Raitaro let the crackle of fading lightning die out, then clapped his hands once.
"Alright," he said. "Fun's over."
Team Eleven stood in various states of charred, bruised, and pissed. Reina was still breathing hard, Samui's hair was damp with mist and sweat, and Raizen's jaw throbbed where that first punch had introduced his face to the wall.
Raitaro's easy grin faded into something flatter, sharper.
"From now on," he said, "your grace period as genin is over."
Raizen felt the air tighten around them.
"For the next two months," Raitaro went on, "you live in one of three places: this training ground, your bed, or the mission center. That's it."
He lifted a hand and counted off on his fingers.
"Morning: physical conditioning and taijutsu. You will run, you will lift, you will fall down, and you will get back up."
"Midday: your specialties. Swords, water, webs, genjutsu, medic, intel. I will sharpen what you're actually good at."
"Afternoon: team drills and getting embarrassed by me. Over. And over. And over."
He paused.
"Evening: chakra control. Climbing, walking, balancing, breathing. You will go to sleep tired. You will wake up tired. You will stay tired."
Raitaro dropped his hand.
"You will live by this schedule," he said, "until I decide you are ready for real missions."
Reina snorted, rolling her shoulder like the kick to her chest had been nothing.
"That's it?" she said. "Sounds easy enough. It's just what we did in the academy. How hard could this possibly be?"
The corner of Raitaro's mouth twitched.
He turned his head and gave her a look that made the hairs on Raizen's arms stand up—no smile, no laziness, just a thin slice of killing intent.
"Easy, huh?" he said softly. "Let's see how easy it feels after I put these seals on you."
Raizen blinked. "Seals?"
Raitaro's expression snapped back to casual as if the moment hadn't happened.
"I put in an order for Tsukihana resistance seals the day you three became my team," he said. "They finally came in this morning."
He patted the inside of his vest, where a slim scroll rested.
"These are the highest-quality resistance seals in the village," he added. "Normally you'd never see them on genin. But thanks to Raizen being a Tsukihana, I was able to get them at a… generous discount."
He smiled at them like he'd just told a good joke.
Reina's head whipped toward Raizen, eyes narrowing.
"Of course," she muttered. "Clan heir perks."
Raizen felt his stomach drop.
He'd almost forgotten about the clan's training seals—dense, elegant formulae designed to turn your own body into a battlefield. He could still hear Taro bragging about them, about how the Tsukihana were rumored to break down even stubborn prodigies and rebuild them stronger.
Right. Those seals.
Samui looked calm on the surface, as usual. But Raizen saw the slight tightening around her eyes. She was already recalculating everything Raitaro had just said. Of course she was.
Raitaro nodded toward the path leading down the mountain.
"Follow me," he said. "We're going to Raizen's clan compound to get your seals drawn on. After that, we start for real."
He didn't wait to see if they agreed—just turned and started walking.
Raizen swallowed, then fell into step behind him. Reina clicked her tongue and followed, sword bouncing lightly against her hip. Samui moved last, silent as mist.
⸻
The descent from Training Ground Eleven bit more than usual.
Maybe it was the lingering soreness. Maybe it was the weight of Raitaro's words. The mountain path twisted down toward the heart of the village, stone steps worn smooth by generations of shinobi boots.
Kumo woke around them as they walked.
Vendors rolled up stall doors, civilians swept storefronts, chunin in vests strode past on morning patrol. A few glanced at Raitaro and did double-takes at the state of the three genin trailing behind him, singed and dripping.
"Sensei," Reina said after a while, voice edged but controlled, "if you already had some grand plan for us, why waste a month on D-ranks?"
Raitaro didn't look back.
"I told you," he said. "Orientation."
"That's not an answer," she shot back.
"It is," he said. "Not a satisfying one—for you—but still an answer."
Raizen almost smiled despite the ache in his jaw. That sounded exactly like Raitaro.
Samui's voice carried softly from behind him. "You were testing how we moved. How we worked without oversight. How we handled boredom and humiliation."
"See?" Raitaro said. "Samui gets it. Gold star."
He raised a hand and pointed ahead.
"We're here."
The Tsukihana compound sat along a higher terrace of the village, built into the mountain itself. It wasn't flashy like some of the other clan estates—no huge banners, no towering statues. Just clean stone walls reinforced with dark seals, and a broad gate of blackened wood etched with faint, shimmering script.
