The scrolls from the archive still echoed in Haruko's thoughts—the way strategy and silence intertwined. But now, it was time to see if stillness could cling to bark.
Morning mist lingered over the training fields as students gathered, half-awake and stiff-legged. Today's lesson had shifted from weapons and teamwork drills to something more inward: chakra control.
Tetsuo stood at the base of a large training tree, its bark worn smooth by generations of shinobi before them. "Surface walking," he announced. "Control your chakra flow. Maintain even distribution to your feet. Stick to the bark, don't repel from it. Failure means gravity wins."
The murmurs were half excitement, half dread. The Uchiha cousins grinned. Kakashi was already stretching. Haruko, as usual, observed in silence.
"Chakra is not force. It is alignment."
—System Echo: Ghost Modulation pending.
One by one, the students tried. Some managed two steps before falling. A few reached halfway. Kakashi walked five paces up before flipping off casually, earning a soft round of impressed gasps.
Then came Obito.
"I've got this!" he shouted, fists clenched. He charged the tree with all the grace of a cannonball, slapped his foot to the trunk, and immediately tumbled back onto his rear.
Laughter erupted from several students. Obito sprang up, brushing dirt from his sleeves.
"That was just a warm-up!" he declared, running at it again—and promptly falling again.
Haruko watched, quietly amused.
Haruko's turn came. He stepped forward, pressed his foot to the trunk, and pushed chakra down. A surge flared—and he was flung backward as if the tree had spat him out.
His back hit the ground with a thud, dry dust puffing up around him. The bark had been rough, sap-sticky in places, and the morning dew hadn't yet dried. It made every slip feel personal.
Snickers followed.
"Too much output," Tetsuo said calmly. "Try again."
Haruko nodded. He focused, slowed his breathing. The system pulsed faintly in his mind.
"Ghost Modulation active – stabilizing output channels."
His second attempt was better. The chakra moved less like a wave, more like a thread. He stepped up once. Then twice. A third step... and he slipped again.
"Control is not control. It is understanding."
—System Reflection
But he'd held.
"Better," Tetsuo murmured.
Emi watched from the line, eyes thoughtful. When Haruko returned to her side, she whispered, "You adjusted mid-step. Most don't catch that until their tenth fall."
Haruko gave a slight nod. "Still slipped."
"You'll stop slipping soon."
Daichi flopped next to them, face dusty from his attempt. "Ugh. My toes are chakra resistant. I swear it."
Obito, still nearby, pointed dramatically at Haruko. "Hey! That was cool—until you fell!"
Haruko blinked. "Thanks?"
Obito grinned. "Next time, we race!"
Rin tugged Obito's sleeve. "Only if you can stand on the tree for more than two seconds."
They chuckled together, a small pocket of warmth amid exhaustion.
—
Lunch was quieter that day. The training had drained them, and many sat nursing bruises and egos. Emi handed Haruko a dumpling without a word. He took it, nodding in thanks.
"You're moving differently," she said after a while.
"How so?"
"Like you're not fighting your own body anymore."
Haruko thought for a moment. "Maybe I'm listening to it more."
"You don't talk much," Emi added, her voice softer. "But you're always... paying attention."
Haruko shrugged. "Words don't always add value."
Daichi, mid-bite, grinned. "I listen to mine all the time. It says, 'Feed me more rice balls.'" He waved a half-eaten one like a banner. "Our silent strategist. Weirdest in class—but if I get stuck in a trap, I'm betting on you."
Emi chuckled. "He's not wrong."
Obito jogged over then, holding up a slightly squashed lunch box. "Wanna trade half? Mine's mostly rice again..."
Rin sighed. "Obito, you forgot to pack yours again, didn't you?"
Obito grinned. "Nooo... I was testing Haruko's generosity."
Haruko blinked, then handed over a dumpling. "Consider it passed."
Obito gave him a thumbs up. "Knew I liked you!"
—
That night, Haruko sat cross-legged in his room. The house was quiet. Ayaka had long since fallen asleep, her tools packed away neatly by the door.
He placed his hands on his knees, eyes closed. Breathed deep.
He reached for the chakra inside—not forcefully, but curiously. It responded, not like a servant, but like a shadow reflecting his posture.
"The quiet current carves the deepest path."
—System Reflection: Modulation efficiency improved.
Haruko opened his eyes. His hands were faintly warm. Balanced.
Outside, under moonlight, he walked to the back wall of the house. He pressed his foot to the wooden surface, breathed in, and climbed.
One step. Then two. Then three.
He slipped. But not far.
And this time, he landed on his feet.
He stood still in the moonlight, staring at the wall he would one day scale without falling.
"One step at a time," he whispered.
The system hummed faintly, like an approving nod in the dark.