The training ground.
The three of them stood in a row, but their positions had changed.
Tsunade stood on the far left, Jiraiya in the middle, and Kitahara Kaede on the far right.
Usually, there wouldn't have been more than an arm's length of distance between Tsunade and Kitahara Kaede, but today, Jiraiya stood as a complete barrier between them.
Every now and then, Kitahara Kaede would glance at Tsunade.
Since that "fruit incident," she seed to be intentionally avoiding him. In the last five days, they had spoken fewer than ten sentences to each other.
He had noticed it on the first day and knew exactly why—she didn't know how to face him.
That was how they had ended up.
But today was the fifth day.
It was lasting longer than he had anticipated.
Kitahara Kaede frowned slightly. It wasn't anxiety, but rather... a lack of habit.
There was no one beside him to bicker with, no one to stubbornly insist that his achievents "weren't that impressive" while their eyes betrayed how much they actually cared.
Sothing felt empty.
The mont that thought surfaced, Kitahara Kaede froze.
'No way.'
In this simulator, these people were NPCs. He was here to grind evaluations and get rewards, not to make friends.
Yet, once the feeling of emptiness erged, he couldn't shake it.
He withdrew his gaze and stopped looking at Tsunade. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but he needed a catalyst.
Standing in the middle, Jiraiya's head was pivoting left and right like a rattle.
'Heh. What's up with these two?'
Normally, they walked so close their shoulders practically brushed; today, they were practically miles apart.
'They fought. They definitely fought!'
Jiraiya's eyes darted around as he stole a glance at Tsunade. Her ponytail was tied a bit higher today, and her profile was tense, looking as though she wouldn't speak to anyone.
His heart skipped a beat.
'An opportunity! A once-in-a-lifeti chance!'
While they were at odds, if he could just step in and offer a handkerchief or buy her so sweets, maybe Tsunade would finally see him in a new light?
'As soon as training is over, I'll go buy so of those wagashi from that new shop...'
"Is everyone here?"
Hiruzen's voice sounded from behind them.
The three turned around. Hiruzen stood by a training post, spinning a shuriken in his hand.
"Today, I will teach you a technique."
Jiraiya's eyes lit up. "What rank?"
"A-rank."
A sudden silence fell over the group.
Jiraiya's mouth dropped open. Tsunade also turned her head in surprise.
An A-rank jutsu. This was a level that most Chunin would never reach in their entire lives.
And here they were—three Genin who had just graduated from the Academy.
"The Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique."
Hiruzen tossed the shuriken into the air and ford a hand seal with one hand.
The shuriken spun in the sky—one beca ten, ten beca fifty. They blanketed the air, raining down on the target area until the wooden wall was bristling with tal.
Then, one by one, they vanished, until only a single shuriken remained.
"The principle is the sa as the Shadow Clone Technique, but it requires far greater precision in chakra control," Hiruzen said, withdrawing his hand. "If the distribution is uneven, you'll either lack quantity or the clones will all dissipate."
Jiraiya raised his hand. "Sensei, how long did it take you to create this technique?"
"About a week," Hiruzen replied, tapping his pipe. "I was already a Jonin at the ti."
Jiraiya's lip twitched.
Hiruzen turned to Kitahara Kaede. "You first."
Kitahara Kaede took out a shuriken and weighed it in his hand. He had observed the hand seal sequence and the rhythm of the chakra output just now.
That was enough.
He tossed the shuriken and ford the seal with his right hand.
One beca five. They spread out in a fan shape, all embedding themselves perfectly into the training post.
The dull thuds of tal hitting wood were crisp and clean.
The clones held for three seconds before four vanished, leaving only the original.
The training ground fell silent.
Hiruzen's pipe remained at his lips; he didn't take a puff for a long ti.
He had seen plenty of geniuses in his life. But the child before him... this wasn't a question of genius; this was a different league entirely.
"Five. The chakra distribution was perfectly even, and the depth of penetration was consistent." Hiruzen slowly exhaled. "To achieve this... on the first attempt."
He didn't finish the sentence, but the aning was clear.
Tsunade stared at the training post.
An A-rank jutsu, mastered after seeing it once.
Her fingers clenched and then relaxed. She wanted to say sothing.
She wanted to say "It's okay, I guess," or "Tch, it's only five."
