Training Ground 14 became a second home.

  Not because it was comfortable—it wasn’t. The clearing was uneven, half the space was mud, and the mosquitoes were relentless. But Morita Daen didn’t believe in comfort. He believed in pressure.

  And pressure was how Squad 9 began to take shape.

  The first morning of training began at exactly 0500.

  Daen stood in the center of the field, arms folded, cigarette lit but ignored. His voice was calm, his eyes dull, but there was something dangerous in his stillness. Like a sleeping dog that chose not to wake up unless provoked.

  “From today forward,” he said, “you train like ninja. Not students.”

  He handed each of them a folded paper, sealed with wax. Ken read his immediately.

  Training Cycle – Week One:

  Morning: Endurance ps (with weights)

  Midday: Elemental control drills

  Afternoon: Paired sparring (rotating)

  Evening: Theory, observation, stealth exercises

  Each day had notes—Daen’s own observations, goals, target weaknesses.

  Ken’s summary read:“Lethal focus. Too internal. Must be pushed into team reliance and unpredictable combat.”

  Week one broke them down.

  Ken endured without compint, pushing himself through every drill with mechanical patience. Reina excelled in control-based exercises, but gged in stamina. Daisuke thrived in combat, but hated long-term drills and failed almost every stealth test.

  Daen didn’t scream. He didn’t punish.

  He just watched. And adjusted.

  “Reina, stop hesitating before you heal. You won’t have time to second-guess when someone’s bleeding out.”

  “Daisuke, your first strike is solid. Your second is garbage. Fix it.”

  “Ken… you think too much. Learn to feel the rhythm.”

  Ken wasn’t used to being told to feel. That wasn’t his way. But he listened.

  And improved.

  By the second week, they were moving better. Talking more. Sparring without stepping on each other’s toes. Ken still kept his distance emotionally, but tactically, he was adapting. His water techniques became sharper, more reactive. His wind strikes hit harder. He used them to cover Reina or fnk with Daisuke without being asked.

  They were becoming a squad.

  Which made what came next almost insulting.

  Daen stood in front of them on day eleven, holding a scroll with a cat paw print on the seal.

  “Congratutions,” he said dryly. “Your first mission.”

  Reina squinted. “Is that... a paw?”

  Daen unrolled the scroll. “Lady Tsugiko’s cat, Tora. Escaped again. Find it. Return it.”

  Daisuke groaned. “Seriously? We’ve been training for weeks like we’re going to war, and now we’re chasing cats?”

  Daen puffed his cigarette. “The world is full of disappointment, Daisuke. This is just the first taste.”

  The mission took four hours.

  Tora was a menace—fast, violent, and inexplicably skilled at hiding in drainage pipes. Ken caught him only after ying a water film trap near a cluster of fish stalls and luring him with pickled bonito. Reina took three scratches. Daisuke almost fell into a stream.

  It was ridiculous.

  It was perfect.

  They ughed for the first time that day, even Ken—just a little.

  After the mission, training resumed. Daen didn't lighten the load. If anything, it grew heavier.

  Week three introduced night drills—patrol simutions, blindfolded sparring, and long-distance tracking tests. Ken particurly excelled in these. He moved like mist, striking silently, leaving no trail. Reina called him a “ninja ghost.”

  Daisuke called him “creepy as hell.”

  Ken didn’t care.

  By week six, Daen began incorporating mission simutions with real objectives—decoy escorts, supply delivery under threat, message protection. The squad operated under timed pressure, and any failure earned them a full training reset.

  Ken never failed.

  He wasn’t the fastest, or the strongest—but he never lost control. He pnned two moves ahead. He let Daisuke charge and Reina support, then moved to where the danger would nd.

  That’s what Daen liked.

  And what worried him.

  One evening, after a long day of chakra control exercises, Daen walked alone into the Hokage Tower.

  The Third sat behind his desk, reading through four mission reports at once. His robes were loose, his pipe already lit.

  Daen didn’t bother with formalities. He dropped a scroll on the desk.

  Hiruzen Sarutobi looked up.

  “Squad 9,” he said, opening the report. “I hear they’ve taken well to your methods.”

  Daen scratched the back of his neck. “They’re shaping up. Reina’s precise. Daisuke’s got heart.”

  “And the Uchiha?”

  Daen hesitated.

  “He’s… different.”

  Sarutobi raised a brow.

  “I’ve seen dozens of Uchiha kids come through,” Daen continued. “They burn hot. They show off. Their pride drives them. But this one... Ken’s cold.”

  “Detached?”

  “No. Not uncaring. Just... measured. Like he’s walking through the cn instead of being of it.”

  Sarutobi took a drag from his pipe. “Do you believe he’s a risk?”

  Daen shook his head. “Not a threat. But he doesn’t think like them. And he’s learning fast. Dangerously fast.”

  The Hokage’s gaze sharpened slightly.

  “Keep an eye on him.”

  “I already am.”

  The next morning, Daen gave them their second mission.

  “This one’s different,” he said. “We’re heading outside the vilge.”

  Ken looked up from tightening his bde wrap.

  “C-rank,” Daen continued. “Bandit territory. Southern trade route. A merchant caravan went dark three nights ago. No ANBU involvement—yet. We’re to investigate and neutralize if it’s low-tier.”

  Daisuke’s eyes lit up. “Finally something real.”

  Reina looked less excited. “Any reports on what we’re walking into?”

  Daen shook his head. “No confirmed numbers. You’ll have to learn to deal with unknowns. That’s the point.”

  Ken quietly adjusted his equipment. He had a full water scroll. Wind-release tags. His short sword. And the high-speed evasion technique loaded into muscle memory.

  He didn’t say it, but the shift in tone was clear.

  This wasn’t training anymore.

  They left the vilge at dawn.

  Their route followed the winding path south through the trees, then curved west through thinner terrain. Daen took point. The squad followed in loose formation—Reina in center, Daisuke as right fnk, Ken taking the rear.

  Ken watched everything.

  Chakra traces. Bird patterns. Trap signs. His sensing was still crude, but something in his gut kept him alert.

  They found the remnants of the caravan just before sunset.

  Three overturned carts. Blood on the wheels. No bodies.

  Daen raised a hand.

  “Set camp. Two-watch rotation. No fires.”

  Ken took first watch.

  He sat beneath a crooked tree, sword across his knees, eyes on the darkening forest.

  The wind was soft, but wrong.

  Something was out there.