Practical Combat

The classes at the Ninja Academy were of no use to Kitahara Kaede.

The instructor stood on the podium lecturing on the principles of chakra extraction. The children of the various clans in the front rows listened intently, though their elders had likely taught them these things long ago.

In the back row, Jiraiya was sprawled across his desk, sleeping soundly with a thin trail of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Tsunade, however, was listening carefully.

Kitahara Kaede leaned back in his chair, his gaze sweeping over the treetops outside the window.

He had already mastered these basics in reality.

His current chakra extraction speed and control precision far exceeded those of his fifteen-year-old self in the real world.

Sitting in a classroom listening to "the most common mistakes beginners make" was a genuine waste of time.

The moment the instructor turned to write on the blackboard, he formed a hand seal under the desk.

A shadow clone appeared in his seat, maintaining his posture of resting his chin on his hand, eyes half-closed.

The original body slipped out the window, landing without a sound.

The training ground behind the mountain was empty.

He stood twenty meters in front of a dead tree, formed the starting hand seals, and channeled chakra to his throat—

Fire Style: Great Fireball.

The fireball slammed into the dead tree and exploded with a roar.

The trunk, over two meters in diameter, crackled as it burned.

Not enough.

He adjusted his breathing and went again.

This routine continued for most of the semester.

During class, his clone sat in the classroom while his original body trained behind the mountain.

Occasionally, if he returned early, he would wait outside the classroom for the final bell.

Most of the time, no one noticed.

Until one day after class, when Tsunade blocked him at the corner of the hallway.

With her arms crossed and her back against the wall, her face clearly read, "You're done for."

"You ran off again."

"I already know what they're teaching, sitting there is a waste—"

"That clone of yours." Tsunade interrupted him, her voice very low. "It doesn't have any tactile sensation when you bump into it; it's like a wooden post."

Kitahara Kaede paused.

She had observed that closely?

"...The instructor didn't notice."

"The instructor didn't notice because the instructor didn't touch you." Tsunade stared at him. "What if one day he calls your name and asks you to stand up and answer a question?"

Kitahara Kaede didn't say anything.

That was indeed a loophole.

Tsunade huffed and turned to walk away.

He thought that was the end of it.

The next day in class, the moment the instructor's gaze drifted toward his direction, Tsunade's hand shot up.

"Instructor, could you explain the relationship between the direction of chakra rotation and the sequence of hand seals again?"

That question had been answered ten minutes ago.

But since the granddaughter of the First Hokage was asking, the instructor had to answer.

The instructor's attention was drawn away.

The clone remained safe and sound.

When Kitahara Kaede climbed back in through the window, Tsunade was flipping through her textbook without even looking up.

He glanced at her but said nothing.

The next day, the instructor looked toward his side again.

Tsunade's hand went up once more.

"Instructor, regarding the pros and cons of nature transformation, is Fire stronger than Wind, or is Wind stronger than Fire?"

That had been covered yesterday.

The third day.

"Instructor, where can I buy chakra-sensing paper?"

The instructor's expression finally cracked. "Tsunade, you've had... quite a lot of questions lately."

"Is having a thirst for knowledge a bad thing?"

The instructor pursed his lips, looked down at his lesson plan, and said nothing more.

Every class after that was the same.

Whenever the instructor's gaze drifted toward his seat, Tsunade "just happened" to have a question.

Questions about chakra, ninja tools, or the curriculum.

Once, she even asked, "Does the cost of food in the Ninja Academy cafeteria count as mission expenses?"—even the students in the front row who were actually listening turned around to look at her.

The instructor privately told his colleagues, "The First's granddaughter certainly has a strong thirst for knowledge, it's just that the direction is a bit... skewed."

After class.

Kitahara Kaede leaned against the hallway railing as Tsunade walked past him.

"You've had questions at just the right time for several days in a row?"

"Coincidence."

"Will it be a coincidence tomorrow too?"

"Depends on my mood."

She walked away without looking back.

Kitahara Kaede watched her retreating figure, his lips twitching slightly.

