The crackle of firewood filled the small, dimly lit space that Shiro and Katsu had once shared for their evening talks. It had been days, maybe weeks, since Shiro had last spoken to his mentor. Their conversations had dwindled as Shiro buried himself in his training and quests, consumed by the system's demands and the tantalizing promise of power.
Tonight, though, Katsu was waiting for him.
Shiro stepped inside hesitantly, brushing past the old curtain that served as the shelter's door. Katsu sat cross-legged near the fire, his aged sword resting beside him. The older man's sharp eyes met Shiro's, and for a moment, neither spoke.
"You've been avoiding me," Katsu said finally, his voice calm but firm.
Shiro lowered his gaze, guilt gnawing at him. "I've been... busy."
"Busy with what? Swinging a sword until your arms give out? Meditating until you forget to eat?" Katsu's tone carried a weight that made Shiro flinch.
"I'm trying to get stronger," Shiro muttered. "To survive."
Katsu's expression softened, but only slightly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You think strength is just swinging harder or fighting longer? You think surviving means shutting out the people who care about you?"
Shiro looked away, unsure how to respond. The truth was, he hadn't meant to distance himself from Katsu. But between the system's quests and his own relentless drive, he had barely spared a thought for anything else.
Katsu sighed, shaking his head. "Listen, kid. You've been putting in the work, and I respect that. But you're running yourself into the ground, and for what? To prove something to yourself? To me?"
"I'm doing it because I have to," Shiro said, his voice firmer now. "If I don't, I'll never make it. You said it yourself—Rukongai doesn't care about the weak."
Katsu stared at him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "You're right. This place doesn't care. But if you're going to survive, you need to be smart about it. Strength alone won't get you through the gates of the Shin'ō Academy."
Shiro's breath hitched. "The Academy?"
"That's right," Katsu said, his eyes narrowing. "The entrance exams are in one month."
Shiro sank to the ground, the weight of Katsu's words settling over him like a heavy cloak. He had always known that entering the Shin'ō Academy was his ultimate goal, but hearing the deadline so plainly sent a spike of anxiety through him.
"One month," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Katsu nodded. "If you want to pass, you need more than brute strength. The exam tests your Reiatsu control, combat skills, and your ability to think under pressure. Right now, you're too scattered."
Shiro frowned, his hands clenching into fists. "I've been working hard—"
"Hard doesn't always mean smart," Katsu interrupted. "You're chasing power blindly, but you're not focusing. That'll get you killed."
The words stung, but Shiro couldn't argue. He had been throwing himself at every task the system handed him, without a clear strategy.
Katsu stood, picking up his sword. "If you're serious about this, we'll start training properly tomorrow. No more running off to do... whatever it is you've been doing. Understood?"
Shiro hesitated, then nodded. "Understood."
Shiro woke before dawn, his body stiff from the previous day's relentless training. The chill of the early morning bit into his skin as he stumbled out of the makeshift shelter he had called home for the past few nights. Katsu was already awake, seated cross-legged in the center of a small clearing, his sword resting across his lap.
"Good. You're on time," Katsu said without looking up.
Shiro rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "What's today's plan?"
Katsu opened his eyes and stood, motioning for Shiro to follow him deeper into the forest. The air was heavy with anticipation, and Shiro felt a knot of nerves forming in his stomach.
"Today, we focus on the basics," Katsu said, stopping in a small clearing. "Your foundation is weak. Without it, all the power in the world won't save you."
Shiro nodded, gripping the wooden sword Katsu had handed him the day before.
The next few hours were brutal. Katsu made Shiro repeat the same drills over and over again, each mistake met with sharp criticism or a swift correction.
"Your grip is too loose," Katsu said, slapping the back of Shiro's hand with the flat of his blade.
"Again."
"Your stance is unbalanced. You'll fall the moment you meet resistance."
"Again."
By midday, Shiro's arms were trembling, his muscles burning from the constant repetition. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his hands were raw from gripping the wooden sword.
"Why are we doing the same thing over and over?" Shiro asked, frustration seeping into his voice.
Katsu arched an eyebrow. "Because mastery is repetition. If you can't do the basics perfectly under pressure, you'll crumble in a real fight."
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Katsu finally allowed Shiro to rest—but not for long.
"Get up," Katsu ordered after a short break. He tossed Shiro a heavier wooden blade, its weight a clear indication of the next challenge.
Shiro groaned but forced himself to his feet. "What now?"
