Even as Uchiha Itachi lay waist-deep in the cool stream, his mind vividly recalled every moment of the training — the burning heat of his body, the pounding rhythm of his heart, the roaring surge of his blood.
But what surprised him most was how calm his mind had become amidst such intensity.
At first, his thoughts had been a tangled mess. Yet the longer he focused on the subtle improvement of his body's functions — the faint, almost imperceptible strengthening of his breath and flow of energy — the more his distractions dissolved.
Until finally, his body burned like fire, his soul blazed like molten steel, yet his consciousness became still and cold as ice.
He understood exactly how his body would react once it reached its limit, how long it would take him to reach the stream afterward, and even what he could find in the water to temporarily replenish himself.
Everything had been calculated in advance — so he was never truly in danger.
---
Artoria stood at the stream's edge, gazing at him thoughtfully.
"Sometimes I wonder," she said, "how you can remain so calm through everything."
"I've never seen you show unnecessary emotion… No, that's not true — there was one time." Her eyes softened slightly. "When you thought your actions had caused your comrades' deaths, you were shaken then. But only that once. Afterward, whether facing the enemy or death itself, you were utterly serene."
...
When his breathing finally steadied, Itachi rose from the stream and answered in his usual quiet tone:
"I've simply learned to view things from different angles."
"If one perspective only brings despair," he continued, "then it's better to find another — to face it calmly and look for a solution instead."
He clenched his fists experimentally.
There was none of the solid strength he had felt before the training — only weakness and tremor. His arms felt soft and powerless.
His body had stabilized, but exhaustion and strain still lingered deep within.
If he wanted to fully benefit from the training, he needed to recover more quickly.
Realizing this, Itachi stepped out of the stream and walked back toward where he had left his clothes.
As he moved slowly, Artoria suddenly tilted her head — the ahoge on her crown-like hair bobbing slightly — as though recalling something important.
"I just remembered," she said. "There are certain herbs and materials that can help you recover. I'm not sure if they exist in your world under the same names, but you should try to find substitutes."
"Strength never comes from nowhere. What you spent during training was the energy within your own body."
"If you don't replenish that with proper medicine or nourishment, the training will eventually backfire — leading to physical depletion instead of growth."
--
With that, streams of information flooded directly into Itachi's mind — vivid memories and images transmitted through their shared consciousness.
There were fruits that nourished the blood, tree seeds that revitalized stamina like ginseng, the flesh of rare beasts filled with vitality, and even alchemical elixirs once refined by the magi of her world.
Itachi paused mid-step.
"…Understood."
Because their minds were linked, Itachi could sense her thoughts just as she could hear his.
They could communicate through words, emotions, and even mental images — so long as neither resisted the other's presence.
But…
You only remembered this after I'd already finished training?
And you expect me to find herbs from another world?
Itachi sighed inwardly.
He would have to make do with the closest equivalents available in this world — perhaps ingredients with similar restorative properties.
Artoria followed behind him with measured steps.
"So," she asked lightly, "are we heading home now? Or should we stop by a medicine shop first?"
After a brief pause, she added matter-of-factly, "According to my own teacher's schedule, mornings were for physical training — and afternoons for cultural study."
"…Cultural study?"
Itachi stopped and turned to her, visibly uncertain.
For the first time since training under Artoria, he hesitated.
Physical training was one thing — he could measure his limits there.
But cultural lessons… that was a different battlefield entirely.
"As a king—" she corrected herself mid-sentence, "—or rather, as a future Hokage, or a clan leader, you must possess more than strength alone."
"You must have insight, refinement, and dignity beyond those who follow you."
Her posture straightened, her knightly aura radiating through her ethereal form.
"The words and actions of a leader inspire imitation. Your subordinates, your clansmen — they will look to you. They will copy the way you speak, the way you dress, the way you think."
"If your conduct is noble, your village and clan will prosper with you. But if it is crude or corrupt, they too will follow that path — becoming deceitful, ruthless, and greedy."
So she means… lead by example?
Even if he didn't recall ever saying he wanted to be Hokage or clan head, Itachi found her reasoning sound.
Power alone was not everything.
—
"Before we left this morning," he explained, "I didn't tell Mother when I'd be back for lunch, since I didn't know how long the training would take."
He continued walking, speaking calmly. "So she probably hasn't prepared anything for me. I'll eat outside before heading home."
"If possible, I'll also stop by a herbal shop to see if they have any medicines or ingredients that can replenish stamina."
He glanced at the sun. "It's noon. If all goes well, I should be home before two o'clock."
"Then, we can begin the cultural lessons at fourteen hundred hours — that gives us three to four hours before dinner. Will that be enough?"
"Of course," Artoria nodded approvingly. "A very sound arrangement. My teacher once told me: effective time management is as vital to progress as training itself."
Satisfied by her agreement, Itachi didn't speak further.
He focused on his next goal — the food stalls of Konoha's market district.
—
His stomach growled audibly.
Every cell in his body seemed to be crying out like hungry infants, demanding nourishment and energy.
If he didn't find food soon, he suspected he might actually faint.
With that thought, he quickened his pace — the young Uchiha hurrying toward Konoha's lively food street, followed closely by his ever-dutiful (and slightly unreliable) ghostly knight.