That night, after Mira patched me up and shut himself away in his workshop, I sat on the tatami floor with my bandaged hand resting in my lap.
It didn't hurt. Not really. Just a faint throb — more of a reminder than an injury.
I replayed the failed seal stroke in my head, tracing the shape in the air with my uninjured finger.
I wasn't doing it because I was upset.
I simply needed to understand the mistake. That was all.
In this world, mistakes could kill you.
So learning from them was… sensible. Rational.
But still, the image lingered: ink flaring too bright, chakra slipping, the paper bursting under the strain.
It shouldn't have gone wrong so easily.
Maybe my chakra control wasn't as stable as I thought.
Not a big problem, just – Just something to fix.
Something I should've had handled already.
It was fine. Fine. Tomorrow, I would train.
Not because Mira had banned seals—though that stung more than it should have.
No, it was simply efficient. Logical.
If my chakra were refined enough, I wouldn't fail next time.
Meditation first, like always. Breath in, breath out, chakra in, chakra out. Centering. Aligning. Controlling.
Then, leaf-sticking, balancing, tuning. Tiny increments. Tiny adjustments. Perfect practice. By the noon, my head felt heavy. Not bad. Just… concentrated.
But that wasn't enough. Not for today.
I leapt onto the low branch outside, imagining it as a bridge, my chakra flowing under my feet. Tree walking. Not the slow beginner pace–no, I wanted to feel the whole tree under me, my balance perfect, my chakra seamless.
Branches bent under me. Bark scraped my palms and shins. The wind was a knife across my face.
A slip. Scrape. Pain. Not bad. Not bad at all. I adjusted, ignored it, and continued. I fell once, twice but that doesn't matter. Water-walking next. I leapt over the stream in the yard, pushing my chakra through my feet to skim the surface. Too fast, and I sank. Too slow, and I stalled. My palms slapped the water. My feet pierced the surface. The scratches hurt under water. But this was necessary.
I slipped back into Mira's home in the late evening. He was still in his workshop so i went to my room to wash up and sleep. The next day i repeated the same routine.
The sky above was grey rain drops started falling but that didn't matter. I cannot stop training because the weather is bad.
By evening, I returned to Mira's doorstep drenched through and through. Rainwater dripped from my hair, ran down my clothes, puddling on the wooden floorboards.
Mira raised an eyebrow.
"You cannot continue like that," he said simply, voice calm but firm.
I shivered from the rain and the chill of exhaustion. "What do you mean?" I asked, frustration seeping into my voice. "Of course I need to train!
Mira stepped closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied me. "Look at you, Kuroha. Scratches all over your arms, drenched to the bone. What would your parents think if they saw you like this? You think the world is kind to shinobi who break themselves for nothing?"
I looked down at my hands, still trembling. "But I need to do better. I need to—"
"Enough," he interrupted gently but firmly. "Training like this isn't discipline. It's recklessness. You could have fallen, broken something important. You could have—"
He shook his head. "This isn't how you get stronger. Not yet. Not like this."
I opened my mouth, but no words came. How could he know that one of strongest people on this earth will try and kill me in a few years.
He sighed, softer this time, and crouched to meet my gaze. "I may have overreacted just now, but it could have been really dangerous. You have talent, yes. But talent without guidance is a trap. A trap that could kill you. I will give y you another chance, but you have to do it the way I say. Step by step. Pace by pace. Do you understand?"
I exhaled, a small part of me relieved. I wanted to argue, to push further—but deep down, I knew he was right. "Yes… I understand."
And I am back at writing „bind", Great! Well step by Step.