Teaming Up the Temporary Squad

The earth wall at Training Ground Three collapsed the moment it rose.

Takuma crawled out from the swirling dust, spitting out the sand and grit in his mouth.

His brand-new training uniform was completely ruined, covered in mud stains, with a jagged tear along the right cuff from a flying rock.

Tetsu retracted his hands from the hand seals with an expressionless face. He stared at the wreckage he had created, as silent as a driver who had just failed to flee the scene of an accident.

Yakumo stood frozen, paintbrush in hand. The sketchbook in her arms was open to a page where her genjutsu composition had only three strokes before being smothered in a layer of gray dust by the crumbling earth.

Her fair face was streaked with several muddy smudges, her expression unreadable.

Their temporary squad, cobbled together only yesterday, had declared its first collaborative drill a failure in a most undignified manner.

Yakumo Kurama tapped the tip of her charcoal pencil against her notebook twice, flipped to a fresh page, and began recording rapidly while muttering to herself, "First joint drill: Earth Style: Earth Flow Wall disintegrated, front-line charge delayed, rear-guard genjutsu preparation interrupted. Reasons for failure: one, Chakra output not standardized; two, lack of a unified signal for transition timing; three, rear-guard positioning too close, caught in the aftermath of skills."

Takuma leaned over to take a look.

It was a simple positioning diagram. Three stick figures were labeled "T," "Tetsu," and "Y," with arrows and dashed lines densely marking theoretical movement paths and skill coverage ranges.

It was clear at a glance.

"You draw in such detail," Takuma remarked.

"Observation and recording are the fundamentals of a genjutsu user," Yakumo said without looking up. "If I can't even remember my teammates' movement routes, my genjutsu will end up trapping you along with the enemy."

"...You actually did trap me just now."

Yakumo's pencil tip paused, then she continued writing as if nothing had happened: "Miscalculation of range prediction. It won't happen next time."

Tetsu walked over silently at that moment.

He fished a small, coarse gray cloth parcel from his chest, squatted on the ground, and unfolded it to reveal three neatly shaped rice balls, all uniform in size.

He silently handed one to Takuma, another to Yakumo, and picked up the last one for himself, chewing it in a slow, measured manner.

"...Thanks." Takuma took a bite. It was plum-filled; the sourness shot from his tongue straight to the top of his head, causing his entire face to scrunch up.

Yakumo sat on a protruding tree root, eating in small bites. Seeing his expression out of the corner of her eye, the corners of her mouth seemed to twitch.

"A signal system." Yakumo finished her last bite, wiped her fingers with a handkerchief, and reopened her sketchbook. "We need a simple, clear signal system. Three people, three types of abilities, but the commands must be one word each."

She flipped to a previous page, which displayed the ninjutsu attribute chart they had filled out during registration.

"Before Tetsu launches his Earth Style, he will shout 'Earth.' Before I deploy my genjutsu, I will shout 'Gen.' You dodge to the corresponding area whenever you hear them." Yakumo looked up at Takuma. "'Earth' means you must avoid the ground and not step into the area Tetsu is activating. 'Gen' means you must clear the genjutsu coverage area, pulling away laterally by at least five meters."

"That works," Takuma thought for a moment. "But I have ninjutsu to cast too. How will you two dodge?"

"You don't need to shout. You're the front line; we can see your movements," Yakumo said. "When you charge, Tetsu will adjust the direction of his Earth Style to match you, and I will shift the genjutsu range based on your trajectory. Your task isn't to signal, but to run a clear movement path and not change direction suddenly. If you must change, it needs to be predictable."

This made Takuma feel a bit embarrassed.

Both failures today were due to his erratic charging path. Tetsu's Earth Style had been placed in the wrong spot, and Yakumo's genjutsu hadn't been aimed correctly. In the end, it was because he hadn't figured out how he was supposed to run.

Yakumo didn't blame him directly, but her meaning was clear: the front line was the tactical pivot point. If the front line was unstable, the entire formation would falter.

