Chapter 15: Tsunade: Could This Kid Actually Be From the Senju Clan?

Chatting and laughing all the way, the group soon arrived at the training ground.

Before they even drew close, they heard a series of heavy thuds echoing through the trees. Pushing through the brush, they finally caught sight of the source of the noise.

It was Might Duy, performing frog leaps with a thick, heavy log strapped across his back.

"Nine hundred and ninety-eight!"

"Nine hundred and ninety-nine!"

"One thousand!"

As the final count dropped, Might Duy snapped straight up, tossed the log aside, and beamed with deep satisfaction.

Boom!

The heavy log slammed into the ground, kicking up a ring of dust.

Catching sight of Shingo, the grin on Might Duy's face grew even brighter.

"Shingo! What brings you out here today? Did the academy give you the day off?"

Shingo didn't try to hide it, answering honestly:

"We skipped class. The pacing was too slow, and the teacher was still lecturing on chakra basics. We figured that instead of sitting there being tortured, we might as well come out and train."

Realization dawned on Might Duy, and the next moment, his eyes welled up with genuine, emotional tears.

"Shingo!"

He abruptly thrust a thumb into the air, his teeth flashing brilliantly in the sunlight.

"Feeling the class pace is too slow and choosing to forge a better self through sweat instead?! Youths, since you've made your choice, join me and let your youth burn into flames!"

Nawaki and the others didn't express any shock at Might Duy's rare-beast antics. It wasn't because their psychological resilience was particularly high, but rather because their attention was completely transfixed by that log.

Most people lack a tangible concept of true power. It's much like how everyone knows the First Hokage, Senju Hashirama, was immensely strong, and that Uchiha Madara was equally terrifying.

Yet just how strong were they?

Were they strong enough to firmly suppress Kakuzu? Or strong enough that an alliance of multiple Kage-level powerhouses couldn't do a thing against them?

Without ever laying eyes on True Several Thousand Hands, without witnessing Wood Release manifest wooden hands massive enough to pin down the Nine-Tails, one could never truly grasp just how overwhelmingly powerful Senju Hashirama was. They could only rely on hearsay and imagination.

The same went for Nawaki and his friends. Of course they knew the Third Hokage was strong, and that Tsunade was formidable. But having never witnessed a powerhouse unleash their true might, titles like "strong" remained little more than abstract labels and hollow descriptions.

Until this very moment, watching Might Duy perform frog leaps with a three-meter-long, half-meter-thick log while knocking out a thousand reps in one go...

This visually stunning, sheer impact completely shattered and reconstructed their worldview.

"How much do you think that..."

Nawaki gestured with his hands, trying to gauge the dimensions of the log.

"How much does that thing weigh?"

"Roughly several hundred kilograms, just shy of a ton," Shingo estimated.

That log had been felled half a month ago, so it had lost some of its moisture. Even so, the wood itself was dense, averaging over seven hundred kilograms per cubic meter.

With that, he gestured toward Duy's wrists, calves, and waist.

"And that's not even Duy's full power. He's wearing weights, too."

"Weights?"

The group's gazes snapped directly to them.

At first, they had assumed the gear strapped to Might Duy's limbs was merely protective padding or decorative training clothes. But hearing Shingo point it out, the four boys suddenly realized those unremarkable-looking bands carried astonishing weight.

A sudden realization struck Nawaki, and he turned a stiff, mechanical gaze toward Shingo.

Sure enough.

Similar bands were strapped around Shingo's own wrists and calves. They were just slightly smaller than Might Duy's and looked a bit more worn.

"Wait! The stuff you've got on you, don't tell me those are weights too?!"

Shingo raised a wrist to take a look and confirmed it.

"These? Yeah."

"You wear these to school every single day?!"

"Mhm."

Curious, Nawaki reached out and gingerly touched the weights on Shingo's wrist.

"How heavy are the ones you're wearing?"

"Mine are relatively light. Everything combined only weighs three hundred kilograms."

"T-Three hundred kilograms?! There is nothing light about that!"

Realizing that Shingo had been secretly grinding with hundreds of kilograms of weights every single day at school twisted Nawaki's expression into a grimace.

Shikaku asked with a hint of uncertainty:

"Shingo, if I remember correctly, you were wearing those weights when you fought Uchiha Ruri, weren't you?"

"Yeah."

Nawaki gave Shingo's shoulder a heavy slap, a complex mix of emotions swirling inside him.

"Damn it, why didn't you mention it sooner?!"

"You didn't ask."

"Does that even need asking?!"

After the wave of shock passed, Shingo briefly introduced everyone to one another.

Learning that Nawaki was the First Hokage's grandson, Might Duy only blinked in brief surprise before treating him with ordinary warmth. To Duy, the fact that Nawaki was Shingo's friend carried far more weight than his lineage as the Hokage's grandson.

"I see! So you've already made such fine companions at the academy, Shingo! Excellent! From here on out, let's all work hard together and burn our youth!"

Just two sentences in, Nawaki was infected by Might Duy's burning passion, clenching his fist and roaring back:

"Osu!"

