The Third Training Ground.
Three wooden posts stood in the center of the clearing, surrounded by a dense forest.
By the time Kitahara Kaede and Tsunade arrived, Jiraiya was already there.
To be precise, he was already asleep.
His white-haired head was tilted against a wooden post, drool hanging from the corner of his mouth, and he was clutching a small notebook in his arms, with “Material Collection · Top Secret” scrawled crookedly on the cover.
Tsunade glanced at it, her expression like she had swallowed a fly.
“Did this guy go peeping again last night?”
“Probably.”
“Disgusting.”
Tsunade walked over and kicked the wooden post.
The entire post shook, and Jiraiya was catapulted off as if ejected, landing on his backside, while the small notebook flew far away.
“Who!”
Jiraiya sprang up, looking around frantically.
When he saw it was Tsunade, the wariness on his face instantly switched to a fawning smile.
“Yo, Tsunade, your ponytail is tied — ”
“Say one more word and see what happens.”
Tsunade clenched her fist.
Jiraiya wisely shut his mouth, rolled his eyes, and looked at Kitahara Kaede.
“Did you two come together again?”
“Ran into each other on the way.”
“Always running into each other on the way, do you take me for a fool?” Jiraiya muttered, his volume neither loud nor soft, just enough for both of them to hear.
“Tch, just because you’re good-looking…”
Tsunade ignored him, crossing her arms and looking toward the entrance of the training ground.
“Why hasn’t Sensei — ”
Three shuriken tore through the air.
Without warning.
Kitahara Kaede’s body reacted before his mind; he sidestepped, and the shuriken grazed his sleeve and embedded itself into the wooden post behind him.
Almost simultaneously, Tsunade ducked, and the shuriken flew over her head; her golden ponytail was lifted by the wind pressure and then fell back down.
Jiraiya —
“Ow!”
The shuriken smacked him right in the forehead.
It was a blunt impact, not sharp-edged, but it hurt just as much when it hit his forehead.
Jiraiya covered his forehead and crouched down.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was standing on top of the middle wooden post.
No one knew when he had arrived.
Hiruzen jumped down and his gaze swept over the three of them.
“Reaction speed.” He glanced at Kitahara Kaede, then at Tsunade.
“You two, pass.”
Then he looked at Jiraiya, who was crouching on the ground.
“Jiraiya.”
“…
Here.”
From fifth from the bottom, to seventh from the top.”
Jiraiya rubbed his forehead and looked up, the corners of his mouth just starting to curl up —
“However, willpower alone is only enough to get you an extra slash on the battlefield.”
The corners of his mouth dropped.
Hiruzen didn’t say anything more.
He took something out of his ninja tool pouch.
A bell, tied to a red string, gave a faint chime in the morning light.
Jiraiya stared at the bell for two seconds, then counted the heads.
“Sensei, there are three of us, why is there only one bell?”
Kitahara Kaede almost laughed out loud.
The Bell Test.
A classic among classics.
He had experienced it in reality too.
The year he graduated from the Ninja Academy, his Jonin instructor hung two bells on his waist.
He had snatched one.
Not by strength, but by reading the situation.
While his two teammates were keeping each other in check, he snuck in from the side and swiped the bell.
Later, both of those people died in the Third Great Ninja War.
He survived.
Kitahara Kaede withdrew his thoughts.
“Someone will be eliminated.”
Hiruzen glanced at him and nodded.
“Yes, and no.”
He tied the bell to his belt.
“There are two bells.
Those who snatch a bell pass.
Those who don’t — won’t be sent back to the Ninja Academy, but for the next month, you will have individual extra training with me every day, with an intensity three times that of normal training.”
Jiraiya’s face went pale for a moment.
Tsunade frowned.
Kitahara Kaede had no expression.
The Third Hokage Hokage personally training you for a month, is that called a punishment?
Some people would beg for that.
“The rules are simple.” Hiruzen patted the bell at his waist.
“One is on me, one is hidden in this forest.
The time limit is one hour.
You can use any means necessary.”
His gaze swept over the three faces one by one, lingering on Kitahara Kaede for half a second longer.
Jiraiya raised his hand.
“Sensei!”
Hiruzen looked at him.
He turned his head and looked at Tsunade.
“Tsunade, let’s make a bet.”
Tsunade raised an eyebrow.
“If I manage to snatch a bell — ” Jiraiya patted his chest, smiling brilliantly, “you go eat barbecue with me.
Just the two of us, a date.”
It was quiet for half a second.
Tsunade scoffed.
“Fine.”
Jiraiya was stunned.
He hadn’t expected Tsunade to agree so readily.
Before he could even be happy —
“If you don’t manage to snatch one — ” Tsunade crossed her arms, “stop following me around in the future, it’s annoying.”
“Deal!” Jiraiya patted his chest, looking confident.
After Tsunade agreed, she didn’t continue.
Her gaze subconsciously drifted to the side.
Kitahara Kaede was leaning against a wooden post, his head slightly tilted back, as if looking at something in the treetops.
He had no expression at all.
It wasn’t the kind of “no expression” that is deliberately faked; it was truly none.
It was as if everything Jiraiya just said — the barbecue, the date — had absolutely nothing to do with him.
Tsunade withdrew her gaze.
She didn’t know why she had looked at him.
She also didn’t know why, after seeing “nothing at all,” her chest suddenly felt tight.
Just for a moment, very lightly.
Like someone had flicked her heart with their fingertip; it didn’t hurt, but that spot buzzed for an instant.
Tsunade clenched her fist.
She didn’t know what she was feeling blocked about.
Kitahara Kaede actually had noticed her gaze.
But he didn’t turn back.
“Start.”
Hiruzen’s voice fell.
Kitahara Kaede moved, darting into the forest on the right without looking back.
Tsunade started almost simultaneously.
Her movements were half a beat faster than usual — she hadn’t realized it herself, but her body had already made the choice first.
Her golden ponytail flashed through the forest as she followed him.
Jiraiya was a full beat slower.
He stood there, looking left, then right, as both their backs had already disappeared into the forest.
“Hey — wait — ”
No one responded.
Jiraiya gritted his teeth and also strode toward the forest.
The training ground quieted down again.
Hiruzen stood in the middle of the three wooden posts, took out his pipe from his sleeve, lit it, and took a puff.
The smoke drifted away.
He watched the three directions where the three children had disappeared, his gaze filled with scrutiny, and also something indescribable.