CHAPTER 12

After school, Saitama and Shisui went their separate ways.

Shisui returned home for his clan's training, while Saitama decided to visit a weapon shop.

Back when he had been training with Shisui's family, he had borrowed their practice swords to study kenjutsu. Now that they had taken a ninja tools class at the Academy, he figured it was a good time to buy his own equipment.

Following the vague memory in his head, Saitama arrived at a weapon shop tucked away on a quiet street.

The store was small, and at this hour, there were barely any customers. The owner sat outside the shop, absentmindedly trimming his nails, clearly bored.

"Good day, boss."

Saitama stopped at the entrance. This shop had been recommended by Iruka, who said his father often came here to buy and replace ninja tools.

"Hm? Oh, hello, kid."

The shopkeeper snapped out of his daze when he saw a young boy standing there.

"I'll take a pack of kunai, a pack of shuriken, and a small sword."

The shopkeeper blinked. "You from the Academy?"

Saitama, who barely reached a meter in height, nodded. Despite his mature demeanor, his small stature made it obvious he was still a child.

"Yes. We're starting ninja tools training. I want to buy some to practice at home."

Saitama explained casually.

In Konoha, unlike some smaller villages, there were no strict age restrictions for purchasing ninja tools, since shinobi training started early. Without any fuss, the shopkeeper wrapped up the tools and sword.

Altogether, it cost nearly 1,000 ryō.

Saitama winced at the price. For comparison, a decent barbecue meal usually only cost around 200 ryō.

Clutching his purchases, he headed home.

The Academy dismissed at five o'clock in the afternoon. By the time Saitama finished shopping and returned home, it was only around five-fifteen.

Uchiha Ka had already prepared dinner, and when Saitama entered, she was just finishing the soup.

For Saitama, Uchiha Ka was a trustworthy guardian. However, she still needed some looking after.

At the dinner table, Granny Ka, as usual, asked about his day at the Academy.

She fired off the usual questions: "How's little Saitama adapting to school?" "Are you getting along with your classmates?"

Saitama answered them patiently, knowing the old woman had little else for entertainment.

Dinner passed in a peaceful, lively atmosphere.

After eating, Saitama moved to the courtyard to practice what he'd learned that day.

His chakra reserves were steadily growing, though without comparison, he wasn't sure how they stacked up against his peers. His proficiency with hand seals had also improved—he could now accurately perform all the seals for the three basic ninjutsu.

As for kenjutsu, he had already memorized many techniques. What remained was diligent practice and adaptation to real combat situations.

He couldn't afford to slack off—not for a moment.

It was now the 44th year of the Hidden Leaf calendar. Saitama was nearly six years old.

According to the original timeline, Shisui would apply for early graduation in his second year. From there, his strength would skyrocket, eventually earning the nickname "Shisui of the Body Flicker" after his exploits against Kirigakure during the Third Shinobi World War. It was also on that battlefield where Shisui would awaken his Mangekyō Sharingan—but that was still a distant future.

Regardless, Saitama had no intention of falling behind.

Reinvigorated, he unwrapped the kodachi he'd bought that afternoon. He ran his finger along the blade.

This was his first personal sword—not a treasure, but carefully selected based on its balance and grip.

It was just over 40 centimeters, about half Saitama's current height.

At present, it was still a little long for him, but when he grew, it would fit better—though by then, a blade of this quality might no longer suffice.

It was close to seven o'clock. The sun was setting, and the yard was awash in moonlight.

Sweating heavily, Saitama tirelessly repeated the same sword slash over and over.

These fundamentals only became second nature when they were drilled into the body until muscle memory took over.

Thanks to his exceptional talent, every repetition brought noticeable improvement. By now, he felt that his skill was no weaker than Shisui's, despite the latter having trained for over a year longer.

But Saitama had no intention of showing off in front of others. Revealing too much too early would only bring trouble, especially when he had no strong backers in the Uchiha Clan. The clan's name alone might intimidate civilians, but it wouldn't protect him from internal politics or dangers outside the village.

The silver moonlight shone on his shoulders, giving him a sense of freedom.

This practice session stretched into the night. He only paused once for water.

His body didn't seem to tire at all, his constitution abnormally robust—like the cultivator protagonists in the wuxia novels from his past life. No matter how grueling the training, no matter how exhausted or injured, a good night's sleep would fix everything.

Tonight, Saitama focused solely on a single move: the basic slash.

Repeating it endlessly deepened his understanding of the technique.

At this stage, that was all he intended to practice.

One technique—refined to the extreme!

Recalling movies and shows from his past life, Saitama envisioned this strike as a "draw slash"—a move that could cleave through everything in its path.