A Swordsman Removes His Shirt… and the Pitiful Poverty
The vast training grounds stretched beneath the brilliant blue sky, bathed in the golden morning light. Every detail, from the dust on the ground to the shifting shadows, was clearly illuminated.
Satoru took a deep breath, then let out a sigh.
Without hesitation, he unfastened his cloak and shrugged it off, revealing his upper body.
His muscles weren't overly bulky, but they were toned to perfection—refined through countless battles, carrying the sharp definition of someone who had trained relentlessly.
He didn't look like an 18-year-old academy instructor.
He looked like a warrior who had survived a thousand deadly encounters.
But that wasn't what stunned everyone.
It was what he had just said before removing his shirt.
Obito blinked in confusion and asked:
"Satoru-sensei… why did you take off your shirt?"
Satoru clicked his tongue in frustration, grumbling as he folded his discarded cloak.
"I only have three shirts at home, Obito. If this one gets ruined, I'll have to cut down to bathing only once every two days."
Silence.
A gentle breeze swept through the training grounds.
No one spoke.
Obito's mouth hung open as he slowly turned to Kakashi.
"…Is this what real poverty looks like, Kakashi?"
Kakashi rested his chin on his hand and nodded without hesitation.
"Without a doubt."
The other instructors: "…"
Even Renji squinted at Satoru in mild disbelief.
Satoru sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping.
"The academy pays interns next to nothing. You really think I'm loaded?"
At that moment, Ayane's eyes flickered with an unreadable expression.
She pressed her lips together, glancing at Satoru once more, as if lost in thought.
"…Maybe I should make him a new outfit?"
It was just a fleeting thought.
But as she looked at him standing under the golden sunlight, casually wielding his wooden sword, the feeling in her chest grew even more complicated.
The Way of the Sword—As Free as the Wind
Renji stepped forward and unsheathed his long blade, the steel gleaming under the morning sun.
"This is only a sparring match—first to land a clean hit wins. But don't take this lightly. Swordsmanship isn't just about slashing. It's about understanding yourself… and your blade."
Satoru smiled, gripping his wooden sword firmly.
"As long as I don't die, it's fine, right?"
Renji narrowed his eyes before suddenly bursting into laughter.
"Hahaha! Then let's begin!"
The moment his voice fell—
CLANG!
A flash of steel.
The very next instant, the two swords clashed, sending a sharp gust of wind spiraling across the training ground.
Everyone's eyes widened.
Fast.
Their movements were nearly too quick to follow. Blades flickered like flashes of light beneath the rising sun, their trajectories swift yet precise, graceful yet deadly.
But—
Renji sensed something off almost immediately.
Speed, strength, reaction time—
Satoru exceeded all his expectations.
Yet the most terrifying thing about him wasn't raw power.
It was fluidity.
Satoru didn't press forward aggressively like a typical swordsman.
Instead, his movements resembled the gentle flow of a stream—soft, seamless, yet impossible to control.
Renji gritted his teeth, pushing his speed further.
But the moment his blade came close—
Satoru was already gone.
With just a slight tilt of his head, he evaded by a hair's breadth, his wooden sword gliding in a perfect counter-arc.
CLANG!
Renji could feel it.
Every time their blades met, he was struck by a forceful yet refined impact—accompanied by an eerie sense of adaptability.
As if Satoru's sword wasn't even solid.
It was water.
It met Renji's attacks with the perfect amount of resistance before slipping away, flowing into the next movement like an unpredictable tide.
Fast. Sharp. Inescapable.
Renji wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
He adjusted his angle and struck from a different direction, but—
Whoosh!
Satoru dodged it in an instant, his wooden sword carving a beautiful arc through the air.
It was light as the breeze. Yet it carried a sharpness that could cleave steel.
Under the morning sun—
Satoru looked as though he had become his sword.
Every movement was natural. Every motion effortless.
As if swordsmanship wasn't a skill he had learned, but something he had breathed since birth.
Renji chuckled bitterly.
Had this been a few years ago—before he suffered internal injuries during a battle with Iwagakure's top three Jōnin—he might have been able to truly challenge Satoru.
But now…
The result was clear.
The surrounding instructors were silent, their eyes filled with admiration.
"This… isn't the swordsmanship of an 18-year-old."
"He moves like a true master swordsman."
"Have we underestimated Satoru-sensei all this time?"
Ayane's eyes widened slightly, a faint tremor in her chest as she watched.
There he was—Satoru, standing under the golden light of dawn.
Shirtless, relaxed, wielding his blade with casual elegance.
His movements were sharp yet tranquil.
A picture so captivating it felt unreal.
A Broken Sword and a Swordsman's Smile
Then—
CRACK!
Satoru's wooden sword suddenly splintered, breaking apart as it clashed against Renji's blade.
It couldn't withstand the intensity of their duel.
The entire training ground fell into stunned silence.
Renji inhaled deeply before bursting into laughter.
"Haha! Just as I expected!"
He sheathed his blade and nodded approvingly at Satoru.
"You're much stronger than I imagined, Satoru."
Satoru glanced at the broken wooden sword in his hand, exhaling softly before smirking.
"…Looks like my sword was too cheap."
A faint breeze swept past, rustling the golden leaves in the air.
Renji's expression turned firm.
"I'll be recommending your promotion to Lord Danzo and the Hokage."
Satoru froze.
"…Wait, what?"
His entire body stiffened as if the sky had collapsed.
A vivid mental image instantly formed in his mind—
Danzo, sitting in his dark office, his sharp, eagle-like eyes staring straight at him.
"I see… so you're quite talented."
"No. No, no, no, NO! I don't want to be on that old man's radar!!"
Renji paid no attention to Satoru's panicked expression.
Instead, he patted him firmly on the shoulder, laughing heartily.
"Haha, don't worry. I'll make sure you get what you deserve."
Satoru: "…No, really, I think I need more training—"
Renji: "No need to be humble! Humility is good, but the flame of youth must burn brightly, my friend!"
Renji turned and walked away, still chuckling in satisfaction.
He had taken a liking to this young swordsman.
If his daughter weren't just six years old, he might have considered Satoru as a potential son-in-law.
Satoru: "…"
He lifted a hand toward the sky, his heart sinking into an abyss of despair.
All he wanted was a sparring match to test his limits…
Not to become Danzo's next pawn.
Damn it.
Had he just unknowingly walked into his own doom!?
(To be continued in Chapter 24 – The Hokage's Summon and the Shadows of Konoha!)