The sun had only just begun to rise, spilling warm orange hues over the rooftops of the Hidden Leaf Village. In the same clearing they'd used nearly every day for the past month, Yuki and Tokasu stood across from each other, wooden swords in hand. The training field was still damp with morning dew, the earth beneath their feet cool and soft.
A month had passed since their summer training began. Tokasu had gone from barely being able to hold a sword properly to managing decent sparring stances and basic strikes. He still had a long way to go, but his improvements were undeniable.
Yuki stood with the casual grace of someone born to wield a blade. His pale-blue hair was tied back loosely, his stance relaxed, but every part of his body radiated control. His eyes never left Tokasu, observing every twitch, every shift in weight.
"Again," Yuki said, raising his wooden sword.
Tokasu sighed, sweat already beading on his forehead. He rushed forward, trying to close the distance quickly, and swung for Yuki's shoulder.
A sharp thwack rang out as Yuki sidestepped effortlessly and smacked Tokasu on the forehead with the flat of his wooden blade.
"Too wide. Again."
"Tch... dammit."
They reset. Tokasu circled this time, trying to find a better angle. He stepped in, feinted left, then came in with a vertical strike.
Thwack.
"Your feet were too slow to follow your swing. Again."
"I'm gonna have a bruise the size of Konoha on my forehead by the end of this."
Yuki smirked. "Then stop giving me reasons to hit it. Again."
...
A little ways off, Sayaka walked through the woods, enjoying the calm hum of morning chakra in the air. She was heading toward the market but decided to take a longer route through the training fields. Her pace slowed when she heard the unmistakable sounds of wood striking wood.
Curious, she crept closer, careful not to be seen.
Through the trees, she saw them. Tokasu and Yuki, mid-spar, sweat-soaked and intense. She blinked, not sure what surprised her more—how fluid Yuki was with the blade, or how much Tokasu had changed.
He wasn't flailing or half-asleep anymore. He was focused. His footwork was rough, but not aimless. His swings had intent. And Yuki—
Yuki moved like water. Or fire. Or both. Calm, precise, and absolutely brutal.
Sayaka felt a strange tightness in her chest. She'd trained all summer, too—learning chakra control, chakra flow, muscle reinforcement—but seeing this kind of dedication and raw ability in front of her made her pause.
She leaned in, hiding behind the tree line.
Tokasu lunged again—cleaner this time.
Yuki parried, and then something strange happened.
Mid-swing, Yuki vanished.
Sayaka blinked.
What?
Then—
"Enjoying the show?"
A voice whispered just behind her ear.
She yelped and spun, fists up—only to find Yuki standing calmly behind her, arms crossed, wooden sword resting against his shoulder.
Her heart raced.
"How—?"
"I noticed you a while ago. You're not exactly subtle."
Sayaka's eyes narrowed. "I was being plenty subtle."
"For someone made of thunder? Not really."
She grumbled, stepping out of the bushes and brushing off her shorts. "Fine. Maybe I was curious. You guys've been out here almost every day. Didn't think you two would actually stick with it."
Tokasu, panting and red-faced, walked over and flopped onto the grass. "That's because you don't know Yuki. He trains like it's the only thing keeping him alive."
Yuki looked at him with a look that went almost beyond his years, then tossed Tokasu a bottle of water. "It is."
Sayaka raised a brow. "You really made all that progress in just a month?"
Tokasu nodded. "More progress than I've ever made in anything. This guy's terrifying with a sword."
Sayaka looked down at her hands, crackling faintly with static, then back up.
"Can I join you guys?"
Tokasu looked surprised.
Yuki blinked once, then gave a small shrug. "If you can keep up."
She grinned wide, baring her teeth like a predator. "Please. I was born to fight."
...
They reset the field.
Yuki stood in the center, one foot forward, his sword lightly resting across his shoulders. Tokasu took a spot to the left, Sayaka to the right.
"We'll go in turns," Yuki said. "One attacks. One rests. Keep the rhythm tight. Sayaka, you first."
She didn't wait for confirmation. She lunged forward, her movements quick and forceful—power wrapped in speed. Her strikes came hard, sharp and aggressive.
Yuki deflected each one like he was brushing off leaves.
"You swing like a hammer," he said. "Power's there. Precision isn't."
Sayaka snarled and doubled her pace.
Tokasu winced. "This is gonna get messy."
But Yuki didn't seem fazed. He flowed around Sayaka's strikes, turning aside each blow and occasionally tapping her hand, her ribs, her legs—not enough to hurt, but enough to prove a point.
They switched.
Tokasu came in slower but more measured. Yuki pressed him harder now, forcing him to adapt. A month ago, Tokasu would've folded in seconds. Now, he held his ground for nearly a minute before a clean tap to the wrist ended the bout.
"That was better," Yuki said.
Sayaka took another round.
Then Tokasu again.
Back and forth.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
By the end of it, all three were covered in sweat, bruised, and breathing hard.
Sayaka dropped onto the grass. "I haven't trained that hard since auntie Tsunade put me through tree-smashing drills."
Tokasu collapsed beside her. "And I think my arms are permanently vibrating."
Yuki just rolled his shoulders and picked up the wooden swords.
"Same time tomorrow?"
Sayaka blinked, then laughed.
"You're insane. I like it."
Tokasu smiled faintly, rubbing his forehead.
And for a moment, all three of them lay in the grass, staring up at the pale blue sky, not as students of the academy—but as shinobi growing stronger, together.