After unleashing the Shakkahō, Qingchuan sheathed his sword and relocated for continued training.
His Kidō practice remained infrequent for two reasons: the explosive aftermath necessitated constant relocation, and proficiency gains paled compared to blade swings.
Both Kidō and Shunpo consumed reiryoku. Exhaustion meant forced breaks, unlike swordplay - he could hack away from dawn till dusk, pausing only for healing Kidō when fatigue overwhelmed. This fanatical regimen would move even the most hardened observers.
Including Itachi, who prided himself on diligence.
Having rushed through breakfast, Itachi arrived at their usual training ground with characteristic speed. Yet without fail, he'd always find the girl already immersed in her katas.
The rhythmic rise and fall of her blade.
The playful bounce of her ponytail.
This scene had become Itachi's daily motivation. Strangely, his restless heart found peace only when witnessing her relentless swings.
Shaking his head, Itachi closed his eyes to focus. His own training pursued different perfection - shurikenjutsu's absolute precision.
Battlefields demanded fluidity. Every thrown star should remain target-agnostic until final moments. The surrounding practice posts had dwindled from nine to a solitary bullseye, yet the number of whirling blades in air stayed constant.
A shuriken left his hand.
A second followed mid-flight.
Their collision redirected trajectories.
Third. Fourth. Fifth...
The initial projectile changed course countless times before piercing the bullseye hidden behind five tree trunks.
Itachi smiled without verification. He'd succeeded.
A furtive glance sideways.
Haruko hadn't noticed.
Disappointment tinged his triumph, but the boy quickly self-corrected. Wasn't this pure dedication precisely what he admired?
Resuming focus, Itachi prepared another volley. His current limit was six blades - six interweaving trajectories overcoming obstacles to strike true. Today's goal: achieve the same with fewer throws.
"Itachi-kun."
"If you don't mind..."
"Perhaps you could practice your shurikenjutsu on me?"
Haruko's voice shattered the rhythm.
Itachi's heart leapt as he whirled around. Sure enough, Haruko stood with sheathed blade, cheeks flushed and breath uneven, wiping sweat with her sleeve.
The boy froze...
"Haruko..."
"You... spoke to me?"
He barely trusted his ears. Though acquainted over a month, the solitary swordswoman had always maintained her training isolation. He'd grown accustomed to their silent comings and goings...
Yet today...
"Naturally."
"See anyone else here?"
Qingchuan retorted dryly. Recent unease had crystallized during morning air-slashing - without benchmarks or sparring, how could he gauge the gap between himself and Konoha's prodigy?
Moreover...
Having crossed the cross-dressing Rubicon, intelligence-gathering became imperative!
With metallic whisper, Senbonzakura left its sheath - this time aimed at Itachi.
"Come."
"Let's see what the clan heir's truly capable of."
The challenge struck a nerve. Itachi snapped to alertness, gaze sharpening. Refusal never crossed his mind - when had he ever denied Haruko?
Anticipation surged. Haruko's monotonous training revealed little about her actual combat prowess. Perfect opportunity for mutual assessment...
"Please... guide me well."
Twin shuriken materialized in Itachi's hands.
"Ready yourself."
Polite warning preceded whirling release!
Whoosh!
Two blades flew parallel, converging mid-air - clearly holding back.
Qingchuan remained statue-still. Months of air-slashing left him unprepared for live combat, but...
Enough.
Rising slash - clang!
Shuriken split quartered!
A flourishes blade realignment later, Senbonzakura's tip leveled at Itachi again.
"That all?"
"Show me your true strength."
The taunt landed perfectly.
Across the clearing, Itachi's eyes widened...