Tendo turned around and saw an "old acquaintance."
The newcomer had distinctly recognizable medium-length hair, dyed an eye-catching silver-white. He was tall and long-limbed, only about half a head shorter than Tendo. His eyes were perpetually narrowed into smiling slits, giving him an air of gentleness and kindness.
Most people would be fooled by that façade.
Unfortunately, Tendo wasn't most people.
"Senior Mizuki!" Tendo immediately put on his trademark bright, flawless smile and greeted him clearly and politely.
They really did know each other—and not just superficially.
When Tendo had first graduated from the Academy, he'd been assigned to do an internship at the Ninja Academy for a while. Back then, he'd nearly stayed on as an instructor, which would've made him a proper colleague of Iruka and Mizuki.
But plans never survive reality. In the end, he'd been strongly recruited by a female superior and transferred to work at the Hokage Building instead.
Because of that, his fate with the Academy was brief, and his relationship with Mizuki never went beyond polite familiarity.
After Tendo moved to the Hokage Building, Mizuki continued teaching at the Academy. Occasionally, when Tendo returned on official business, Mizuki's smile was always unusually warm.
Of course, Tendo—who had long known Mizuki's true nature as a petty and small-minded man—could always sense something off beneath that smile.
But adults saw through things without pointing them out. Since there hadn't been any open conflict, Tendo was perfectly happy to maintain surface-level harmony.
Except today.
Senior Mizuki had come looking for him on his own initiative, deliberately choosing this near-dusk hour when the training ground was practically empty…
Tendo's internal danger radar began blaring.
Mizuki strolled over at an unhurried pace, his gaze lingering on Tendo's face for a full two seconds—no matter how many times he saw it, he still found it annoyingly pleasing to the eye.
The golden light of the setting sun outlined those handsome features. Even the few strands of blond hair fluttering in the breeze seemed dazzling.
Tch, pretty boy, Mizuki sneered inwardly, jealousy and resentment gnawing at him like insects. Just because he has a good face, he gets to work at the Hokage Building, while I'm stuck babysitting brats at this dump. And that Inuzuka Akita—does she only care about looks?
Inuzuka Akita was Tendo's direct superior, a figure who would later appear in a certain non–family-friendly Boruto-era work.
Despite the envy churning in his heart, Mizuki's smile grew even more cordial, tinged with exaggerated seniorly concern.
"Tendo-kun, still training after hours? How diligent."
"Just keeping myself moving," Tendo replied with a chuckle, his eyes subtly sweeping over Mizuki from head to toe.
Average muscle condition.
Mediocre chakra flow.
Footwork light and unfocused.
Looks like you've been slacking lately, Senior Mizuki.
Mizuki's gaze dropped to Tendo's hands.
They were slender, with well-defined knuckles and smooth skin. There weren't any calluses—there wasn't even a hint of roughness. They certainly didn't look like the hands of someone who trained in taijutsu or practiced hand seals year-round.
The system's restorative effects had completely misled him.
Just as I thought—he's all show, Mizuki concluded smugly. His desire to "teach him a lesson" immediately began growing like weeds.
He'd long been irritated by this smooth-sailing kid, especially after hearing that Tendo was well-regarded at the Hokage Building. The bitterness of that should've been my position had been festering for a long time.
Normally, Tendo was always surrounded by seniors or Hokage Building colleagues—no good opportunities to make a move.
But today?
Alone.
An empty training ground.
Wasn't this the perfect setting for "guiding a junior" or a "friendly exchange of pointers"?
Even if he went a little too far, he could always brush it off with, I didn't expect you to be so weak… I guess I got carried away, Tendo-kun.
Perfect.
"Training alone against the air isn't very effective," Mizuki said, his smile turning subtly meaningful while his tone remained outwardly friendly. "Taijutsu improves fastest with an opponent. How about it, Tendo-kun? Let your senior accompany you for a few moves. I'd also like to see how much you've 'improved' since joining the Hokage Building."
He placed a slight emphasis on improved, the provocation barely concealed.
Tendo blinked, joy practically exploding inside him.