Her lips parted slightly, but no words ca out.
It wasn't that she didn't want to speak; she just didn't know how to start.
She hadn't spoken to him in five days.
At first, she had been angry, but as the days passed, she couldn't even rember exactly what she was angry about.
Was she angry that he answered "the big one"?
That had been a question about fruit. Was his answer wrong?
No, it wasn't.
Then what was she angry about?
Tsunade couldn't put her finger on it. She felt sothing vaguely, but it was blurry, like a stone at the bottom of a lake—she could see the outline, but she couldn't touch the entity.
She only rembered that her face had felt incredibly hot back then, inexplicably burning, and then she had run away.
After running away, she felt embarrassed. And because she felt embarrassed, she didn't want to see him.
Yet, even though she didn't want to see him, she couldn't stop stealing glances. And those glances only made her more frustrated.
For five whole days, her thoughts had spun in circles, tightening into a knot that she couldn't seem to undo.
Tsunade bit the inside of her lip.
'Stop thinking about it.'
If she kept thinking, her face would start burning again.
Jiraiya didn't see Tsunade's expression. His eyes were locked on the training post.
Kitahara Kaede was top of the class, he was the strongest in combat, he was the first one the teacher called on, and he was the one Tsunade was looking at.
'Why?'
'Why is it always him?'
Jiraiya ground his teeth.
"My turn!"
He pulled shuriken from his tool pouch—not just one. Six shuriken were clamped between his fingers.
Hiruzen frowned. "Use one first..."
"Just watch!"
Six shuriken were hurled simultaneously. Jiraiya's hands blurred through seals as he poured chakra in violently—
Nothing split.
The six shuriken flew out exactly as they were, their trajectories completely skewed.
Two embedded themselves in a tree to the left, and one flew high into the sky.
The remaining three flew straight toward Tsunade.
Kitahara Kaede's body reacted faster than his conscious mind.
By the ti he stepped in front of Tsunade to shield her, his right hand had already drawn a kunai.
*Clang, clang, clang.*
Three crisp sounds echoed as he deflected all three shuriken.
Tsunade stood behind him.
Very close.
So close that she slled his scent before she saw his back.
She didn't move—not because she didn't want to, but because by the ti she snapped out of it, he was already standing in front of her.
Tsunade's mind went blank for a second. Then, her heart gave a heavy thud.
Five days. For five whole days, she had avoided him, ignored him, and intentionally stood as far away as possible in the line.
He hadn't asked a single question; he hadn't chased after her or offered any explanation.
But the mont the shuriken flew toward her, he had shielded her without a second thought.
Without a single word, his body had moved first.
Tsunade clenched her fists.
The knot in her chest had been violently yanked. It wasn't untied—but it had loosened.
Kitahara Kaede turned his head.
His gaze swept over her face, from top to bottom, quickly.
He confird she was unhard.
Tsunade noticed the concern in his eyes. Her heart leaped again.
Jiraiya froze in place, his face turning pale. He had almost injured Tsunade.
"I... I didn't an to—"
Tsunade stepped out from behind Kitahara Kaede.
Her expression was calm. So calm that a chill ran down Jiraiya's spine.
One step, two steps, three steps.
She walked right up to him.
"Tsu... Tsunade—"
A fist descended.
Jiraiya's face hit the ground first, and he slid back two ters.
"Idiot!"
Tsunade's scream echoed across the training ground.
"You dare use an A-rank jutsu without even understanding the principle! Are you trying to kill soone?!"
Jiraiya lay face-down on the ground, not daring to make a sound. He knew he was in the wrong—and he was in the wrong in a big way.
Tsunade caught her breath, her chest still heaving, before turning to head back.
As she passed Kitahara Kaede, she paused for a fleeting second. She didn't look at him; instead, her gaze remained fixed on a tree ahead, motionless.
"...Thanks."
Her voice was far softer than usual—so soft it was as if she were afraid others might hear it, or perhaps, afraid of hearing it herself.
With that, she walked away.
Kitahara Kaede watched her retreating figure. Her ponytail swayed against her shoulder and her pace was hurried, yet her back remained perfectly straight. The tips of her ears were flushed red.
The corner of Kitahara Kaede's mouth quirked upward.
Just like that, the five-day cold war had shattered.
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