Asuma stood behind the wall of water Yuuma had summoned, soaked in silence.
His chest felt tight.
He had spent days treating Yuuma like an enemy, dumping all his frustration with the Third Hokage onto the one person actually trying to help him. Yet Yuuma had never snapped, never belittled him—only guided him, even tricked him, into training harder than he realized.
And I still acted like a brat…
"Shisui," Yuuma said softly, "you can head back."
Shisui bowed and slipped away without a word.
Yuuma approached Asuma, brushing dirt off his clothes, fixing his collar, treating him with a kindness that felt completely unfamiliar.
Then he crouched down so their eyes were level.
Asuma's breath hitched.
Yuuma waited.
Finally—barely audible—"…Teacher… I'm sorry."
Yuuma smiled. "And how exactly have you wronged me?"
Asuma's voice cracked."I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you… shouldn't have refused everything you said…"
"You're not wronging me," Yuuma said gently. "You're wronging yourself."
His smile faded; his tone hardened like steel hidden under silk.
"If you skip training… does it hurt me?" Yuuma asked.
Asuma hesitated.
Yuuma answered for him."No. I still get paid two thousand ryō an hour either way."He tapped Asuma's chest."But you lose that hour. You lose what you could have become."
The words dug straight into the boy's defenses.
Asuma's face twisted with guilt, frustration, helplessness.
Strangely… the more Yuuma spoke, the more Asuma found himself leaning toward him rather than away.
Why does he… feel more like a real teacher than Father ever did?
At home, when Asuma trained hard, the praise always went to his bloodline, never his effort. When he failed, the scolding fell fully on him.
Yuuma wasn't like that.
Yuuma crouched beside him, cleaned him up, talked to him as an equal—and believed in him when he couldn't believe in himself.
Asuma's throat tightened.
Why was it that a man he'd only known for days could say a few words and make his chest ache more than years of silence at home?
His vision blurred.
He turned away, wiping his eyes furiously, but Yuuma noticed immediately.
He let Asuma cry.Didn't rush him.Didn't scold him.
Once the storm weakened, Yuuma placed a hand on his shoulder and offered a folded handkerchief.
Asuma accepted it with shaking hands.
"T-Teacher Hanyu… you're… you're too good," he choked out."My parents would never…"
Yuuma's voice softened.
"That's because you only remember the things that hurt. Not the things they did right."
He spoke gently, but firmly—each sentence aiming straight at the heart.
"Who soothed you to sleep when you cried as a baby?Who held your hand when you learned to walk?Who checked your blankets at night?Who carried you home when you were sick?"
Asuma's breath stopped.
He did remember.
Yuuma continued, "You don't have to forgive them right now. But don't forget—they loved you first."
Asuma wiped his eyes, trembling.
Yuuma straightened."Now… you remember the deal you made, right?"
Asuma nodded immediately.
"From today on… whatever you say, I'll train," he said.The stubborn arrogance was gone—replaced by determination.
"Good."Yuuma smiled."This week is all chakra control. Next week—ninjutsu."
Yuuma had already planned everything carefully.Asuma wasn't a disciple, so there was no need to invest secret techniques or show excessive ability—especially under the Hokage's surveillance.
Right on cue, far away in the Hokage Building…
Sarutobi Hiruzen lowered his Telescope Technique.
"Hanyu really is good at teaching," he murmured.
He saw Asuma change from defiant to earnest.He saw Shisui—Kagami's grandson—show prodigy-level strength.
And he saw Yuuma handle everything with frightening skill.
The Hokage puffed his pipe with a thoughtful expression.
"This one… must be watched carefully."
He wasn't wrong.
Later that night—
At dinner, the Third Hokage asked casually,"So, Asuma. Do you like your new tutor? I chose him carefully for you."
Asuma paused.
Just days ago he would've complained.
Now his face lit up.
"Teacher Hanyu is amazing. He teaches way better than you."
Sarutobi choked on his pipe smoke.
"What do you know, brat? I taught the Three Sannin myself!"
"That's because Aunt Tsunade and the others have great talent on their own," Asuma countered.
Sarutobi's eye twitched.
"And sometimes," Asuma continued, imitating Yuuma's calm voice perfectly,"it's a sign of wisdom to admit your shortcomings."
Sarutobi froze.
If he admitted it—he was inferior to Yuuma.If he denied it—he was unwise.
Checkmate.
Asuma grinned and stuffed his mouth with food, newfound energy burning in his chest.
Yuuma had won the war without ever drawing a blade.