---

  Hatake Sakumo exhaled slowly as he descended the Hokage building's steps, his shoulders carrying the weight of another lecture about the ninja code.

  Mission first. Companions second. That's what they always say.

  He'd heard it all before—the same arguments, the same disappointed looks. Yes, he'd prioritized saving his team over completing the mission. Yes, he'd broken protocol. And yes, he'd do it again without hesitation.

  The village could judge him all it wanted. At least his men had come home alive.

  He pushed the thoughts aside and headed home, trying to shake off the lingering frustration. When he opened the door, the silence that greeted him felt wrong. Kakashi should have been training or reading.

  Instead, his son sat motionless on the sofa, staring at nothing.

  "Kakashi? What's wrong?"

  Kakashi blinked, as if surfacing from deep water. "Father. You're back."

  "I can see that. What happened?"

  "Hanekawa used Superhuman Strength today," Kakashi said flatly. "I couldn't counter it."

  Sakumo felt a flicker of surprise. Superhuman Strength wasn't a technique most children could master—it required exceptional physical conditioning and chakra control. The fact that Hanekawa possessed it at such a young age was... impressive.

  "And this bothers you?" Sakumo asked carefully.

  "I've trained harder than anyone," Kakashi said, his voice tight. "I've learned more jutsu. I've sparred with you every day for two months. And he still—"

  "Kakashi." Sakumo leaned forward. "Are you giving up because of one loss?"

  "No." Kakashi's jaw clenched. "But what's the point of school anymore? Everything they teach is beneath me."

  "I see." Sakumo considered this. His son was brilliant, yes, but also dangerously close to arrogance. "Then perhaps you need a different kind of training. One that matches your level."

  Kakashi looked up. "What do you mean?"

  "Train with Hanekawa," Sakumo said. "Not against him. With him. Learn from each other."

  "He'd never agree to that."

  "He will," Sakumo said with confidence. I'm very good at reading people. "Trust me."

  ---

  Hanekawa emerged from the kitchen carrying a platter of tempura, the golden pieces still steaming. He set it on the table and glanced toward the door, hoping Tsunade would arrive before it cooled.

  The door opened moments later.

  Tsunade stood in the entryway, her shoulders slightly hunched from the weight of her equipment—the kind of casual posture that somehow made her look even more dangerous. Hanekawa swallowed involuntarily. This woman is basically a walking arsenal.

  "Teacher," he said, moving to help her with her jacket. "How was work?"

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "Exhausting." Tsunade touched his head as she passed, already moving toward the dining table. The aroma of the tempura made her pause. "This smells incredible."

  "School was fine," Hanekawa said, sitting across from her. "Though the Hokage gave me another speech about duty and sacrifice."

  Tsunade laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "Let me guess. He tried to convince you that the mission is more important than your life?"

  "Something like that." Hanekawa glared at her amusement. "It's not funny."

  "It absolutely is," Tsunade said, picking up her chopsticks. "You'll hear that speech a hundred times before you're grown. Better get used to it."

  "If you're not going to help, don't bother trying to comfort me," Hanekawa muttered, grabbing a piece of shrimp tempura and holding it up to her mouth. "Here. Eat."

  Tsunade's eyes glinted with mischief. She bit down on the chopsticks, her tongue curling around the shrimp with deliberate slowness before drawing it into her mouth.

  Hanekawa stared at the saliva-coated chopsticks and said nothing.

  "I've never used this pair before," Tsunade said smoothly, exchanging chopsticks with him. She swallowed and smiled. "Your cooking keeps getting better. Keep it up."

  Of course it does. I've been grinding this skill every single day. Hanekawa's 'Chef' entry was nearly ready to rank up from E to D. Another week, maybe two.

  "By the way," Tsunade said, her tone shifting to something more purposeful, "take a day off school the day after tomorrow. I'm taking you somewhere."

  "Where?" Hanekawa asked, immediately suspicious. Tsunade never interrupted his schooling without a serious reason.

  "You'll see when we get there." She was being deliberately vague, and Hanekawa could tell she was distracted about something. He decided not to press it.

  After dinner came the evening training session.

  "Teacher, when can I learn Superhuman Strength?" Hanekawa asked, thinking back to his bluff with Kakashi.

  Tsunade studied him thoughtfully. "Superhuman Strength demands a lot from your body. Come here."

  Here we go. Hanekawa stood still as she began examining him methodically—pinching his shoulders, testing his arms, checking his thighs. Her hands were surprisingly gentle despite their obvious strength.

  "You're close," she finally said, "but not quite there yet."

  "So I can't learn it?"

  "Not yet. Superhuman Strength requires two things: exceptional physical conditioning and perfect chakra control." Tsunade walked toward the door. "You already have the control. We need to build your body."

  Hanekawa felt a spike of disappointment. Seriously? I thought I was ready.

  "How do I train for that?" he asked, following her outside.

  "Climb that tree," Tsunade said, pointing to a tall oak.

  "I can already do that easily," Hanekawa said. "Treading water and tree-climbing are basic—"

  "Not like this." Tsunade raised her hand, and two kunai flew toward him.

  Oh.

  Hanekawa dodged the first pair, but Tsunade was already throwing more. Four kunai this time, moving faster. One caught him in the thigh—wooden practice kunai, so it wouldn't cut, but it still hurt—and he lost his footing.

  He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked from his lungs.

  "Is one attempt enough?" Tsunade asked, that dangerous smile playing at her lips.

  Hanekawa pushed himself up, brushing dirt from his clothes. "Come again!"

  I'm doing this at least seven more times. I'm not stopping until I get it right.

  By the time they finished, Hanekawa was covered in bruises. But Tsunade was a medical ninja, and so was he. A few minutes of careful chakra work and the worst of the damage faded.

  ---

  The next morning, Hanekawa's second-grade class began with a lesson on the Substitution Technique—one of the Three Basic Ninja Techniques.

  "The Substitution Technique is essentially misdirection," Eiichiro explained from the front of the classroom. "You prepare a substitute object in advance—wood, stone, whatever—and swap places with it in an instant, using the mist to cover the exchange."

  Most of the class looked confused. Hanekawa, however, understood immediately. His chakra control was precise enough that he could execute it almost perfectly on his first try.

  The other students would need months. Maybe years.

  That's the difference between a prodigy and everyone else, Hanekawa thought, watching Kakashi demonstrate the technique flawlessly across the room. And that's why most Genin don't survive their first real mission.

  It was a brutal system. But it was the system they lived in.