Above the entrance, the clan crest—a stylized crescent and web—was carved deep into the rock.
Two Tsukihana guards stood at the gate, wearing simple vests with the clan mark stitched at their collars. Their eyes flicked over Raitaro first, then settled on Raizen.
One of them straightened.
"Raizen-sama," he said with a short nod. "You're back early. And with a team."
Raitaro raised a hand in lazy greeting. "Morning. I've come to cash in on the favor Jairo-nii promised me. Got the resistance seals?"
The guards traded a look.
"Head of household is expecting you," the other said. "He said you'd come dragging half-dead children with you."
Reina bristled. "We're not—"
Raizen coughed. "That… sounds like him."
The gate creaked open, seals along its frame pulsing faintly as the protective array recognized Raizen's chakra and parted.
Inside, the compound opened into a wide courtyard of pale stone, with narrow streams running in careful channels, cutting geometric patterns across the ground. Every surface—the walls, the posts, even some of the paving stones—held faint, intricate inkwork, like the whole place was one enormous seal matrix.
Raizen felt the familiar hum in his bones. Coming home always felt a little like stepping into the core of one of their arrays.
Samui's eyes moved quietly over everything, taking in the subtle security layers. Reina let out a low whistle.
"Your clan really doesn't do anything halfway, huh?" she said.
Raizen gave a weak shrug. "We… like our seals."
Raitaro walked toward one of the inner buildings without hesitation, clearly having been here before.
"Hurry up," he called over his shoulder. "The sooner they ink you, the sooner we find out which of you cries first."
Reina huffed and followed.
Raizen glanced back at Samui.
"You sure about this?" he asked quietly.
She met his gaze, calm as ever. "If it makes us stronger," she said, "it's worth it."
Raizen looked ahead again, at Raitaro's back and the sealing hall beyond, where ink and formula and pain waited.
"For the next two months," he muttered under his breath, "training grounds, bed, mission center… and here."
Then he squared his shoulders and stepped deeper into his clan's domain, his team at his side, ready—or not—for the weight that was about to be carved into their skin.
Raizen's POV
⸻
The sealing hall smelled like old ink, hot metal, and dust that had never quite settled.
It wasn't big—just a long rectangular room dug into the mountain, lit by a row of hanging lamps that made the walls glow faintly. The floor was the part that mattered: a wide circular array carved directly into the stone, layered with Tsukihana script, lines radiating out like a spiderweb caught mid-vibration.
In the center of the circle sat Keiro.
He was exactly as Raizen remembered him.
Plain dark clothes. Ink-stained fingers. Hair tied back without any fuss. A stack of half-rolled scrolls beside him and a low table in front, laid out with brushes, inkstones, and a steady line of blank sealing tags.
His eyes—sharp, dark, and too awake—lifted the second Raizen stepped onto the circle's edge.
"Mm," Keiro said. "So this is the circus."
Raitaro made a show of bowing. "Always an honor, Keiro-san."
"You say that every time you want something horrible," Keiro replied dryly. His gaze flicked past Raitaro to the three genin. "Bring them closer. I don't want to yell."
Raizen swallowed, suddenly more aware of the ache in his jaw and the stiffness in his ribs. He stepped onto the carved floor, feeling the faint hum of chakra under the stone.
"Morning, Keiro-sensei," he said.
"Raizen." Keiro's eyes swept over him, pausing for a heartbeat on the blind left eye, then moving on. "Still in one piece, I see. Good. Makes anchoring the seal easier."
A familiar presence shifted near one of the pillars.
Jairo leaned there with his arms crossed, watching in silence. No flak jacket—just a simple dark robe with the clan crest stitched at the shoulder, hair tied back like he'd come straight from paperwork.
"Keiro insisted I be here," Jairo said when Raizen met his eyes. "Something about 'parental consent' and 'witnessing my son's poor life choices.'"
Keiro dipped his brush into the inkstone with precise movements.
"Someone has to sign off when you lunatics decide to strap weighted seals to twelve-year-olds," he said. His gaze went back to Raitaro. "Explain it again."
Raitaro's grin sharpened just a fraction.
"Two months of focused training," he said. "I want resistance seals keyed for constant low-level load, with space to spike intensity on my command. Tuned individually." He jerked his chin toward the team. "Captain, anchor, specialist. You've seen their files."
