The morning sun poured over the rooftops of Konoha, golden light spilling between the narrow streets. Birds chirped lazily, unaware that somewhere in the village, one boy's body was being pushed to its absolute breaking point.
"ONE HUNDRED LAPS AROUND THE VILLAGE!" Might Duy's voice boomed like a battle cry that shook the forest edge. "Three hundred push-ups, three hundred squats, three hundred pull-ups—AND THEN WE BEGIN THE REAL TRAINING!"
Mizuki, drenched in sweat, gasped for breath. His heart thundered in his chest, the steady beat echoing through his skull like war drums. He'd been training nonstop since dawn. The forest was humid, the air thick, and the scent of earth clung to his skin. Every muscle screamed for rest, but Duy's energy was endless, his passion infectious.
Despite using Total Concentration Breathing to dull the pain, Mizuki's body was on the verge of collapse. Each breath felt like inhaling fire. His legs wobbled under him, and even the weighted bands on his ankles felt like iron shackles forged by the gods.
He collapsed to his knees, palms sinking into the dirt. His lungs heaved, throat dry as sandpaper.
"Good!" Duy bellowed, grinning widely, his mustache shining with sweat and pride. "Your endurance is even better than I expected! That means you're finally ready… for my final test!"
Mizuki barely lifted his head, vision swimming. He didn't even have the energy to reply. Still, he followed Duy as the older man led him through the trees until they came to a clearing dominated by a massive boulder. The stone loomed like a mountain, twice Mizuki's width and nearly as tall as a house. Its rough surface caught the light like dull metal.
Duy struck a heroic pose, thumb gleaming under the sun."FINAL TEST! BREAK THIS BOULDER WITH YOUR BARE FISTS! No tools, no ninjutsu—just your chakra and your willpower!"
Mizuki blinked. "You're kidding, right?"
Duy didn't even blink. "Youth never jokes about training!"
Mizuki's heart sank. "Oh, great."
Still, he took a deep breath, centered his focus, and stepped before the monolith. He pressed his fists together, channeling chakra into his arms. The energy flowed, his muscles vibrating as the warmth gathered in his knuckles. His breathing slowed—deep, steady, rhythmic. Every exhale expelled weakness; every inhale summoned strength.
Then he struck.
Crack!
A shallow fracture appeared on the stone's surface—barely the size of his hand.
Mizuki hissed through his teeth. Blood welled at his split knuckles, and the sting burned deep. But he didn't stop. Again. And again. Each blow rattled his bones, sending pain up to his shoulders. The air rang with each impact—flesh against stone, grit against skin.
Sweat poured down his back, soaking his shirt. His breath grew ragged, but his strikes grew heavier, sharper. He used Total Concentration Breathing, forcing oxygen through every fiber of his being. His lungs felt aflame; his vision blurred at the edges.
One more.
BAM!Cracks spread like spiderwebs, thin but growing. Blood smeared across the boulder in dark streaks. His arms trembled, muscles twitching under strain.
"More!" Duy's voice thundered. "Push further! That is the essence of YOUTH!"
Mizuki gritted his teeth, roaring as he swung again."RAHHHH!"
Another strike. Another crack. The sound of fracturing stone echoed through the trees like a drumbeat of defiance.
Finally, his legs gave out. He dropped to one knee, sweat dripping from his chin, body trembling uncontrollably. His fists were mangled—raw skin, torn knuckles—but his eyes burned fiercely.
Just as he pulled back for one final blow, Duy's voice cut through the silence."YOU HAVE PASSED!"
Mizuki froze mid-motion, blinking through the haze of exhaustion. "Huh…?"
Duy's grin widened, a gleam of pride in his eyes. "You understood the purpose of this test, yet you kept going anyway! That's perseverance! That's guts! THAT'S THE FIRE OF YOUTH! Mizuki—you are now officially my student!"
Mizuki's breath hitched. For a moment, the world felt weightless. The pain, the exhaustion, the ache—all faded. What remained was a warmth spreading through his chest. Not pride, but belonging. Someone had finally acknowledged him—not for potential, but for heart.
"Thank you," he whispered hoarsely, tears mixing with sweat. "Thank you… Uncle Duy."
Duy threw a triumphant thumbs-up, striking another dazzling pose."Now hurry to the hospital before your hands fall off!"
The hospital visit was a blur of stinging antiseptic and soft green chakra light. The medics clicked their tongues when they saw the shredded state of his hands. Even the nurses muttered, "This boy's as crazy as the Mights."
Despite the pain, Mizuki couldn't help smiling faintly. The healing ninjutsu soothed the ache, sealing torn skin and repairing muscle fibers. The damage wasn't permanent, but the experience had carved itself into his body and mind alike.
When he finally walked out, the sun had dipped below the rooftops, painting the village in crimson hues. He reached into his pocket, fished out his wallet, and grimaced.
"Great…" he muttered. "Instant noodles until payday."
He trudged home through the quiet streets. His small apartment was simple—a futon, a cracked window, a low wooden table, and a single shelf filled with scrolls. After a quick shower, he made himself a sad excuse for a cheeseburger, washed his dishes, and collapsed into bed. His muscles still twitched involuntarily, like his body couldn't believe it was allowed to rest.
Before sleep claimed him, one thought flickered through his mind.