What was this called? Being handed a pillow when you're sleepy? Candy when you're craving sweets?
He'd just finished testing his surging chakra, and the urge to move his body had nowhere to go. And now this walking experience pack—no, this enthusiastic senior—had delivered himself right to his doorstep.
"Really?" Tendo's eyes lit up, his expression pure and eager. "Then I'll trouble Senior Mizuki for some guidance!"
[New Mission: The Uchiha's Reputation]
[A mere chunin who's grown complacent dares bare his fangs at the noble Uchiha. Use overwhelming strength to wake this senior up and teach him the meaning of humility.]
[Mission Reward: Konoha-style Taijutsu]
Tendo was delighted.
This system really was considerate—rewards for beating someone up? He was monopolizing all the good things.
"Senior Mizuki, please give me your guidance!" Tendo said loudly, his aura subtly shifting.
The two walked to the center of the training ground and stopped a few meters apart.
Mizuki had originally planned to keep up appearances and say something like you attack first, but when he saw Tendo's face glowing even more under the sunset—and those suddenly serious eyes—a nameless fire surged in his chest. He couldn't even be bothered with fake politeness anymore.
"Watch out!"
He shouted low and kicked off the ground, charging forward like an arrow loosed from a bow. His speed was far from slow—he was clearly using his full strength.
His fist clenched tight, knuckles whitening as it cut through the air, aimed straight at Tendo's face. Only when it was about to land did he seem to remember to warn him.
In Mizuki's imagination, the next moment was clear:
Tendo would hurriedly raise his arms to block, only to have his defense smashed apart. The punch would land cleanly, sending him crashing to the ground, clutching his face and crying out in pain.
Mizuki would then calmly withdraw his fist, wear a faintly apologetic yet superior expression, and sigh.
"Oh dear, Tendo-kun. Looks like paperwork at the Hokage Building really has made you neglect your taijutsu. You should come train more often."
Just imagining it made Mizuki feel refreshed, his smile nearly uncontrollable.
But reality—
Just 0.01 seconds before the fist kissed his cheek, Tendo tilted his head slightly to the left, as casually as if he were brushing away an itch.
Whoosh!
The punch sliced past a few unruly strands of blond hair and struck nothing but air. The missed momentum and sudden shock caused Mizuki to stumble forward, his balance breaking.
Eh?
He… dodged? Must've been luck!
Before Mizuki could recover his footing, Tendo moved.
No explosive burst of speed.
No flashy stance.
He simply lifted his right foot naturally, like casually kicking aside a pebble while walking.
His toes slipped precisely behind Mizuki's supporting ankle—and hooked.
The motion was gentle.
The effect was devastating.
"Oof—!"
Mizuki felt an irresistible force at his ankle. His world flipped upside down, and with a dull thud, he slammed face-first into the sandy ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Silence.
"Senior?" Tendo's voice sounded from above, filled with just the right amount of confusion—and concern.
"Are you alright? Did something on the ground trip you? That's on me, really. I should've warned you this place isn't very level."
Mizuki lay there, face buried in dirt, ears ringing—half from the fall, half from shame and rage. He suddenly pushed himself up, dust covering his face, eyes red as he glared at Tendo.
"You…!"
No matter how he looked at it, Tendo's face—radiating innocence and concern—felt like pure mockery.
"I was careless!" Mizuki roared, springing back up. This time he didn't charge straight in. Keeping some distance, he launched a rapid combination of punches and kicks.
Straight punches.
Side kicks.
Elbows.
Low sweeps.
The techniques weren't refined, and the power and speed were average, but he was still a chunin. A sustained assault like this carried real pressure.
Unfortunately for him, his opponent was Tendo.
Even without activating the Sharingan, the moment Mizuki moved, the subtle twitch of his muscles, the shift of his center of gravity, even the direction of his gaze—all appeared in Tendo's perception like slow motion.
This was the instinctive combat insight born from awakening the Uchiha bloodline and the overall enhancement of his body.
To an outside observer, the scene was almost comical.
Mizuki attacked furiously, fists and legs flying.
Tendo moved calmly—left and right, forward and back.
