"One more, come on, Renji! Don't you quit on me!" Hyouketsu shouted.
To an outsider, seeing a seven-year-old barking orders at a teenager doing push-ups might have looked ridiculous. But to Souta, it had become a normal part of daily life. Ever since Hyouketsu had received his mother's journal—and essentially become part of their family—he had pushed himself and them to their limits. Not that Souta minded too much, but damn, his new little brother could be a real slave driver.
"Stop slacking and pick up the pace, Souta!"
"Yeah, yeah, no need to get so antsy." Souta muttered, rolling his eyes.
They all understood why Hyouketsu was doing this. That's why none of them protested. Even Kaiza had joined in on the training regimen, despite his protests that he was getting too old for this.
But despite their willingness, worry had begun to set in—not for themselves, but for him.
Hyouketsu pushed himself harder than anyone else. Every night, when nightmares stole his sleep, he buried himself in the journal's pages instead. Every moment he wasn't training, he was reading, absorbing, planning, calculating—as if missing even a second of improvement was a failure.
Kaiza had tried to make him slow down. Had told him that his young body wouldn't hold out forever. That he needed rest just as much as training.
But Hyouketsu wouldn't budge.
He trained relentlessly, beyond exhaustion, and the signs were showing—dark circles under his eyes, moments of zoning out, a slow but noticeable drop in his energy. His progress had started to stagnate, and instead of easing up, he punished himself harder.
Each failure seemed to cut him deeper.
The question was: how could they get through to him before he pushed himself past the point of no return?
Another thing that confused Souta to no end were Hyouketsu's mannerisms.
The way he walked, the way he talked, and the way he could understand even the most complex topics—none of it made sense for a seven-year-old child.
There was something off about him.
He spoke like an adult, his tone carrying a weight of experience and knowledge that no normal child should have. And his intensity, the way he threw himself into training and study, wasn't just that of a kid who wanted to get stronger—it was desperation.
As if he was running out of time.
"That's enough for now," Hyouketsu finally called out. "You guys did good. Rest up, and when you're back, I'll explain what chakra is and how we can utilize it."
Souta let out a relieved sigh, rubbing his sore arms. Finally.
"Alright, but you should rest too. You've been at it for over two hours. How about you join us for lunch today?"
"I will," Hyouketsu replied. But his eyes were already glued to the notebook, flipping through pages with intense focus. "I just have something to work on first. Go ahead without me—I'll be there soon."
"You said that last time," Renji pointed out. "Dad was pretty upset when you let his food go to waste."
"I'll be there this time, don't worry," Hyouketsu said distractedly.
Renji huffed before heading toward the campsite, frustration evident in his steps. Souta knew it wasn't anger at Hyouketsu himself—it was frustration at not knowing how to help.
And in truth, Souta felt the same.
Still, curiosity got the better of him. Instead of leaving, he lingered, watching as Hyouketsu trained alone.
Push-ups. Sprints. Crunches. Squats—this time with a backpack filled with rocks. Then, without rest, shadowboxing.
Souta didn't know how, but Hyouketsu already had combat knowledge before they even started training. He never talked about his past, and none of them wanted to pry.
But something was wrong.
Each time Hyouketsu messed up a movement, his frustration grew. His curses started softly at first, but each mistake made his voice louder, harsher.
A left jab. A right hook. A liver punch. A low kick.
He repeated the combination twice—then, on the third attempt, his leg gave out.
He crashed to the ground, panting, his arms trembling as he tried to push himself up.
And then—pure rage.
He slammed his fists into the dirt.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
And again.
Knuckles split. Blood stained the earth. He didn't stop. He didn't even flinch. His breaths came in ragged gasps, his sobs mixing with the sounds of fists colliding with the ground.
Souta had seen enough.
Moving quickly, he grabbed Hyouketsu's shoulder, his grip firm but careful.
"Hyouketsu, stop."
No response.
"Hyouketsu, stop now." Louder this time.
Still nothing.
"Enough!" Souta yanked him away from the ground and pulled him into a tight embrace.
Hyouketsu thrashed at first, struggling against the hold. But he was exhausted—both physically and emotionally. The fight drained out of him within seconds, leaving only quiet, shaking sobs.
"I'm pathetic," he choked out. "I keep failing. I'm not improving fast enough. I should have never joined you. If Kiri-nin find us, you'll be killed because of me. I'm a parasite."
Souta frowned. He pulled back slightly, gripping Hyouketsu's shoulders so they were face-to-face.
"Look at me."
