Five Days

Training ground.

The three of them stood in a row, but their positions had changed.

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

In the past, Tsunade and Kitahara Kaede had never stood more than an arm's length apart. Today, Jiraiya stood between them.

Kitahara Kaede glanced at Tsunade from time to time.

Ever since the "fruit incident," she'd seemed to be deliberately avoiding him.

Over the past five days, they'd exchanged fewer than ten words.

He'd noticed on the first day and understood why—she didn't know how to face him.

And that was how things had ended up like this.

But today was the fifth day.

Longer than he'd expected.

Kitahara Kaede's brow furrowed slightly.

It wasn't exactly anxiety. More like... he wasn't used to it.

There was no one beside him to bicker with, no one insisting, "It's not that impressive," while concern was written all over her eyes.

Something was missing.

The thought had barely surfaced when Kitahara Kaede himself froze.

Seriously?

In the Simulator, these people were NPCs.

He was here to earn a good evaluation and collect rewards, not to make friends.

But once the words "something was missing" had come to mind, he couldn't shake them.

He looked away and stopped glancing at Tsunade.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. He just needed an opening.

Jiraiya stood in the middle, turning his head from side to side like a rattle.

Hey.

What was going on with those two?

Usually, they walked so close their shoulders nearly brushed. Today, they were miles apart.

They'd had a fight.

They definitely had.

Jiraiya's eyes darted as he sneaked a glance at Tsunade.

Her ponytail was tied a little higher today. Her profile was tense, and she looked like she wanted nothing to do with anyone.

His heart skipped two beats.

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

While they were sulking at each other, he could offer her a handkerchief or buy her some sweets—wouldn't Tsunade start seeing him in a new light?

After training, he'd go buy some sweets from that new shop...

"You're all here?"

Hiruzen's voice sounded behind them.

The three turned around.

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

"I'm going to teach you a technique today."

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

"A-Rank."

The training ground fell silent for a moment.

Jiraiya's mouth fell open. Tsunade turned to look, too.

An A-Rank ninjutsu was beyond the reach of most Chunin for their entire lives.

And the three of them were Genin who had only just 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 midair—one became ten, then fifty. They rained down on the targets, filling the wooden wall with metal.

Then they vanished one by one until only a single shuriken remained.

"The principle is the same as the Shadow Clone Technique, but it requires far more precise chakra control." Hiruzen lowered his hand. "If your distribution is uneven, you'll either create too few, or they'll all disperse."

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

"About a week." 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'd seen the Hand Seal sequence and the rhythm of the chakra output just once.

That was enough.

He tossed the shuriken and formed Hand Seals with his right hand.

One became five. They spread out in a fan and all embedded themselves in the wooden post.

The dull thud of metal striking wood rang out, crisp and clean.

He maintained the technique for three seconds. Four vanished, leaving the original.

The training ground fell silent.

Hiruzen's pipe paused at his lips. He didn't take a puff for a long moment.

He'd seen plenty of geniuses in his life.

But this boy wasn't just a genius. He was on another level entirely.

"Five shuriken. The chakra was distributed evenly, and they all embedded to the same depth." Hiruzen slowly exhaled. "For your first attempt... to do this well..."

He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to.

Tsunade stared at the wooden post.

An A-Rank technique, after watching it just once.

Her fingers clenched, then relaxed.

She wanted to say something.

She wanted to say, "Not bad," or, "Hmph, it was only five."

Her lips moved, but no words came out.

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

She just didn't know how to start.

She hadn't spoken to him for five days.

At first, she'd been angry. But the longer she stayed angry, the less she could explain what she was even angry about.

Was she angry because he'd answered "the big one"?

It had just been a question about fruit. Was his answer wrong?

No.

Then what was she angry about?

Tsunade couldn't say.

She had a vague sense that she'd stumbled onto something, but it was blurry, like a stone beneath the water. She could make out its shape, but couldn't touch it.

All she remembered was how her face had burned back then, for no apparent reason, and how she'd run away.

Afterward, she'd felt embarrassed.

And the more embarrassed she felt, the less she wanted to see him.

Then she couldn't help sneaking glances at him.

And after that, she felt even more frustrated.

The same thoughts had been circling for five whole days, tying themselves into a knot she couldn't undo.

Tsunade bit the inside of her lip.

She wouldn't think about it anymore.

If she kept thinking, her face would start burning again.

Jiraiya hadn't noticed Tsunade's expression.

His gaze was fixed on the wooden post.

He was top of the Ninja Academy, the best in combat, the first one the teacher had called on, and the one Tsunade was looking at.

Why?

Why was it always him?

Jiraiya gritted his teeth.

"I'll try too!"

He pulled shuriken from his pouch—not just one.

Six, all held between his fingers.

Hiruzen frowned. "Start with one..."

"Watch this!"

He threw all six shuriken at once and formed Hand Seals wildly, flooding them with chakra—

They didn't split.

All six flew as they were, every one off course.

Two embedded themselves in a tree to the left. One flew into the sky.

The remaining three headed straight for Tsunade.

Kitahara Kaede moved before he could even think.

By the time he stepped in front of Tsunade, his right hand had already drawn a Kunai.

Clang, clang, clang.

Three sharp rings. He knocked all three shuriken aside.

Tsunade stood behind him.

Very close.

She smelled him before she saw his back.

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

Tsunade's mind went blank for a moment.

Then her heart gave a heavy thump.

Five days.

For five whole days, she'd avoided him, ignored him, and deliberately taken the farthest spot in the line.

He hadn't asked her about it, chased after her, or tried to explain.

But when the shuriken came flying, he'd stepped in front of her without even thinking.

He didn't need to say a word. His body had moved first.

Tsunade clenched her fists.

Someone had tugged roughly at the knot in her chest. It hadn't come undone—

But it had loosened.

Kitahara Kaede turned his head.

His gaze swept over her quickly, from head to toe.

Making sure she was all right.

Tsunade noticed the concern in his eyes, too.

Her heart gave another thump.

Jiraiya stood frozen, his face pale.

He'd almost hurt Tsunade.

"I... I didn't mean—"

Tsunade stepped out from behind Kitahara Kaede.

Her expression was perfectly calm.

So calm that it sent a chill down Jiraiya's spine.

One step, two steps, three.

She stopped in front of him.

"T-Tsunade—"

Her fist slammed down.

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

"Idiot!"

Tsunade's shout echoed across the training ground.

"You can't even understand the principles of an A-Rank technique, and you still dare to use it? Are you trying to kill someone?!"

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

He knew he was in the wrong. Not just a little wrong, either.

Tsunade took a couple of breaths, her chest still rising and falling, then turned and walked back.

As she passed Kitahara Kaede, she paused.

She didn't look at him.

Her eyes were fixed on a tree ahead. She didn't move.

"...Thanks."

Her voice was much softer than usual.

So soft it was as if she were afraid someone would hear her—or as if she were afraid to hear herself.

Then she left.

Kitahara Kaede watched her go.

Her ponytail swayed against her shoulder. Her steps were a little hurried, but her back was straight.

The tips of her ears were red.

Kitahara Kaede's lips twitched.

Five days of silence had shattered just like that.