Mizuki strolled into the classroom just as the bell rang, sliding the door open with the faintest smirk. The chatter died down momentarily as a few heads turned—some amused, some annoyed. He ignored the looks and took his seat beside Anko, who was slouched over her desk, spinning a pencil between her fingers.
Right on cue, a puff of white smoke exploded at the front of the room, filling the air with the faint scent of chalk dust.When it cleared, their teacher stood in the middle of the cloud, arms crossed and a grin stretching under his thin mustache.
"Alright, class," he said dramatically. "Today we begin our lesson on the history of the Ninja World!"
A chorus of groans followed. The room seemed to deflate all at once. History was, without question, the least exciting subject in the Academy.
Anko leaned forward, resting her chin lazily on her palm."Think he ever gets tired of doing that smoke trick?" she murmured.
Mizuki smirked. "Maybe he uses it to hide how late he is."
She grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. "Says the guy who snuck in right as the bell rang."
"Fair enough," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "Still want to tell me how you always manage to slip in unnoticed?"
She pressed a finger to her lips with a wink. "That's classified information."
"Figures. Must be nice getting to nap in peace while the rest of us dodge chalk and boredom."
They shared a quiet laugh before the teacher's glare snapped toward the back row. Both froze, straightened up, and pretended to be attentive as the lecture began.
The instructor began pacing back and forth, his tone booming with forced enthusiasm. "Before the establishment of the Hidden Villages, the world was in chaos. Shinobi fought for clans, not nations. The Uchiha and Senju clans—two names you should know well—were the most powerful and bitter rivals."
Mizuki leaned his cheek against his fist, eyes half-lidded. He already knew this. He'd watched the anime. He could probably recite the entire history faster than the man lecturing. Still, he couldn't afford to stand out too much.
He glanced sideways. Obito was dozing off again, drooling slightly on his desk. Rin, ever the diligent student, was taking meticulous notes, occasionally glancing at him with quiet fondness. Kakashi sat ahead, his posture straight and eyes sharp, absorbing every word like it was mission-critical intel.
Mizuki's gaze softened. So young… none of them realize what's coming. The Third Great Ninja War isn't far off.
He tapped his pen against his notebook. The thought gnawed at him—the knowledge of the timeline, the powerlessness of being a child in this world that devoured even geniuses whole. He wasn't like Naruto or Sasuke; there'd be no sudden miracle or hidden bloodline to save him.
That was fine. He'd make his own strength.
Anko nudged him awake when his head began to droop. "Hey, dreamer. You planning on drooling too?"
He gave a faint smile. "Just conserving energy."
"You sound like Guy," she teased.
"Don't insult me like that."
The teacher cleared his throat sharply, and they snapped to attention again, pretending to take notes. Anko leaned closer, whispering, "Let's ditch after class. Dango's on me."
Mizuki arched a brow. "You bribing me with sugar now?"
"Of course. It works every time."
The moment the bell rang, Anko flicked Mizuki's forehead and tugged at his sleeve."Come on, sleepyhead. I need sugar before I collapse."
They walked through the crowded streets of Konoha, the afternoon sunlight spilling over the rooftops. The village was bustling—shinobi returning from missions, merchants shouting from stalls, children running past with wooden kunai. The scent of grilled skewers and steaming noodles filled the air.
At the end of the street sat Anko's favorite dango shop—a cozy wooden storefront with paper lanterns swaying gently in the breeze. They took their usual seat by the window. Warm golden light streamed across the table, catching on the sheen of Anko's hair as she bit into a dumpling.
Mizuki leaned back, savoring the quiet. "So this is the place all those legendary shinobi hung out… kind of surreal."
He popped the last dumpling into his mouth—then nearly choked when a familiar voice cut in from behind.
"Ooh, so Anko's the one you've got your eye on, huh? Not a bad choice."
Obito. Of course.
Mizuki turned, swallowing hard, and shot the grinning boy a deadpan look. "You can talk once you stop staring holes into Rin's back during class."
Obito froze, face turning crimson. "I-I do not!"
"You really do," Mizuki said with a smirk. "You probably dream about her more than you train."
Obito's sheepish smile gave him away instantly. "Yeah… you're not wrong."
Anko burst out laughing. "Oh, that's adorable."
Mizuki stood and dusted off his pants. "Anyway, I've got to run. Taijutsu training today."
"With Guy again?" Obito asked, tilting his head.
"Not just Guy," Mizuki said with a grin. "His dad too."
Obito blinked. "You mean the 'Eternal Genin' guy with the mustache?"
"That's the one."
Anko raised an eyebrow. "You really like suffering, don't you?"
"Builds character," Mizuki said with mock solemnity.
By the time Mizuki reached the forest's edge, the sun had dipped lower, painting the sky with streaks of amber and violet. The air buzzed with cicadas, the smell of pine heavy in the breeze.
Might Guy was already there, arms crossed, eyes ablaze with energy."You're late! But worry not—youth is forgiving!" Guy shouted. "My father awaits!"