Slowly, bloodshot eyes met his own.
"You're not pathetic, and we're not going to die," Souta said, his voice firm but gentle. "If anything, you're the one working himself into the grave."
Hyouketsu didn't respond, but Souta could see the uncertainty in his expression. The way his lips pressed into a thin line.
"You don't have to do this alone," Souta continued. "You don't have to keep everything locked inside. You're our little brother now—and we're always going to be here for you."
Hyouketsu's breath hitched. His body tensed at the words. But slowly, ever so slowly, his shoulders sagged. The tension eased, if only just a little.
Souta smiled and gestured toward the campsite.
"Now, let's go eat before Dad decides to lecture us both."
Hyouketsu hesitated for a moment, then gave a small nod.
As they walked side by side, he suddenly stopped, glancing up at Souta.
"Thank you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "I really needed to hear that."
Souta ruffled his hair with a grin. "Anytime, little brother."
---
After eating lunch with the others, getting reprimanded by Kaiza for hurting himself in a fit of rage, and recovering from the embarrassment of being consoled by someone six years younger than him, Hyouketsu finally began preparing for the next phase of their training.
Despite his struggles, his talks with Kaiza and now Souta had helped. They were right. He had been overtraining, and he knew it.
But pain—physical pain—was easier to deal with than the mental pain.
Even so, pushing himself like this wouldn't get him anywhere. If he truly wanted to grow stronger, he needed to face his anguish head-on. He needed to talk to them about it.
That was a battle for another day though.
For now, something he had been looking forward to for days was finally about to begin.
Hyouketsu stepped into the clearing, spotting Renji and Souta already waiting for him. They were practically bouncing on their feet, their excitement mirroring his own.
"Are you guys ready?" the youngest of the three asked, waiting for them to settle down.
"You can bet your sweet ass we are!" Renji declared confidently—only to receive a solid punch on the shoulder from Souta.
"Sometimes, you're a real idiot, big brother," Souta muttered.
"And you're one to talk," Renji fired back immediately.
"Ahem." Hyouketsu cleared his throat, sighing tiredly. In truth, he enjoyed their antics—but he'd never tell them that.
"Are you two done bickering?"
"Yeah, sorry," they both muttered, rubbing the backs of their heads sheepishly.
Hyouketsu nodded, satisfied. "Alright, before we begin, what do you know about chakra?"
Renji and Souta exchanged glances before Renji shrugged. "Only that it allows ninjas to do crazy stuff, like running really fast and using jutsu."
Souta nodded in agreement.
"That's true. By channeling their chakra, a shinobi can do things that would normally be impossible—like walking on water, breathing fire, or destroying a house with a single punch," Hyouketsu explained. "Chakra is the foundation of everything shinobi do."
Both of his brothers leaned forward, eager to learn more.
"Chakra is the combination of physical energy and spiritual energy. Every person has a certain amount of chakra inside them—it's what keeps us alive. If someone were to use up all of their chakra, they'd die."
Renji paled. "Wait—so if we use too many jutsu, we could just drop dead?"
"In theory, yes," Hyouketsu admitted. "That's why chakra control is so important. Shinobi train for years to master it. Having more chakra gives you an advantage, but if you can't control it properly, you'll just waste it. By using exercises like the leaf concentration exercise you'll improve your control, wich will result in you utilizing your chakra more efficiently"
Renji's frown deepened. "So what if we have small chakra reserves? Does that mean we won't be able to use powerful jutsu?"
Hyouketsu shook his head. "Not necessarily. You can increase your chakra reserves in three ways: physical training, which strengthens your body and increases your physical energy; spiritual training, like meditation and gaining experience; and finally, by simply pushing your limits—if you use up all your chakra frequently, your reserves will expand over time. Of course, everyone has their natural limits, but you two have nothing to worry about."
That seemed to ease Renji's concerns.
"Now," Hyouketsu continued, "in order to use chakra, you first need to learn how to mold and control it. That's where hand seals come in. There are twelve basic hand signs, each representing different aspects of chakra manipulation. Most jutsu require a combination of these hand signs to cast, but with good control, you can reduce the number needed—or even eliminate them entirely."
"So we're starting with that leaf thing, right?" Souta cut in, eager to begin.
"Not so fast," Hyouketsu said, raising a hand. "There's still a lot you need to understand first—like the chakra pathways and different ways to utilize chakra."
Souta groaned, while Renji flopped onto the ground with a dramatic sigh.
And in that moment, they both realized something.
This was going to be a very long afternoon.