Life at the Hatake Residence unfolded in a strangely peaceful way.
Kakashi seemed to have truly embraced a hands-off approach. He often left early and returned late, sometimes staying out all night. Ling had no idea whether he was on missions or simply reluctant to stay home. A few basic ingredients began appearing in the refrigerator, but more often than not, takeout bags from Ichiraku Ramen ended up on the dining table.
Ling was perfectly happy with that. It gave him plenty of time to train alone.
Every morning, just as the sky began to pale, Ling got up on schedule and headed into the courtyard. Remembering Kakashi's permission to "go running," he really did begin basic physical training there: running, frog jumps, and push-ups. To an outsider, his movements might have looked clumsy and childish, but only he knew that every exertion was supported by the exquisitely precise chakra control Tobirama had taught him, making his training far more efficient than an ordinary person's.
[Your form is slipping! Drive from your waist! Channel chakra into both legs-don't just brute-force it!]
[Breathe! Match the rhythm of your movements! Is your chakra flow cutting out?!]
[Too slow! Pick up the pace! Do you think an enemy will give you time for a leisurely warm-up?]
Tobirama's roaring remained the unchanging soundtrack to his days, but Ling had long since grown used to it. He could even pinpoint exactly what needed improvement amid those biting rebukes.
Physical training was followed by his unwavering chakra-control routine. He no longer needed to sneak around and could sit openly beneath the veranda, practicing all sorts of delicate manipulations: tree climbing-limited to the low branches of the old tree in the courtyard-water walking in the water vat, and, most importantly, forming a Water Blade and delving deeper into the [Ice-Breath Concealment Technique].
Of course, whenever someone might be watching, all he displayed were "clumsy attempts" and "slow progress." His Water Blade formed, at most, a vague cloud of mist, while the [Ice-Breath Concealment Technique] merely made him seem a little more "quiet."
But deep within his mental world, under Tobirama's stern guidance, his real training never stopped for a moment.
[Compress it! Spin it! Give it the will to bore through anything! I didn't tell you to roll a ball of water!]
[Conceal yourself! Not just your chakra-slow your heartbeat, your blood flow, even your fluctuations of thought! Blend into your surroundings! You are a cold stone!]
Real, razor-sharp Water Blades took shape again and again in corners no one could see, while the length of time he could maintain the [Ice-Breath Concealment Technique] quietly increased.
Kakashi was not entirely indifferent. Occasionally, while Ling trained, he appeared beneath the veranda as though by chance, holding Icha Icha Paradise. Yet now and then, his gaze drifted over the top of its pages and settled on Ling.
Sometimes, he suddenly tossed a shuriken at him.
"Catch."
Ling always made a flustered scramble, barely managing to catch it by the skin of his teeth, or simply letting out an "Oops!" as the shuriken fell to the ground, then looking helplessly at Kakashi.
Kakashi showed little reaction. He merely said, "Too slow," and went back to his book.
After several rounds, however, Ling noticed that the speed, force, and angle of Kakashi's throws were changing in extraordinarily subtle ways, as though he were testing the limits of Ling's reflexes and how he responded.
[He's probing your capabilities.] Tobirama watched with cold detachment. [He's being very discreet. It fits his Anbu habits. Keep acting, but you can show a little "progress"-slightly, and extremely slowly.]
And so, during the next few "surprise attacks," Ling continued to look panicked, but his movements as he caught the shuriken seemed just a tiny bit more "practiced," and his failure rate slowly declined.
Kakashi still gave nothing away, but Ling felt that the gaze coming from behind that book had acquired a barely perceptible hint of appraisal.
Besides testing him, Kakashi also supplied a few of the most basic "resources."
One evening, Kakashi tossed Ling an old scroll.
"The most basic Three Body Technique. Look up any characters you don't understand in a dictionary, or come ask me." His tone remained flat. "How much you learn is up to you."
Ling treasured it as though he had struck gold! It might not have contained advanced ninjutsu, but it was the foundation of systematic ninjutsu study. Tobirama's knowledge was vast, yet his teaching leaned more toward principles and high-level applications. These most basic, standardized fundamentals were exactly what Ling lacked.
[Hmph. The beginner's edition that Monkey put together. Basic enough, I'll give it that.] Tobirama scoffed at it, but still urged Ling to study diligently. [Learn it properly, especially the chakra circulation routes. Crude, but standardized. They'll do for building a foundation. Don't practice this using the methods I taught you. You'll give yourself away.]
Ling immersed himself in studying the Three Body Technique. With a grandmaster like Tobirama beside him, explaining principles and correcting mistakes, he progressed rapidly. On the surface, however, he remained a beginner who frowned miserably at the scroll and fumbled his hand seals.
The peaceful days flowed by like water. Ling could feel Kakashi's silent observation continuing, but its initial sharpness and scrutiny seemed to be gradually giving way to a faint, almost indifferent willingness to leave him alone.
He seemed to have genuinely accepted that his home now contained a "little nuisance" who needed occasional feeding and basic teaching materials.
Until late one night.
Ling was on the floor of his room, practicing hand seals at an extremely slow pace to perfect his form. Suddenly, he heard an exceedingly faint sound of someone landing outside.
It was not the sound Kakashi usually made when he returned.
He immediately put out the light, slipped soundlessly to the door, and peered through the gap.
There in the moonlit courtyard, Kakashi had not gone inside. He stood alone in the center of the yard, his back turned toward Ling.
In his hand was an ordinary short training blade.
He was not using any chakra.
He simply stood in silence, then slowly swung the blade.
His movements were slow, even a little stiff. Splitting cuts, slashes, thrusts, rising cuts... all were the most basic sword movements. There was nothing flashy about them, nor any sense of power, as though he were merely repeating a fragment of memory.
Yet Ling held his breath as he watched.
Within Kakashi's slow, even slightly halting movements, he sensed something intensely concentrated, held back rather than released-the traces of a skill that had settled deep into his bones and become almost instinctive. Even if its owner deliberately tried to forget it and distance himself from it, it could never be entirely erased.
Silently, he repeated those few tedious, basic movements over and over. The moonlight stretched his shadow long, making him look especially lonely.
Only after a long while did he lower his blade and stand still. He remained there quietly for a moment, then returned soundlessly to his room, as though melting into the night.
Ling softly retreated to the center of his room, his heart unsettled for a long time.
[Did you see that?] Tobirama's voice suddenly sounded, carrying a trace of something complicated. [That is the foundation of Hatake-Style Swordsmanship. Even neglected, even deliberately forgotten, something carved into the blood does not disappear so easily.]
[That boy is carrying something in his heart.] For once, Tobirama offered no cutting remarks, only that quiet observation.
Ling remained silent. Most of what he knew about Kakashi came from the manga he had read in his previous life and Tobirama's caustic comments. Yet tonight's wordless scene had given him a glimpse of a hidden corner deep within the silver-haired jonin's heart.
His guardian seemed even more complicated than he had imagined.
And would his arrival stir new ripples within that complexity?
Silence returned to the courtyard, where only the moonlight flowed quietly like water.
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