Chapter 5
The time to wake up came at 4:30 a.m.
It wasn't a gentle one. It was the sound of a metal pot crashing against each other right next to Daigo's bed.
He opened his eyes wide, his heart pounding a thousand times a minute. The room was still dark, only lit by the faint light from the hallway filtering through the open door.
There stood his father, Haru, with his arms crossed. He was wearing light training clothes, his chūnin vest left at home. His expression was serious, as always in these moments.
"Up," he said simply. "The desert doesn't wait for the lazy, and death waits even less."
Daigo sat up, rubbing his eyes. Sleep still wrapped around him like a heavy blanket.
"Got it. I'll get dressed quick," Daigo said, getting up and looking for his clothes.
Haru didn't respond with words. He just nodded toward the door.
Minutes later, they were outside Sunagakure's limits. They had gone out through a main gate; Haru had gotten permission to take his son out for training. The desert air was cold before dawn, a brutal contrast to the heat that would come later. The dunes stretched infinitely under the starry sky that was gradually turning blue.
Haru stopped in a flat area between tall dunes, where the wind didn't kick up as much sand. He pulled four heavy bags from his backpack and threw them to the ground with a dull thud.
"Put them on. Ankles and wrists. Ten kilos each," Haru said.
Daigo obeyed without complaining. He tied the bags with thick ropes. Immediately, he felt the extra weight sink his feet into the soft sand. Every movement required more effort, as if the desert itself wanted to hold him back.
Haru put on his own bags, though heavier ones.
"First part: run. Ten kilometers through the dunes. Keep the breathing I taught you last night: inhale counting to eight through the nose, hold eight, exhale twelve through the mouth. Slow. Controlled. Don't break the rhythm even if your lungs burn."
"What if I can't take it anymore?" Daigo asked.
"Tell me, and we'll stop for a bit. You're only six years old, so we have plenty of time to train," Haru said.
Daigo nodded. He got into position.
"Alright, let's start. Go," Haru said, starting to run ahead of Daigo, who followed.
The first five hundred meters were bearable. The cold sand under his feet, the fresh air filling his lungs. Daigo kept the rhythm: eight, eight, twelve. Eight, eight, twelve.
At kilometer two, the weight started to show. His legs felt heavier, his ankles protesting with every step sinking into the dune.
At three, his chest began to burn. Every inhalation was like swallowing cold fire.
At five, the world narrowed to breathing and pain. Eight... eight... twelve. Sweat soaked his clothes, even though the air was cold. The dunes seemed endless, rising and falling like giant waves.
At kilometer seven, he stumbled. He fell to his knees, his face almost in the sand. Vomit rose in his throat, but he held it back.
He was almost done, and even though it hurt, he couldn't give up. He knew the monsters he'd have to fight in the future to make Sunagakure the best village.
Haru was waiting for him standing at the end of the next dune, not a drop of sweat visible—accustomed to this grueling routine.
"Want to stop for a bit, or can you keep going?" he asked with a calm voice.
"I can do more. No need to stop," Daigo said, breathing deeply and calming his heartbeat.
Haru just waited. He was already surprised by everything they'd done without stopping. In the end, Daigo had come out with strong genetics, and his body matched.
Seeing he was ready, Haru took off again, making Daigo continue behind him.
It didn't take long. When they finished the ten kilometers, the sun was already peeking over the horizon, tinting the dunes red.
Daigo collapsed to his knees, feeling his feet give out along with his body. His whole body trembled, muscles on fire, lungs like they'd been scraped with glass.
Haru crouched beside him and put a hand on his back.
"Good. Day one completed. Your lungs already know what it's like to suffer. That's the base. Without this, the technique would kill you from the inside. Think about it—you'll have to fight, analyze, and everything while battling another ninja, and if you or your lungs fail, it's the end," Haru said.
Daigo looked up, eyes full of tears from the effort.
"Every... day... like this?"
Haru nodded.
"Every day. Until your body begs for it. Until breathing like that is as natural as walking. And then we'll add combats and situations, though you're a ways off from that."
He stood up and pointed to a large nearby rock.
"Second part: strength," Haru said.
100 push-ups with the weight bags.
Daigo did the first twenty with perfect form. At fifty, his arms shook. At eighty, he fell every few reps.
Haru didn't help. He just counted out loud.
200 sit-ups. Each with controlled breathing.
Rock climbing, up and down ten times, using only hands and feet, bags tied to his waist.
Each exercise was repeated with variations. Haru explained between sets why it was necessary.
"The lungs need to expand beyond normal. The heart must pump extra blood without failing. The muscles must get used to working with more energy than usual."
