Oliver Queen had always known that the skills from his past would eventually make their way into this new life—whether it was his ability to read people with his mentalist skills, or his honed body from years of being Green Arrow. But now, something had shifted inside him. He had begun to feel the pull of something familiar—a sense of purpose tied to the use of a bow. A tool he had long ago mastered in another world.
Though the Anbu watched him closely, and though the villagers treated him as an outsider, Oliver couldn't ignore the growing urge to reclaim a part of himself that felt deeply connected to his true identity. He wasn't just a wandering stranger. He was Oliver Queen. And somewhere deep down, he knew that learning to wield a bow here, in the heart of the Hidden Leaf Village, was going to be part of his destiny.
The time had come to ask.
Oliver stood at the edge of the training grounds, watching the skilled ninja as they moved through their various exercises. The air was thick with the sound of kunai slicing through the air, the rhythmic motion of taijutsu combat, and the steady hum of chakra being focused in every movement. It was a world where power, speed, and skill were everything. But he wasn't here for taijutsu or ninjutsu. He needed something different.
A bow. A weapon that, like him, had a purpose beyond the immediate chaos of combat.
The village was known for its versatility in training its ninja. From the Anbu to the Academy students, everyone was expected to hone a wide range of skills. And while the ninja here were masters of chakra-based abilities, Oliver knew that his strength lay elsewhere—his mind, his body, and his mastery of weapons that didn't require chakra.
But where to start? He couldn't just walk up to a weapons master and ask for a bow. He wasn't even sure if anyone in the village would understand the request. After all, this wasn't Star City. There wasn't a Green Arrow running around with a quiver of arrows, causing trouble. But Oliver wasn't the type to back down from a challenge, especially not one he had long embraced.
He approached the training grounds, eyes scanning the area for someone in charge. He spotted a familiar face—Kakashi Hatake, the village's famed Jonin. The scarred ninja was leaning against a tree, reading his beloved Icha Icha book, a far cry from the disciplined image of a village leader. Still, there was an air of quiet authority about him that made Oliver approach.
"Excuse me," Oliver said, his voice calm but firm. "I need your help."
Kakashi barely looked up from his book but gave a nonchalant gesture, indicating that Oliver could speak.
"I'm looking for a bow," Oliver continued. "I'd like to learn to use one."
At this, Kakashi raised an eyebrow. He closed the book with one hand, finally looking Oliver over. His gaze lingered on the strange figure before him—someone who was both familiar and foreign. Something about Oliver's presence intrigued him, though he didn't show it.
"A bow?" Kakashi repeated, tilting his head slightly. "I assume you're not referring to a ninja tool, but an actual bow?"
Oliver nodded, not missing the look of skepticism that flashed across Kakashi's face. "Yes. A real bow. I'm aware this isn't a common weapon in the village, but I have… experience. I've used one before."
Kakashi's eyes narrowed slightly. It wasn't suspicion—he didn't sense any malice in Oliver—but there was curiosity. Most ninja trained with kunai, shuriken, or specialized techniques. Archery was… unorthodox. But there was something about Oliver's demeanor that suggested he wasn't asking for a toy.
"Interesting," Kakashi said, tapping his chin. "I can't say I've seen anyone here with a desire to learn archery, but the village is versatile. You might want to speak to the weapons master. He has the tools you're looking for."
Oliver's heart skipped. "Where can I find him?"
Kakashi turned his head, giving Oliver a side-eye. "He's on the other side of the village. I'll give you directions. But I'll warn you—he's particular. Not everyone gets to train with him."
Oliver's eyes narrowed slightly, a glint of determination flashing through him. "I'm not here for easy training."
Kakashi chuckled lightly, though his eyes held a knowing glint. "I figured. But don't say I didn't warn you."
The walk to the weapons master's workshop was long, and Oliver could feel the weight of his request hanging over him. Was this the right step? Would the bow be enough to help him become the warrior he knew he could be? But even as doubt crept in, his instincts pushed him forward. He couldn't ignore this pull—this connection he felt to the weapon. It wasn't just about fighting. It was about reclaiming a part of himself, about embracing the strength he had always known he had, even if it was buried deep under layers of confusion.
The weapons master's workshop was tucked away on the far side of the village, a small building surrounded by piles of discarded weapons, training tools, and armor. Inside, a wiry man with long white hair and piercing eyes worked diligently on sharpening a katana. His movements were smooth, precise, a reflection of someone who took great pride in their craft.
Oliver entered the shop without hesitation, taking in the scene. The scent of iron and wood filled the air, and the walls were lined with weapons of every kind—swords, axes, shuriken, and more. But Oliver's focus was on one thing only.
"Excuse me," he said, his voice steady but respectful. "I've come to request a bow. I'd like to train with it."
The weapons master didn't immediately respond. He set the katana down on the workbench, his sharp eyes studying Oliver for a long moment. It was as if he were sizing up a potential pupil—or perhaps, sizing up whether Oliver was worthy of such a weapon.
"A bow, you say?" The man's voice was low, almost a growl. "You're not from here, are you? We don't train outsiders in that kind of weapon."
Oliver didn't flinch. He knew this would be a challenge. "I'm not asking to be trained in any weapon. I just want the bow."
The weapons master raised an eyebrow. "You think you can just walk in here and ask for a weapon? You'll have to prove you can handle it first. Archery isn't just a tool for fighting—it's a way of thinking, a discipline. I'll need to see what you're made of before I give you one."
Oliver nodded, his eyes burning with determination. "I'm ready."