The next afternoon, an extra basket of wood chips appeared on the small training ground.
The chips were thin, their edges not quite smooth, and some still had old nail holes in them. The moment Kiyo saw the basket, he took half a step back.
Teacher Mizuno asked, "Afraid of wood chips?"
"I'm afraid they all dislike me as a group."
Morita Yu picked up a chip from the basket. "You're overthinking it."
"It fell with such determination yesterday."
"Because you couldn't stick it."
Kiyo clutched his chest as though he had been jointly wounded by the wood chip and Morita Yu.
Today's training had one more requirement than yesterday's: after keeping a wood chip stuck for three breaths, they had to switch hands. The right hand held it in place, the left hand received it, and they could not use the other hand to support it in between. It sounded like a little trick, but it was troublesome in practice. Before the chakra from one hand disconnected, the other had to take over. Too early, and it would shove the chip crooked; too late, and it would fall.
Teacher Mizuno did not demonstrate for long. She stuck a chip to her right palm, counted to three, and caught it with her left. The chip paused between her palms as if held up by an invisible thread, then settled firmly against her left hand.
Kiyo's eyes lit up. "It's changing houses."
Teacher Mizuno said, "You can think of it that way."
Morita Yu muttered, "Don't encourage him."
The first round was lively with falling chips, just as expected. The sounds came from all directions—some with a smack, some with a clack, some rolling far away. Saori's chip slipped off during the second breath. When she reached out to catch it,