Chapter 2: The First Training Session

The morning sun painted the training ground in soft gold, the light filtering through the towering trees that bordered the clearing. The air was cool, still carrying the crisp scent of the dew-covered grass. I stood in the center of the field, barefoot, feeling the earth beneath me.

Mito had chosen this place for our first true lesson—far enough from the village to train in peace, yet still within Konoha's protective reach. Today, she would test my control, my instincts, and most importantly, my will.

Across from me, she stood tall, arms crossed, her regal presence impossible to ignore.

"Your chakra is unlike anything I've ever seen," she said, her sharp gaze studying me. "Vast, refined… but raw. You need discipline, or it will consume you before you can control it."

I nodded, already familiar with the weight of my chakra, the way it surged beneath my skin, eager to be unleashed. Unlike the children of Konoha, who grew into their power, I had always carried mine like a second heartbeat—silent but overwhelming.

"First, show me your basic control," Mito instructed. "Tree walking."

Simple enough. I walked toward the nearest tree and placed a foot against its bark. I concentrated, molding my chakra to cling to the surface. A slight pull in my soles, the familiar resistance. I took a step, then another, smoothly walking up the trunk.

Mito nodded in approval. "Good. Now, water walking."

We moved to the pond at the edge of the training ground. I stepped onto the surface, chakra evenly spread through my feet. Ripples formed but faded quickly.

"Effortless," she noted. "But control isn't just about balance." She formed a hand seal, and the water beneath me began to swirl violently, breaking my footing. I adjusted immediately, reinforcing my chakra.

She smirked. "Better. But if you can only stand when the waters are calm, then you are not ready for war."

I barely had a second to react before she blurred toward me, striking with precision. I leaped back, landing on solid ground, heart pounding.

"Adapt," she commanded, before vanishing again.

Her speed was inhuman, even by shinobi standards. But I wasn't untrained. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, focusing—not just on her movements, but on the air shifting around me, the faintest whisper of chakra in motion.

She came from my left. I turned, barely dodging her palm strike. I countered with a quick thrust, but she twisted away, her counterstrike aimed at my shoulder. I raised my forearm in defense, absorbing the impact, though my entire arm went numb from the sheer force.

Mito stepped back, watching me. "You are quick, but you hesitate. Why?"

I exhaled. "Because I don't want to hurt you."

A pause. Then she chuckled. "And if your enemy doesn't share that sentiment?"

She flicked her wrist, and suddenly, dozens of kunai formed from sealing tags, launching toward me. I reacted instinctively, chakra flaring as I twisted my body midair, deflecting some kunai with a burst of force while dodging the rest.

Mito raised an eyebrow. "Raw power. Effective, but wasteful. You will not always have the luxury of excess chakra."

I clenched my fist, understanding her point. My technique relied on overwhelming force, but it lacked refinement. I would need more than sheer strength to master my abilities.

"Again," she ordered.

And so we continued. For hours, we danced across the battlefield—teacher and student, predator and prey, force against technique. She struck with precision; I countered with adaptability. I learned to read her movements, to trust my instincts, to control my chakra not just as a weapon, but as an extension of my will.

When we finally stopped, the sun had dipped below the horizon, the sky painted in deep purples and oranges. I was exhausted, sweat-drenched, but exhilarated.

Mito placed a hand on my shoulder. "You did well today. But this is only the beginning. Power alone is not enough. To truly master yourself, you must understand why you fight."

I looked at her, feeling the weight of her words settle deep within me.

Why do I fight?

That answer would come, in time.

For now, I bowed my head in respect. "Thank you, Mito-sama."

She smiled, just slightly. "Rest. Tomorrow, we begin again."