Monday morning was, in one word, brutal.
Asahi woke up feeling as if his brain had been used as a practice ball by a baseball team. The chakra hangover was a very real phenomenon, and it was awful. It was a deep, neurological fatigue that made the simple act of opening his eyes feel like lifting a deadweight.
He forced himself out of bed, his movements slow and sluggish, as if every joint were lubricated with cold honey.
'This is… significantly worse than muscle fatigue,' he thought, his hand trembling slightly as he reached for his clothes. 'DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness) is clean pain. It's a signal of growth.'
Still, routine was routine. He stepped into the orphanage courtyard in the gray pre-dawn light, the cool, damp air clinging to his skin like a second layer.
He started his warm-up. Jumping jacks. Squats. Push-ups.
And that's when he noticed the second part of the hangover.
His body didn't respond.
Not weak, exactly, but clumsy. His push-ups, normally rhythmic and controlled, felt awkward. His balance in one-legged squats was nonexistent.
'My neuromuscular connection… is fried.' The chakra exhaustion had affected his central nervous system directly. His muscles were ready to work, but the signals coming from his brain were static and weak.
It was like trying to play Cyberpunk 2077 on a 1998 PC. The lag was unbearable.
He gritted his teeth and completed a reduced, pathetic version of his training, feeling more frustrated than tired.
'Great. So training my chakra turns me into a terrible athlete. And being a terrible athlete stops me from training my chakra.'
He arrived at the Academy in a foul mood, exhausted, and with the certainty that today would be a long day.
To his misfortune, Iruka-sensei was standing in front of the class with a smile Asahi was learning to distrust.
"Good morning, class!" Iruka greeted, his voice echoing like a drum against the classroom walls. "I hope you rested over the weekend, because today we're putting the textbooks aside and getting moving. Today, we begin with the fundamentals of Taijutsu!"
A ripple of excitement ran through the room. Kiba barked a loud "Yes!" earning a sharp look from Iruka. Sasuke looked… well, as neutral as always, but there was a glint in his eyes. Not of excitement. Anticipation.
Asahi only felt deep exhaustion. 'Taijutsu. Fighting. Great. The one thing I could be ready for, and I feel like a wet sack of potatoes.'
Iruka led them to the Academy's training yard. The same place they had done the assessment, with practice posts and packed dirt, now warmed by the morning sun.
"Taijutsu is the foundation of all shinobi," Iruka explained, walking in front of them, his shadow stretching over the dust. "No matter how powerful your Ninjutsu, if you can't defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, you're finished! The first thing we'll learn… is how to take a hit!"
'Oh, no,' thought Asahi.
"And the best way to learn is by doing!" continued Iruka. "We're going to do practice sparring!"
Panic mingled with Asahi's exhaustion. 'Sparring? Now? Do I have to fight an Uchiha or an Inuzuka feeling like this?'
"Calm down, calm down!" said Iruka, raising his hands at the chaotic excitement. "It's not a real fight. It's an exercise. The goal is simple: one attacks, the other defends. Then switch. I want to see your instincts. Pair up!"
Immediately, the class descended into chaos. Kiba grabbed Shino. Choji and Shikamaru looked resigned and paired off. Sakura and Ino started arguing about who would train with Sasuke.
Asahi, as always, remained alone. The silent outcast.
'Okay. Maybe I'm off the hook…'
"Asahi," said Iruka, his voice firm but not cruel. "Since you're the only one left… you'll train with me."
Asahi's insides turned to ice.
'With… him? A Chunin? A professional ninja? The one who fought Mizuki in the future-that-didn't-happen? He wants an eight-year-old with a chakra hangover to train with him?'
"Don't worry," Iruka said, smiling kindly. "I'll only use ten percent. You attack first. Show me what you've got."
Asahi swallowed. He looked at the rest of the class. He saw Kiba throwing wild punches that Shino dodged calmly. He saw Sasuke and Arashi (who, of course, had paired up) moving with a speed and fluidity that felt profoundly unfair.
'No choice.'
He assumed the only combat stance he knew: his old-life boxing stance. Left foot forward, hands up, chin down. Purely physical, designed to protect the centerline and maximize jab reach.
Iruka raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. Ready? Begin!"
Asahi wasted no time. His body, though slow, reacted instinctively.
He threw a left jab.
It was a perfect strike. Technical. The kinetic chain worked—from the pivot of his foot to the hip rotation and the extension of his fist.
Iruka just tilted his head. The punch whistled past his ear, causing no discomfort at all.
Asahi followed with a right cross.
Iruka raised a forearm to block.
The impact of Asahi's fist against Iruka's forearm guard produced a solid THWACK! that silenced some of the nearby pairs.
Iruka blinked. His eyes opened in genuine surprise.
Asahi felt a vibration travel up his arm. 'It's… solid. Like hitting a telephone pole.'
But Iruka was impressed. "That punch… was strong! No chakra in it! This kid…!"
"Good power, Asahi!" Iruka said, now with a note of respect. "But you're slow!"
Before Asahi could react, Iruka vanished.
It wasn't a Shunshin. It was just… a step. A lateral step so fast that Asahi's brain didn't register it until it had already happened.
Suddenly, Iruka was to his left. Asahi spun, raising his guard, but Iruka was already there, finger extended.
Iruka's finger tapped the center of Asahi's forehead.
Asahi froze.
"And you're dead," Iruka said calmly. "Your stance is good for a fist fight, Asahi, but you leave your flanks and back completely open. And your footwork is heavy. You rely on your muscles, not your chakra."
Asahi's world stopped.
'Rely on your muscles, not your chakra.'
He watched Sasuke and Arashi move. They weren't simply "running." They were… gliding. Their feet barely touched the ground. They were using that same chakra propulsion he had been trying to master, but they used it intuitively.
He realized his mistake.
He had spent eight years building a Formula 1 race car, optimizing every gram of weight, every aerodynamic curve.
But everyone else on the track were jet planes.
They were playing a completely different game.
'My physical training…' he realized with growing horror. 'It's not an advantage. It's a handicap.'
His muscles were so efficient, so finely tuned for physical movement, that they absorbed the energy before his chakra had a chance to do anything. His body was stealing his own power.
"Again!" shouted Iruka, returning to his position. "This time, feel the energy flow! Don't just punch, explode!"
Asahi raised his fists, but now they felt like lead. He had a new problem.
Not only did he have to learn Ninjutsu.
He had to unlearn eight years of Taijutsu.