If I can break stone with my fists… maybe someday, I can break destiny too.
Three Months Later
A pounding knock jolted him awake.
"Ugh…" Mizuki groaned, dragging himself upright. His arms felt heavy, his legs worse. Training under Might Duy had transformed him—his once-slim frame now carried compact muscle, his movements sharper and more balanced. Two 100-kilogram leg weights clung to his ankles beneath his pants. They no longer made him stumble—they grounded him, reminded him of his progress.
He opened the door to find a familiar sight: Anko Mitarashi, sitting cross-legged on the railing outside his apartment. Her violet hair caught the morning light, her signature trench coat half-zipped, and a dango stick dangled from her lips.
"Well, well, well," she said with a teasing grin. "Look who finally decided to wake up."
Mizuki smirked back, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Troublesome girl."
She pouted dramatically. "Hey! You should be grateful. Not every guy gets a gorgeous kunoichi as his personal alarm clock!"
"Gorgeous, huh? Guess modesty's not part of your training."
"Only losers need modesty," she said proudly.
Mizuki chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll treat you to dango after class. Happy now?"
Anko's grin widened instantly. She hopped down from the railing and—before he could react—threw her arms around him in a tight hug."You promise! No backing out this time!"
Mizuki stiffened, his face turning a shade of red not found in nature. "Yeah, yeah… I promise."
As she let go, he could feel her chakra brush faintly against his—vibrant, wild, and untamed. It reminded him that beneath her teasing exterior, Anko was a prodigy of potential chaos.
He slung his bag over his shoulder, locked the door, and together they leapt across rooftops. Their chakra-enhanced steps echoed softly as they soared over tiled roofs and alleyways, the morning wind whipping through their hair.
By the time they reached the Academy, the courtyard was bustling with students. Obito was half-asleep on a bench, Rin was waving him over, and Kakashi was off to the side, reading a small orange book with that same bored expression.
"Morning, slackers," Kakashi muttered without looking up.
Mizuki shot back, "Morning, robot."
Kakashi's eyebrow twitched slightly, but he said nothing. Anko snorted. "You're gonna make him mad one of these days."
"Then it'll finally be a fun day," Mizuki said.
Class began soon after, and the day unfolded in its usual blur of lectures and sparring matches. Mizuki noticed how much sharper he'd become—his reflexes faster, his strikes more precise. Even Kakashi raised an eyebrow when Mizuki parried one of his test strikes during Taijutsu drills.
During break, Rin patched up Obito's scraped elbows while Anko and Mizuki sat under a tree, sharing skewers of sweet dango.
"You've been different lately," Anko said between bites. "Quieter. Stronger too. What's Duy-sensei been feeding you, stones?"
Mizuki smirked. "Discipline. And pain."
She leaned back, resting her hands behind her head. "Sounds fun. Maybe I'll join your crazy training someday."
He chuckled. "You wouldn't last an hour."
"Oh yeah? Bet I could beat you in a month."
"Bet you couldn't."
She grinned wickedly. "Then it's on."
For the next week, she actually joined his morning training sessions with Duy and Guy. The results were… catastrophic. By the second day, she was sprawled face-first in the dirt, groaning in defeat while Duy praised her "youthful enthusiasm."
"You two are insane," she wheezed.
Duy just laughed, hands on his hips. "Nonsense! This is merely the warm-up! The flames of youth burn brightest under pressure!"
Mizuki offered her a hand up. "You sure you don't want to quit?"
She grabbed his hand and smirked. "Not a chance."
As the months rolled on, Mizuki's strength continued to grow. His chakra control improved, his strikes hit harder, and his endurance soared. Duy's brutal training shaped him into a machine of precision and willpower. Yet deep down, something else began to form—a small, quiet hunger.
Whenever he saw Kakashi breeze through a test, or Obito's eyes flash with the hint of Sharingan potential, that hunger stirred. Power. The world respected strength, and he was no fool. He knew what awaited those without it—obscurity, failure, death.
One night, after another exhausting session, Mizuki sat by the riverbank, watching the moon ripple over the water. He flexed his hands, the scars faint beneath the moonlight.
"I'll surpass them all," he whispered. "Not just Duy. Not Kakashi. Not Obito. Everyone."
He didn't notice the shadow moving behind him—a familiar voice cut through the night.
"That's a dangerous kind of talk, Mizuki."
It was Kosuke Maruboshi, his first mentor. The old "Eternal Genin" emerged from the trees, carrying a small bag of groceries.
Mizuki blinked in surprise. "Old man? You're back?"
Kosuke smiled kindly. "Only for a while. I hear you've been training with Duy. He speaks highly of you."
"Does he?" Mizuki said, scratching his neck. "Guess I'm not completely hopeless."
Kosuke's gaze softened, but his tone was serious. "Strength is good, boy. But remember—it's a tool, not a goal. A shinobi without balance between heart and blade will lose himself."
Mizuki looked down at his reflection in the river. For a long time, he didn't answer. "I know," he murmured. "But this world doesn't forgive weakness."
Kosuke sighed. "And yet, kindness has saved more shinobi than power ever did."
Mizuki didn't argue, but the thought stayed with him long after the old man left. He gazed up at the Hokage Monument—the stone faces lit by moonlight—and wondered where his own path would lead.