"There's been progress."
Just three words. The voice was flat, revealing no emotion.
But Shira knew that this was already a very rare compliment from Teacher Kenmei.
He had practiced with his teacher many times before, but received feedback only a handful of times.
"Your swordsmanship is more stable. It's not that you've become stronger, but that your 'strength' is more integrated. There's less hesitation in your strikes, and you've developed more methodical approaches to your attacks."
For once, Master Kenmei spoke more than usual, gently stroking his sword with his only remaining right hand, his gaze falling on Shira's hand, whose knuckles were white from exertion. "It seems the trip to Konoha wasn't all nonsense."
Shira paused for a moment, then realized that her teacher had probably also heard some rumors about the "green-skinned monster."
He was a little embarrassed, but mostly delighted by the recognition. "Thank you, teacher. I will continue to work hard."
Kenmei didn't say anything more, but simply put his sword back into its sheath at his waist with meticulous movements.
Then he turned around, ready to leave.
"Teacher!" Shira suddenly spoke up.
Kenmei stopped and turned his head.
Shira looked at her teacher's empty left sleeve, which swayed gently in the mountain breeze.
He vaguely remembered hearing someone mention that Teacher Kenmei lost his left arm during an extremely difficult secret mission. The mission was successful, but at a heavy cost.
The specific details are unknown, and the teacher never mentions them.
At this moment, looking at the teacher's still straight back, calm profile, and empty sleeves, Shira suddenly felt a complex emotion welling up in her heart.
It's admiration, it's regret, and it's also a kind of indescribable feeling.
He thought of Might Guy from Konoha, Rock Lee was forever burning with youthful energy, Naruto who was gritting his teeth and chasing after him, and even Sasuke Uchiha sitting alone by the river.
Everyone carries their own burdens and has lost something, yet they strive, silently or boldly, to move forward, to live, and to fight.
"Please take good care of yourself," Shira finally managed to say, her words sounding rather dry.
Kenmei seemed to be taken aback for a moment. He turned his head and looked directly at Shira.
Something seemed to flash extremely quickly in those usually calm and even eyes, so quickly that one might think it was an illusion.
Then, he nodded almost imperceptibly, gave an even softer "hmm," and strode away, disappearing on the other side of the hillside.
Shira stood there, savoring the sparring session and her teacher's final "hmm."
Although I was still physically exhausted, I felt a strange sense of fulfillment in my heart.
He sheathed his sword and left the gravel slope.
He had some questions about the " Seven Heavens Breathing Method " and his own immature " Wild Fist " idea, and perhaps he could get some different perspectives from those two knowledgeable old men.
Arriving at Granny Chiyo's courtyard, Ebizo was also there, but he was squinting in the corridor, as if he were asleep.
Granny Chiyo was in the yard, slowly watering several pots of drought-resistant desert plants.
Seeing Shira enter, she glanced at her and snorted, "What are you doing here again? You haven't finished your tea from last time."
"Grandma, I have some questions about cultivation that I'd like to ask you." Shira Gate of Opening; he knew there was no point in beating around the bush with Granny Chiyo.
"Oh?" Chiyo put down the kettle, dusted off her hands, walked to the rocking chair on the porch, sat down, and gestured for Shira to sit as well. "Tell me, have you come up with some crazy, unorthodox method to mess with yourself again?"