I've got a bad feeling things are about to get complicated...

Shikaku sighed inwardly, glancing between the passionately fired-up Nawaki and the heavy weights on Shingo's limbs. Oh well, since we're already here, might as well start training.

Once everyone committed to joining the session, Might Duy returned to his personal regimen while Shingo led the boys toward a wooden shed nearby.

When Might Duy had first gifted Shingo his weights, he hadn't known what weight was appropriate, so he had simply handed over all his old training gear from his past routines that he no longer used. The lightest tier, which Duy had worn when he first started practicing taijutsu, was far too light for Shingo.

Those discarded sets, alongside the weights Shingo himself had cycled through over the past month, were all stored right here in the shed. The even heavier gear was kept back at Shingo's house.

Nawaki poked and prodded this piece and that piece. Though the training gear bore the distinct scars of time, they were meticulously cleaned and maintained.

"Shingo, which ones should we use?"

"You guys should test the lightest ones first. You still need to get a personal feel for how your bodies handle the load."

Watching Nawaki's eager, itching-to-go expression, Shingo offered a word of caution:

"Training is about making yourself stronger, so don't grit your teeth and force yourself into an improper weight. Getting injured over it isn't worth the gains."

Nawaki nodded in agreement. Having witnessed the sheer weight of Shingo's gear, his faith in Shingo's physical training expertise was absolute.

In the end, everyone's weights were decided.

Chōza possessed a massive build and formidable strength, so he strapped on a total of forty kilograms of weights. Next came Nawaki, slightly lighter than Chōza at thirty kilograms. Shikaku and Inoichi possessed lesser physical strength, so both settled on fifteen kilograms.

Once they had suited up, Shingo guided them through dynamic warm-ups and kicked off their very first weighted training session.

By midday, the boys were sprawled flat on the ground, panting heavily, their entire bodies aching with soreness as they lacked the energy to even twitch.

Rumble—

A loud growl echoed out, and all heads turned simultaneously toward Chōza, who was clutching his stomach.

"I'm so starved... I feel like those dumplings I ate earlier have completely burned off."

Just as Chōza's mind drifted to what he should eat next, a familiar aroma drifted in from ahead, and a familiar bento box appeared right before his eyes.

"Eat your bento, then."

"Eat... Huh? Wait isn't this my bento box?!"

Chōza snapped upright in a panic, his aching muscles momentarily forgotten, as he looked up and found Naoki holding the bento boxes they had left behind at the academy, extending his very own meal out to him.

"Morikawa-sensei!! S-S-Sorry! We shouldn't have skipped class!"

Hearing this, the other boys struggled to their feet as well, casting nervous glances toward Naoki.

"There's nothing to apologize for. You've been training with this much dedication, not only will I not chew you out, but I'll praise you instead."

Hearing that, Shikaku let out a relieved breath and flopped back down onto the grass.

Chōza remained somewhat jittery, scratching his head in bewilderment as he asked:

"Sensei, you're... you're not mad?"

"My students are working this hard; why would I be mad? A teacher isn't an unreasonable person. Next time, though, remember to give me a heads-up before you clear out."

Handing out the bentos to the boys, Naoki produced an extra meal box from his bag and passed it to Might Duy.

Unaccustomed to receiving genuine kindness, Might Duy froze up in a flurry of flustered awkwardness.

"Morikawa-sensei... Th-This is really, truly too kind of you."

Duy hesitated to accept it, yet felt it would be impolite to refuse. In the end, he took it with a blushing face.

"I should be thanking you, Duy. I was watching from the sidelines just now, your training schedule is exceptionally well-structured. I'll have to leave my students in your capable hands from now on."

"Please leave them safely to me! I swear I won't let a single moment of their youth go to waste!"

Might Duy nodded with solemn, absolute gravity.

The smile froze on Naoki's face.

Up until now, he had only been focusing on Duy's raw power. Now, it finally dawned on him that this guy was... well, slightly eccentric.

By evening, the boys parted ways at the intersection.

When Shikaku slipped back through his front door, dinner was already laid out on the table. Nara Shikahiro sat by the edge, and seeing his son return looking thoroughly battered and dusty, he stood up to greet him.

Without rushing to interrogate him, Shikahiro gently brushed the dust from his son's clothes and handed him a warm towel to wipe his face.

It wasn't until the family of three sat down at the table to eat that Shikahiro finally inquired:

"Shikaku, did something happen at the academy today?"

"We practiced taijutsu with some classmates today."

Shikaku wisely omitted the part about skipping class in front of his mom, trusting that his old man would read between the lines just fine.

He picked up his chopsticks, letting them hover over his bowl for a moment before dropping them.

After a brief pause, Shikaku couldn't hold it in any longer and asked:

"Dad, what kind of person is a true genius?"

"Why bring that up all of a sudden?"

Shikaku gave a rough summary of today's training session to his parents.

Shikahiro listened quietly, and once his son finished, he asked:

"Did it hit your confidence?"

Shikaku didn't deny it.

"A little."

Shikahiro looked at his son with a calm gaze.

