The wind still whipped sand across the training ground in the early morning.
Shira moved swiftly in the morning light, repeating his monotonous but crucial basic training.
His breaths were long and rhythmic. Each inhalation seemed to draw the energy of heaven and earth into his lungs, and each exhalation came out as scorching white vapor.
The breathing rhythm of the Seven Heavens Breathing Method had gradually become part of his every movement. No longer was it for explosive power, but for tempering himself, for engraving the "combination of basics and breathing" that Guy had pointed out into his very bones.
"997... 998... 999... 1,000!"
After completing his final set of weighted squats, Shira slowly exhaled a stale breath. Sweat streamed from his chin, striking tiny hollows into the sand.
He untied the rough sandbags from his legs and flexed his aching muscles, feeling the reassuring, gradual growth of his strength amid his fatigue.
Not far away, Gaara sat quietly on a rock, watching him with a barely perceptible hint of concern in his green eyes. He had arrived a little later than usual today.
"Yo, you're here, little bro!" Shira called out once Gaara came closer, his tone a little more playful than usual.
"Huh? Uh, yeah." Gaara was a little bewildered. After a moment of silence, he asked quietly, "I heard you were attacked on the road?"
Word had spread, just as expected. Shira wasn't surprised. The brothers Rani and Fūi were outgoing, so there was no keeping something like that quiet.
He stretched as he answered briefly, "Yeah, a few highwaymen. We took care of them."
"Are you... all right?" Gaara's voice dropped even lower, tinged with hesitation and worry. He had heard that Shira had "bravely defeated the robbers," and it had given him a strange sense of pride, but even more than that, he was frightened at what might have happened.
He was afraid his only friend might get hurt, or even...
Shira stopped and looked at Gaara. Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes, he felt a little warmth in his heart.
He shook his head, even showing a rare, relaxed smile. "I'm fine. Just a few scratches. They healed ages ago. See?" He moved his arm to show he was unhurt.
Gaara looked him over carefully. Only after confirming that he really was all right did his tense little face relax slightly. "That's good," he said quietly.
He didn't ask for details or react with amazement or curiosity like the others. He simply breathed a silent sigh of relief. That quiet concern made Shira cherish it all the more.
"Let's start training." Shira changed the subject and got back into position. "Let's try the new breathing rhythm with side kicks today. I feel like I can exert force a little more smoothly now."
"Okay." Gaara nodded and grew serious too.
Their training was as silent as ever, but amid the howling wind and sand, there was now an unspoken understanding and a strength drawn from supporting each other.
After training, at the crossroads where they parted.
"Gaara, ja ne~," Shira said as usual.
"Mm." Though Gaara had no idea what he meant, he nodded anyway. He watched Shira head toward the Ninja Academy, and only when he disappeared around the street corner did Gaara turn silently and walk toward his own lonely domain.
As soon as Shira walked through the gates of the Ninja Academy, he felt an atmosphere completely different from before.
The once undisguised looks of malice and mockery had almost vanished.
In their place were curiosity, surprise, scrutiny, and even a faint trace of awe and distance.
As he crossed the playground, whispers rose around him, only to die away quickly whenever he looked over.
"That's him..."
"My brother said he took down three adults all by himself!"
"Really? Isn't he..."
"Shh! Stop, he's looking over here!"
The boys who had often led the mockery of him before now either averted their eyes and turned away or simply went around him. No one dared call him "trash" to his face anymore.
A show of strength was the most direct language.
Whether that strength came from Ninjutsu or Taijutsu, it was enough to earn the most basic "respect" in this village that revered strength-or rather, to make people wary of him.
Shira's expression remained calm. Ignoring the changes around him, he walked straight to his seat.
He had long since grown used to being alone. Now he had merely traded one kind of loneliness for another.
He didn't care about these superficial changes in attitude. His goal lay far beyond this.
Yet one gentle gaze followed him the whole time.
Ameno sat nearby, watching Shira quietly and attentively take out his textbooks to prepare for class, just as he always did. Sincere joy, clear as a spring, shone in her eyes.
She was happy for Shira.
She had seen with her own eyes how Shira had put himself through that almost self-abusive training day after day, how he had failed and picked himself up again and again.
Now his efforts had finally received the most direct recognition from others, and the hurtful words had finally disappeared. It gave her the pleasant surprise of feeling, "Nobody else believed in you, but I believed in you the most, and you really came through and proved them wrong."
During the break after class, Ameno hesitated for a moment, then mustered the courage to walk over to Shira's desk. "Shira, welcome back," she said softly. "You were very brave."
There was no flattery in her tone, only sincere praise.
Shira looked up and saw Ameno's clear, smiling eyes. The cold hardness in his heart seemed to melt a little.
He nodded, his tone softening. "Thanks. It was nothing."
"I'm very happy for you," Ameno added softly, her cheeks turning slightly red. After saying it, she hurried back to her seat, a little embarrassed.
Shira watched her walk away and was silent for a moment before turning his attention back to his book. Only the corners of his mouth seemed to curve upward, ever so slightly.
Shira's thoughts: Hehe! Hehehe! ╮(‵▽′)╭
Classes went on as usual. The teacher explained new Chakra theory and demonstrated basic Shuriken-throwing techniques.
Shira still couldn't perform the techniques that required fine Chakra control, but he listened more attentively than anyone, striving to absorb every bit of knowledge that might be useful to him-tactics, strategy, human anatomy, the basic use of ninja tools, and so on.
The difference was that no one cast mocking looks at him anymore when he trained madly on his own during Taijutsu class.
The change had happened silently, but it was real.
The school bell rang. This time, Shira packed up his things and was actually the first to leave the classroom.
He paid no attention to the complicated looks behind him. All he could think about was going to Granny Chiyo's to continue "working" and the even harsher training that night to get accustomed to the breathing method.