By the time Haruki turned four, his legs were stronger, his reflexes sharper, and his sense of focus surprisingly deep for someone still missing a few baby teeth.
He could balance on a narrow fence rail for nearly a minute. He could sprint the length of his street without falling, and when he did, he bounced up fast. And thanks to Might Duy, he had learned how to stretch properly, breathe in rhythm, and punch in a straight line without flailing like a drowning duck.
Every evening, Mika would rub salve on his bruises while he recounted "training missions" with breathless excitement.
"Today I did a handstand for thirty seconds! Duy-sensei said I might have awakened my youthful lotus!"
Kenji, working clay at his wheel, glanced over with a smirk. "Is that like unlocking chakra?"
"No," Haruki said seriously. "It's even better. It's when your soul gets swole!"
***
Duy, despite his oddness, trained Haruki with increasing care. The boy was still years from even touching chakra, but Duy introduced him to shinobi disciplines in his own roundabout way.
He made Haruki run obstacle courses blindfolded, teaching him how to listen to wind and movement. He taught him how to gauge weight distribution on different surfaces, how to roll with a fall, and Haruki's favorite, how to disappear.
"I call it 'vanishing with vigor!'" Duy declared, tossing down a smoke pellet that immediately engulfed him. Haruki coughed and waved it away, only to find the older man clinging upside-down from a tree branch overhead.
"How did you do that?!" Haruki gasped.
"Practice! And also strong toes!"
Haruki stared up, jaw slack. "Can you teach me that next?"
"Oh-ho! You must master the first five forms of silent stepping before we scale the branches of destiny, young sprout!"
Haruki groaned. "Everything is steps with you…"
"Because steps are the staircase to greatness!" Duy shouted joyfully, flipping down to land perfectly.
**
In the Woods.
One gray morning, Haruki was making his way to their training spot when he caught the faint crack of steel against steel through the trees.
He stopped.
That wasn't Duy. Duy made more noise and usually shouted greetings from a hundred meters away. Haruki crept through the underbrush, curiosity prickling his skin. He crawled low, listening.
Two shinobi were sparring near the glade- fast, silent, and lethal.
One was a chunin Haruki had seen before, but the other… the other moved like flowing wind. His blade gleamed silver, each strike so precise it looked like art.
Haruki recognized him from the stories.
Sakumo Hatake. The White Fang of the Leaf.
Haruki stared, awed.
He had heard tales from older children in the street, how the White Fang was faster than lightning, kinder than most jonin, and deadly when angered. Even Haruki's father, who rarely spoke about shinobi, had once said, "If the Hokage casts a long shadow, it's only because men like Sakumo stand at his side."
Haruki remained hidden, frozen in wonder.
The sparring ended soon, the chunin bowing and thanking Sakumo before vanishing in a blur. Haruki remained still, thinking the moment had passed, until he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.
He jumped and whirled around—and looked straight up into the pale, calm eyes of the White Fang himself.
"I saw you sneak in," Sakumo said gently. "But you were quiet."
"I- I didn't mean to spy," Haruki stammered. "I was just… watching."
Sakumo crouched beside him. He wasn't as intimidating up close. His smile was small but kind.
"What's your name?"
"Haruki. Haruki Arai."
"You're not an academy student, are you?"
Haruki shook his head. "Not yet."
Sakumo nodded. "But you're training."
"With Might Duy!" Haruki said proudly.
That earned a chuckle. "Ah. That explains the green scarf."
Haruki touched it instinctively. "He's… helping me. I wanna be strong. Like you."
Sakumo's expression softened.
"Strength isn't always what people think it is. Some believe it comes from chakra, or jutsu, or even bloodline. But sometimes," he said, tapping Haruki lightly on the chest, "it starts with the heart."
Haruki looked up at him, eyes wide. "You really think I can be strong one day?"
"I think you already are," Sakumo said. "And if you keep training, keep learning, you'll be more than strong."
He stood, gave a short bow, and vanished with a flicker.
Haruki stood alone for a long moment.
Then he whispered, "More than strong…"
***
That evening, Haruki burst into the house, muddy, beaming, and bursting with excitement.
"Mama! Papa! I met the White Fang!"
Mika nearly dropped her cooking ladle. "You what?!"
Kenji leaned over from the hallway. "Wait- Sakumo Hatake?!"
"He was in the woods sparring, and I was quiet like Duy-sensei taught me, and I watched, and he talked to me!"
Mika hurried over, checking him for bruises. "Did you sneak into a shinobi battle?!"
"No! It was training. But he said I was quiet. And he told me I already have strength!"
Mika looked at Kenji, concern in her eyes.
"He's getting deeper into this world," she said later that night, while Haruki slept upstairs.
Kenji sighed, cradling a mug of tea. "He's young. It's still playing."
"Is it?" Mika looked out the window. "He comes home covered in bruises, quoting Duy, doing hand signs at dinner, and now he's talking to elite jonin in the woods?"
Kenji ran a hand through his hair. "It's not just a phase anymore."
"No," she said softly. "It's a calling."
***
By the time Haruki turned six, his transformation was undeniable.
He could run the entire block without slowing. His strikes had focus now. His eyes, though still soft, burned with an intensity few civilians understood.
Duy expanded his training too. Haruki began learning evasive footwork, proper stretching methods to prevent injury, and even a few techniques to blend into terrain using natural cover.
But it wasn't all training.
There were moments of joy, like when Duy surprised him with hand-made wooden weights ("To feel the weight of your own spirit!"), or when Haruki successfully leapt five stones across a creek without falling in. They shared bentos under trees. Laughed during failed cartwheels. Compared bruises like warriors of old.
But perhaps the most important change was this: Haruki began to believe in himself.
Not in the boastful way of children imitating heroes, but in the quiet, steady way that came from effort, failure, and trying again.
He no longer questioned whether he could become a ninja.
Now, he simply wondered when.
***
One rainy evening, after Haruki had fallen asleep on the couch mid-stretch, Kenji tucked a blanket around him and joined Mika in the kitchen.
She was silent, drying dishes with methodical movements.
"He's ready, isn't he?" Kenji asked.
Mika didn't look up. "He thinks he is."
"You're worried."
"I'm terrified."
Kenji leaned against the wall, watching the storm outside. "I remember when we used to talk about keeping him safe. Giving him a peaceful life."
"I still want that," Mika said.
"But we can't shield him from his own heart," he said softly.
Mika closed her eyes. "You saw him after that Sakumo encounter. He lit up in a way I've never seen."
"He's six. Just a child."
"But already walking toward the fire."
They were quiet for a long time. Only the rain spoke.
At last, Mika looked at Kenji.
"You think we should let him apply to the Academy?"
Kenji nodded slowly. "Let him try. And if it's too much… we'll be here to catch him."
Mika wiped her eyes and smiled faintly.
"Then we'll go with him. As a family."
Konoha Year: 39