Five Days

Training ground.

The three of them stood in a row, though the formation had changed.

Tsunade stood on the far left, Jiraiya in the middle, and Kitahara Kaede on the far right.

In the past, the distance between Tsunade and Kitahara Kaede would never have exceeded an arm's length, but today, the entirety of Jiraiya stood between them.

Kitahara Kaede glanced at Tsunade from time to time.

Ever since that "fruit incident," she had been acting as if she were deliberately avoiding him.

Over the past five days combined, they hadn't exchanged more than ten sentences.

He had noticed it on the first day and understood the reason—she didn't know how to face him.

And so, things had become like this.

But today was the fifth day.

It had been longer than he anticipated.

Kitahara Kaede frowned slightly.

It wasn't anxiety; it was closer to... feeling unaccustomed.

There was no one beside him to bicker with, no one to stubbornly insist "it's not that impressive" while their eyes were full of concern.

There was a void.

As soon as this thought surfaced, Kitahara Kaede was stunned himself.

No way.

He was in a simulator, and these people were NPCs.

He was here to grind for ratings and rewards, not to make friends.

But once the words "a void" appeared, they refused to be chased away.

He withdrew his gaze and stopped looking at Tsunade.

It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he needed an opportunity.

Jiraiya stood in the middle, his head swiveling left and right like a bobblehead.

Hey.

What was going on with these two?

Usually, they walked so close their shoulders practically brushed, but today they were miles apart.

They must have fought.

They definitely fought.

Jiraiya's eyes darted, and he snuck a glance at Tsunade.

Her ponytail was tied a bit higher today, and her profile was taut, looking like she wouldn't bother with anyone.

His heart skipped a beat.

A chance! A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!

While they were at odds, if he stepped in to offer a handkerchief or buy a pastry—wouldn't Tsunade look at him in a new light?

He would go buy those new wagashi after training...

"Are you all here?"

Hiruzen's voice rang out from behind them.

The three turned around.

Hiruzen stood by a wooden post, spinning a shuriken in his hand.

"Today, I will teach you a technique."

Jiraiya's eyes lit up: "What rank?"

"A-rank."

The scene went quiet for a beat.

Jiraiya's mouth hung open in a circle. Tsunade turned her head as well.

An A-rank ninjutsu. A level most chunin never reached in their entire lives.

The three of them were just genin who had recently graduated from the Ninja Academy.

"Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique."

Hiruzen tossed the shuriken into the air and formed hand seals with one hand.

The shuriken spun in the air—one became ten, ten became fifty, raining down on the target area and pinning the wooden wall with metal.

Then, they dissipated one by one, until only one remained.

"The principle is the same as the Shadow Clone Technique, but the precision required for chakra control is much higher," Hiruzen said, lowering his hand. "If the distribution is uneven, you will either have too few, or they will all collapse."

Jiraiya raised his hand: "Teacher, how long did it take you to create this technique?"

"About a week, I suppose." Hiruzen tapped his pipe. "I was already a jonin at the time."

Jiraiya's mouth twitched.

Hiruzen turned to Kitahara Kaede: "You first."

Kitahara Kaede took out a shuriken and weighed it in his hand.

He had watched the sequence of hand seals and the rhythm of the chakra output just once.

That was enough.

He threw the shuriken and formed the seals with his right hand.

One became five, spreading out in a fan shape and embedding themselves into the wooden post.

The dull thud of metal hitting wood was crisp and clean.

It held for three seconds before four dissipated, leaving only the original.

The training ground fell silent.

Hiruzen's pipe stopped at his lips, unsmoked for a long time.

He had seen many geniuses in his life.

But this child before him—it wasn't a matter of being a genius; it was a different level entirely.

"Five. The chakra distribution is even, and the depth of penetration is consistent," Hiruzen exhaled slowly. "To achieve this on your first attempt..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the implication was clear.

Tsunade stared at the wooden post.

An A-rank ninjutsu, learned in one look.

Her fingers clenched, then relaxed.

She wanted to say something.

She wanted to say "it's alright," or "tch, it's only five."

Her lips moved, but she didn't speak.

