Do You Want to Learn the Blade?

Tonight, Hatake Sakumo left the Hokage Building well past midnight.

Friction at the borders had become increasingly frequent. The Land of Wind, the Land of Earth, and the Land of Lightning were all watching hungrily. Konoha's higher-ups held meetings almost every day to discuss troop deployments, intelligence gathering, and alliances. As a jōnin, Sakumo could not miss a single one.

Rubbing his temples, he planned to head home as soon as possible.

As he passed the outskirts of the Uchiha Clan Grounds, he heard a faint commotion.

The sound of fighting.

Hatake Sakumo stopped.

He did not approach immediately. Instead, he concealed his presence and moved toward the source of the sound.

"That lunatic..." Uchiha Yan gritted his teeth. "He hits way too hard."

"Yan, forget it," Uchiha Shin said with a pained expression. "He's just too good at fighting."

"What do you mean, good at fighting?! He ambushed us!"

"He faced all three of us head-on..."

Uchiha Yan fell silent.

The three boys limped away.

Hatake Sakumo remained in the shadows beneath the trees without showing himself. His gaze shifted from the three children to the far end of the training ground, to the small figure already walking away.

He had seen the entire process.

From the moment that child drew his wooden sword to the instant all three opponents went down, no more than five breaths had passed. His movements had no discernible form, yet they were startlingly precise. He targeted joints and vulnerable spots—wrists, knees, ribs. Every blow landed where it could produce the greatest effect with the least force.

This was not something he had "learned."

It was something he "understood."

The child's body instinctively knew where to strike to make an opponent lose their fighting ability as quickly as possible. It was talent—rare talent.

Hatake Sakumo stepped out of the shadows and followed in the direction the figure had disappeared.

He found his target after only a few steps.

The boy was crouching beside a stone by the roadside. Under the moonlight, he held the wooden sword in his hand and carefully wiped its blade with the corner of his clothes, though there was neither blood nor dust on it.

That meaningless action made the corner of Sakumo's mouth lift slightly.

He had seen many people wipe their weapons. Some did it for maintenance, some to inspect them, and some merely out of nervous habit. But the way this child wiped his sword was different—gentle, slow, earnest, as though he were speaking to it.

"Kid."

The boy looked up.

Moonlight fell across his face.

For the first time, Hatake Sakumo saw those eyes clearly. They were black and tranquil, like a winter lake. The instant he saw Sakumo, his pupils contracted slightly in instinctive vigilance, then quickly returned to calm.

He recognized Hatake Sakumo.

More precisely, he recognized the sword on Sakumo's back: a short blade with a white hilt, its blade slightly shorter than an ordinary ninja sword.

The White Fang of the Leaf.

The boy stood, his wooden sword hanging naturally at his side. His stance was not deliberately guarded, but rather a relaxed posture that allowed him to respond to anything at any moment.

"What's your name?"

"...Byakuya Uchiha."

Hatake Sakumo nodded.

He looked down at the wooden sword in the boy's hand—the scratches along the blade, the wear on the hilt, and the spot that had just been wiped with his clothes. Every detail spoke of how the sword had been used and treated.

"Your father's sword?"

"...Yeah."

Hatake Sakumo did not press further. He crouched down, bringing his gaze level with Byakuya's.

"You fought those three by yourself?"

"Yeah."

"With this wooden sword?"

"Yeah."

"That strike to the knee," Hatake Sakumo said. "Why did you hit that spot?"

Byakuya thought for a moment. "Because it takes the least effort."

"And?"

Byakuya was silent for a while, as if recalling something. Then he gestured with his hand. "When someone stands, their center of gravity is on both feet. If the outside of the knee is struck, the leg instinctively bends outward, and their balance shifts. Once their balance shifts, there's no need to push them. They'll fall on their own."

Hatake Sakumo's expression grew more serious.

That was not the observational ability a five-year-old should possess.

"Who taught you?"

"No one."

"Then how did you know?"

Byakuya looked down at the wooden sword in his hand, then raised his head. "I watched."

"You watched?"

"Yeah. I watched other people fight. After seeing enough, you know where getting hit hurts, where getting hit makes you unable to move, and where getting hit makes you fall."

Hatake Sakumo was silent for several seconds.

He had seen many geniuses. The Hatake bloodline had never lacked them, and his own blade techniques had been forged through countless geniuses. But this child gave him a different feeling.

"Byakuya." Hatake Sakumo rose to his feet. "Do you want to learn the blade?"

Byakuya looked up.

Moonlight fell across his face. For the second time, Sakumo saw those eyes clearly. They no longer held the stillness of a winter lake. Something beneath the ice was awakening.

"...I do."

Just one word, but Hatake Sakumo heard many things in it.

He wanted to grow stronger because he did not want to lose anything again. He did not know what he could protect, but at the very least, he wanted to first learn how to hold a blade.

Hatake Sakumo smiled. "Come to the Third Training Ground outside the village tomorrow morning. Bring your sword."

With that, he turned and left.

After taking a few steps, he stopped again.

"Oh, right."

Byakuya looked up.

Hatake Sakumo turned back to look at him. In the moonlight, his smile carried a trace of warmth that was difficult to notice.

"That final strike to the knee—the angle was right, but you were a little short on force. If it had been a real blade, you would only have injured the muscle. You wouldn't have severed the ligament."

Byakuya's eyes lit up. "Then how much force should I use?"

"Judge by the opponent's weight. For someone like that boy just now, you used around thirty percent. Against an adult, you need at least seventy percent."

Byakuya nodded earnestly, carving those words into his mind.

Watching his reaction, a thought surfaced in Hatake Sakumo's heart.

This kid is interesting.

He waved a hand, turned around, and disappeared into the night.

Byakuya stood where he was, watching the man whose back was like a mountain vanish at the end of the alley.

Tucking the wooden sword into his clothes, Byakuya looked up at the stars overhead. Konoha's stars were bright.

Then a question suddenly occurred to him.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he was going to the Third Training Ground.

Where was the Third Training Ground?

Byakuya frowned.

He did not know.

He should have asked just now.

But that man had already left. Chasing after him now to ask, "Where is the Third Training Ground?" seemed a little embarrassing.

Standing beneath the moonlight, Byakuya thought seriously for a while.

Then he crouched down and used his wooden sword to draw a rough map of Konoha on the ground, based on his usual observations and memories: the village center, Hokage Rock, the Uchiha Clan Grounds, and several major training grounds. He recalled the numbered training grounds he had seen while passing by.

The First Training Ground was on the eastern side of the village, near the Ninja Academy. The Second Training Ground was in the south, beside the Chūnin Exams arena.

The Third Training Ground...

Byakuya closed his eyes and searched through every memory related to "third"—adults chatting, signs he had passed, places mentioned by other children.

A moment later, he opened his eyes.

West.

On the western side of the village, toward the Valley of the End, there was a stretch of training grounds he had once seen from afar. There had been a Number Three training post there.

Byakuya marked out the route on the ground with his wooden sword, examined it carefully, and committed it to memory.

Then he wiped away the map with his foot, tucked the wooden sword back at his waist, and turned to head back.

After taking a few steps, he stopped again.

He looked back toward the west.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow, he would be able to learn the blade.

Byakuya quickened his pace toward his aunt's house.

He needed to sleep early. He could not be late tomorrow.