"Sparring," Katsu said, drawing his own wooden sword. "I won't hold back. Your goal is to land a single clean hit on me. Do that, and we'll stop for the day."
Shiro's grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. The Sharingan activated instinctively, its single tomoe spinning as he studied Katsu's stance.
"Don't rely on those eyes of yours," Katsu warned. "They're a crutch if your body can't keep up."
The first clash was over in an instant. Katsu's speed and precision left Shiro stumbling, his blade knocked from his hands before he could even react.
"Again," Katsu said, stepping back.
Shiro retrieved his sword, his jaw tightening in determination. He adjusted his stance, recalling Katsu's earlier corrections.
The next bout lasted a fraction of a second longer. Shiro managed to deflect the initial strike but failed to follow through, leaving himself wide open.
"You're thinking too much," Katsu said, his tone almost bored. "Instinct is faster than thought. Trust your body."
They repeated the exercise dozens of times, each attempt ending with Shiro on the ground or disarmed. By the time the moon was high in the sky, Shiro's body was screaming in protest.
"Enough," Katsu said finally, lowering his blade. "We'll continue tomorrow."
Shiro collapsed to his knees, his chest heaving. Despite his exhaustion, he felt a flicker of pride. Each attempt had been slightly better than the last, and while he hadn't landed a hit, he was starting to understand Katsu's movements.
The following morning, Shiro approached Katsu with renewed determination.
"Why are you helping me?" Shiro asked as they walked to the training grounds.
Katsu glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Because you remind me of someone I once knew. Someone who thought strength was the only thing that mattered."
Shiro frowned. "What happened to them?"
"They learned the hard way that strength without purpose is meaningless," Katsu said, his voice tinged with regret. "I don't want you to make the same mistake."
As the days passed, Katsu introduced new exercises to test Shiro's limits.
One morning, he led Shiro to a fast-moving river.
"Your task is simple," Katsu said, tossing a wooden disk into the water. "Retrieve it without getting swept away."
Shiro stared at the rushing current, doubt gnawing at him. "That's impossible."
"Nothing is impossible," Katsu said firmly. "Figure it out."
The task was as grueling as it was frustrating. Each attempt left Shiro soaked and shivering, but he refused to give up. Hours later, he finally succeeded, his fingers closing around the disk just before it was carried downstream.
"Good," Katsu said with a rare smile. "You're learning to adapt."
Mental Fortitude
In addition to physical training, Katsu insisted on meditation.
"Sit," Katsu ordered one evening, gesturing to a flat rock beneath a tree. "Close your eyes and focus on your breathing."
Shiro sighed but complied.
"Your mind is as important as your body," Katsu explained. "If you can't control your emotions, you'll lose control in a fight."
The first few sessions were agonizing. Shiro's thoughts raced, and his body itched to move. But with time, he began to find a semblance of peace.
The system chimed occasionally, offering small rewards for completed tasks:
[Quests Completed]
Land a clean hit on Katsu during training: +0.01% progress.
Meditate for 8 hours uninterrupted: +0.002% progress.
Adapt to an environmental challenge: +0.003% progress.
[Progress: 1.26% → 1.30%]
Despite his progress, Shiro couldn't shake the feeling that he was still woefully unprepared.
"Katsu," he said one evening as they sat by the fire. "Do you really think I can pass the Shin'ō Academy exam?"
Katsu didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice was firm. "That depends on you. If you keep pushing yourself, there's no limit to what you can achieve."
Shiro nodded, his resolve hardening.
As the days turned into weeks, Shiro found himself growing stronger—not just physically but mentally as well. Katsu's training had forced him to confront his weaknesses and push past them.
But beneath the surface, doubt still lingered. He knew the road ahead would only get harder, and the thought of facing real danger made his stomach churn.
For now, though, he focused on the next step. One month wasn't a lot of time, but it was enough to lay the foundation for the future he wanted.
End of Chapter Stats
[System Status]
Template: Madara Uchiha (1.30% progress)
[Attributes]
Strength: 19 (+1)
Endurance: 18 (+1)
Speed: 18 (+1)
Reiatsu Control: 16 (+1)
Intelligence: 10 (+1)
Battle Instinct: 14 (+1)
[Abilities]
Sharingan (1st Tomoe):
Improved tracking of fast movements, slight slowing effect on opponent's attacks.
[Quests Completed]
Land a clean hit on Katsu during training: +0.01% progress.
Meditate for 8 hours uninterrupted: +0.002% progress.
Adapt to an environmental challenge: +0.003% progress.