Geniuses certainly existed. Moreover, some geniuses were so monstrously gifted that they stripped away any courage others might have had to chase them.

He had witnessed what a true genius looked like with his own eyes back in his youth. That kind of gap wasn't something mere hard work could bridge.

While that was the cold reality, he couldn't just phrase it like that to his son.

"Shikaku, you're still young. Once you master our Nara clan's secret techniques, combined with the bond shared by the Ino-Shika-Chō trio, you'll become a force that commands respect across the entire shinobi world."

Shikaku nodded, his father's words restoring a measure of his confidence.

With the heavy knot in his chest loosening up, he began chatting with his parents about Shingo.

Listening for a moment, Shikahiro mentally pieced the identity together. As a key strategist, he had heard Hiruzen mention Shingo before and knew what the boy had been through. 

Even so, Shikahiro had no intention of interfering with Shikaku's friendships; interactions among children were best left to the children themselves.

If Shingo truly was the kind of child the Hokage described, someone who had endured a brutal reality yet still held the capacity to accept others' kindness and return it in kind, then having a friend like that was a genuine blessing for Shikaku.

With an offhand tone, Shikahiro asked:

"After spending the past few days with him, what do you think of Shingo?"

Shikaku thought it over.

"Very mature. Doesn't feel like a six-year-old at all."

"Anything else?"

"Driven, hardworking. He takes training dead seriously and worries about us getting hurt. Being around him feels comfortable, and he's actually pretty cheerful, always cracking jokes with us."

Shikahiro smiled.

"Since you think he's a good person, cherish the friendship."

"Got it."

…

Meanwhile, over in the Senju clan compound.

Nawaki dragged his exhausted body home, practically crawling through the threshold.

His clothes were caked in dust and salt-stained sweat, and his hair was an absolute bird's nest. Pressing the doorbell at the gate, he supported his lower back with one hand while massaging his sore thigh with the other.

Then...

He was greeted straight to the face with a punch.

Bam!

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Oneechan, what was that for?!"

Nawaki shrieked, clutching his head as he squatted down.

Taking in his muddy, street-urchin appearance, Tsunade's anger flared even higher.

She had rushed straight to the academy gates to pick him up right after finishing her mission, not even taking the time to change out of her travel gear. Yet she had stood there waiting until the students had almost all cleared out, with no sign of Nawaki anywhere.

When she finally tracked down a teacher to ask, she learned this little punk had skipped class.

The fury had blocked out whatever else the instructor had said; she had hurried straight home to play the waiting game, acting like a rabbit waiting by a stump for Nawaki to walk right into her trap.

"You've barely been in school a few days, and you've already learned how to skip class?!"

"Oneechan, how did you even know?!"

Nawaki gasped in shock, quickly pleading for mercy as Tsunade raised her fist for a follow-up blow.

"Don't hit me, don't hit me! I went training! Look, Oneechan, I really went training! I've even got training weights strapped to me!"

Tsunade glanced down. Sure enough, he did.

Lacking any lingering guilt for potentially wronging him, a soft green glow materialized in her palm as she kneaded the bump swelling up on Nawaki's head.

"Spit it out. What's this all about?"

Feeling the large lump subside under her medical ninjutsu, Nawaki squatted on the ground and let out a cheeky chuckle.

"Well, the sensei's chakra lecture was just too boring. The rest of us figured sitting in that classroom was a waste of time, so we went out to train instead, and we kept at it until just now."

"The rest of you?"

"Mhm. Me, Shingo, Shikaku, Inoichi, and Chōza. We went over to Shingo's personal training ground and even met a really interesting guy named Might Duy."

She was naturally familiar with the scions of the Ino-Shika-Chō families, and she had a vague recollection of Might Duy as well.

However, the name "Shingo" was entirely unfamiliar to her.

"Shingo?"

"He's the kid who bumped into you outside the notice board, the one you said had great strength."

With that reminder, the pieces clicked into place in Tsunade's mind.

Oh, so it was that kid.

"Go take a bath. Look at yourself, you look like a swamp rat."

"Hold on, let me catch my breath for a second."

Nawaki grabbed a cold soda from the fridge, sat cross-legged on the floor, and panted heavily.

"You wouldn't believe how much we put in today, Oneechan."

As Nawaki excitedly detailed the day's training, Tsunade committed the names Might Duy and Shingo firmly to memory.

Shingo, in particular.

To maintain that kind of training volume at just six years old was genuinely incredible. Even she hadn't reached that level at his age.

"You said it's Shingo's private training ground? What clan is he from?"

"He lives alone over in Kitaki Street. He calls it a training ground, but it's not an official one, just an empty clearing he cleared out himself deep in the forest, bit by bit."

Living alone...

Recalling Shingo's exceptional physical talent, Tsunade fell into deep thought.

A growing suspicion took root in her mind: Shingo was very likely a descendant of one of her Senju clansmen.

No, I'll have to ask the old man about this next time. She needed to verify whether this kid truly carried Senju bloodline traits.

If he did, she'd see about moving him directly into the Senju compound.

She couldn't let a child with such monstrous talent waste away living a hard life out on his own.