Chapter 9: Chakra and Bonds

Pages of a book flipped on their own, one after another, with Hiroshi sitting back in his chair, his body slouched in a lazy posture. To any observer, it looked like he was idly reading, but what he was doing was far from lazy. Thin, barely visible chakra threads extended from his fingers, turning the pages effortlessly. This small act of precision and control was one of the easiest things he could do now.

At first, he could barely manage to lift a single page without losing focus. But now? He could use chakra threads in his everyday life. Washing dishes, brushing his teeth, combing his hair, wipe his a— you get it. Of course, he always practiced until his chakra reserves were nearly depleted, leaving him utterly exhausted by the end of the day.

Still, this wasn't a problem. As an academy student, he didn't face the dangers of field missions yet. He took full advantage of this time, pushing himself as far as his body and chakra would allow.

It wasn't just his chakra control that had improved. His body had undergone visible changes too. Months of rigorous training had left him lean and toned. His muscles were firm, his movements fluid. He had become as flexible as a willow tree bending in the wind, and his reflexes were as sharp as a hawk diving for its prey.

Though he lacked a personal trainer for taijutsu, Hiroshi made steady progress with the help of his academy instructors. They offered corrections during drills and sparring, ensuring he developed a solid foundation. It wasn't flashy or advanced yet, but it was effective, and Hiroshi took pride in every improvement.

As for ninjutsu—undoubtedly the favorite topic of every aspiring ninja—there wasn't much progress yet. First-year students weren't taught ninjutsu, much to the collective disappointment of nearly every academy student, Hiroshi included. "No fireballs, no water dragons, not even a basic clone technique. What's the point of being a ninja if we're just running laps?" Hiroshi had joked to himself more than once.

Still, he wasn't too disheartened. While others fretted about when the cool techniques would come, Hiroshi took solace in the thought that his meticulous chakra control training would make learning ninjutsu much easier when the time came. If he could flip pages, wash dishes, and brush his teeth with chakra threads, forming a hand seal and molding chakra into a jutsu should feel like second nature. At least, that was the hope.

For now, though, ninjutsu would remain the dangling carrot—just out of reach but all the more tempting because of it.

As he sat there, watching the book flip to the next page, Hiroshi allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. He wasn't where he wanted to be yet, but every small step brought him closer.

Over the months, Hiroshi's relationship with Nakamura Chikamatsu had evolved from a straightforward mentor-student dynamic into something deeper—a partnership rooted in mutual respect and shared ambitions. What started as lessons in puppet-making had expanded to collaborative projects that went far beyond the workshop.

For example, when Hiroshi proposed a more efficient irrigation system to combat Sunagakure's water scarcity, Nakamura didn't dismiss the idea as a child's whim. Instead, he provided materials, guidance, and a place for Hiroshi to experiment. Hiroshi drew from his previous life's knowledge of drip irrigation and water conservation. Together, they designed a network of pipes with adjustable valves and small filters made from simple, locally available materials. This system minimized water wastage, allowing farmers to water crops with precision.

Their project gained attention from local merchants and small-scale farmers who were quick to adopt the innovation. Nakamura, ever the honest man, ensured Hiroshi received 60% of the profits from their earnings. Though Hiroshi couldn't patent the idea due to his age, Nakamura made it clear that he would hold the boy's share in trust until he was old enough to manage it himself.

Hiroshi also applied his knowledge to other small-scale innovations. He devised a wind-powered sand sifter for clearing fine particles from construction materials, reducing time and effort for builders. Another project involved a compact cooling box using basic insulation techniques, which became popular among traders for keeping perishable goods fresher for longer in the desert heat. These projects, while not groundbreaking, reflected Hiroshi's ability to adapt modern concepts into practical, low-tech solutions for Sunagakure's unique challenges.

In the workshop, Hiroshi's theoretical knowledge of puppetry had grown immensely. He could now identify different types of wood by their grain, strength, and flexibility and could sketch intricate mechanisms from memory. However, his practical skills still lagged far behind Nakamura's decades of expertise. His carving was improving, but his work often lacked the finesse and fluidity Nakamura's puppets exhibited.

This gap didn't bother Hiroshi much; in fact, he appreciated how Nakamura constantly pushed him to improve. His sensei had a knack for setting challenging tasks—whether it was creating a miniature gear system without proper tools or replicating the joint of a bird's wing. These assignments weren't just about skill; they were tests of creativity, patience, and problem-solving under pressure.

Hiroshi also began to notice Nakamura's subtle lessons in life beyond puppetry. While working, the old man often shared bits of wisdom: anecdotes about the harshness of the desert, the importance of community, and the value of persistence. Nakamura's stern exterior often softened during these moments, revealing a warmth and pride in Hiroshi's growth.

Their relationship had grown into a unique blend of mentorship, camaraderie, and mutual benefit. Nakamura saw in Hiroshi not just a student but a kindred spirit—an innovator with a vision for the future. Hiroshi, in turn, found in Nakamura the stability, guidance, and trust he needed in this new life. Together, they were reshaping not only puppetry but small corners of their village as well.

"Hiroshi!" his mother's voice called from the kitchen, breaking his concentration. "Dinner's ready!"

Hiroshi sighed, letting the chakra threads dissipate as he closed the book manually. His stomach growled at the thought of food, and he pushed himself off the chair, walking toward the dining room.

As he entered, the familiar sight of his mother setting the table greeted him. Kokoro's hands moved with practiced efficiency, placing bowls of steaming lentil stew and a platter of fresh flatbreads. The sight of roasted meat alongside it was a rare luxury, and Hiroshi couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

"Meat again? Did we strike gold or something?" he teased, pulling out a chair.

Kokoro gave him a soft smile as she brought over cups of herbal tea. "It's because of you, silly. You've earned this for all of us."

His father, Hachirou, was already seated, his ever-present budget notebook lying closed on the table. He looked up, his usual stern expression softening slightly as Hiroshi sat down. "Don't let it go to your head," he grumbled, but there was no real bite to his tone. "Your mother insisted."

"And I'm not complaining," Hiroshi replied with a grin.

As they started eating, Kokoro spoke up, her voice filled with warmth but tinged with hesitation. "Hiroshi, your father and I… we've been meaning to say this for a while. We're so proud of you, of everything you've done for us. But sometimes… it feels wrong, relying on you like this. You're just a child, and we're the ones who should be taking care of you."

Hachirou nodded, setting his bowl down. "She's right. You've done more than we ever could've expected, but it's not easy knowing our son is working harder than we are to keep this family afloat."

Hiroshi paused mid-bite, looking between them. He swallowed the lump in his throat, both from the stew and the weight of their words. "You two are being too hard on yourselves," he said firmly. "Everything I've been able to do is because of what you taught me. Mom, you've always been there, making sure I had everything I needed. And Dad, you showed me the importance of hard work and discipline. I wouldn't be where I am without you."

Kokoro reached out, brushing his hair gently. "You've grown so much, Hiroshi. Sometimes I forget you're still just a little boy."

Hachirou cleared his throat, his voice gruff but laced with pride. "Your mother's right. Just… don't forget to take care of yourself too, alright? You don't have to carry all this alone."

Hiroshi smiled softly, his eyes warm. "I'm not alone. I have you both, remember?"

For a moment, the room was silent except for the clink of dishes and the occasional sip of tea. It wasn't just the food that filled them with warmth—it was the quiet understanding that, no matter what challenges came their way, they were a family. Together.