In the faint morning light, Konohagakure slowly awoke beneath a thin veil of mist, but the atmosphere at the White Fang Squad's quarters lacked its usual calm.
The orders to depart for the front in the Land of Wind had yet to arrive, lending urgency to every breath.
Hizashi Hyuga sat cross-legged in a corner of the courtyard, the veins around his Byakugan slightly raised as he performed his essential daily conditioning. Miwa Kato meticulously inventoried her ninja tool pouch, carefully inspecting every shuriken and every roll of bandages.
Shinji Uchiha, however, took no part in these routine preparations.
He stood alone in the middle of the courtyard, gazing steadily at Hatake Sakumo's meditation room.
The chakra coursing endlessly through his body churned like restless lava, while tactical ideas kept turning over in his mind, demanding to be tested. He could not peacefully enjoy this last moment of quiet before the war.
After months of tempering in the blood and fire of the Kirigakure battlefield, the kenjutsu insights his father had left behind, and a brief period of reflection after returning to the village, he felt his understanding and use of power had reached an entirely new level.
The Two-Tomoe Sharingan had brought not only a leap in perception, but also changes in the quantity and quality of his chakra. His fusion of Fire Release and kenjutsu was growing more refined, and his one-handed hand seals gave him greater freedom to vary his rhythm in combat.
But just how far had all this progress taken him? How great was the gap between him and those who truly stood at the pinnacle of the shinobi world? He needed an accurate, brutally honest yardstick.
And in all of Konoha, no one was better suited to that task than his instructor, Hatake Sakumo,