"I'll practice my footwork more," Takuma stood up. "Tetsu, please help me. Don't use ninjutsu yet, just shout 'Earth' so I can practice my evasion reflexes. Yakumo, keep an eye on me and call out if something is wrong."

For the next half hour, only two sounds remained on the training ground: Tetsu's voice, so raspy it was almost inaudible, shouting "Earth," and the sound of Takuma's footsteps grinding against the sandy ground.

Yakumo recorded from the sidelines, muttering to herself. Takuma later learned she was reciting his stride data—the length of every step, the frequency, and the angular deviation when changing direction.

Takuma looked at that crooked line and had to admit her analysis was completely correct.

Problems he had never noticed before were so obvious when drawn on paper, like someone walking with a limp.

"Once you've rested, we'll do a three-way drill," Yakumo stood up, closed her sketchbook, and walked to the center of the field. "Follow the new signal system. Tetsu shouts 'Earth,' I shout 'Gen,' and Takuma is responsible for dodging."

Tetsu formed hand seals and slammed a palm onto the ground, rasping, "Earth." The Earth Flow Wall rose with a roar—two meters high and three meters wide. The Chakra output was precise, the wall structure stable, without a single sign of cracking.

Takuma started at almost the exact same moment, his body tracing an arc against the base of the wall.

"Gen."

Yakumo's voice arrived.

Takuma immediately shifted laterally, pulling himself diagonally to the right, his body leaning until it was almost parallel to the ground.

The space behind him was swallowed by genjutsu. Deep red light rose from the ground, and countless translucent, pale arms reached out from the void.

The edge of the genjutsu range was less than a meter from Takuma's left shoulder. It was so precise it sent a chill down his spine.

"Stop."

Takuma straightened his back and looked back at the area covered by the genjutsu.

Not a single blade of grass on the ground had been bent. Those translucent arms were merely illusions, yet the cold sensation of being gripped still lingered on his ankles.

The Kurama clan's bloodline limit allowed them to make genjutsu semi-tangible; this level of realism was far beyond ordinary illusions.

If this had actually caught an enemy, it would have given him enough time to close in and land a lethal combo before they could break free.

"It worked," Takuma said.

"Mm." Yakumo opened her sketchbook to record the final note, closed it, and looked up. "The success rate is about thirty percent. We need to keep practicing, but at least this proves the tactical concept is viable."

Tetsu handed a water canteen to Takuma.

Takuma took two gulps; the cold water slid down his throat, and he felt alive again.

He looked at Tetsu, then at Yakumo... Tetsu had only handed water to him, while Yakumo took a bamboo canteen from her bag and drank in small sips, needing no assistance.

Takuma suddenly understood something: Tetsu wasn't the squad's babysitter; he was Yakumo's bodyguard.

The three rice balls, the canteen, the silent cooperation during training—every action revolved around one core: protecting Yakumo Kurama.

From the moment Yakumo chose Takuma as a teammate, Tetsu had included him in that protection.

"Tomorrow morning at eight, same place. We verified the tactical feasibility today; tomorrow we increase the difficulty and simulate the uncertainties of real combat. Do you have any suggestions?"

Takuma thought for a moment. "Add obstacles. The field was too clean today; in real combat, there's no way to have such an ideal charging path."

Yakumo lowered her head to record a note. "Agreed. I'll have Tetsu use Earth Style to create irregular terrain. Anything else?"

Takuma thought again and said, "The weather. If it rains on the day of the exam, Water Style will have an advantage, but genjutsu and Earth Style will be affected. We need to find time to practice in the rain."

"Good, I'll check the weather forecast." Yakumo flipped to another page and marked a few things. "Also, starting tomorrow, I will test your limit. I need to see how long you can hold out in my genjutsu before your mind breaks. This must be tested, because if I don't know your limit, I might end up trapping you along with the enemy in a real fight."

Takuma opened his mouth, the words "Could you be a bit more tactful?" turning on his tongue before he swallowed them back down.

"Fine. See you at eight."

Yakumo closed her sketchbook and turned to walk out of the training ground, Tetsu following silently behind her.