Every dodge was by a hair's breadth. A fist brushed past his nose, a kick's wind swept his clothes, an elbow nearly struck his ribs—only to miss as he subtly drew in his torso.
His movements were minimal yet perfectly efficient, as though he'd already predicted every attack path and responded 0.1 seconds in advance.
It didn't look like a fierce fight.
It looked like one man desperately performing taijutsu, while the other took a leisurely stroll—never getting hit.
"Huff… huff… ha…"
The relentless, high-frequency attacks that hit nothing quickly drained Mizuki's stamina and patience.
Minutes later, his movements slowed. His breathing grew ragged, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his strikes lost all form—reduced to desperate flailing, trying to land even a single hit.
Tendo even kindly reminded him after one miss, "Senior, your rhythm's off. Want to take a break?"
To Mizuki, that was pure fuel on the fire.
"Shut up!" he snarled.
Squeezing out his remaining strength and chakra, he stepped forward and swung his right fist in a wide arc, pouring all his frustration into a reckless, all-or-nothing punch aimed at Tendo's chin.
Tendo sighed softly.
"Senior, you'll hurt yourself like that."
He didn't dodge.
His right hand rose—striking after, arriving first.
No buildup.
No flourish.
A simple, direct punch.
Their fists never met.
Tendo's punch landed first, lightly imprinting itself on Mizuki's left cheek.
Soft to the touch.
Anything but soft in force.
Smack!
Mizuki's head snapped sideways. The impact spun his body a full circle, feet leaving the ground before he staggered back and collapsed onto his rear.
Silence.
Mizuki sat there in a daze.
At first, the left side of his face was numb.
Then the pain surged in like a tidal wave.
He opened his mouth, felt something foreign inside, and pushed with his tongue.
Pui.
Several blood-streaked fragments—clearly broken teeth—spat onto the sandy ground, gleaming pale in the sunset.
Stunned, he looked up at Tendo.
Tendo was retracting his fist, his face tinged with apology.
"Sorry, Senior. I didn't control my strength well. I'll cover the medical expenses. You should head to the hospital and get checked properly—wouldn't want any lasting issues."
His tone was sincere. His gaze was clear.
Anyone watching would think he was a responsible, thoughtful junior.
But as Mizuki looked at that face… remembered that casual, irresistible punch… and saw the broken teeth on the ground…
Pain, humiliation, fear, and the bitterness of absolute defeat surged up together.
"Ugh…"
He let out a choked whimper, clutching his rapidly swelling cheek. Scrambling to his feet, he turned and ran from the training ground without looking back, stumbling as he went.
The setting sun stretched his pitiful, fleeing silhouette long across the ground. Faint crystalline droplets trailed behind him—whether tears or saliva from a mouth that wouldn't close, it was hard to say.
Tendo watched him disappear and scratched his head.
"Senior Mizuki really runs fast. I was going to offer to walk him to the hospital."
[Mission Complete.
Reward 'Konoha-style Taijutsu' has been issued. Please claim it.]
Tendo claimed it.
A massive, orderly stream of information poured straight into his mind.
Not just techniques, but precise force application for every basic move, muscle coordination, situational variations, counters to different taijutsu styles—and even combat experience and clever applications from past Konoha taijutsu masters.
In an instant, the taijutsu he'd practiced before felt as crude as children roughhousing.
Movements that once felt awkward suddenly made sense. His body seemed to remember these efficient patterns.
He casually threw a punch, shifted stances, and kicked. The movements were smooth and natural, power restrained yet complete—worlds apart from before.
"This system really delivers," Tendo nodded in satisfaction, feeling the refined strength and control surging through his body.
He glanced once more in the direction Mizuki had fled. The sunset was perfect, the breeze gentle.
"Senior Mizuki," he murmured sincerely, full of gratitude, "you really are a good person. I'll remember this 'sparring' friendship."
If there were a next time to "exchange pointers," he'd definitely… try to be gentler.
Humming tunelessly, Tendo brushed imaginary dust from his clothes and headed home in a great mood.
The training ground returned to silence.
Only a few dusty, broken teeth remained on the ground—quiet witnesses to everything that had happened.