It wasn't that she didn't want to.

It was that she didn't know how to start.

She hadn't spoken to him for five days.

She had been angry at first, but as the anger dragged on, she couldn't even explain what she was angry about anymore.

Was she angry that he answered "big"?

It was a question about fruit, after all. Was he wrong?

He wasn't.

Then what was she angry about?

Tsunade couldn't say.

She had vaguely sensed something, but it was blurry, like a stone at the bottom of a river—she could see the outline, but couldn't touch the substance.

She only remembered her face burning fiercely at the time, burning inexplicably, and then she had run away.

She felt embarrassed after running.

And because she felt embarrassed, she didn't want to see him.

But not wanting to see him made her want to peek even more.

And peeking only made her more annoyed.

She had been spinning in circles for five whole days, getting more twisted and knotted, like a dead knot that couldn't be undone.

Tsunade bit the inside of her lip.

Stop thinking about it.

If she kept thinking, her face would burn again.

Jiraiya didn't see Tsunade's expression.

His eyes were glued to the wooden post.

The top student of the Academy was him, the best in combat was him, the first one the teacher called on was him, and the one Tsunade was looking at was also him.

Why?

Why was it always him?

Jiraiya gritted his teeth until they creaked.

"My turn!"

He pulled a shuriken from his ninja pouch—not just one.

Six, all wedged between his fingers.

Hiruzen frowned: "Start with one..."

"Watch this!"

He threw all six shurikens at once, his hands flailing in a mess of seals, pouring chakra into them—

There was no splitting.

The six shurikens flew out just as they were, their trajectories completely skewed.

Two embedded into the tree trunk on the left, and one flew into the sky.

The remaining three—headed straight for Tsunade.

Kitahara Kaede's body moved faster than his consciousness.

By the time he turned to block in front of Tsunade, his right hand had already drawn a kunai.

Clang, clang, clang.

Three crisp sounds, and all three shurikens were deflected.

Tsunade stood behind him.

Very close.

Close enough that she smelled his scent before she even saw his back.

She didn't move, not because she didn't want to—but because by the time she regained her senses, he was already standing in front of her.

Tsunade's mind went blank for a moment.

Then her heart gave a heavy thud.

Five days.

Five whole days she had avoided him, ignored him, and deliberately stood at the furthest end of the line.

He hadn't asked, hadn't chased, hadn't explained a single word.

But when the shurikens flew, he had blocked them without a second thought.

Without saying a word, his body had moved first.

Tsunade clenched her fists.

The dead knot in her chest had been violently tugged. It hadn't come undone—

But it had loosened.

Kitahara Kaede turned his head.

His gaze swept over her face, from top to bottom, very quickly.

Confirming she was unharmed.

Tsunade noticed his concerned gaze.

Her heart skipped another beat.

Jiraiya froze in place, his face turning pale.

He had almost hurt Tsunade.

"I... I didn't mean to—"

Tsunade stepped out from behind Kitahara Kaede.

Her expression was very calm.

So calm that a chill ran down Jiraiya's spine.

One step, two steps, three steps.

She walked up to him.

"Tsu, Tsunade—"

A fist slammed down.

Jiraiya hit the ground face-first and slid two meters.

"Idiot!"

Tsunade's roar echoed through the training ground.

"You dare attempt an A-rank ninjutsu without even understanding the principle! Are you trying to kill someone!"

Jiraiya lay on the ground, not daring to make a sound.

He knew he was in the wrong, and not just a little bit.

Tsunade took a few breaths, her chest still heaving, and turned to walk back.

As she passed Kitahara Kaede, her footsteps faltered for a moment.

He didn't look at her.

His eyes were fixed on a tree ahead, motionless.

"...Thanks."

Her voice was much softer than usual.

It was so soft that it sounded as if she were afraid of being overheard, or perhaps afraid of hearing it herself.

She left as soon as she finished speaking.

Kitahara Kaede watched her back.

Her ponytail swayed on her shoulder, her pace a bit hurried, but her spine was held very straight.

The tips of her ears were red.

The corners of Kitahara Kaede's mouth twitched.

Five days of the cold war, shattered just like that.