"I have," Keiro said. "Reina Inuzuka, Samui Shirayuri, Raizen Tsukihana."
Reina stiffened slightly at the sound of her full name. Samui's gaze dipped toward the array for a moment, then stilled again.
Keiro set the brush down, folding his ink-stained fingers together.
"I am not responsible," he said calmly, "for any crying, complaining, vomiting, or questioning of life choices that happens after activation."
Raitaro smiled. "That's my job."
Jairo exhaled through his nose, still hard to read.
"Just don't break them," he said.
Raitaro's eyes flicked to him, then back to Keiro.
"I'm trying very hard not to," he said. "That's why I came here instead of slapping some half-baked seal on them myself."
Keiro snorted softly. "You'd draw better than 'half-baked.' Still irresponsible." He patted the stone in front of him. "Captain first. Step into the circle."
Reina hesitated for half a breath, then moved.
She stepped into the carved center where Keiro indicated, kneeling with her back to him. Her hand hovered near her sword out of habit, then fell away. She slid her jacket off her shoulders, fabric stretching over tense muscle.
"Relax your shoulders," Keiro said. "Pretending you're not nervous makes my lines ugly."
"I'm not nervous," Reina muttered.
"Mm," Keiro replied, in a way that clearly meant he didn't believe her. He picked up his brush, chakra rising around him in a slow, steady pulse.
Raizen watched, familiar fascination stirring under his own anxiety.
Keiro's hand moved.
Ink touched cloth between Reina's shoulder blades, and the air in the room seemed to narrow to the sound of the brush dragging, the subtle glow of activated script.
He didn't draw fast. Every stroke had weight.
Lines spread outward from the base of Reina's neck across her upper back, forming a pattern centered on her spine—circles for chakra reservoirs, angled marks for load distribution, hooks that would cling to muscle and bone. To Raizen's eye, it looked almost like a stylized harness.
"For you," Keiro said quietly, "the problem is not strength. It is that you believe you can hold everything yourself."
Reina's fingers curled against her knees.
"This seal," Keiro continued, "will increase weight on your shoulders—literally—any time you push too far forward relative to your team." He tapped a circle near the base of the neck. "Run ahead of them, it gets heavier. Stay in formation, it stays reasonable."
Reina swallowed. "You can… make it do that?"
"Of course," Keiro said. "We are not barbarians. We use math."
Raitaro snorted. Raizen almost laughed.
Keiro finished the last stroke, then pressed two fingers to the center of the array.
"Breathe," he instructed.
Reina inhaled.
"Activation."
Chakra surged into the seal.
Reina made a sharp sound in her throat, shoulders jerking as the ink lit up under her skin—just for an instant, lines glowing faintly through the fabric. Then the light sank, the pattern disappearing from sight.
"What does it feel like?" Raitaro asked.
Reina's breath came slower now. She shifted, testing her weight, rolling her shoulders.
"…Like someone put a training vest on just my spine," she said. "And is… pushing down on it, a little."
"That's the baseline," Keiro said. "Raitaro can raise and lower it. I recommend he does so judiciously."
Raitaro hummed in a way Raizen did not find reassuring.
"Off the circle," Keiro said. "Next. Samui Shirayuri."
Samui stepped forward without needing a second call.
She knelt where Reina had been, sitting a little straighter, hands resting on her thighs. When she removed her jacket and loosened her collar, Raizen caught a glimpse of faint old bruises along her ribs—marks from training she'd never complained about.
Keiro studied her for a long moment before dipping his brush again.
"With you," he said, "the problem is not that you cannot move. It is that you overcalculate before doing so."
Samui's lashes dipped once, the only sign the words hit.
"The seal will sit lower," Keiro went on, beginning the array along her lower back and sides. "Core and legs. It will spike when your chakra registers prolonged hesitation in combat."
"Hesitation?" she asked.
"In battle, there are pauses that are necessary," Keiro said, drawing curved lines that wrapped around to her flanks. "Breath, reassessment, taking cover. There are also pauses where you simply cannot choose. This seal is tuned to the second kind."
He marked three small nodes along her spine, each one a little stab of ink.
"When you freeze," he said, "your body will feel heavier for a few seconds. Just enough to remind you that you do not have infinite time to think."
Samui's mouth tightened very slightly. "That seems… cruel."
"It is less cruel than watching your captain die because you needed one more heartbeat to be sure," Keiro said, unbothered.
