Training ground.
Three people stood in a row, but their positions had changed.
Tsunade stood on the far left, Jiraiya in the middle, and Kitahara Kaede on the far right.
In the past, the distance between Tsunade and Kitahara Kaede would never exceed an arm’s length, but today, they were separated by the entire width of Jiraiya.
Kitahara Kaede glanced at Tsunade from time to time.
Ever since that “Fruit Incident” the other day, it was as if she were deliberately avoiding him.
Over the past five days combined, they hadn’t exchanged more than ten sentences.
He had noticed it on the first day, and he also understood the reason—she didn’t know how to face him.
That was why things had turned out this way.
But today was the fifth day.
It had lasted longer than he had anticipated.
Kitahara Kaede frowned slightly in his mind.
It wasn’t anxiety; it was closer to…
feeling unaccustomed.
There was no one beside him to bicker with, no one to stubbornly say “it’s not that impressive” while their eyes were filled with concern.
There was a void.
As soon as this thought emerged, even Kitahara Kaede himself was taken aback.
You’ve got to be kidding.
He was in a simulator, and these people were NPCs.
He was here to farm ratings and get rewards, not to make friends.
But once the words “there was a void” floated up, they wouldn’t go away.
He withdrew his gaze and didn’t look at Tsunade again.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; it was that he needed an opportunity.
Jiraiya stood in the middle, his head turning left and right like a rattle-drum.
Hey.
What’s going on with these two?
Usually, they walked so close their shoulders practically rubbed together, but today, they were worlds apart.
They had a fight.
They must have had a fight.
Jiraiya rolled his eyes and secretly glanced at Tsunade.
Her ponytail was tied a bit higher today, her profile tense, looking like she wouldn’t pay attention to anyone.
His heart skipped two beats.
A chance!
A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!
While they were at odds, if he handed her a handkerchief or bought her some pastries—wouldn’t Tsunade start looking at him with new respect?
He would go buy those new wagashi after training…
“Are you all here?”
Hiruzen’s voice rang out from behind them.
The three of them turned around.
Hiruzen stood next to the wooden post, spinning a Shuriken in his hand.
“Today, I will teach you a jutsu.”
Jiraiya’s eyes lit up: “What rank?”
“A-rank.”
The scene went quiet for a beat.
Jiraiya’s mouth hung open in a circle.
Tsunade also turned her head.
An A-rank Ninjutsu.
A level that most Chunin would never reach in their entire lives.
And the three of them were just Genin who had just graduated from the Ninja Academy.
“Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu.”
Hiruzen tossed the shuriken into the air and formed hand signs with one hand.
The shuriken spun in the air—one became ten, ten became fifty, raining down on the target area like an overwhelming force, pinning the wooden wall with metal.
Then, they dissipated one by one, until only one remained.
“The principle is the same as the Shadow Clone, but the precision required for Chakra control is much higher,” Hiruzen said, withdrawing his hand.
“If the distribution is uneven, either the quantity won’t be enough, or they will all dissipate.”
Jiraiya raised his hand: “Teacher, how long did it take you to create this jutsu?”
“I was already a Jonin at the time.”
Jiraiya’s mouth twitched.
Hiruzen turned to Kitahara Kaede, “You go first.”
Kitahara Kaede took out a shuriken and weighed it in his hand.
He had watched the hand sign sequence and the rhythm of Chakra output just once.
That was enough.
He threw the shuriken and formed hand signs with his right hand.
One became five, spreading out in a fan shape, all pinning into the wooden post.
The muffled sound of metal entering wood was crisp and clean.
It held for three seconds, then four dissipated, leaving only the original.
The training ground went silent.
Hiruzen’s pipe stopped at his lips; he didn’t take a puff for a long time.
He hadn’t seen a shortage of geniuses in his life.
But this child before him—it wasn’t a matter of being a genius; it was a different level entirely.
“Five of them.
The Chakra distribution is even, and the embedding depth is consistent,” Hiruzen exhaled slowly.
“To achieve this…
on the first attempt.”
He didn’t finish his sentence, but the meaning was clear.
Tsunade stared at the wooden post.
An A-rank Ninjutsu, watched just once.
Her fingers clenched, then relaxed.
She wanted to say something.
