The morning sun filtered softly through the towering trees of the Uchiha compound, casting a warm mosaic of light and shadow over the dozen orphans gathered in the training grounds. Ten out of the twelve had successfully awakened their chakra, their eyes shining with a mixture of excitement, fatigue, and, in some cases, quiet dread. The remaining two had already begun to imagine lives away from shinobi duty—perhaps merchants, accountants, or finance managers.
Not a bad fallback plan, Kazuki thought, definitely beats being boiled alive every day.
Azula, ever the loudmouth, elbowed him with a teasing grin. "So, what's the deal with you and those two quitters? Feeling guilty?"
Kazuki shrugged, unfazed. "Nah. Everyone's got their own path. Some just don't involve deadly chakra baths or jumping tree to tree pretending to be squirrels."
Kuroha stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding as she addressed the group. "Alright, everyone. Now that you've awakened your chakra, it's time to move on to the fundamentals: taijutsu and chakra control."
A small hand shot up. "But I want to learn ninjutsu!"
Kuroha chuckled lightly. "Most genjutsu and ninjutsu require excellent chakra control. So first, we build that foundation. Taijutsu is to build your physical strength."
The group let out a collective groan.
Kuroha smiled and pressed on. "For chakra control, we start with the most famous exercise—tree climbing. Using chakra to stick your soles to the bark like you're walking on solid ground."
Her eyes flicked knowingly toward Kazuki.
Kazuki's toes tingled with anticipation. Thanks to his pure Yin chakra, sticking his soles to the bark was effortless. He leapt up and hugged the tree horizontally, perfectly stuck like a gecko.
Then came the hard part: climbing up.
He lifted one leg to take a step—and immediately felt the crushing pull of gravity.
Wait, why am I falling? Kazuki's body hit the ground with a soft thud. His legs trembled. His five-year-old frame simply couldn't generate enough force to pull himself upward while clinging perpendicular to the tree.
Azula landed beside him, a victorious grin spreading across her face. "Problem, genius?"
Kazuki scowled. "I can stick, but I can't climb. Apparently, I'm strong enough to cling but not strong enough to lift."
Azula laughed. "Maybe your Yin chakra's great for sticking, but not for... muscles."
Kazuki narrowed his eyes, annoyed by her teasing tone. "Why don't you, our resident genius Azula, show me how it's done?"
Azula puffed up, flashing her trademark confident smirk. "Leave it to the professionals. I'll show you how it's done."
She charged at the tree with all the confidence in the world. But the moment her foot touched the bark—it slipped. She stumbled forward and bam—her face met the tree with a less-than-graceful thud.
Kazuki couldn't hold back a laugh. "I know trees are good for the environment, but Azula, you don't have to kiss them."
Azula glared but laughed along, rubbing her forehead.
That afternoon, Kazuki sought out Kuroha, desperation tinging his voice. "I need advice. I'm… weak. I can control chakra, but my body isn't keeping up."
Kuroha studied him thoughtfully, arms crossed. "You're young. This is normal. But strength is important. Rash training could injure you, so I've prepared a safe but effective regimen for all of you: 30 push-ups, 30 sit-ups, 30 squats, 30 pull-ups, and a 5-kilometer run every day."
Kazuki blinked in disbelief. Did she say 30 pull-ups? Is she trying to kill us?
Kuroha smiled gently. "It will be tough at first, but it builds endurance and power safely. You won't be climbing trees on chakra alone."
The First Day of Pain
The next morning, the orphans gathered in the training yard, bleary-eyed but determined. Kuroha demonstrated each exercise with effortless precision, then set them loose.
"Let's start with push-ups!" she announced.
Kazuki dropped down and tried to lower his body smoothly—but his arms trembled violently after just five. He pushed himself up, gasping. This is going to be a long day.
Azula collapsed after only three push-ups, flopping dramatically onto the ground. "I think my arms just gave up on me. Kuroha-san, are you secretly a sadist?"
