Two days after their humiliating defeat at Sengoku's hands, Team 2—now fully recovered—returned to Training Ground Eight, this time not for combat… but for discipline.
Sengoku stood before them with arms folded, posture rigid, eyes devoid of warmth.
"You may seem capable for genin," he began, voice flat, "but don't misunderstand. Being strong for your rank is meaningless."
His words cut deeper than any strike. None of the three responded.
"You are the first genin team I have ever agreed to train," Sengoku continued. His tone shifted—not softer, but deliberate. "I intend for you to become worth the effort."
He paused.
"From today onward, your training begins. I will show you the depths of hell… so that one day, you can reach the heights of heaven."
He waited, as if expecting awe.
The three genin thought at the same time:That's just… painfully corny.
Without acknowledging their collective deadpan, Sengoku produced weighted bands, tossing one pair to each of them.
"One on each leg. You will wear them at all times, except while sleeping, or during chakra-intensive techniques."
Ryuma clenched his fists. "What about missions? Do we keep them on?"
"Missions?" Sengoku scoffed.
In a single instant, he vanished from sight and reappeared directly before Ryuma, his palm pressing lightly against the boy's chest.
"Until you can track me," Sengoku said, eyes like tempered blades, "you're not worthy of missions."
Ryuma's heart skipped. That speed…
Last time, they hadn't even registered what happened before they lost consciousness. This time, they saw it.
The difference between genin and elite jōnin.
One was expendable on the battlefieldThe other shaped the outcome of wars.
They strapped on the weights.
Kuro nearly collapsed the moment he stood.Ryuma steadied himself through sheer grit.Only Raito managed to move with minimal struggle.
He's conditioned his body well, Sengoku noted. Promising. He'll adapt fastest.
"Fifty laps around the training ground," Sengoku ordered. "Then fifty push-ups."
He pulled out a wooden bat.
Kuro pointed at it with dread. "What… what's that for?"
Sengoku smiled.
A sinister, unhurried smile.
"You'll see."
The genin started running.
And thus began their descent into hell.
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"Sensei is ridiculously fast. His mastery of the Body Flicker is unmatched…" Kuro muttered through gritted teeth as he ran, reinforcing his legs with chakra. He didn't forbid it, so it must be allowed, he reasoned.
"That wasn't Body Flicker," Raito replied, equally strained. Sweat dripped down his face.
Good thing I removed all the boulders from my shadow beforehand, Raito thought, his muscles burning. If I hadn't… I'd already be face-down on the ground.
Ryuma glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"That was just raw speed," Raito chuckled weakly.
That man… Sengoku. He's in a league of his own, he thought.
A shiver ran through Ryuma's spine. If that's true… then our teacher might actually be—
THWACK.
His thought never finished as Sengoku struck him clean across the back with the bat.
"Oh," Sengoku said casually, as if remembering something trivial. "Did I forget to mention? If you don't move fast enough, I beat you."
And so, their hell truly began.
If they ran fast, they drained their stamina long before reaching the fiftieth lap.If they paced themselves, Sengoku caught up and made sure they regretted it.
Even near completion, whenever hope flickered in their eyes… Sengoku's bat extinguished it.
Every day, they returned home battered and bruised.
But that wasn't much of a concern.
Kuro and Raito were orphans, no one was waiting for them anyway.Ryuma only had his older brother… and even he rarely cared.
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Just like that, more than a month slipped by. The team grew closer with each grueling day, while the bat grew even closer, as they still failed to conquer the fifty laps.
Kuro collapsed onto the ground, breath ragged, his clothes soaked through with sweat. The darkened fabric clung to his skin as he groaned,"Sensei… my specialty is ninjutsu. I don't need this much taijutsu training."
Ryuma remained silent, but his expression said he agreed.
Sengoku crossed his arms, face unmoved."Taijutsu isn't like ninjutsu or genjutsu. It doesn't require talent. If you're blessed with a strong body it helps, yes, but ultimately, taijutsu is built through hard work."
He looked between the two."The problem is that both of you rely too much on talent alone. That's dangerous."
Kuro frowned, eyes narrowing.
"Because out there," Sengoku continued, voice turning colder, "there are people with far greater talent than you. If either of you possessed supreme talent in a single art, I wouldn't force you into this training. But you don't."
He gave them a moment to absorb his words.
"In terms of taijutsu, the competition is lighter than any other discipline. Only one man in our village ever endured harsher training than this." Sengoku paused, respect flickering in his eyes."That man is one of the strongest shinobi alive. That is the true weight of taijutsu."
He uncrossed his arms."I'm not telling you to focus solely on it, but I am telling you to strengthen your bodies. Once your foundations are solid, I'll teach you what comes next."
His gaze shifted to Raito.
"To be honest, your body is strong enough now. From today onward, you'll be training directly with me."
Raito exhaled, saying nothing as he stood. Kuro and Ryuma watched him with thinly veiled envy.
Without another word, Sengoku and Raito walked toward a more distant part of the training ground.
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"So, what do you want to learn?" Sengoku asked, arms folded as he observed Raito.
"You did that on purpose," Raito replied flatly.
A small grin tugged at Sengoku's lips. So he noticed.
"To test them," Raito continued. "To see whether they'll keep training even when you're not around or slack off."
"I doubt they'd lie about it," he added. "I wouldn't try to fool you myself."
"It's less about honesty," Sengoku replied. "It's about motivation. Their character is just a bonus. Seeing you progress ahead of them, they'll push harder."
Raito lifted both arms, exasperated. "I can't imagine them working harder than this."
He exhaled. "Sensei, can you teach me a ninjutsu suited for apprehending a flying target?"
Sengoku raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I know a few basic wind techniques that might help, but that's all the academy library offered. Which means…" Raito looked at him directly. "Only you can teach me what I need."
"I can," Sengoku answered without hesitation. "And I won't ask why. You're entitled to your secrets."
He held out a hand, coating it in chakra. "That said, how refined is your chakra control?"
"I can maintain leaf concentration for about an hour. I've mastered tree-walking, but I haven't tested water-walking yet," Raito replied.
"That's more than adequate. Your reserves are high, minor leakage won't be an issue," Sengoku nodded. "Before we begin, though, I need to know your affinity."
Raito blinked, expression blank.
Right… he's an orphan. No easy access to chakra paper, Sengoku thought as he unfurled a scroll.
He retrieved a slip of chakra paper and handed it to Raito. "Channel your chakra into this."
Raito obeyed.
The paper ignited instantly, crumbling away into ash.
"Fire, hm? That's good," Sengoku said with satisfaction. "It's my specialty as well."
He stepped forward, eyes narrowing with focus.
"The first jutsu I'll teach you is—"