Haruki threw himself into training over the following days.
The Water Bullet Technique remained his primary focus.
Again and again, he practiced the same motions.
Refining chakra flow.
Improving control.
Reducing wasted energy.
Every attempt taught him something new.
Every mistake became a lesson.
Progress came slowly.
But it came.
His father had always said that strength wasn't built in a single breakthrough.
It was built through repetition.
Through discipline.
Through countless small improvements that accumulated over time.
Haruki understood that now more than ever.
The attack had shown him how fragile he still was.
How much farther he needed to go.
So he trained.
Carefully.
Quietly.
The same way he always had.
Yet a different thought had begun growing inside him.
One that refused to disappear.
A dangerous thought.
Perhaps hiding wasn't always the answer.
The Academy training yard buzzed with activity.
Students moved between stations.
Target throwing.
Taijutsu drills.
Physical conditioning.
Basic chakra control exercises.
Mist drifted across the grounds as instructors observed from the sidelines.
Haruki adjusted his stance before a wooden target.
Practice kunai rested in his hand.
Nearby, Ren smirked.
"You missed twice yesterday."
Haruki glanced at him.
"So did you."
Ren's smirk vanished.
Several students laughed.
The rivalry continued.
As usual.
Daichi approached.
"Enough talking."
The students immediately straightened.
"Today we're evaluating progress."
That got everyone's attention.
Evaluation days mattered.
Students compared themselves.
Measured improvement.
Established rankings.
Haruki normally preferred avoiding attention.
Today felt different.
For weeks he had remained average.
Competent.
Forgettable.
Exactly as intended.
Yet he couldn't stop thinking about his father.
About the attack.
About helplessness.
About weakness.
The memories remained fresh despite the passing months.
If he wanted to survive this world—
He needed to become stronger.
Not someday.
Now.
The first exercises were simple.
Target throwing.
Haruki performed well.
Not exceptional.
Not poor.
Well.
The taijutsu drills followed.
Again, he performed competently.
Daichi made notes.
Students whispered.
Nothing unusual happened.
Then chakra control training began.
The exercise seemed straightforward.
Students stood before wooden poles.
The goal was simple.
Channel chakra into the feet.
Walk up the pole.
Most students failed immediately.
Others made it halfway.
A few nearly reached the top.
Haruki remembered the canal.
The Water Bullet Technique.
The endless repetition.
The countless hours spent guiding chakra exactly where it needed to go.
Compared to molding chakra into a jutsu, this seemed easier.
At least in theory.
Daichi signaled the start.
Students surged forward.
Some climbed several feet before falling.
Others didn't climb at all.
Laughter erupted throughout the yard.
Haruki approached his pole.
Placed one foot against the wood.
Then another.
He focused.
Steady.
Controlled.
The same principles he used for the Water Bullet Technique.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
One step.
Then another.
Then another.
The pole remained beneath him.
No slipping.
No wobbling.
No mistakes.
Conversations slowly died.
Haruki didn't notice.
He remained focused.
Step.
Step.
Step.
By the time he reached the top, the training yard had become strangely quiet.
Haruki blinked.
Then looked down.
Dozens of students stared upward.
Including Ren.
Including Daichi.
The instructor's eyebrows had risen slightly.
Which was apparently the Academy equivalent of shock.
Haruki suddenly realized what he'd done.
Oops.
The attention followed him throughout the day.
Students whispered.
Speculated.
Questioned.
Most assumed he had been secretly practicing.
Which was true.
Just not in the way they imagined.
Ren found him during lunch.
The boy sat down without asking permission.
A sign of progress.
Or arrogance.
Possibly both.
"You've been holding back."
Haruki looked up from his food.
"What?"
"You heard me."
Ren crossed his arms.
"You acted average."
Haruki considered that.
"Maybe I was average."
"You're not."
The answer came immediately.
Haruki stared at him.
For once, there was no anger in Ren's voice.
Only frustration.
And respect.
A strange combination.
The silence stretched.
Finally Haruki shrugged.
"I train."
Ren groaned.
"That's not an answer."
"It is."
The boy looked ready to argue.
Then stopped.
Because deep down, he knew it was true.
Talent existed.
But effort mattered too.
The realization annoyed him.
A week later, Daichi announced a special exercise.
The class gathered around.
Curious.
The instructor held several water-filled containers.
"Today we'll test basic chakra molding."
Excitement immediately spread through the students.
Actual ninjutsu.
Even if only the fundamentals.
Haruki's pulse quickened.
He had practiced Water Release for months.
Secretly.
Alone.
Never in front of others.
Never where anyone could judge him.
Daichi began calling students forward one at a time.
Most produced nothing.
Some managed minor reactions.
Tiny ripples.
Small disturbances.
Nothing significant.
Then Haruki's name was called.
He stepped forward.
The entire class watched.
Including Ren.
Including the black-haired girl who still occasionally called everyone idiots.
Including Daichi.
Haruki looked down at the water.
A decision formed.
Not enough to reveal everything.
Not enough to attract dangerous attention.
Just enough.
Enough to stop pretending.
His hands moved.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Forming the required signs.
Tiger.
Rat.
Bird.
Exactly as he had practiced.
Exactly as the scroll described.
Chakra flowed.
The water responded.
A narrow stream rose from the container.
Not large.
Not powerful.
But undeniably controlled.
Gasps echoed through the training yard.
Several students stared.
Others immediately began whispering.
Daichi's eyes narrowed.
Interested.
Very interested.
The stream lasted only a moment before collapsing.
Haruki released the technique.
The yard remained silent.
Then the instructor nodded.
"Good."
The simple praise felt surprisingly rewarding.
Haruki returned to his place.
Trying not to smile.
Trying and failing.
That evening, the Academy grounds slowly emptied.
Students returned home.
Instructors finished paperwork.
The village settled into its usual rhythm.
Inside a small office, Daichi reviewed student records.
Most were unremarkable.
Average scores.
Average progress.
Average futures.
Then he paused.
A file sat near the top of the pile.
Haruki Mizuno
Orphan.
No known clan.
No notable family history.
Yet his progress exceeded expectations.
His chakra control was unusual.
His work ethic even more so.
Daichi frowned.
Something about the boy stood out.
Not enough to justify action.
Not yet.
But enough to remember.
The instructor closed the file.
Outside the window, mist rolled through the streets of Kirigakure.
And somewhere within that mist, Haruki walked back toward the orphanage.
Unaware that for the first time since entering the Academy, he had deliberately stepped out of the shadows.
And once someone drew attention in the Hidden Mist...
It became very difficult to disappear again.