—Saitama, how can you be like this?— Anko said despairingly.
For two days now, Mitarashi had been trying to teach material typically covered at the Academy. Nothing complicated—just the basics. Yet either she was a terrible teacher, or her student was... less than talented.
—Eh... what did I get wrong this time?— Saitama asked with a wide yawn.
—Did you even read the reference books I brought?
—Well... glanced through them,— the bald man scratched his head.
He had indeed skimmed the textbooks Anko provided. But with no pictures or plot, they quickly put him to sleep. Jiraiya's books were another matter—he could reread them endlessly without losing interest. Intrigue, conflict, plot... and plenty of other interesting things. Naturally, Anko often caught Saitama reading the erotic bestseller tucked inside a geography or history textbook...
Currently, the two sat at a small table in the living room of Saitama's new house. "House" might be too grand a term—it had two floors, five rooms, a proper bathroom with a shower and two toilets, and a spacious kitchen fully stocked. The fridge was packed to bursting, much to Saitama's delight.
He'd received the house just yesterday.
Moreover, the hero now had official documentation, making the Caped Baldy a bona fide shinobi with the rank of special jonin. They'd issued him a uniform, but he refused to wear it—at least not in those colors. The Hokage had placed a custom order, and his yellow jumpsuit with red gloves and boots would be ready in a few days...
—Saitama, a shinobi needs to understand the world,— Anko began. —You have to study geography. I'm shocked you can't even remember country names, let alone hidden villages. It's like you're mocking me...
She crossed her arms and frowned.
—Not true,— Saitama protested. —I remember perfectly well we're in the Land of Fire.
—No surprise there,— Anko snorted. —It's literally written on your ID: 'Saitama. Konoha Special Jonin. Land of Fire...'
—Really?— Saitama raised an eyebrow. —Didn't even notice.
Anko closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. She couldn't tell if he was messing with her, genuinely dense, or simply indifferent.
Shaking her head, she conceded geography wasn't his forte and switched tactics.
—Fine, screw geography. You were paying attention yesterday, right? I explained about the Kage—the Hokage specifically. Remember what a Kage is?
—Of course,— Saitama nodded. —Leaders of hidden villages. Cool guys everyone respects. Hokage rule Konoha. Even Naruto wants to be one—though I don't get why...
—Let's skip Naruto's ambitions,— Anko cut in. —Good, you remembered that. Now for some Konoha history.
The bald shinobi frowned. He liked stories, especially adventure tales. He'd tried listening attentively yesterday—the cool wooden guy who founded Konoha stood out. Or was he just controlling trees?
Whatever. He'd retained some facts. Anko wouldn't quiz him on *Come Come Paradise*, but he felt ready for village history questions.
—Alright,— Anko cleared her throat, —answer this: Who is Namikaze Minato?
Saitama pondered. The name rang a bell—Anko had mentioned it. But in what context?
—One of the Hokage?— he ventured.
Anko smiled:
—Correct, good job. Namikaze Minato—the Fourth Hokage. Also known as 'Konoha's Yellow Flash.'
Saitama nodded sagely. Anko pressed on:
—What was Minato famous for? Why 'Yellow Flash'?
Saitama's brow furrowed as he racked his brain, even attempting logic. His expression was so comical Anko stifled a laugh.
Suddenly, inspiration struck. He folded his hands on the table, looking smug.
—Got it,— he declared. —They called him 'Yellow Flash' because...
Saitama raised a finger, grinning slyly:
—He kept crashing into trees, right?
—WHAT?!— Anko gaped.
—Well,— Saitama hesitated, —like, always hitting trees, like lightning...
Anko's palm met her face. Her shoulders slumped. Slowly, she rose and walked to the nearest wall—then began rhythmically bumping her head against it.
—Hey, what's wrong?— Saitama asked, concerned.
No answer. The head-thumping continued as she muttered:
—It's impossible. Teaching Saitama is hopeless. This mission from the Third is unachievable...
The impacts grew louder until Saitama leapt up.
—Stop that!— he shouted. —I just got this house yesterday, and you're already wrecking it! Go headbutt the training grounds!..
Anko sighed bitterly but ceased her assault on the wall.
—Fine, Saitama,— she said calmly. —I'll buy notebooks. When I return, you'll transcribe my dictation. Then read it aloud.
Saitama winced as if with a toothache but nodded reluctantly.
As Anko left, he headed to the kitchen to cook.
—Don't see the point,— he grumbled, pulling ingredients from the fridge. —I'm twenty-five, not some schoolkid...
***
—Good work, team,— Kakashi said, approaching his disgruntled genin. —Dismissed. Same time tomorrow.
With a *poof*, the jonin vanished.
Sakura growled:
—What kind of sensei is he? He sent a clone on our mission too!..
Today marked Team Seven's first D-rank: weeding gardens. Sakura had protested vehemently upon learning—though her dissatisfaction had started earlier, thanks to Kakashi.
Not only had the jonin been three hours late, but after accepting the mission, he'd lounged under a tree while the genin toiled under scorching sun.
Thankfully, Naruto immediately created ten clones, speeding up the work. Without him, they'd have labored till evening.
