Kakashi read Meian's expression like an open book and nodded to himself.
"Your chakra reserves are substantial," Kakashi said, his voice steady. "The Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique demands enormous chakra expenditure. The precision and power you demonstrated—that goes well beyond what an average Genin can manage."
Meian inclined his head slightly. "My reserves are... above average, I suppose."
Kakashi glanced at the dimming sky, the first stars beginning to emerge. "It's growing late. We should head down the mountain. I'm hungry."
"I should probably—" Meian started, his natural instinct to decline kicking in.
Kakashi's hand landed on his shoulder with unexpected warmth. "My treat."
Meian's protest died unspoken. Free food was free food.
"Only if you're paying," he said pragmatically. "I don't have much coin for restaurants."
Kakashi chuckled and produced his wallet. He withdrew three ten-thousand Ryō notes with deliberate ceremony and pressed them into Meian's palm. "Your reward for today's progress."
Meian stared at the bills. He'd assumed it was merely a figure of speech—the kind of empty praise adults dispensed routinely.
"You earned it," Kakashi said, reading his doubt. He tucked the notes firmly into Meian's pocket before the boy could hand them back. "Deception is the first art a shinobi learns, yes. But I won't deceive you. The speed at which you grasped that technique... your talent far exceeds my initial assessment."
Meian pocketed the thirty thousand Ryō without protest. False humility served no one.
He smiled—a genuine one. "Then allow me to treat you today, Kakashi. There's a barbecue place not far from here."
Kakashi's eye crinkled with amusement. "Your wallet's about to suffer. I haven't had proper barbecue in months."
As they descended the mountain together, Meian felt something shift in his chest. Not gratitude for the money—though that was welcome—but something deeper. Kakashi's investment in him felt authentic. Here was a man who would become the Sixth Hokage, the village's leader for years to come. Having him as a mentor was invaluable.
They ate well into the evening, the smoke from the grill hanging between them like a promise.
---
The next morning, something felt different.
As Meian walked toward the Academy, he became acutely aware of his chakra. It thrummed through his veins with greater density than before, its reserves noticeably deeper.
The Fire Style: Great Fireball Technique, he reasoned, falling into stride. Learning a jutsu of that caliber forced my chakra system to expand. Combined with yesterday's spiritual development... I should be solidly upper Chunin level now.
He filed the information away and continued his walk.
The Academy was its usual morning chaos—clusters of students talking loudly, instructors barking orders, the smell of chalk dust and morning energy. Meian took his familiar seat near the back, content to absorb the lesson without drawing attention.
When class ended, as it always did, he laid his head down for sleep.
A presence approached before he could drift off.
His eyes opened instantly—a trained reflex. He relaxed when he recognized Hinata Hyuga, her head lowered in that habitual bow, a small glass bottle clutched in her trembling hands.
"M-Meian," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I... I brought some ointment. For yesterday. I'm... I'm sorry."
Meian studied her downturned face, noting the flush creeping across her pale cheeks. He accepted the bottle with a slight smile. "Thank you, Hinata."
She didn't raise her eyes. "It's nothing. But... I've been thinking. About our match." She took a shaky breath. "I used my Byakugan during the fight. Your chakra reserves are clearly larger than mine, and during that final strike..." She paused, gathering courage. "Your chakra shifted position deliberately. There's no way I could have landed that blow otherwise."
Meian went still. This girl isn't as simple as she appears.
He regarded her with new interest. Hinata Hyuga, shy and often overlooked, possessed fighting intelligence that rivaled Sasuke Uchiha's. That kind of analytical clarity during combat was rare.
"You're overthinking it," Meian said, his tone light but firm. "Though I appreciate your discretion."
He leaned slightly closer, lowering his voice. "This stays between us, understand? What happened in that match—it's our secret."
Hinata trembled, her blush deepening until her entire face was crimson. "Y-yes. I won't... I won't tell anyone."
"Good." Meian straightened up. "You're strong, Hinata. Stronger than you believe. There's no need to hide that behind shyness. You come from the Hyuga Clan—one of the most formidable bloodlines in the village. You have nothing to fear from showing your true strength."
Hinata's eyes glistened, but she couldn't overcome the ingrained hesitation in her nature. "I... I'll try."
Meian offered her a wry smile. "That's all anyone can do."
The bell rang before either could speak further. Hinata hurried back to her seat as Iruka entered, launching into the day's lesson.
During class, Hinata sat with unusual focus. Meian noticed her eyes occasionally drifting from the front—a habit he recognized as her usual distraction. But now, whenever she caught herself looking at Naruto, she deliberately redirected her attention.
She's pushing herself, Meian thought, watching her struggle against her own shyness. Because of what I said.
The realization was strange. He hadn't meant to inspire anything—merely to state facts. Yet Hinata seemed determined to prove herself.
By the time Iruka's lecture concluded, she'd filled an entire page with notes, her handwriting precise despite her divided attention. She still glanced at Naruto occasionally, but each time, she caught herself and returned to her work.
When the lesson ended and students began filing out, Hinata sat straighter in her seat, her jaw set with quiet determination.
---
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