Raitaro nodded once, serious.
Keiro finished the array, then activated it with the same two-finger press.
Samui's back arched subtly, breath catching. The glow was lower this time, clustering like a belt before fading.
"How bad?" Raizen asked, before he could stop himself.
Samui exhaled slowly. "Manageable," she said. "Like… the air got heavier around my legs."
"We can adjust later if needed," Keiro said. "Within reason. Off the circle."
Samui rose and stepped aside, her walk maybe half a fraction more deliberate.
"Raizen," Keiro said. "You already know where to stand."
Raizen did.
He stepped into the center, more aware than ever of all the eyes on him—Raitaro's sharp and evaluating, Reina's faintly annoyed, Samui's steady, Jairo's… complicated.
He knelt, shrugging out of his jacket, bare skin prickling in the cool mountain air. The scar along his left side twinged. He rested his hands on his thighs and forced himself to be still.
Keiro circled him once, barefoot on stone, like a man inspecting a new puzzle.
"You," he said, "are stupid in three directions at once."
Raizen choked. "That's… specific."
Keiro tapped his shoulder with the end of the brush. "You think too much. You throw yourself in front of things you shouldn't. And you have more chakra and bodily resilience than average for your age, which makes you cocky when you should not be."
"That's four," Raitaro murmured.
"Count it however you like," Keiro said. He knelt behind Raizen. "For you, we use a lattice."
The first touch of ink landed at the base of Raizen's neck, mirroring Reina's pattern—and then expanded. Lines traced down his spine, across his shoulders, around his ribs. Additional strands marked over his lower back, then wrapped faintly around his upper arms like ghostly bands.
Raizen could feel his own chakra responding, network prickling as the sealwork mapped itself.
"This seal will distribute extra weight across your entire frame," Keiro said. "Baseline higher than the others. Your body can handle it."
"Lucky me," Raizen muttered.
"Additionally," Keiro added, "it will respond to surges in your chakra output. The more wildly you try to spike power without control—" he drew a tight knot over Raizen's sternum, "—the more it pushes back. Encourages restraint without punishing legitimate bursts."
"Translation," Raitaro said. "If you try to overcharge your webs or lightning like an idiot, you'll feel like someone dropped a boulder on your chest for a few seconds."
"Oh, good," Raizen said. "I was worried this might be too gentle."
Jairo's voice came from the side, quieter than usual.
"Keiro," he said. "What about his blind side?"
Keiro paused, then dipped the brush and drew a small, simple sigil just below Raizen's left shoulder blade.
"This will not fix his eye," he said. "But it will… remind his body not to forget it exists. Balance training, yes?" He glanced at Raitaro. "You will pair that with drills."
Raitaro inclined his head. "Already planned."
Keiro finished the last connecting line, then placed his fingers in the center of Raizen's back.
"Last chance to change your mind," he said.
Raizen thought about lying in bed, warm and safe.
He thought about the moon. About an Ōtsutsuki's shadow falling over everything. About Madara, Kaguya, Naruto's idiotic grin. About all the things this world could someday throw at them.
"I'm good," he said.
"Mm," Keiro replied. "Activation."
The seal flared.
Heat rolled through Raizen's body, not burning but heavy, like molten metal poured into invisible channels under his skin. His muscles clenched; his breath hitched. For a second it felt like someone had dropped an invisible vest of stone over his shoulders and cinched it tight around his chest, arms, and legs all at once.
Then it settled, the glow fading, leaving… weight.
Not crushing. But impossible to ignore.
He exhaled, shoulders dropping.
"How bad?" Raitaro asked, genuinely curious.
Raizen shifted, testing his arms, his center of gravity, the way his legs felt when he flexed.
"Like… training in wet clothes," he said slowly. "And someone's pressing down on my shoulders with their palms."
"Good," Raitaro said. "You'll hate it more by tonight."
"Encouraging," Raizen muttered.
Keiro sat back, wiping the brush clean.
"You now have what you wanted," he told Raitaro. "If they break, it's because you misused the tool. Not because the tool was flawed."
Raitaro gave him a small, respectful bow. "I'll take that responsibility."
Jairo pushed off the pillar and crossed the room. For a second Raizen thought he might get the full Clan Head treatment.
Instead, Jairo just rested a hand briefly on Raizen's shoulder, fingers squeezing once over the fresh ink.
