Hiroshi's routine began with the fundamentals of physical training. He focused on flexibility and agility first, knowing from his army engineering days that mobility could be the difference between life and death—especially in a world where ninjas could appear behind you faster than your brain could register the word kunai. He started with deep stretches, working on touching his toes and rotating his joints.
"Not bad for a five-year-old," he muttered as his fingers brushed past his knees before finally managing his toes. Forward rolls, side flips, and quick pivots followed, testing his coordination. By the end, his legs were burning, and his lungs felt like they were auditioning for a wind instrument solo. But he pressed on—what good was an engineer who couldn't dodge an explosion?
Strength and endurance training came next, with Hiroshi fully committing to a self-sufficient regimen. Push-ups, planks, and squats became his bread and butter, but the desert added its own flavor of hardship. Sand, as he quickly learned, made balancing a nightmare during planks and lunges. His arms sank slightly with every push-up, turning the simple exercise into a struggle against shifting ground.
"Sand training," he muttered between gritted teeth, "brought to you by the Universe's worst treadmill."
For fine motor control, Hiroshi crafted a basic yet ingenious tool from materials at hand: a slanted plank of weathered wood and smooth stones he scavenged from the arid surroundings. He propped the plank up on a rock and practiced catching the stones as they slid down. The dry air left his palms slick with sweat, and the gritty sand stuck to his skin, adding to the challenge.
"Desert Edition—extreme mode," he joked after fumbling a particularly fast-moving stone and watching it bounce off into the dunes. Still, as the exercise grew harder with multiple stones at once, he knew this simplicity held value. If he could refine his reflexes here, he could rely on them in battle or while manipulating delicate mechanisms for his puppetry.
Chakra training came next. Tree walking still felt thrilling, even after his first success. He approached the largest tree in the yard, placed a hand on its trunk, and closed his eyes to steady his chakra flow. The exercise itself seemed deceptively simple: send chakra to his feet, keep it balanced, and stick. He stepped onto the bark, cautiously adjusting the flow, and took a step. Then another.
Before long, he was jogging up and down the trunk like a natural. Yet, as he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the technique. The way the chakra clung to the tree reminded him of an adhesive force—like some combination of science and magic bending reality in his favor.
"It's almost like a feedback loop," he thought, "the tree's texture reacts to the output." His mind swirled with theories, but he didn't let it distract him from the fact that he was standing sideways on a tree.
By the time he sat down to train chakra sensing, Hiroshi felt both accomplished and drained. He crossed his legs and closed his eyes, trying to focus. But sensing chakra, as it turned out, was a monumental challenge. He extended his awareness, attempting to detect the faintest hum of energy in the air, but all he felt was the itch of sand on his feet and the occasional breeze.
He squinted harder, almost as if he could will the skill into existence. After several minutes, he thought he felt something—a subtle shift, a tingle at the edge of his mind. Excitement welled up, only for his focus to break when a passing squirrel knocked a branch down beside him.
Startled, Hiroshi sighed and leaned back against the tree. Though frustrated, he understood now why chakra sensing was the domain of elite ninjas. It wasn't something a novice could stumble into. Yet, even in failure, he resolved to keep trying.
---
Hiroshi trudged back home, his body aching from the grueling training, his hair and clothes streaked with dirt and sweat, and his hands still gritty with sand. As soon as he stepped inside, his mother, Kokoro, turned from her sewing station, her sharp gasp freezing him mid-step.
"Hiroshi! Look at you!" she exclaimed, her voice rising as she quickly stood. "Were you rolling around in the sand dunes? And don't think I've forgotten what happened earlier this week! Fainting out of nowhere—you're barely healed!"
"I wasn't rolling in the sand," Hiroshi mumbled, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. "But I am going to be a ninja, you know. Getting dirty is part of the job description."
Kokoro's frown deepened, her weariness showing in the lines on her face. "Oh, so fainting is part of the job too?" she shot back, crossing her arms.
Hiroshi opened his mouth to respond but caught her concerned gaze. The retort died on his lips. "Uh… no, ma'am," he muttered, looking down at his sand-covered toes.
Her voice softened, though her worry was evident. "I know you're working hard, Hiroshi, but you're still a child. Training is important, but so is taking care of yourself. What if something happens again? I won't be able to…" Her voice wavered slightly before she stopped herself.
Before the conversation could grow more emotional, Hachirou stepped into the room, his heavy footfalls announcing his arrival. He took one look at Hiroshi and grunted. "Looks like someone lost a fight with a sandstorm."
"Hachirou," Kokoro snapped, glaring at her husband.
"What?" Hachirou said, his face stoic as usual. "It's good he's training hard. You don't become strong by staying clean."
Kokoro rounded on him, her hands planted on her hips. "And you think that's an excuse to let him come home looking like this? He fainted earlier this week, Hachirou. He needs to be careful!"
Hachirou held up a hand to forestall her arguments. "I understand your concern, Kokoro. But he's fine now. Aren't you, Hiroshi?"
"Uh, yeah. Totally fine!" Hiroshi said quickly, seizing the opportunity.
Kokoro looked between the two of them, exhaling heavily. "Fine. Go wash up before you get any more dirt on my floor."
"Yes, ma'am!" Hiroshi saluted playfully and darted off before she could change her mind.
As Hiroshi scrubbed the layers of grime off in the bath, his muscles protested the sudden movement. He leaned back, allowing the warmth of the water to soothe him, when Hachirou's voice boomed from outside. "Hurry up, Hiroshi. We're going out."
"Out? For what?" Hiroshi called back, confused.
"You forgot your birth gift, didn't you?" Hachirou said, his tone gruff but amused.
Birth gift. The words sent a jolt through Hiroshi's tired body. "Oh!" He shot out of the bath, dried himself in record time, and dressed faster than his aching muscles thought possible. By the time he emerged, clean and bright-eyed, Hachirou raised an eyebrow.
"That was fast. You move this quickly for anything else?"
Hiroshi grinned, ignoring the jab. "Let's go!"
Kokoro shook her head, half exasperated and half amused. "Don't overdo it again, you hear me?" She tugged gently at his hair as they walked out the door. Hiroshi nodded, though his mind was already racing with excitement. Whatever awaited him, he knew it would be worth it.