Answers Shouldn't Come Too Quickly

The dullness around the water station had barely been pushed aside by the echo of Kiyo's empty bucket when Che nearly made another mistake in preparatory class.

Che nearly answered too quickly in preparatory class.

It was a very simple question.

Mine drew three circles on the board: one represented the original body, one a clone, and one the enemy's line of sight. She asked, "If the enemy knows that a clone has no physical form, is the Clone Technique still useful?"

Several children frowned.

Kiyo muttered softly, "How can it be useful if it doesn't have a physical form?"

One of the older children said, "It can scare people."

Another said, "It can make the enemy attack the wrong one."

Mine offered no comment and merely watched everyone.

The answer took shape in Che's mind almost instantly: the value of the Clone Technique did not lie in whether the enemy knew it lacked substance, but in the fact that, during battle, the enemy had to spend time deciding which one was real and which was fake. Even knowing that a clone could not block a blade, it could still obstruct vision, disrupt rhythm, and misdirect attacks. The core of a basic technique was creating a cost for judgment.

It was a very accurate answer.

And far too unlike something a four-year-old would say.

His mouth had already opened slightly.

Then he saw Mine's eyes.

She was not waiting for the correct answer. She was watching to see how each person thought.

Che swallowed his words.

Kiyo turned toward him. "Che, do you know?"

Everyone's gaze shifted toward him.

Damn.

This was the tiny betrayal that came with a companion's trust.

Che lowered his head to look at the circles on the board and said slowly, "Maybe... even if the enemy knows it can't hit anyone, they still have to look at it."

Mine asked, "Why do they have to look?"

"Because if they don't, they'll feel uncomfortable."

The children all looked confused.

Che added, "Like how Kiyo knows a rice ball won't run away, but he still stares at it."

Kiyo protested at once, "Rice balls are sometimes really bad!"

Mine raised a hand and pressed at her brow.

The atmosphere in the classroom loosened a little. Che had hidden the real answer inside that somewhat muddled analogy. He had neither played completely dumb nor spoken of something like "the cost of judgment."

Mine continued from his words. "That's right. Even if you know the clone has no physical form, you still need to confirm it. Confirmation takes time, and time is opportunity."

She drew a short line on the board connecting the enemy's gaze to the clone.

"Basic techniques are not only for people who don't know better. They can also make those who do know react half a beat slower."

Che stored those words away.

Answers that should not come too quickly did not mean the answers were useless. They simply had to wait for the right age, the right occasion, and the right identity to be spoken.

After class, Mine stopped him.

"You held yourself back just now."

Che played dumb. "I just suddenly thought of rice balls."

"Uchiha Che."

"Yes."

Mine looked at him. "You can be smart, but don't rush to prove that you are. Many children want to be recognized sooner. You're different. You're so quick that you have to pull yourself back."

Her words made Che's heart tighten.

Mine did not ask why, nor did she force him to explain. She simply wiped the board clean and continued, "Pulling yourself back isn't wrong, but don't pull so hard that you snap. Learn when it's time to learn, speak when it's time to speak. Your problem now isn't that you can't do it. It's that you think too far ahead."

Che was silent for a moment. "Is thinking ahead bad?"

"On the battlefield, it's good. In life, sometimes it will make you very tired."

Those words connected with what Nao had said about sleeping, what Jian had said about posture, what Takuya had said about fire passing through the body, and what Sae had said about paper recording life.

The adults around him all seemed to be reminding him in different ways: surviving did not mean turning himself into a machine that calculated danger ahead of time.

But if he did not think ahead, how could he avoid that bloody night in the future?

There was no answer to that question.

At least, not today.

That afternoon, Che went to the water station. Old Sosuke was sitting at the entrance, basking in the sun with his left leg resting on a low stool. Saori's bell chimed softly nearby, while Kiyo squatted on the ground, wrestling with a pebble as he tried to prove it was not an accomplice that had sneaked into his shoe.

Che passed by carrying a bucket when Sosuke suddenly said, "Your mind ran too fast today."

Che nearly spilled the water.

"How did you know?"

"Your eyes," Sosuke said. "For people who think too much, their eyes arrive first while their feet are still behind."

