The morning air was cool, crisp, and quiet.
Kayomi stood in the middle of the training field, sleeves rolled up, hands still tingling from yesterday's spar. The world had felt different since then like the fire inside him had stopped roaring for just a second. Like it finally listened.
And now, Sakumo Hatake waited at the edge of the field, arms crossed, eyes unreadable beneath silver hair and shadowed brows.
"You came," he said.
Kayomi rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck. "Didn't really have a choice."
"Still. You're here. That means something."
They didn't waste time.
Sakumo stepped forward, drawing two wooden bokken from a leather wrapped case. He tossed one toward Kayomi, who caught it mid-air.
"No chakra," Sakumo said. "No jutsu. Just spar with me."
Kayomi frowned. "You want to teach me swordsmanship?"
"I want to teach you control. The blade is an extension of intent. No wasted movement. No leaks."
Kayomi gripped the hilt tighter. His instincts begged him to activate his Sharingan. To push. To strike. But
Control.
He nodded.
Sakumo didn't smile, but something in his posture relaxed.
They began.
The first exchange was clean. Slow. Testing. Kayomi stepped in with a diagonal slash Sakumo blocked with ease, then pivoted behind him, tapping the base of Kayomi's spine with the wooden blade.
"Balance," he said simply.
Again.
This time, Kayomi moved faster. Jab, slash, pivot. His body obeyed but his mind kept pulling toward fire, to heat, to power.
"Stop thinking about burning me," Sakumo said dryly.
Kayomi's cheeks flushed. "You felt that?"
"Like a shout in my ear."
Kayomi exhaled through his nose. "Right. Whisper."
"Exactly."
They continued.
Minutes passed. Maybe hours.
And then it happened Kayomi moved without flaring up. His strike cut clean through the air, no heat trailing behind it. His footwork was tighter, sharper. The fire inside didn't vanish… but it simmered. Steady.
Sakumo stepped back, lowered his bokken.
"Better."
Kayomi didn't answer. He was too focused on his breathing. In. Out. No chakra leakage. No surges. Just him. The blade. The field.
Then a familiar ding echoed in his mind.
> [System Quest Progress – "Silent Flame, Steady Blade"]
> Objective 1: Begin training with Sakumo Hatake [✓]
>Objective 2: Undergo practical combat lessons [✓]
>Objective 3: Stabilize mutated chakra flow [• ]
> Hidden Objective Progress: 29%
He glanced at Sakumo, who was now watching him with a more critical gaze.
"Still leaking," he said. "But less."
Kayomi gave a small smirk. "So I'm not a lost cause?"
Sakumo didn't laugh. But the corner of his mouth twitched. "Not yet."
Then he gestured for them to sit. No more sparring for now.
"Let me ask again," Sakumo said. "What do you want your fire to do?"
Kayomi blinked. "That question again?"
"It's the core of everything."
Kayomi looked down at his hands. They didn't shake, but he could still feel it that subtle burn beneath his skin. Always waiting. Always hungry.
"…I don't want to destroy just to be noticed. Or lose control when it matters."
He paused.
"I want it to protect the people I care about. To stand between them and everything that wants to take them away."
Sakumo nodded. "Then start acting like it. Shape your chakra like a shield, not a torch."
Kayomi raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound easy."
"It's not," Sakumo said plainly. "But that's what makes it real."
Kayomi looked out toward the trees. The wind brushed across his skin, cool and grounding. For the first time in weeks, the fire inside didn't feel like a curse.
Sakumo stood, brushing off his knees.
"Same time tomorrow."
Kayomi stood as well. "What are we doing?"
"Something harder," Sakumo said. "Controlling chakra flow while under pressure. If you can't stay calm mid-chaos, you'll never master your flame."
As he walked away, Kayomi called out, "Hey."
Sakumo paused.
"…Thanks."
Sakumo didn't turn around. "Don't thank me yet."
And then he was gone.
Kayomi remained in the field a moment longer.
He flexed his fingers, then slowly lit a small flame across his palm. It flickered. Soft. Gentle. He didn't even need to force it. It came to him.
A whisper.
He closed his fist, extinguishing it.
Not yet perfect. But he was getting there.