"You can still back out," he said quietly, for Raizen's ears alone.
Raizen huffed a weak laugh. "If I back out now, Taro will never let me hear the end of it."
"And that," Jairo said, a corner of his mouth twitching, "is your true motivation."
He sobered, eyes meeting Raizen's good one.
"Listen to your sensei," he added. "And your teammates. You don't have to fix the world alone."
Raizen swallowed. "I know. I'm… trying."
Jairo nodded, then stepped back.
Raitaro clapped his hands together.
"Alright," he said brightly, as if they hadn't just been ceremonially sentenced to two months of suffering. "Seals on, lives shortened, expectations raised."
He jerked his chin toward the door.
"Team Eleven," he said. "Back to Training Ground Eleven. We're running the mountain path. If you're not tasting blood by the halfway mark, I'll assume Keiro went easy on you."
Reina rolled her shoulders under the new drag, face set.
Samui tested a cautious step, then another, adjusting her balance without complaint.
Raizen took his first stride with the lattice wrapped around his body and almost misjudged the extra pull.
He caught himself, straightened, and followed his team out of the hall and into the bright mountain light, the Tsukihana seals humming quietly under all three of their skins as Raitaro led them back toward the place where they were going to be broken down and reforged.
As soon as they left the compound, Raitaro didn't even give them time to breathe.
"Keep up," he said—and then he was gone, sprinting down the street toward Training Ground Eleven like the seals on their backs weighed nothing.
The genin exploded after him.
⸻
Pure hell.
That was the only phrase Raizen could come up with as they tore through Kumo.
His lungs burned. Each step felt like it had a chain attached, dragging a boulder behind him. The new seal wrapped around his body dug in with every movement, multiplying his own weight until a simple sprint felt like running through water with rocks strapped to his bones.
Up ahead, Reina tried to shoot past Raitaro, instincts screaming to take point.
The moment she pulled significantly ahead of her teammates, her seal surged—Raizen could see it in the way her stride suddenly hit an invisible wall. She stumbled mid-step, eyes widening as something slammed down her spine. Her speed bled away instantly, stride turning choppy. She cursed under her breath and fell back toward them, fighting to keep her feet under the new load.
On Raizen's other side, Samui's problem looked very different.
Her seal sat lower; he could tell by how her legs responded. Every time she wavered—half a step of hesitation between matching Reina's pace or dropping back to check on him—her steps would suddenly drag, the muscles in her thighs seizing under extra weight. Her knees threatened to buckle until she picked a speed and committed.
Raizen's seal didn't surge so much as grind.
His was just… heavier. All over. The full-body lattice turned the short run from the compound into a marathon. His ribs ached, shoulders screaming, calves burning. The hill up to Training Ground Eleven, which had been annoying on a normal day, now felt like climbing a mountain with someone sitting on his shoulders.
By the time they stumbled into the training ground, Raizen was drenched in sweat, shirt clinging to his back, breath sawing in and out. Samui's legs were shaking so hard he could see it. Reina—usually the picture of textbook posture—stood slouched, hands on her hips, shoulders heaving.
Raitaro, of course, looked like he'd just taken a pleasant jog.
He beamed at them. "Hahaha, why the long faces? I thought this training was going to be easy?"
No one answered. Raizen didn't have the breath for sarcasm.
"Good," Raitaro said, eyes flashing. "Hold on to how that feels. Because I'm here to tell you—it's only going to get harder from now on."
He raised a hand and pointed lazily at each of them.
"Reina: your seal's multiplying your weight by, what, about one-point-seven right now? Bump it to one-point-nine."
Reina's head snapped up. "What?"
"Samui," Raitaro continued as if she hadn't spoken, "you're sitting at one-point-six. Take it to one-point-eight."
Samui's fingers twitched at her side.
"Raizen," he finished. "You're at one-point-nine. Push it to two-point-one."
The three of them stared at him.
"Sensei," Reina said slowly, "we just got these seals. Don't you think we should spend a little more time getting us—"
"I said," Raitaro cut in, voice suddenly sharp as a blade, "increase. The weight."
Silence dropped over the training ground.
Raizen swallowed. "We're going to die before we even see our first C-rank mission," he muttered.
Samui looked down at her trembling legs, exhaled once, and set her jaw.
Raitaro tilted his head.
"What are you waiting for?" he asked. "Isn't this what you wanted? Real training?"