The smallest orphan, barely four, whimpered, "I'm too little for this. Why do we have to do so many?"
One boy groaned, "My muscles hate me already. Can I be a merchant instead?"
Kazuki exchanged a glance with Azula, who was still whining. Same here, he thought, but we can't quit now.
Next were sit-ups. The group struggled to keep their rhythm; many could only do ten before collapsing backward.
"Keep going!" Kuroha encouraged firmly, though her eyes softened at their effort.
Squats followed, and the complaining grew louder.
"My legs are noodles!" one kid declared.
"Are we sure Kuroha isn't secretly a demon?" another muttered under his breath.
Kazuki gritted his teeth, determined to finish the set. He saw Azula doing the same, though she rolled her eyes with every squat.
Then came the worst: pull-ups.
Only a handful managed to lift themselves off the ground at all. Most could barely get halfway before dropping.
Kazuki's arms shook violently as he struggled, barely managing six. The muscles screamed in protest.
Azula, sitting on the ground panting, gave him a tired thumbs-up. "You're not a total weakling."
The final test: a 5-kilometer run.
The orphans set off, slow and panting. Many tripped over roots, stumbled, and nearly collapsed. Kazuki kept going, breath ragged but steady.
When the last one finally crossed the finish line, groans and complaints filled the air.
The Second Day of Defeat
The following morning, the group gathered with shaky resolve.
"We have to finish today," Azula declared, rubbing her sore arms. "No excuses."
Kazuki nodded, grimacing as he stretched his aching muscles. Yesterday hurt so much I'm surprised I can move.
But when the exercises began, the results were worse.
Several orphans couldn't complete half the sets. Limbs trembled, backs ached, and muscles burned with fresh pain.
"I swear this gets harder," one boy gasped, collapsing after a few push-ups.
"I think I pulled something," another groaned.
Azula, grimacing, admitted, "Okay, maybe Kuroha is a little sadistic."
Kazuki tried to push through but found himself finishing fewer reps than the day before.
My body's betraying me, he thought, frustration mounting.
Kuroha observed quietly, then gathered the group. "It's normal to feel this way. Your muscles are adapting. The soreness means you're getting stronger."
One orphan groaned, "It feels like my muscles are on fire."
Kuroha smiled kindly. "That's your body rebuilding itself. Stick with it."
Azula groaned theatrically, "I hate you, Kuroha."
Kazuki chuckled despite the pain. Yeah, she's a nightmare. But we need her.
The Lesson on Chakra Control
After the grueling exercises, Kuroha gathered the group under the shade of a massive tree.
"Now, a quick lesson on why chakra control matters," she began.
She drew a small diagram in the blackboard. "Imagine a jutsu that needs exactly 100 units of chakra to work perfectly. If your chakra control is poor, you might actually send out 120 units—wasting 20."
The orphans murmured, picturing it.
"But here's the catch: because of that waste, your jutsu might only hit 90 units of actual power. The extra chakra leaks away before it can help."
Kazuki raised an eyebrow. "So... bad control means weaker jutsu and waste?"
"Exactly," Kuroha said. "But if your chakra control is excellent, and you send 120 units, your jutsu can hit full 120 units of power."
Azula smirked, wiping sweat from her brow. "So basically, if you're bad, you're a leaky bucket?"
Kuroha nodded approvingly. "Perfect metaphor."
Kazuki wiped his forehead, thoughts spinning. Why settle for 100 when you can hit 120? But then, I still can't use ninjutsu. That nagged at him.
That evening, as the orphans collapsed in exhausted heaps around the campfire, Kazuki stretched his sore arms and allowed a determined grin to spread across his face.
"Guess it's time to bulk up," he muttered. No more weakling excuses.
Azula shot him a playful wink. "Race you up the tree tomorrow?"
Kazuki laughed. "You're on, 'Unstoppable Azula.' Just don't trip."
The training ground echoed with the sounds of struggle and laughter—a battlefield of growth and determination.
This is only the beginning, Kazuki thought. And I'm not backing down.