards by something.

Sigh, although my master has a terrible personality, he's incredibly skilled.

When will I be able to shoot an arrow through a willow leaf from a hundred paces like him?

Soon Setsuna quiver was empty too. This time, he didn't refill his arrows, but instead looked at Shūichi.

"Have you finished shooting all two hundred arrows?"

"It's finished."

"That's good." With that, he placed the bow on the shelf beside him and went to the target to collect the arrows.

Shūichi followed, but he basically pulled the arrows off the ground.

After collecting the arrows, Shūichi was in charge of putting them into the designated box, while Setsuna went to prepare dinner.

After Shūichi finished tidying up and changed out of his sweat-soaked training clothes, he went inside and found Setsuna kneeling in front of the ancestral Ancestral Shrine at the door.

It's called Ancestral Shrine, but it's actually just a small wooden shrine placed on a low cabinet next to the Genkan.

Two small doors were open, and inside stood two memorial tablets, their surfaces slightly yellowed from the incense smoke.

Three incense sticks were placed in front of the memorial tablet, and wisps of smoke rose up, casting three straight lines in the dim evening light of the room.

He knelt before the cards in Setsuna, clasped his hands together, and closed his eyes.

Shūichi stood at the door without saying a word.

This is a form of worship typically found in ordinary households.

Ordinary Ninjas didn't have these things. When someone died, the only way to commemorate them was to visit their cemetery.

Those who died on the battlefield sometimes didn't even have a grave; they would leave behind a Kunai and a charred Forehead Protector, which their comrades would take back and bury in the ground.

It's extremely rare to see someone setting up a memorial tablet at home and offering daily prayers like this.

Master Setsuna is truly a strange person.

The green smoke trembled slightly. In Setsuna, it lowered its clasped hands, opened its eyes, stood up, turned around, and saw Shūichi standing in the doorway.

"Have a meal."

Shūichi slightly, "Okay, sir."

Dinner was bland; it was Setsuna made herself.

White rice, a bowl of Miso Soup, a dish of Pickled Radish, and two slightly overcooked horse mackerel. Shūichi lowered his head and ate his rice, the chopsticks making a soft sound as they touched the rim of the bowl.

Setsuna sat down opposite him and ate very quickly.

The only sounds on the table were chewing and the occasional soft clatter of a soup bowl being placed on the surface.

Setsuna had grown accustomed to the quiet, and Shūichi's upbringing had taught him not to speak while eating or sleeping. The two of them finished their meal in silence.

After the meal, Shūichi the dishes and chopsticks, Setsuna went into the house to prepare.

After Shūichi washed the bowls, stacked them on the drainer, dried his hands, and came out, Setsuna was already standing in the Genkan waiting for him.

The two people went out the door one after the other.

The night streets of the Uchiha Clan Compound were very quiet, with only the Stone Lanterns at the intersections lit up, casting thin lines through the cracks in the stone slabs.

The Training Ground he chose wasn't far away; it took him less than fifteen minutes to walk there.

Arriving at the Training Ground, Setsuna walked to the center of the field, turned around, and announced the physical training schedule for the evening.

Same as the past few days.

Training focuses on wrist strength, arm strength, shoulder and back stability, and core strength, with increasing intensity.

Especially the arm training; today, Shūichi has already shot all the arrows in his sack, but his performance on the target is still not ideal.

Setsuna clearly saw it too, so the amount of arm training was doubled.

Shūichi didn't say anything after listening. He tightened the cuffs of his shirt, walked to the training equipment, and began to warm up.

At that moment, Uchiha Ryo walked over.

"Yo, good evening."

She turned her head in Setsuna. "Good evening."

Liang walked over to him and stood beside him, her gaze passing over him and landing on the boy on the Training Ground who was struggling with a lever.

The boulder was bound with a thick rope, the other end of which was attached to a lever. Shūichi was gripping one end of the lever and was doing wrist flexion and extension exercises.

The rope was taut, and the stone was dragged two inches off the ground. He gritted his teeth, his whole face straining, his eyebrows furrowed.

"Still teaching students?" Liang asked.

"Ah," she responded in a Setsuna voice, "I'm doing physical training."

Liang crossed her arms and watched for a while.

"Hmm... That Hyuga Clan kid is really lucky. He gets to learn Kyudo from the famous Setsuna Issuke. It's something my kid has been begging you for so long without success, but I never expected you to agree this time."

"We are Ninjas," Setsuna said. "Ninjas don't need to practice Kyudo."

Liang sighed. "You're saying that again."

"Kyudo is just a hobby of mine. If the Hyuga Clan didn't need my skills, I wouldn't be teaching it."

"Heh, you're quite the oddball to have taken your hobby to this level."

He was speechless for Setsuna. "You've called me a freak quite a few times, haven't you?"

He chuckled coldly, not responding to the question.

His gaze followed Shūichi's movements as the boy struggled to lift the boulder. "Let's not talk about that. What do you think of this kid? I've noticed you've been paying a lot of attention to him lately. Could he be a promising talent?"

"No. He has absolutely no talent."

Liang turned her head, startled for a moment. "Huh?"

His gaze fell on Shūichi in Setsuna.

The boy's arms were trembling, and with each inch he pressed down, the muscles in his face tensed even more.

He didn't slack off; he performed every movement meticulously, and even during breaks between groups, he kept track of the time, not taking a single extra second.

But.

"He has no passion for the bow," Setsuna said. "He's just observing and imitating my archery style."

"Isn't that great?"

"He should have his own Bow Style. But right now he only has the posture of drawing the bow and shooting an arrow, without considering how to hit the target at all."

Liang crossed his arms behind his head. "I actually think he's working very hard."

Shūichi pressed the rope down to its lowest point, the weight of the stone entirely on the rope, which was taut at the lever end, the rough fibers digging into his palms.

His face turned red, his jaw clenched tightly, and his lips parted to reveal his upper and lower rows of teeth.

It's terrifying.

Liang looked at that face and burst out laughing. "What kind of expression is that?"

Setsuna and Ryo watched it together for a long time.

"Okay, I'll head back now."

"This child has a serious problem." Setsuna, a thought struck him. "He has no idea what he wants. He's just following the adults' instructions."

"He's only following me to learn this time because of Lord Izuna's orders and his desire to change the current situation of the Hyuga Clan. He himself has no such intention at all."

Liang seemed used to his friend's final challenge, and replied, "Isn't that fine? Since he doesn't have the talent, we can just treat it as teaching him a new attack method."

She lowered her eyes in Setsuna. "No. He has talent. It would be such a waste if he only stayed here."

Liang blinked. "But didn't you just say he had no talent—"

"He has no passion for bows," Setsuna interrupted him, "But that doesn't mean he lacks talent. Quite the opposite."

"He learns very quickly; he can memorize something after seeing it once, and he can hit the target with his first arrow. I corrected his mistake once, and he won't make it again."

"But his eyes weren't on the target, nor on the bow. He was imitating my movements, not the bow itself."

Liang's expression was strange. "So..."

Setsuna face was expressionless as he stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the child. "If he doesn't make me a Kyudo, I'll skin him alive."

The child seemed to sense a danger, his shoulders hunched, and he looked around.

Ryo looked at Setsuna and involuntarily took a few steps to the side. "You're terrifying."

"Thank you for the compliment."