The words stung because he was right.
One by one, they formed the hand seals and pushed chakra into their marks.
Raizen felt it immediately—a fresh drag on his entire frame, the seal tightening like a net. Reina's eyes widened as her spine suddenly felt like it had an extra person sitting on it. Samui's knees dipped, then locked as the weight on her lower body increased.
Even such a "small" jump was undeniable.
"Good," Raitaro said. "Now we start conditioning."
He pointed toward the steep slope that cut up the side of the training ground, a nasty little hill of loose stone and uneven footing.
"You see that hill?"
Raizen did. His soul didn't like where this was going.
"I want you to run up and down that hill until I say stop," Raitaro said. "If anyone collapses early, we start over."
He ticked off on his fingers again.
"After that: core and mobility. Then speed and agility. Then strength drills. Then durability training. Then chakra control tonight."
Raizen didn't know whether to laugh or lie down and accept death.
"Enough talking," Raitaro said, clapping once. "Go."
They went.
The first sprint up the hill nearly wiped Raizen out.
The incline, combined with the seal weight, was a brutal combo. Gravel slid under his sandals, forcing constant micro-adjustments to avoid twisting an ankle. His lungs were already raw from the run up the mountain; now every step demanded twice the effort.
Reina's natural speed showed immediately.
Even under the extra load, she recovered quickest and started to pull away, legs eating up the slope. But the moment she opened a gap, Raizen saw her shoulders jerk as the seal responded again—her upper body dipping like someone had thrown a sack of sand across her back. She stumbled, catching herself with a sharp curse. The pressure eased only when he and Samui clawed their way back into range.
She fell the most.
Raizen didn't move as fast, but he refused to stay down.
His stamina and naturally sturdier build let him grind through it. Every sprint up felt like his thighs were on fire, lungs clawing for air—but he could keep going. He slipped, scraped his palms, swore under his breath… and still forced his legs to drive him back up the hill.
Samui looked like she had it worst.
Her seal targeted her legs, and it showed. Every step was a negotiation. Her calves shook, her thighs burned, and her knees wobbled dangerously. It would've made perfect tactical sense for her to ask for a short break, to fall back, to regroup.
She didn't.
Face pale but eyes steady, Samui kept moving. Her pace was slower, but it was consistent—up, down, up, down, never letting herself stop long enough for her body to decide it was over.
Each time someone slipped, Raitaro didn't let the others race ahead.
"Wait," he called. "You're a team. You move together."
So they waited at the top or bottom, chests heaving, until the fallen one clawed their way back up, then started again.
After what felt like hours—but Raizen knew it hadn't even been a full one—the three of them were dripping, legs trembling, breaths ragged.
His heart hammered against the lattice of his seal. Reina's hair stuck to her forehead, her usual sharp poise drowned under sweat and exhaustion. Samui's legs looked like they wanted to fold; she kept them locked through grit alone.
Raitaro watched them from the middle of the slope, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
This, Raizen thought, forcing his foot down onto the stone again, this is what we signed up for.
The hill didn't care. It just waited for the next step.
When Raitaro finally called a stop, the sun was sliding down the sky.
After the brutal torture he called "training," Team Eleven were officially dismissed for the day.
"Go home," he'd said, not unkindly. "Eat. Sleep. Try not to cry where civilians can see you. We start again tomorrow."
The entire day had been nothing but conditioning and raw body work—hill sprints, carries, falls, getting up again. No new jutsu. No flashy combos. Just pain.
He'd warned them, too.
Flashback:
Raitaro stood in front of them that morning, hands on his hips, seals still fresh and burning on their backs.
"A tired shinobi," he said, looking each of them in the eye, "is a dead shinobi. I don't care how pretty your jutsu is if your legs give out in the middle of a fight."
Back to present.
Raizen dragged himself up the path toward the Tsukihana compound, every step a full-body argument.
His shoulders throbbed under the seal. His legs felt like wet sand. Even his fingers ached.
"That Raitaro," he muttered, voice hoarse, "is something straight from hell. If I'm struggling this much… I can only imagine what Reina and Samui are going through."
He wasn't wrong.
⸻
The next week was worse than Raizen had imagined.
For him, it was easily one of the hardest stretches of his life. Judging by the way Reina started swearing under her breath more often, and how Samui's normally smooth steps turned shaky by the end of each day, they weren't exactly having a great time either.