Mizuki cracked a smile. "Still can't believe I'm training with the Mustache Legend himself."
They jogged deeper into the woods until the trees thinned into a clearing. In the center stood a man doing push-ups—on his pinkies—with a boulder strapped to his back. Sweat streamed down his forehead, but his movements were steady, rhythmic, unyielding.
"998… 999… 1000!"
With a deep exhale, he lowered the rock, then rose to his feet. His mustache gleamed with the pride of decades of effort. Might Duy, the Eternal Genin, turned to face them.
"Guy! You brought him, huh?"
Guy saluted proudly. "Yes, Father! Mizuki's been training hard!"
Duy's gaze fell on Mizuki—sharp, yet kind. His presence radiated something rare: humility intertwined with strength.
"So… you want to become stronger?" Duy asked, voice steady.
"Yes, sir!" Mizuki said, straightening instinctively.
"Why?" Duy's tone held no mockery, only genuine curiosity.
Mizuki hesitated. Then, quietly, "To protect my friends. And survive whatever the world throws at me."
For a moment, the forest was silent. Then Duy's mustache twitched, and a booming laugh burst forth. "Ha! You sure? I'm just a genin, you know."
Mizuki smirked. "So was Old Man Kosuke. And I'm pretty sure he could've taken down half the village if he wanted to."
Duy paused, studying the boy. Then he nodded. "Good answer. You've got heart. Let's see if your body can keep up with it!"
The next hours were pure hell.
They began with endurance training: running laps around the clearing until his lungs burned. Guy cheered beside him the entire time, his enthusiasm somehow never waning. Duy jogged calmly behind them, carrying that same enormous boulder like it weighed nothing.
By the tenth lap, Mizuki's legs trembled. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He stumbled once—but didn't fall. He refused to.Duy noticed. "Don't overthink it. The body remembers persistence, not perfection."
Mizuki nodded through gritted teeth and kept going.
After running came push-ups—hundreds of them. Then handstands. Then jumping kicks until his vision blurred. Every muscle screamed, but Mizuki bit down on the pain.
When they finally took a break, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky a deep orange. Fireflies danced above the grass.
Guy flopped onto the ground, panting. "Father… my youth burns!"
Duy laughed heartily. "Then let it burn brighter, my boy!"
Mizuki collapsed beside them, staring up at the stars as they began to peek through the darkening sky. He felt his body ache in every place imaginable—but his heart was light.
"This is insane," he murmured. "You two are insane."
Duy looked down at him, amused. "Strength is built through madness sometimes."
Guy shot him a thumbs-up. "Pain is just proof that you're alive!"
Mizuki groaned. "You sound like motivational posters."
Duy smiled knowingly. "That's because the truth often sounds simple, but it's the hardest thing to live by."
For a moment, they sat in silence. The chirping of crickets filled the air. The smell of grass and sweat mingled with the faint scent of pine resin.
Finally, Duy stood and gestured for them to rise. "Alright, last exercise."
Mizuki blinked. "Last? I thought we were done."
Duy grinned. "This is the real training. Taijutsu sparring."
The Hidden Strength
They formed a loose triangle—Duy, Guy, and Mizuki. The older man's posture relaxed, but there was an unmistakable sharpness to him, a predator's stillness.
"Attack me," Duy said simply.
Mizuki hesitated.
"Don't think. Move."
The world narrowed. Mizuki lunged, throwing a straight punch. Duy shifted, barely moving his feet, and redirected it effortlessly. Mizuki stumbled forward, his momentum used against him.
He tried again—low kick, then high strike. Duy parried both with ease, smiling faintly."Better. But your eyes—too much hesitation."
Mizuki exhaled and adjusted his stance. Read. React. Don't think.
This time, he moved with more flow, less rigidity. He weaved between Guy's movements when the boy joined in, the two attacking in tandem. Duy dodged, countered, and corrected them both mid-combat.
Hours seemed to blur together. The air was alive with the rhythm of strikes and shouts, leaves scattering underfoot.
When they finally stopped, Mizuki was on his knees, panting hard, knuckles bruised and bleeding.
Duy crouched beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Not bad. You've got talent—but more importantly, you've got drive. Nurture that, and you'll surpass me one day."
Mizuki looked up, startled. "Surpass… you?"
Duy chuckled softly. "I'm just a man who refused to quit. That's all strength really is, boy. Refusing to stop when it hurts."
Those words carved themselves deep into Mizuki's heart.
By the time Mizuki returned to the village, the streets were quiet. Lanterns glowed softly in the windows, and the smell of cooking fires lingered in the air. His legs ached, but there was a satisfaction that no comfort could match.
As he walked across a narrow bridge over the stream, he paused to look down at his reflection in the rippling water. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat, his uniform dirt-streaked, his hands raw—but his eyes burned brighter than they had that morning.
He whispered to himself, "To protect them all… and to live."
He thought of Anko's grin, of Obito's flustered smile, of Guy's endless energy. Of Duy's words—Refusing to stop when it hurts.