Practical Combat

Ninja Academy classes were useless to Kitahara Kaede.

The teacher explained the principles of chakra extraction at the front of the room. A few clan kids in the front row listened attentively, though their elders had probably taught them all this already.

In the back, Jiraiya was sprawled across his desk, fast asleep, a thread of drool hanging from the corner of his mouth.

Tsunade, on the other hand, was listening closely.

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

He had already mastered these fundamentals in the real world.

His chakra extraction speed and control were already far beyond what they had been when he was fifteen in reality.

Sitting in class to hear about "the mistakes beginners make most often" was a complete waste of time.

The moment the teacher turned to write on the board, Kitahara Kaede formed a hand seal beneath his desk.

A clone appeared in his seat, resting its chin on its hand with its eyes half-closed.

The real him slipped out the window and landed without a sound.

The training ground behind the mountain was empty.

He stood twenty meters from a dead tree, formed the seals, and sent chakra surging toward his throat—

Fire Release: Great Fireball!

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

It was more than two meters across, and the trunk crackled as it burned.

Still not enough.

He steadied his breathing and tried again.

This went on for most of the semester.

His clone sat in class while the real him trained behind the mountain.

When he got back early, he sometimes waited outside the classroom for the dismissal bell.

Most of the time, nobody noticed.

Until one day after class, Tsunade blocked his way at the corner of the corridor.

She stood with her arms crossed and her back against the wall, her expression plainly saying, "You're in trouble."

"You ran off again."

"I already know the stuff they teach. Sitting there is a waste—"

"Your clone." Tsunade cut him off, lowering her voice. "When I touched its arm, it didn't feel anything. It was like a wooden post."

Kitahara Kaede paused.

She'd been watching that closely?

"...The teacher didn't notice."

"The teacher didn't notice because he never touched you." Tsunade fixed him with a stare. "What if he calls on you one day and asks you to answer a question?"

Kitahara Kaede said nothing.

That was a real weakness in his plan.

Tsunade snorted and walked away.

He thought that was the end of it.

The next day in class, just as the teacher's gaze began to drift toward him, Tsunade raised her hand.

"Teacher, could you explain again how the direction chakra spins relates to the order of hand seals?"

They'd covered that question ten minutes ago.

But the First's granddaughter had asked, so the teacher had to answer.

The teacher's attention turned to her.

The clone was safe.

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

He glanced at her but said nothing.

The next day, the teacher started looking his way again.

Tsunade raised her hand again.

"Teacher, which elemental transformation has the advantage—does Fire counter Wind, or does Wind counter Fire?"

They'd covered that yesterday.

The third day.

"Teacher, where can you buy Chakra Induction Paper?"

The teacher finally lost his composure. "Tsunade, you've been asking... quite a lot of questions lately."

"Isn't it a good thing to be eager to learn?"

The teacher pressed his lips together, lowered his head to look through his lesson plans, and said no more.

After that, it happened in every class.

Whenever the teacher's gaze drifted toward Kitahara Kaede's seat, Tsunade just happened to have a question.

Questions about chakra, ninja tools, or the class schedule.

Once, she asked, "Does the Ninja Academy cafeteria count as a mission expense?" Even a few of the attentive students in the front turned to look at her.

The teacher later told a colleague, "The First's granddaughter really is eager to learn. It's just that her interests are a little... unusual."

After class.

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

"You've just happened to have a question every day for several days?"

"Coincidence."

"Will it be another coincidence tomorrow?"

"Depends on my mood."

She walked away without looking back.

Kitahara Kaede watched her go, the corner of his mouth twitching.

He didn't thank her.

Tsunade hadn't given him a chance to, either.

That was for the best.

In her mind, this probably didn't count as "helping." It was more like "doing what I want."

As for why she wanted to—

Even if he asked, she wouldn't tell him.

And if he pushed, he'd probably get punched.

The end of the semester arrived.

The teacher entered the classroom without a textbook. Instead, he carried a rolled-up map.

"Practical exercise. The location is the training grounds behind the mountain. Teams of three. You have two hours."

He unfolded the map and pinned it to the blackboard. Contour lines crowded the map of the mountain.

"The school has hidden numbered wooden tags throughout the area. The team with the highest total score wins."

He paused.

"You're allowed to steal from other teams."

The classroom erupted, voices calling out as everyone scrambled to form teams.

Tsunade turned and glanced at Kitahara Kaede.

She didn't say a word, but the look needed no translation: You're with me. No arguments.

Kitahara Kaede nodded.

They still needed one more.

"Count me in!"

Jiraiya darted over from the back and plopped down in front of them, grinning like a pest.

Tsunade frowned.

"Teams of three, and there are only two of you." Jiraiya waved a hand. "If you don't pick me, who are you going to pick?"

He tilted his head.

"Who else at school have you even talked to besides him?"

Tsunade opened her mouth, but no rebuttal came.

She turned to Kitahara Kaede.

He shrugged. "Sure."

"Great—"

"You're doing the hardest work," Tsunade cut in.

"...Fine."

Jiraiya's enthusiasm deflated halfway, but he couldn't keep the grin off his face.

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

Behind the mountain.

The exercise began.

The three of them followed a trail along the foot of the mountain, Kitahara Kaede scanning the map as they walked.

There were lots of tags at lower elevations, but they were worth few points.

There were fewer at the top, but each one was worth several ordinary tags.

He stopped beside a stream.

"Let's split up. I'll search the mountain and go after the high-value tags. You two follow the stream east and pick up as many low-value ones as you can."

He handed the map to Tsunade.

"Meet back here in an hour."

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

The streamside terrain was open, so two people could cover it most efficiently.

The trail to the summit was steep, but nobody in their year could match Kitahara Kaede at Taijutsu.

"Don't overdo it," she said.

Kitahara Kaede raised a hand in acknowledgment, then turned and headed up the mountain. In a few steps, the trees swallowed him from view.

Jiraiya watched him disappear, taking half a beat to process what had happened.

He was gone.

That left me alone with Tsunade.

"What are you staring at? Let's go." Tsunade had already started walking.

"Coming, coming!"

Jiraiya hurried to catch up, walking beside her along the stream.

Sunlight slipped through the canopy and fell across her golden ponytail.

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

He needed to say something.

"Where do you think they hid the tags?"

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

Tsunade crouched and lifted a rock. Just as she'd said, a wooden tag lay beneath it. One point.

"Tch."

Jiraiya started searching too.

His methods were much rougher than Tsunade's—he simply kicked the loose stones aside and raked through the grass.

It wasn't pretty, but it worked.

Twenty minutes later, they had three tags. One point, two points, one point.

"This place is full of junk." Tsunade slipped the tags into her pocket.

"At least we've got something..." Jiraiya tossed the two-point tag in his hand. "Little by little, it adds up—"

Halfway through his sentence, he suddenly realized something.

Tsunade seemed to be in a pretty good mood.

At school, when she spoke to him, she usually rolled her eyes within three lines and walked away within five.

Today, they'd exchanged well over ten.

Even if every single thing she'd said had been a jab at him.

Still, talking back and forth was better than being treated like he wasn't there.

Jiraiya's lips curled up before he could stop them. He was thinking about what to talk about next when—

Tsunade suddenly stopped.

Jiraiya stopped too and followed her gaze.

Someone stood in the grass beside the stream.