Asahi picked up the green leaf and retreated to the farthest corner of the Academy yard. He sat cross-legged, turning his back to the rest of the class.
It wasn't out of spite.
He couldn't afford distractions.
The clamor of sparring filled the air. He could hear Kiba shouting, "Gatsuga!" corrected patiently by Iruka-sensei ("That's just a tackle, Kiba, you still don't have the chakra to make it spin"). He could hear the sharp, rhythmic THWACK! of Sasuke and Arashi: talent against talent, speed against power. The sound of their strikes resonated like miniature war bells.
'They're learning to fight. I'm… in deep shit.'
He looked at the leaf in his palm.
'Okay. Step one: Stick the leaf.'
He took a deep breath, calming his frustration. The morning exhaustion from the chakra hangover had been replaced by a sharp hum of adrenaline and humiliation. He pushed the energy down and focused.
Hum.
Chakra flowed, warm and sticky. He placed the leaf in his palm and flipped his hand. The leaf clung, defying gravity.
'Good. Steady flow. Easy control.'
He had mastered this back in his clearing over the weekend. He could attune a log; he could stick a leaf. His control, when relaxed, was improving steadily.
'Now… the problem.'
Keeping the chakra flow in his mind, he stared at his fingers.
'Close the fist.'
Slowly. Painfully slowly, he began flexing his pinky.
The instant the tendon in his forearm tensed… click.
The chakra flow vanished. Not weakened—it was cut off. As if someone had unplugged a cable. The leaf, deprived of its spiritual adhesive, fell fluttering to the ground.
Asahi picked it up.
He stuck it again.
Click.
Fell.
He stuck it.
Click.
Fell.
"Damn it," he muttered through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse from the effort.
He picked up the leaf. Stuck it.
Click.
Fell.
'This is impossible!' he screamed in his mind. 'My body can't do both.'
His autonomic nervous system, trained for eight years for peak physical efficiency, had classified chakra molding as rest and muscular effort as work. And one cannot rest and work at the same time.
He stopped, forcing himself to breathe. Panic and anger weren't going to solve a neurological problem.
'Don't think of it as a strength problem,' he told himself, rubbing his temples.
In his previous life, he had read about neuroplasticity. About how the brain could form new connections. Learning to play the piano, for example, wasn't just about finger strength; it was about teaching the left and right hemispheres to do completely different and rhythmically opposite things at the same time.
'I'm trying to learn to play the piano. And my left hand (muscle) keeps trying to play the same melody as my right hand (chakra).'
'I have to break it. Make it smaller.'
He looked at the leaf. He stuck it.
'Okay. I won't close the fist. That's too much.'
'What's the smallest thing I can do?'
He focused on the leaf, keeping it stuck. Then he centered all his will, not on his hand, but on a single finger. The pinky.
'Don't move. Just… tense.'
Instead of trying to bend it, he simply activated the muscle. An isometric flex.
The chakra wavered. The leaf shook as if a breeze had hit it.
'There! It wavered, but it didn't cut off!'
A drop of sweat rolled down his side. He was sitting perfectly still, yet working harder than anyone else in the yard.
'More. Keep the chakra sticky. Tense the pinky… harder.'
The chakra weakened, threatening to break. Asahi pushed more energy, forcing the connection. The chakra became erratic, and the leaf began to vibrate violently, like paper on a speaker.
And then, his entire forearm cramped.
"Gah!" he shouted, clutching his arm. The leaf fell.
His arm throbbed. He had sent two completely contradictory signals to the same muscle group: "Relax and flow!" and "Tense and prepare!" The result was a biological syntax error.
'This… this is going to hurt.'
He rested a minute, massaging the knot in his forearm. The sounds of sparring continued, indifferent to his microscopic struggle.
'Again.'
He stuck the leaf.
He focused.
'Tense the pinky.'
The chakra wavered.
'Maintain the chakra. Maintain the tension.'
He was sweating heavily now. His brow furrowed in concentration. The rest of his body tensed from the effort of isolating two opposing commands in such a tiny area.
The chakra held. The tension held.
The leaf… stayed stuck.
It trembled, vibrated, looked like it might fly off at any second—but it stayed.
Asahi held the pose for five seconds before his concentration broke and everything failed.
He gasped for air, but a fierce, tiny smile crossed his face. 'I did it.'
He had created a new connection. A small bridge in his brain saying: "IT IS POSSIBLE to tense the pinky AND use chakra at the same time."
'Good. Now the ring finger.'
He stuck the leaf. Focused. 'Tense the ring finger.'
Click.
The leaf fell immediately.
Asahi's smile vanished.
'Oh no,' he thought, horror rising. 'It's not a single command… I have to do this… for every muscle group. I have to recalibrate my entire damn body, finger by finger, muscle by muscle.'
Just then, Iruka's bell rang. "Alright, class! Taijutsu is over for today! Gather up!"
The other kids approached, sweaty, panting, some bruised, but all buzzing with energy. Arashi was telling Kiba about a cool sweep that almost worked. Sasuke wiped sweat from his brow, looking satisfied.
Asahi stood.
His legs trembled. Not from physical exercise, but from the pure mental exhaustion of spending an hour trying to tense his pinky.
He felt more drained than all of them combined. And he had nothing to show for it except a cramped arm and a slightly wrinkled leaf.