She wanted to say “it’s alright,” or “tch, it’s only five.”
Her lips moved, but she didn’t open them.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to speak.
It was that she didn’t know how to start.
She hadn’t spoken to him for five days.
She had been angry at first, but as she stayed angry, she couldn’t even explain what she was angry about anymore.
Angry that he answered “big”?
That was just a question about fruit.
Was he wrong to answer that?
He wasn’t.
Then what was she angry about?
Tsunade couldn’t say.
She vaguely sensed something, but that thing was blurry, like a stone at the bottom of the water; she could see its outline but couldn’t touch its substance.
She only remembered that her face had burned intensely at that moment, burning inexplicably, and then she had run away.
After running away, she felt embarrassed.
After feeling embarrassed, she didn’t want to see him even more.
She didn’t want to see him, yet she couldn’t help but peek.
After peeking, she was even more annoyed.
She had been spinning around for five whole days, getting more twisted, like a knot that couldn’t be untied no matter what.
Tsunade bit the inside of her lip.
Stop thinking about it.
If she kept thinking, her face would start burning again.
Jiraiya didn’t see Tsunade’s expression.
His eyes were nailed to the wooden post.
The top of the Ninja Academy was him, the strongest in combat was him, the first one the teacher called on was him, and the one Tsunade was looking at was also him.
Why?
Why was it always him every time?
Jiraiya’s teeth gnashed loudly.
“I’ll try too!”
He pulled shuriken out of his ninja tool pouch—not just one.
Six of them, all wedged between his fingers.
Hiruzen frowned: “Start with one…”
“Watch this!”
Six shuriken were thrown at once, his hands flailing through hand signs, Chakra surging—
No splitting occurred.
The six shuriken flew out as they were, their trajectories completely off.
The remaining three—headed straight in Tsunade’s direction.
Kitahara Kaede’s body was faster than his consciousness.
By the time he sidestepped to block in front of Tsunade, his right hand had already drawn a Kunai.
Ding, ding, ding.
Three crisp sounds, and all three shuriken were deflected.
Tsunade stood behind him.
Very close.
So close that she smelled his scent before she saw his back.
She didn’t move, not because she didn’t want to—it was because by the time she came to her senses, he was already standing in front of her.
Tsunade’s mind went blank for a moment.
Then her heart gave a heavy thump.
Five days.
For five whole days, she had avoided him, ignored him, and deliberately stood as far away in the line as possible.
He hadn’t asked a single word, hadn’t chased her, hadn’t explained anything.
But when the shuriken flew over, he had blocked it without even thinking.
Without needing to say a word, his body had moved first.
Tsunade clenched her fists.
That knot in her chest had been tugged roughly by someone.
It didn’t untie—
But it loosened.
Kitahara Kaede turned his head.
His gaze swept over her face, from top to bottom, very quickly.
Confirming she was okay.
Tsunade also noticed his concerned gaze.
Her heart thumped again.
Jiraiya froze in place, his face turning pale.
He had almost hurt Tsunade.
“I…
didn’t mean to—”
Tsunade stepped out from behind Kitahara Kaede.
Her expression was very calm.
So calm that Jiraiya felt a chill down his spine.
One step, two steps, three steps.
She walked up to him.
“Tsu, Tsunade—”
A fist came crashing down.
Jiraiya landed face-first and slid two meters away.
“Idiot!”
Tsunade’s shout echoed in the training ground.
“You dare to use an A-rank Ninjutsu without even understanding the principle!
Are you trying to kill someone!”
Jiraiya lay on the ground, not daring to make a sound.
He knew he was in the wrong, and not just a little bit.
Tsunade took two breaths, her chest still heaving, and turned to walk back.
When she passed by Kitahara Kaede, her footsteps paused for a moment.
She didn’t look at him.
Her eyes were fixed on a tree in front of her, unmoving.
“…Thanks.”
Her voice was much softer than usual.
So soft that it seemed as if she was afraid others would hear it, and also as if she was afraid she would hear it herself.
After saying that, she left.
Kitahara Kaede watched her back.
Her ponytail swayed on her shoulder, her steps were a bit hurried, but her back was held very straight.
The tips of her ears were red.
The corners of Kitahara Kaede’s mouth twitched.
The five-day cold war had shattered just like that.