Chapter 18: "Study Group of Punches & Parkour"
(Or: I Learned Muay Thai From YouTube and Beat Up a Tree)
After a lunch that almost ended with Miki-san threatening to enroll me in military school, I decided I needed a little fresh air and low-stress bonding time. You know, something casual. Chill.
So obviously, I met up with my martial arts training buddies to study ways to beat people up more effectively.
Enter Kenichi Shirahama—a guy with the muscles of a ramen noodle and the heart of a lion cub. He had this whole "earnest underdog" thing going on, which honestly made him more relatable than half the shinobi I'd met. He wasn't strong yet, but he was trying hard, and more importantly, he didn't give up.
And then there was his little sister Hanako—cheerful, spunky, and frighteningly determined to make her brother "cool." Honestly, she reminded me of Konohamaru if he had pigtails and weaponized guilt trips.
We met at our usual spot in the park—just a dusty clearing with a tree stump, some grass patches, and a suspicious number of pigeons that were either spying on us or plotting their own gang war.
Kenichi waved as he pulled a tablet out of his backpack. "Hey, Naruto! I got the footage. Took me forever to find high-res clips of elbow strikes from six different angles."
Hanako beamed. "I told him to download more grappling this time. We keep losing to big guys who do ground stuff!"
"Appreciate it," I said, plopping down beside them. "Let's get started."
We sat like ancient scholars of violence, watching videos of Muay Thai fighters slicing air with their knees, taekwondo masters defying gravity, and judo practitioners folding opponents like laundry. There was even a full playlist dedicated to baton control techniques used by riot police. (Kenichi had labeled it "Naruto's Future Stick-Fu".)
"So here," Kenichi said, pausing the video as a man twisted an attacker's wrist and spun them into a chokehold, "if you control the elbow and pivot your stance—"
"—you can drop their center of gravity and flip them without brute force," I finished, already mimicking the motion with a wooden kunai in hand.
Yep, ever since Loki and his goons tried to gang-up ambush me, I'd upgraded my schoolbag. It now had:
Wooden kunai (for sneaky deflections and style points),
A police-grade training baton (for respectable violence),
And my secret weapon: steel-plated shoes.
Stylish. Durable. And capable of turning a basic roundhouse into an orthopedic emergency.
"You've gotten way too good at this," Hanako said, eyes wide as I copy-spun a taekwondo kick and landed in stance.
"I learn fast when people are trying to stab me," I said with a grin. "Plus, muscle memory helps when your actual body's been dodging shuriken since you were six."
Kenichi tilted his head. "Do you ever wonder if we're the only ones doing this?"
"You mean training for underground street dominance in a peaceful Japanese suburb?" I asked. "Nah, totally normal."
Hanako giggled. "It's more fun than cram school. Besides, if we get strong, maybe we'll have a better future, right?"
There it was. The heart of it. We weren't just goofing off in the park learning MMA from grainy footage. We were building ourselves up—together.
Kenichi wanted to stop being pushed around. Hanako wanted to protect her brother.
And me?
I wanted allies. People I could count on. A team, even if it was made of underdogs and overenthusiastic siblings.
We spent the next two hours copying stances, doing bodyweight drills, and hitting the tree stump with focused strikes. I even let them try on my steel shoes (which were two sizes too big for them, and Hanako tripped into a bush—10/10 effort).
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After soaking in enough martial arts videos to qualify for an honorary black belt in YouTube Studies, it was time to take theory into painful practice.
That meant sparring. Real hits. Real sweat. Real flying bodies.
(Okay, maybe just one flying body, and it may or may not have been Kenichi.)
We'd already agreed this wasn't going to be one of those gentle kata demonstrations where we bowed politely and tapped each other like porcelain dolls.
Nope. This was war.
War with foam pads, wooden sticks, and steel shoes that only one of us was allowed to wear. (Hint: it was me.)
Hanako got the light version, of course. She was only twelve. Plus, the last time Kenichi accidentally poked her with a stick, she cried for twenty minutes and made him buy her melon bread for a week.
So this time, she practiced evasion, timing, and what she called her "secret technique" — which was really just her throwing pebbles at our feet while giggling.
"Distraction is part of battle strategy!" she said proudly.
Kenichi and I, however, had no such mercy clause.
"You sure about this?" I asked, twirling my wooden kunai. "We don't stop until you drop."
Kenichi gulped. "I'll be fine. Probably. Maybe. I read that pain is temporary—"
"—and glory is forever," I finished for him, smirking. "Alright then. Let's go, Shirahama."
We squared off.
Kenichi opened with a front kick. It was... slow. Predictable. The kind of move a sleep-deprived ninja would dodge in his dreams. So I side-stepped, tapped his leg, and sent him tumbling to the grass with one light shove.
Hanako clapped. "Nice fall! That was... almost graceful!"
Kenichi groaned and rolled to his feet. "Okay. Again!"
And so we went again.
He attacked, I defended. He struck high, I ducked low. Occasionally, I let him hit me—just enough for him to feel it: the rhythm, the adrenaline, the rush of not getting overwhelmed.