Now it turned out they'd been with a clone all along. Whether Kakashi took the mission himself before stealthily substituting a clone mattered little.
—Is he even going to train us?— Sakura fumed.
—That's not all, Sakura-chan,— Naruto chimed in. —Katame-sensei didn't mention mission pay.
—Huh?— Sakura blinked. —What pay?
Naruto explained mission ranks, payments, and how even low-rank missions guaranteed genin earnings.
—So he pocketed our ryō too?— A vein throbbed on Sakura's forehead, fists clenched audibly.
—Yep,— Naruto nodded. —Average D-rank pays 5,000 ryō per team. Can't wait for an S-rank—they pay over 1,000,000 ryō. A whole million, dattebayo!..
His eyes rolled back dreamily as he rubbed his hands.
Sasuke frowned:
—How do you know all this?
—Heh-heh,— Naruto scratched his nose, grinning, —been reading a lot lately.
—Reading?— Sakura arched a brow, momentarily forgetting the money. —Didn't know you could. Idiots usually don't.
—Sakura-chan, you're cruel,— Naruto feigned offense, pouting.
But a second later, his face lit up as if remembering something.
—Anyway, see you tomorrow. Gotta train. Daily quotas won't complete themselves.
With that, he dashed off, leaving the others. Sakura shifted awkwardly, gazing adoringly at Uchiha. Sasuke glared after the blond.
—Sasuke-kun,— Sakura began timidly, cheeks pinkening. —Maybe we could... um...
—Tch,— came the reply. —I'm training too.— Hands in pockets, he strode after Naruto.
—But Sasuke-kun, wait...
He spun around. Had looks could kill, Haruno would've dropped dead. Fortunately, he lacked that ability. After a moment, he averted his eyes.
—Sakura, you're the weakest and most useless of us three,— he stated coldly. —Don't know why you even became a shinobi.
Tears welled in her eyes, lips trembling.
—To kill him... for revenge, I must grow stronger. I'm still too weak...— Sasuke whispered before walking away.
***
At Training Ground 66, Uzumaki Naruto continued torturing his body with hellish exercises. He performed squat jumps while balancing a massive log on his shoulders—all while standing on water. With each jump, he didn't sink but landed smoothly on the lake's surface, channeling chakra through his feet.
—Nine hundred ninety-nine...— Naruto rasped. —...One thousand!
With a loud exhale, the blond hurled the log toward the shore (fortunately nearby) before plunging into the water, limbs splayed like a starfish. After floating briefly, he crawled toward his belongings.
It took three attempts to stand. On trembling legs, he staggered to his food bag.
Naruto trained in just shorts, his tanned skin glistening under the afternoon sun. Push-ups, crunches, and squats—done. Only the run remained.
Master Saitama had allowed fewer reps to save time, but in exchange, Naruto had to creatively intensify each exercise.
Now he performed a thousand reps per exercise... with a two-hundred-pound log.
For push-ups, the log stuck to his back via chakra (simultaneously training control) as he held a planche—body parallel to the ground, balanced solely on his hands.
For crunches, he hung upside-down from a cliff, adhering via chakra, while gripping the log (also chakra-stuck).
Squat jumps—same log, but on water.
The run would also feature the hated log, but with an added twist: all ten kilometers had to be completed on water. At least the distance was shorter now—just thirty minutes' work.
This "advanced" regimen, practiced for two days now, was more grueling than his former sixteen-hour sessions. Yet it freed up time for rest and recovery.
Naruto devoured rabbit-meat sandwiches, washing them down with green tea from his canteen...
Post-meal, he observed clones training ninjutsu nearby. Fifty had mastered Dragon Flame Jutsu and Small Fireball. Another fifty sat apart, attempting to slice leaves with wind chakra. A hundred more practiced aerial kicks.
Suddenly, a clone's memories surfaced...
—Yeah,— Naruto mentally snorted. —Anko-senpai was right—D-ranks are boring...—
Following her advice, he'd sent a clone (imbued with a fifth of his chakra) on the mission. He'd discovered he could regulate chakra allocation—more chakra made clones sturdier and longer-lasting. They could even create sub-clones, drawing from his reserves. Thus, Naruto decided all future D-ranks would be clone affairs—so long as teammates and Kakashi remained oblivious...
Another memory wave hit—this time from Academy-library clones. His head throbbed, vision swam, and blood trickled from his nose. A fourth handkerchief joined three other bloodied ones today.
—All for the dream...— Naruto grinned.
Then—urban-library clone memories. His skull felt split open. Gritting his teeth, he braced against the ground as blood dripped onto grass.
—No,— he shook his head, fighting unconsciousness. —All for the goal!
***
—Please,— Tazuna gasped. —Break...
Today, this insane team was running another "marathon"—at least, that's what it felt like to the bridge builder. Hours of jogging (even at a snail's pace) had exhausted him. His heart threatened to burst; legs burned as if skewered with hot rods.
Yet his companions showed no strain. The green-clad duo ran figure-eights around the group, shouldering logs. The more sensible gray-eyed boy and girl also jogged effortlessly—not even sweating.