Che looked down at his feet. "Then what should I do?"

"Wait for your feet."

After saying that, the old man closed his eyes and went back to sunbathing, as though those two words were enough.

Wait for his feet.

Che carried the bucket back, deliberately slowing his pace. The surface of the water swayed once, then gradually steadied. He thought of what he had learned over the past few days: his stance in the wind could not be too quick, Fire Line could not be too quick, the Clone Technique could not be too quick, and neither could answering questions.

The ninja world was dangerous. Being slow might get him killed.

But being too quick would also put him in front of everyone's eyes.

That evening, he wrote in his notes:

"Mine's question: Even knowing a clone has no physical form, a clone can still create time for confirmation."

He paused, then wrote the next sentence more simply:

"The enemy still has to look once."

Then he wrote:

"Sosuke said the eyes arrive first while the feet are still behind. Wait for the feet."

When he finished, he put down his pen.

Outside the window, the wind passed through the fence around the new district. Patrol sounds continued, discussions at the water station continued, and the ninja academy list continued. The future was still there too.

Che had not stopped thinking.

He was merely trying to let his feet catch up.

The next morning, Che deliberately got up a little later than usual.

He was not sleeping in. He was practicing not rushing ahead of everything. He heard Nao arranging the water buckets in the outer room, heard Kiyo groggily searching for his forehead protector cloth, and heard Saori's bell ring once next door. Normally, he would immediately sort those sounds into categories, determine who was awake, who was leaving, and whether the patrol had changed shifts. Today, he merely counted three breaths.

Only then did he get up.

Nao saw him and raised an eyebrow. "Overslept?"

"No." Che rubbed his eyes. "I was waiting for my feet."

Nao clearly did not understand.

Sosuke happened to pass by the doorway and gave a snort. "Did your feet arrive?"

Che seriously felt the soles of his feet. "They did, but they're not in great condition."

"Then go wash your face," Sosuke said.

Kiyo asked from the side, "Why do you have to wash your face when your feet arrive?"

Che looked at him. "That is a very profound question."

Nao tossed Che a towel. "Don't lead Kiyo astray."

There were no new techniques that morning, no announcements, and no registered ninja. There was only washing up, eating, organizing paper, and preparing for class. Yet Che found it difficult. Because not rushing ahead, not answering first, and not instantly turning every sound into intelligence were trainings in themselves.

He was not sure how long he could keep it up.

But at least today, he made his answers a little slower.

In preparatory class, Mine arranged another round of questions and answers.

This time, the question was even simpler: why did stance training have to be repeated? Kiyo said because the teacher made them practice. One of the older children said because it would be on the exam. Saori said because the wind changed. Che had wanted to say that repetition allowed the body to form stable reflexes and reduced the cost of judgment in emergencies.

He stopped himself.

Then he said, "Because feet forget."

Mine looked at him. "Feet forget?"

"If you don't practice often, your feet won't know where to stand."

It sounded childish, but it was not wrong. Mine nodded and told him to sit down. As Che returned to his seat, he felt a subtle sense of relief. It turned out that saying an answer more slowly and making it smaller did not necessarily distort it.

It had merely changed into clothes that suited it now.

That night, he wrote "Shouldn't Be Too Quick" at the top of a scrap of paper.

Below it, he listed four lines:

"Answers shouldn't come too quickly."

"Practicing techniques shouldn't be too quick."

"Judging others shouldn't be too quick."

"Believing old memories shouldn't be too quick either."

After writing the last line, the tip of his pen remained still for a long time.

This was one of the rare times he had placed his old memories on the list of things that should not be rushed. Before, they had been like a map. Though dangerous, they were still what he relied on most. But the recent registrations, files, Sosuke, Sae, Saori's bell, and Kiyo's water bucket had all reminded him that reality had patterns of its own.

Fire liked to follow the easy path.

Perhaps fate did too.

But he was already standing on that path, and his footprints would reshape the mud.

As he folded the paper, he heard Kiyo calling him to dinner outside. Che answered. He did not stand up immediately, but neither did he delay for too long. He waited for his feet to catch up, then walked forward. The rhythm was slow, yet it made his breathing feel a little smoother.