But mostly, he got bruised.
Not hospital-level bruised—I'm not that mean. But definitely "gonna-sleep-on-his-side-tonight" level.
And yet… he kept getting up.
"Again."
Whack.
"Again."
Thud.
"Again."
Eventually, I slowed my hits and let him land a combo. A real one. His right jab connected, and his knee strike followed up with actual impact.
"Nice!" I said, rubbing my ribs. "That one kinda stung."
Kenichi stood there panting, bruised but grinning. "Seriously?!"
"Yup. That was a B-minus. Maybe B-plus if you stopped closing your eyes when you punch."
"You close your eyes when you—?"
"Never."
We both laughed.
Hanako brought us water bottles and snacks, like the good team manager she pretended not to be.
"You did great, big bro," she said, handing him an ice pack shaped like a bunny.
"I feel like a training dummy."
"Strong training dummy," I corrected. "Most people freeze when they feel pain. But you kept going. That fear? It's your biggest enemy. The moment you stop fearing pain, you start fighting for real."
Kenichi looked at me with a face full of bruises and hope.
"You really think I'm getting better?"
"You're not just getting better," I said, clapping his shoulder. "You're becoming someone who won't back down. That's rarer than any fancy technique."
He grinned, wincing slightly. "Then tomorrow… we go again?"
"Definitely," I said. "Just maybe tape your ribs this time."
As the sun dipped low, casting golden light over the park, I felt something solid and warm inside.
This wasn't just a sparring session.
It was the start of something real—bonds forged in effort, sweat, and the occasional thrown pebble from a twelve-year-old girl.
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After our epic sparring session — which involved one bruised Kenichi, one pebble-throwing menace named Hanako, and me totally not going easy on them (wink wink) — we flopped down on the grass like tired little warrior pancakes.
The sun was setting, casting one of those perfect anime-filtered glows across the park, and I figured it was the perfect time to casually bring up something completely insane.
I mean, that's how people normally do it, right?
"Hey," I said, sitting back and tossing a twig in the air, "what if, like… ki and magic were real?"
Kenichi blinked at me, suspiciously. "…Like, in real life?"
"Yeah. Totally hypothetical." I smiled in that innocent way that says "I definitely don't have a secret agenda or a demon fox soul."
"Just curious, you know? Like, if someone wanted to… I don't know… unlock their inner ki or channel their magic chakra energy powers or whatever, how would they even start?"
Kenichi tilted his head. "Why do you sound like an isekai protagonist trying not to blow his cover?"
"…Do I?"
"Yes."
Hanako snorted. "You do. But it's fine. I always knew you were weird."
Look, she wasn't wrong, but the point was: I needed answers. I couldn't exactly scream, "Hey! I'm a ninja in someone else's body trying to figure out if this world has hidden chakra sorcery or if I'm just doomed to fight with wooden sticks and Google martial arts forever!"
That's not normal conversation material.
So I had to be sneaky. Like a spy. Or a raccoon stealing snacks.
Kenichi scratched his head. "Well, if we're talking anime rules—which I take very seriously, by the way—there's usually three ways people unlock magic or ki or whatever."
"Hit me," I said, pretending not to be way too interested.
"One," he held up a finger. "Bloodline or destiny. You know, the main character has some ancient dragon spirit sealed in his left pinky toe or something."
"Check," I muttered under my breath. Thanks, Kurama. Wherever you are.
"Two, intense training with a master who gives you vague advice like 'feel the energy' and then smacks you with a stick when you don't."
"Sounds like half my childhood."
"And three…" He held up a third finger with a dramatic pause. "Life-or-death battle where you suddenly scream and go supernova."
I raised an eyebrow. "So... the 'scream-until-it-works' method."
"Exactly!"
Hanako chimed in while munching on a melon bread, "Sometimes there's also the emotion unlock thing. Like you feel love, or rage, or really really need to protect someone and BOOM—power unlocked."
I nodded slowly. "So… what if someone hypothetically felt a weird pull in their stomach, like something's waiting to burst out but can't? Not indigestion, I swear."
Kenichi looked thoughtful. "Then you probably need to meditate. Or punch more trees. Anime logic says something like that unlocks your energy points."
Hanako raised a finger. "Or fall into a cave and find a magical scroll."
"That too."
I laughed, though part of me really considered falling into a cave just to see.
We sat in silence for a bit after that, letting the wind brush through the grass and leaves like a lazy lullaby. It was peaceful. For once, I wasn't thinking about murdery teenagers, dimensional problems, or accidentally stabbing people with wooden kunai.
I looked at them — two normal kids, tired from training, dreaming of getting stronger.
I liked that.
I liked them.
"Thanks," I said, leaning back with my hands behind my head. "I mean it."
"For what?" Kenichi asked.
"For being weird with me."
Hanako smiled. "That's what friends are for."
And as we lay under the orange sky, I thought: maybe, just maybe, this world did have magic. Not flashy spells or glowing energy beams (yet), but in the way people connected.
Still, I was definitely punching a tree tomorrow. Just in case.