Daigo nodded between gasps, memorizing every word.
At noon, when the sun was really burning, Haru called an end to the morning training.
"Go home. Eat everything you can. Sleep one hour. Then academy."
"Huh? Academy? There'll only be two hours left in the day. Why go?" Daigo asked.
"It was the only deal I could make with your teacher, so appreciate not having to wake up even earlier," Haru said with his mocking smile.
Daigo could barely nod. He walked back like a zombie, each step a titanic effort.
At home, his mother, Ilsa, saw him arrive and her eyes widened.
"Dai! What happened to you? You look like a ghost!" she asked, scared by Daigo's condition.
"Training... with Dad," he murmured, before devouring three plates of food: rice, dried meat, desert fruits—everything he could find.
His mother looked at him worriedly but said nothing. She knew that when Haru trained, he was serious—especially after what Haru had told her last night.
After eating, Daigo collapsed into bed for a short nap. His body demanded rest, but his mind buzzed with determination.
1 hour later
At the academy, the teacher just nodded, seeing that Daigo looked like he'd been through the same hell. He sat in his usual spot, body stiff, muscles protesting with every movement.
Sasori, from the seat next to him by the window, glanced at him sideways. His expression was the same as always: empty, distant. But his eyes lingered longer than usual on Daigo's dried sweat, on how he breathed a little deeper than normal.
During the theoretical class on village history, Sasori spoke for the first time without Daigo starting the conversation.
"What happened to you?" he asked in a low voice, without looking at him directly. And without drawing attention from the others.
Daigo turned his head, surprised. Sasori rarely asked anything personal.
"Training," he replied quietly, trying to smile despite the pain in every muscle.
"Something... familiar. With my dad, and it's pretty heavy."
Sasori frowned, barely perceptible.
"Won't we train this week?" he asked, referring to their usual sparring.
Daigo shook his head.
"I won't be able to for a while. I have to finish this first. Though that doesn't mean you shouldn't keep improving—I'll be stronger than before," Daigo said, looking at Sasori.
Sasori didn't say anything else. He turned back to the window, as always.
But Daigo noticed something different. During the last classes, in the practical kunai and shuriken throwing exercises, Sasori watched him more than usual. Not with visible concern, but with cold curiosity. As if trying to figure out what had changed in his "annoying" companion.
When the academy ended, the sun was already setting. Daigo didn't go straight home. He followed his father's instructions: more training, this time alone.
He found an empty field near the outer wall, a place where genin sometimes practiced but was deserted at that hour.
He sat on the still-hot sand from the day's sun, legs crossed.
Basic breathing. One hour straight.
Inhale eight. Hold eight. Exhale twelve.
At first, his lungs protested with sharp pain, remembering the morning. Like knives stabbing.
But Daigo kept going. He didn't let himself break the rhythm.
Half an hour passed. Sweat soaked him again.
One hour.
Suddenly, he felt something new.
A subtle heat in his chest. Not pain, but pure energy. As if the extra oxygen spread through his veins, making his tired muscles respond a bit better.
His eyes stung for a second. His vision sharpened briefly.
It lasted only five seconds this time.
Then it faded, leaving a harsh cough and dizziness that knocked him flat on his back in the sand.
Daigo smiled, looking at the darkening sky.
"That was different. I wasn't supposed to be ready for the technique yet."
Though he didn't pay much attention to that detail—he preferred to keep training.
He got up slowly, body protesting, but mind clear.
He got home at full dusk. His father was waiting in the yard, dinner ready: high proteins, desert carbs—everything to recover.
"Tomorrow we repeat," Haru said. "And add more weight. More distance."
Daigo nodded, exhausted but with fire in his eyes.
His body hurt like never before (neither in this life nor the previous one).
But for the first time, he felt like he was building something.
Something his grandfather would have approved of.
Something that would take him farther than anyone in the family.
And so, while eating in silence with his father,
His mind went back to yesterday before going to sleep. He remembered where he'd heard of that technique. If he recalled correctly, there was a Sunagakure chūnin in an anime episode
Where this character appeared, using this technique fighting Rock Lee—even though Lee had his inner gates open, they didn't seem that far apart in strength.
Whoever brought him to this world had planned it well. His earth affinity was stronger than normal, his body was stronger than people his age—even some older ones—and his reserves kept growing.
Seeing all this, maybe—but maybe—he was the chosen one to change Sunagakure's fate, if not the entire shinobi world's as they knew it.
But for now, all that was left was to train more. Train to gain the necessary strength.
End of chapter