—Can't... gonna die...—
Tripping, Tazuna collapsed. Glasses flew off. Sweat blurred his vision; ears rang.
—Kami... Should've let the mercenaries kill me...—
—Break!— the monster named Gai bellowed.
—Thank Kami...— Tazuna whispered before passing out.
***
THUD—two massive logs slid off the jonin's shoulders. Another THUD—a smaller log dropped from Rock Lee's back.
—Neji, let's spar!— Lee cheered.
—Bad idea on missions,— Neji said coldly.
—Then I'll do 1,000 thumb push-ups! If I fail, I'll hand-walk to Wave Country! For Youthful Power!—
He dropped and began thumb push-ups.
—Sure,— Neji deadpanned. —Whatever.
(Would he hand-walk across rivers too?)
Shaking off the thought, the Hyūga activated his Byakugan for perimeter checks.
—Company,— he announced after scanning. —Two hostiles, three o'clock, one kilometer. Unknown intentions—stay alert.
Tenten nodded, unsealing weapon scrolls, then food supplies. Spotting Tazuna:
—He's not dead, right?—
Byakugan confirmed:
—He'll live.—
—Will we get penalized for "client abuse"?—
—Gai-sensei offered to carry him earlier,— Neji said. —Client refused. Then Lee suggested a palanquin—refused again.—
—So it's his fault,— Tenten snorted.
—Not fault,— Neji corrected. —Fact.
—Team!— Gai loomed over them, grinning. —Training session?—
—Potential enemies ahead,— Neji said. —Conserving energy's wis—
—With the Fires of Youth!— Gai interrupted, striking a pose. —No enemy scares us!—
Tenten sighed. Neji remained stoic.
Noticing Tazuna, Gai beamed:
—Ah! Our client naps efficiently! Truly admirable!—
Suddenly, his smile vanished. Brow furrowed, he listened intently.
—Break extended—90 minutes. Wake and feed him in 30. Guard him closely. I'll be nearby for backup.— His tone brooked no argument.
The man himself picked up the logs and left to continue training.
***
Half an hour later, they lifted the architect—but didn't wake him. It turned out he hadn't just fallen asleep, but lost consciousness.
Tenten made him sniff ammonia. Tazuna jerked awake.
—I'm not dead yet?— he asked gloomily.
—Tenten has basic medical training,— Neji remarked indifferently. —So dying isn't an option for you, no matter how much you might want to.
Tazuna nodded sluggishly. The girl had already unsealed food and was portioning it into bowls.
—Itadakimasu,— the architect muttered resignedly.
The trio began eating leisurely. Gai and Lee were training by the nearby river. Tenten seemed visibly nervous, while her teammate appeared the picture of calm.
—SWISH—
A kunai embedded itself in the bowl that suddenly appeared in front of Tazuna—held by Neji. The architect's eyes bulged as he stared at the genin, then at the bowl with the protruding kunai, before finally swallowing hard and looking at their "guests."
—Finally,— Neji said irritably. —They've arrived.
Two figures emerged from the brush. Their forehead protectors and appearance identified them as chunin from Kiri. The shinobi wore standard Mist uniforms with breathing masks, their primary weapon being a single spiked chain connecting massive steel gauntlets that they shared between them.
—I assume the architect is your target?— Neji inquired coldly, rising slowly to his feet.
—What a clever brat,— one Kiri-nin rasped. —And if he is?
—Nothing,— Neji activated his Byakugan. —Our objectives conflict. Given Kirigakure's bloodthirsty reputation, letting you live would be unwise.
—Such arrogance... Kill him!
The Mist-nin charged Neji, forgetting about the kunoichi entirely.
Tenten unsealed her arsenal, raining shuriken and kunai on the enemies. They dodged or blocked with their gauntlets, the steel barrage momentarily checking their advance. Yet they remained focused on eliminating the Hyūga first.
—Protect the client. I'll handle this,— Neji told Tenten. She nodded, practically dragging Tazuna away by his collar.
With the projectile threat gone, the Kiri-nin flanked Neji, ensnaring him in their spiked chain before he could evade.
—Heh-heh, say goodbye, Hyūga!—
The chain bisected their target—or should have. Before they could celebrate, a voice came from behind one shinobi:
—Eight Trigrams Palms Revolving Heaven.
—CRUNCH—
Bone shattered. One Mist-nin collapsed lifeless. His partner whirled to face an unharmed Neji standing over the body.
—Gozu... brother... no...—
The surviving nin had no time to process his shock before Neji closed in.
—Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms!—
A barrage of precise strikes hammered vital points and tenketsu. Moments later, the paralyzed Kiri-nin dropped to his knees—his remaining lifespan measured in breaths.
Neji approached Tenten as she guarded a stunned Tazuna.
—Dynamic Entry!— Lee's battle cry preceded his flying kick sending the half-dead enemy crashing into a tree ten meters away.
—Did I miss anything?— Lee asked cheerfully.
Tenten just rubbed her forehead and sighed.
—Tazuna-san,— Neji began, ignoring Lee's arrival. —We need to talk seriously...
The architect swallowed hard, eyeing the corpse nearby.