Training Without Limits

Haruto woke up early, as usual. The previous night's experiments with the Thunder Scalpel were still fresh in his mind, but he pushed those thoughts aside. Today was about something else—something that made his heart race in anticipation. He grabbed a quick breakfast, went through his light morning exercises, and set off toward the training field where his new team would meet under the watchful eye of Sakumo Hatake, the famed White Fang.

Arriving at the training field, Haruto found Sakumo waiting calmly, his sharp eyes tracking the boys as they arrived. Shuisi was the next to join, with Daichi following closely behind. As soon as they were gathered, Sakumo spoke.

"Before we start," Sakumo said, his voice firm, "I want to know if any of you are using weighted seals in your training. If so, raise your hand."

All three boys raised their hands.

Sakumo's gaze sharpened as he scanned them. Interesting, he thought. "Alright," he continued, "what weight are you using?"

Haruto was the first to speak. "I use 4 for training, 2 for spars, and 5 when I'm walking around."

Daichi blinked, clearly caught off guard by Haruto's response. He scratched the back of his head before answering, "Uh… I use 2 for training."

Shuisi shot a glance at Haruto before speaking calmly. "Mine's at 5 for training, but I don't use it all the time. I have to be careful not to overextend."

Sakumo's gaze lingered on Haruto for a moment longer. This boy… is he using that seal constantly? Sakumo's sharp instincts picked up on something unusual. Using the seal for walking around? That level of discipline was rare and concerning. He's pushing himself constantly, Sakumo mused, making a mental note to investigate further.

But today wasn't about investigating—it was about pushing them hard.

"Remove your seals," Sakumo ordered, his voice steady but with an edge of challenge. "I want to see your limits without them."

The boys dropped their seals to the ground, their bodies immediately feeling lighter, their movements quicker. Haruto flexed his muscles, already feeling the difference, and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. This is going to be fun.

And then, without further warning, Sakumo launched them into the day's training.

It was brutal. The exercises weren't just about strength or speed—they were about everything: balance, endurance, chakra control, reflexes. Sakumo drove them hard through relentless drills. Long-distance sprints, rapid vertical climbs using only their physical strength, sparring matches that seemed endless, and chakra control tests where they had to keep the flow steady under intense physical strain.

For Haruto, this was everything he loved. Every burning muscle, every gasping breath, every drop of sweat—it was a thrill. It reminded him of his past life, back when he'd been an MMA fighter. This… this is what I lived for. In those days, he would push himself to the point of collapse, then push some more. There was no greater feeling than reaching that limit and then breaking past it.

In his mind, he could still hear his old coach's voice pushing him during his hardest sessions, telling him to dig deeper, to find that strength he didn't know he had. And Haruto had loved every second of it. There's a reason athletes have coaches—someone who forces you beyond what you think you're capable of. Sakumo is that now, Haruto realized. He's pulling out that extra three percent I didn't know I had.

As the drills went on, Haruto found himself pushed harder than he'd been in a long time. But the more intense it became, the more he felt alive. His body was burning, but it was the kind of pain that reminded him of those days in the ring, where pain and progress were one and the same.

Sakumo watched the boys closely. All three are impressive, he thought. Shuisi's precision and discipline are exceptional, Daichi's stamina and chakra control are solid… but Haruto…

Haruto was something else. Each time Sakumo gave the team a break, Haruto recovered faster than the others. While Shuisi and Daichi were catching their breath or recovering, Haruto was already ready to jump back in. His recovery time was unnatural.

Sakumo narrowed his eyes. I'll have to stop giving him breaks. The boy's body seemed to reset whenever he stopped moving, but Sakumo wasn't going to allow that today. He would push Haruto harder than the others, and see where his real limits lay.

"Alright, back to it," Sakumo called out, watching as the boys groaned but got back to work.

Haruto, now without the luxury of breaks, felt the real intensity of the training. His muscles screamed in protest, his lungs burned with the effort, but that thrill was still there, driving him forward. This was what he had always thrived on—pushing himself beyond his limits, further than anyone thought possible.

As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across the training field, Sakumo finally called for the session to end. By then, Daichi and Shuisi were exhausted, drenched in sweat, but Haruto was still standing tall. He was tired—more tired than he'd been in a long time—but the satisfaction of knowing he'd been pushed to his limits made the pain worth it.

Sakumo stood off to the side, arms crossed, observing them one last time. Haruto… he's something else. The boy's resilience and ability to recover, his drive to push beyond normal limits—it was beyond what Sakumo had expected from any Genin.

As Haruto stood, catching his breath, he looked out over the training field, a small grin forming on his lips. This is where I belong, he thought. Right here, at the edge of my limits… and beyond.