Raitaro had them waking at 5:00 a.m. sharp. By 5:30, they were expected at Training Ground Eleven—no excuses, no "I overslept," not even when it rained sideways.
From 5:30 to 8:30, it was pure conditioning and strength work:
• Hill sprints until their lungs burned.
• Weighted carries with logs, rocks, and occasionally each other.
• Core drills in the dust while the seals pressed down on them.
They got a single hour from 8:30 to 9:30 to drink water, stretch, and make sure no one passed out face-first.
Then, from 9:30 to 11:30, the real fun started.
Sparring.
Under the constant pressure of the Stormload seals, Raizen could feel his body changing faster than it ever had at the academy. His punches started landing with real weight instead of just "annoying genin tap." His footwork sharpened; every misstep threatened to send him to his knees. Hits that would have dropped him a year ago he could now grit through and answer back from.
Samui's growth was almost unnerving to watch from across the mat. As the days went on, her speed spiked hard—by the fourth day, her first step and acceleration were starting to rival Reina's. The seals on her legs punished every hesitation, and her body adapted, learning to commit quicker instead of hovering between options.
Reina's sword work turned viciously clean. Under weight and fatigue, all the wasted flourishes bled out of her form, leaving fast, efficient cuts. When her fist or elbow connected in taijutsu, Raizen felt it all the way down his spine.
Raitaro used every spar not just to tire them out, but to attack their weaknesses.
With Raizen, he was merciless about habits.
One morning, Raitaro tossed him a basic pair of gloves and a single dull practice knife.
"That's it," he said.
Raizen blinked. "What about my threads, seals, genjutsu—"
"No threads. No genjutsu. No seals. Not today." Raitaro tapped the knife hilt. "You get this, your legs, and whatever brain you have left. You overthink, I hit you. You reach for a tool you don't have, I hit you harder."
The spar began.
Raizen lasted three seconds before instinct made his hand twitch toward a non-existent pouch.
Raitaro's heel caught him in the ribs.
"Stop building castles in your head in the middle of a punch," Raitaro said calmly. "Again."
By the end of the week, Raizen still got hit—but at least he was getting hit while actually swinging back, not waiting for the perfect trap that never came.
With Samui, Raitaro attacked her indecision and over-defensive taijutsu.
He put her in close-range only drills.
"Today, no mist. No water. No retreat more than three steps. You step back on the fourth, I knock you down."
He stepped into her space, hands up.
"You initiate," he said. "If you wait for me, you fail."
The first few times, she hesitated—eyes tracking his shoulders, searching for the safest angle.
Her seal punished her instantly. Her knees nearly buckled.
Raitaro darted in, tapped her forehead with two fingers, and then smacked her shoulder just hard enough to sting.
"Too slow," he said. "Again."
From Raizen's spot on the sideline, watching her eat throw after throw wasn't fun. But he saw the change. The pause between Samui reading and Samui moving got shorter. Her jabs snapped out first more often. She started stepping into exchanges instead of always back.
Reina's taijutsu training was simple to explain and ugly to go through.
"Lose the sword," Raitaro told her on the third day.
She stared. "What?"
"You heard me. Taijutsu only. You rely on that katana like a crutch. If someone takes it away, you crumble. We're not doing that."
He had her spar bare-handed against him, then against Raizen and Samui.
Each time she tried to mimic sword-distance with her fists—staying at a range where a blade would've worked—Raitaro stepped in and jammed her stance, sweeping her or driving a body shot into her guard.
"Stop moving in straight lines," he told her after one particularly bad fall. "You're not a spear. Use angles. Cut around, not just through."
When she did manage to adapt—slipping to the side instead of charging straight ahead—he gave a short nod.
"Better. Again."
Later in the week, he tossed the practice sword back to her.
"Now," he said, "fight like you know what happens when you lose this. Don't build your whole world around it."
Her attacks after that were different—more grounded, less reckless, with a growing awareness of her own body as a weapon, not just the steel in her hand.
By the end of that first week of hell, Team Eleven crawled home each day with bruises on top of bruises, muscles screaming, Stormload seals humming under their skin.
But even through the exhaustion, Raizen could feel it:
His fists were steadier.
Samui's steps were sharper.
Reina's movements were less predictable.
Raitaro was breaking them down, piece by painful piece.
And, just as he'd promised, he was starting to forge something stronger in the cracks.