Konoha, evening.
At the edge of the Ninja Academy playground, in front of a wooden post already battered and full of dents, Might Guy was hammering away like a machine.
Every punch he threw landed with a dull, air-splitting thud, the force of his fists scattering gravel in all directions.
Yoru walked over with his hands in his pockets, heading straight for that green figure.
Hearing the footsteps drawing closer, Might Guy whipped his head around.
Their eyes locked.
The instant he saw Yoru’s face clearly, the punch Might Guy had half-thrown froze in midair.
His imposing momentum screeched to a halt.
He sprang three big steps backward, opening up an absolutely safe distance.
His hands crossed quickly, guarding his chest tight, his calves even trembling faintly.
His gaze swept over Yoru’s pockets with extreme vigilance, and only after confirming those hands were empty did he relax a little.
But his legs stayed poised to sprint at a moment’s notice.
“Yoru… what are you here for?”
Might Guy’s voice was clearly guarded, even edged with the hint of a whimper.
“I won’t eat that little pink pill even if it kills me! Back, back, back!”
The terror of that diarrhea in the dead-end alley last night had left an indelible mark on this passionate youth’s brain.
Yoru’s mouth twitched, black lines crossing his forehead.
“What little pink pill?”
He rolled his eyes, speaking irritably.
“Can you not talk about the soldier pill like it’s contraband? Anyone who didn’t know better would think I drugged you.”
Might Guy didn’t lower his crossed arms, still holding his highly wary defensive stance.
Yoru stopped grumbling and stood still.
He drew a deep breath, and his expression flipped within 0.1 seconds.
That casual face was instantly overlaid with a layer of utterly sincere, solemn radiance.
He stepped two paces closer, looking straight into Might Guy’s eyes, his voice low and forceful.
“Best friend.”
Yoru looked at him.
“Can I train with you?”
A breeze drifted across the playground.
Might Guy’s arms, crossed over his chest, froze.
His wide eyes lost focus the moment he heard those words.
He stood stunned for a full three seconds.
Then, without warning, two lines of bean-sized hot tears came gushing from his eyes, splashing onto the soil at his feet.
He lowered his arms, his shoulders heaving.
“Yoru!”
Might Guy roared, his voice cracking.
With trembling hands, he ripped open the bulging, oversized ninja tool pouch at his waist.
Out came a brand-new green jumpsuit, folded with such care there wasn’t a single wrinkle in it.
Might Guy held the clothes high with both hands, his choked voice ringing across the playground.
“Yoru! Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?!”
That same second, a screen of light burst across Yoru’s vision.
Dense, crisp system notifications came scrolling madly through his mind.
［Recognition Points from Might Guy, +999!］
［Recognition Points from Might Guy, +999!］
［Recognition Points from Might Guy, +999!］
［…］
Yoru smacked his lips inwardly.
This “break-defense” system really ought to be renamed the “emotion harvester”—it could drop gold coins from both the positive and the negative side.
Might Guy held out the green bodysuit, radiating a weird aura of youth, and pressed it toward Yoru with a face full of ecstasy.
Yoru lowered his head, his eyes falling on the green outfit that would show off every inch of a person’s figure.
An image rose unbidden in his mind: himself wearing this thing, swaggering through Konoha, walking on his hands side by side with Might Guy down the street.
His stomach turned.
Yoru didn’t hesitate for a second.
He took half a step back, his hands returning decisively to his pockets.
The sincerity was wiped clean off his face.
“Not wearing it.”
His voice was cold and hard, leaving no room for negotiation.
“Ordinary people just can’t handle clothing like this. Keep it and wear it yourself.”
Might Guy’s hands, holding the bodysuit, froze in midair.
The tears at the corners of his eyes stuck to his cheeks.
That ecstatic face turned gray at a visible pace.
The arms holding the clothes drooped limp, the jumpsuit hanging down listlessly.
Even the bowl cut on his head lost its shine.
Ding!
Another familiar, crisp chime rang in Yoru’s mind at the perfect moment.
［Emotional Damage Points from Might Guy, +999!］
Yoru listened to that beautiful sound, thoroughly at ease.
A casual refusal had smoothly pulled off a double harvest of “extreme recognition” and “extreme breakdown.”
Ten seconds, all told.
This was called sustainable development.
But you can’t harvest a leek to death.
Seeing this top-quality leek showing signs of withering completely, Yoru quit while he was ahead and changed the subject at once.
“We’ll talk about the clothes later.”
Yoru straightened his expression.
“Might Guy, take a look at my taijutsu foundation first.”
“Help me put together a training plan—I want to know the gap between me and you.”
At the word “training”—
Might Guy’s gray eyes instantly blazed with two sharp beams of light.
He stuffed the green bodysuit back into his pouch and snapped into an extremely rigorous professional mode.
“Right!”
“We’ll start with a baseline test! First—five full-speed laps around the playground!”
“Then straight into one hundred full-speed push-ups! No stopping in between!”
Out of nowhere he produced a tattered little notebook and a pencil stub, staring at Yoru with burning eyes, ready to record data at any moment.
Yoru didn’t waste words.
The peak-Genin chakra in his body circulated at once, pouring down his meridians into his legs.
He pushed off, sand flying, and shot onto the track.
One lap, two laps, five laps.
After sprinting the whole way, Yoru didn’t stop for a second; he braced his hands on the ground and launched into a hundred clean, full-range fast push-ups.
The added chakra kept his stamina abundant.
After the last one, Yoru stood up, chest heaving, a sheen of fine sweat on his forehead.
He was panting, but nowhere near the bottom of his tank.
Might Guy gripped his pencil stub, quickly noting the times and rep frequency in his little notebook.
Just as Yoru went to sit on the ground and rest, Might Guy shot out a hand to stop him.
“You can’t sit down! Walk it off! Let the muscles relax slowly!”
Might Guy corrected him loudly.
Then he crouched, snapped off a branch, and rapidly scrawled a long string of numbers on the flat sand at the playground’s edge.
“This is your training plan.”
Might Guy stood up and clapped his hands.
Yoru leaned in for a look.
Run 300 laps around the playground every day.
Walk 5 kilometers on his hands.
300 push-ups.
500 squats.
200 pull-ups.
A long string of numbers, carved densely into the sand.
Yoru had figured that with his peak-Genin chakra, this kind of basic taijutsu training would be a walk in the park.
But looking at the suffocatingly dense plan on the ground, his scalp went numb.
Is this a plan meant for a human?
You’d be ready for cremation by the time you finished!
Might Guy explained earnestly from the side.
“Yoru, your chakra reserves far outstrip an ordinary freshman’s.”
“This intensity is just enough to push you to your physical limit every day.”
“And as long as you rest one night, the muscle soreness definitely won’t affect the next day’s extra training.”
Yoru took a deep breath, forcibly swallowing his shock.
He pointed at the numbers on the ground and asked, probing:
“This plan really is brutal. So, Might Guy—what’s your own daily training plan?”
Might Guy stood tall, raised his right thumb, and flashed a set of gleaming white teeth still shining in the twilight.
He smiled easily.
“About twice yours.”