"Water Release: Wild Water Wave!"
Nawaki's shout carried desperate determination as his hands blurred through seals so fast they nearly tangled.
A surge of chakra exploded from his body, then a roaring jet of water shot from his mouth, racing straight toward Ryo on the far side of the field.
The torrent was so fierce it looked ready to sweep the entire training ground away.
Ryo didn't even bother lifting an eyelid. With a faint motion, he grasped the air with his left hand and flicked it casually.
An invisible wind blade formed instantly.
Shhh!
The water column split midair, bursting apart into a fine mist that drifted harmlessly across the ground. Ryo's pants didn't even get wet.
Nawaki froze in his sealing stance, strands of wet hair plastered to his face. He stared blankly at the muddy mess before him—and at the man opposite, who hadn't even moved an inch.
A wave of crushing defeat seized him, his fingernails digging into his palms.
"Fifteenth time," Ryo said evenly, voice flat as still water. He didn't spare Nawaki another glance. His eyes slid past the drenched boy to the red-haired girl standing tensely at the sidelines.
"Kushina."
"Y–Yes!" Kushina jolted upright like a startled cat, fists clenched tight.
Ryo's gaze settled on the faint blue chakra glow pulsing in her palm.
"The Rasengan's stability reflects your will. Six hundred and ninety-three chakra cycles. It scattered. Start again."
"Ugh, fine…" Kushina puffed her cheeks in frustration, and the blue sphere instantly fizzled out.
Her eyes darted toward the front line. Ryo's going to the battlefield soon…
A sharp ache bloomed in her chest, sour and anxious. Her nose burned.
Not far away, Nawaki wiped the water and dirt off his face, muttering under his breath, "Same thing again… I can't even make him move… Am I useless? Did none of Grandpa's blood come through—"
He swallowed the rest of the words, voice trailing into a bitter growl.
"Save it, Nawaki." Tsunade crossed her arms as she walked up, flicking him sharply on the forehead. "At your current level, the only thing you'll do on the battlefield is provide target practice for the Suna shinobi."
Ignoring Nawaki's flushed embarrassment, she swept her eyes over the group.
"From today on, training intensity doubles."
Her sharp gaze lingered on Nawaki's pale face before shifting to the silent figure of Uchiha Mikoto.
The past ten days had been nothing short of hell under Tsunade's relentless regimen.
Nawaki's body was a map of bruises and scrapes. Mikoto, however, was Tsunade's personal target—forced through three-hour sessions of nonstop weapon precision drills, with even the slightest mistake punished by twenty laps of weighted endurance running.
Mikoto's hair clung to her sweat-slick cheeks, her face pale. Yet her dark eyes remained still as a frozen lake. Only occasionally, when they flickered toward Ryo and Kushina, did a trace of complicated emotion ripple beneath the surface.
"Hey! Focus!"
Tsunade's bark snapped Nawaki out of his daze just in time for him to dodge a shuriken that whizzed past his ear.
He shook his head violently, trying to banish thoughts of Sis's favoritism or Mikoto's glance at him.
"Water—!"
He gritted his teeth and forced chakra to gather once again.
On the other side, Kushina stood with both hands extended.
A pale blue sphere of energy spun violently in her palm, its unstable rotation drawing the surrounding air into a low, howling vortex. Sweat streamed down her temple.
"Hold it steady! Don't let it explode!"
Ryo's deep voice rumbled beside her ear, his breath stirring her hair, sending a faint tremor through her body.
Kushina's cheeks flushed scarlet. She bit her lip and anchored her mind to the storming energy in her hands.
"Don't… burst."
Just as the sphere began to tremble, on the verge of detonation, a dry, steady hand covered hers.
Fwoom!
The violent energy froze, compressed, collapsed inward, then reformed.
In place of chaos, a smaller, brighter orb hovered in her palm, perfectly stable, glowing with a soft, mesmerizing blue light—like a miniature star.
"Like that," Ryo said, withdrawing his hand.
Kushina stared at the obedient Rasengan resting in her palm, her heart still pounding from the near explosion. But beneath the adrenaline came a deep, swelling sense of safety and warmth.
Ryo merely grunted. "Keep it stable. On the battlefield, it might save your life."
Kushina gazed up at his sharp profile. His words fell into her heart like pebbles dropped into still water, small ripples spreading wider and wider.
He was leaving her soon…
Leaving her behind in the grand old Senju estate that Grandma Mito had left her—a golden cage that suddenly felt emptier than ever.
A sour lump rose in her throat. She bit her lip hard, forcing herself to focus on compressing the chakra sphere even tighter.
The condensed ball hummed faintly in her palm, glowing blue, its light trembling like her heart.
Time slipped away like sand through fingers, impossible to grasp.
The day of departure arrived.
A deep, grim trumpet call split the silent dawn, echoing coldly through the air from the direction of the Hokage's building.
The chilling note hammered against every heart, brooking no defiance.
Kushina stumbled out of bed, rushing onto the veranda.
In the distance, near the village gate, she saw crowds gathering—countless figures moving in formation. Her heart clenched painfully, as though gripped by an invisible hand.
The sunlight broke through the clouds, but it brought no warmth.
The long street leading from the Senju residence to the village gate was lined with silent onlookers.
Mothers clutching their children. Husbands forcing smiles at their wives. The eyes of old men clouded with worry.
Soft sobs drifted through the heavy air like a muted background hum.
Nawaki, now in a brand-new chūnin vest, stood tall beside Tsunade, scanning the anxious, tear-streaked faces around him. The excitement of youth going to war warred with the weight of fear pressing on his chest.
Tsunade's sharp gaze flicked toward her brother. His Adam's apple bobbed, betraying his nerves despite his forced composure. The sight made her sigh inwardly.
Then her eyes fell on Mikoto.
The girl walked quietly, head bowed. In the pale morning light, her face looked almost translucent, like a sculpture of ice.
Tsunade frowned.
That girl had been like this for days now.
Ever since the last training session, when Tsunade had bluntly told her that Kushina had cried and begged her to join the squad, Mikoto had grown quieter and colder.
Those elegant Uchiha eyes now carried a depth that even Tsunade couldn't read.
"Keep up," Tsunade ordered curtly.
Nawaki responded instantly, quickening his pace.
Mikoto lifted her head. Her gaze slid past the crowd and locked onto the tall, solitary figure at the front of the column.
The man her grandfather Uchiha Shana had called "the only ladder worth climbing," the one she had been told to control at any cost—Ryo.
The Hokage's wife… the glory of Uchiha's rise…
The words drummed in her head like poison.
But when her eyes drifted to Kushina, clinging tightly to Ryo's arm, her eyes brimming with unrestrained attachment—something molten and venomous erupted inside her, burning through her chest, her lungs, her fingertips.
She turned away quickly, unable to look any longer.
"Really leaving?"
Kushina's voice came out muffled, thick with the traces of recent tears. She rubbed her cheek against his arm like a forlorn kitten.
"Can't you… stay just a few more days?"
(To be continued.)