He didn't say thanks.

And Tsunade didn't give him the chance to.

That was how it should be.

In her logic, this probably wasn't called "helping," it was called "I felt like it."

As for why she felt like it—

She wouldn't say if he asked.

And if he pressed her, he'd likely get a punch.

End of the semester.

When the instructor entered the classroom, he wasn't carrying a textbook, but a scroll of a map.

"Practical combat exercise. Location: the back mountain. Three-person teams. Time limit: four hours."

He unfolded the map and pinned it to the blackboard, revealing the dense contour lines of the back mountain.

"The school has hidden numbered wooden tags all over the mountain. The team with the highest total score wins."

He paused.

"Stealing is permitted."

The classroom erupted, with voices calling out to form teams everywhere.

Tsunade turned her head and looked at Kitahara Kaede.

She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes didn't need translation—you're with me, no argument.

Kitahara Kaede nodded.

One more was needed.

"Count me in!"

Jiraiya lunged over from the back row and plopped down in front, grinning with a look that begged for a punch.

Tsunade frowned.

"It's three to a team, and there are only two of you." Jiraiya gestured with his hands. "If you don't pick me, who are you going to pick?"

He tilted his head.

"Besides him, who else have you even spoken to at this school?"

Tsunade opened her mouth, unable to refute it.

She turned to look at Kitahara Kaede.

Kitahara Kaede shrugged. "Fine."

"That's the spir—"

"You're responsible for the heaviest work." Tsunade interrupted.

"...Fine."

Jiraiya's bravado deflated by half, but he couldn't suppress the grin on his face.

Being on a team with Tsunade made carrying the heaviest load worth it.

The back mountain.

The exercise began.

The three of them advanced along the mountain path, Kitahara Kaede scanning the map as he walked.

The tags were dense at the lower elevations, but the point values were small.

The tags were scarce at the higher elevations, but one was worth several of the others.

He stopped by a stream.

"Split up. I'll sweep the mountain for the high-value ones. You two head east along the stream and pick up as many low-value ones as you can."

He handed the map to Tsunade.

"One hour, meet back here."

Tsunade took the map, glanced at it, and nodded.

The terrain by the stream was open, making it most efficient for two people.

The path to the summit was steep, but Kitahara Kaede's taijutsu was unmatched in their year.

"Don't push yourself," she said.

Kitahara Kaede waved his hand, turned, and headed up the mountain, disappearing into the trees in a few strides.

Jiraiya watched his back disappear, his brain taking a moment to catch up.

He left.

Now it's just me and Tsunade.

"What are you spacing out for? Let's go." Tsunade was already walking ahead.

"Coming, coming!"

Jiraiya trotted to catch up, walking side-by-side with her along the stream.

Sunlight filtered through the gaps in the canopy, illuminating her golden ponytail.

He snuck a glance at her, then quickly looked away.

He had to say something.

"Where do you think the tags are hidden?"

"Under rocks, in tree hollows, in the grass. Stop asking and start looking."

Tsunade crouched down and flipped over a rock; sure enough, a wooden tag was pressed underneath. One point.

"Tch."

Jiraiya started searching too.

His method was much rougher than Tsunade's—he kicked over piles of rubble and raked through the grass.

His movements weren't graceful, but his efficiency wasn't bad.

Twenty minutes, three tags. One point, two points, one point.

"This area is all junk." Tsunade stuffed the tags into her pocket.

"At least we're getting something..." Jiraiya tossed the two-pointer in his hand. "Every little bit helps—"

Halfway through his sentence, he suddenly realized something.

Tsunade seemed to be in a good mood.

Usually, when he talked to her at school, she would roll her eyes within three sentences and walk away within five.

Today, they had already exchanged over a dozen.

Even if every single one was a jab at him.

But having a back-and-forth was better than being treated like air.

Jiraiya's mouth curled up involuntarily, and just as he was pondering what topic to bring up next—

Tsunade suddenly stopped.

Jiraiya stopped as well, following her gaze.

Standing in the grass by the stream was a person.