Super Ninja

Is routine a good or bad thing? It all depends on how and who poses the question. If the question is asked by a slacker, the answer will be simple: routine is bad. If it’s asked by someone trying to achieve a specific goal, then routine is good. Routine repetition of actions allows for significant progress in something. An engine doesn’t work uniquely every second. For a car to run far and reliably, the engine must work steadily and without failures.

 

In routine, efficiency is crucial. If an engine only moves a car one meter in an hour, then that engine is inefficient. But there is no such thing as an overly efficient engine, just as there is no ideal, because there will always be someone who does something better. Or the person himself will think so, even if it’s not true.

 

Routine has the dangerous ability to drive a person insane. Everyone finds their own way to distract themselves without breaking the routine. Some turn this distraction method into part of their routine, achieving great goals but possibly sacrificing themselves. Thus, routine can be bad for some and good for others.

 

I belong to the latter category because my personal future and survival depend on routine and its efficiency. Understanding this doesn’t allow me to be too distracted by everything around me. Yes, I found myself in a new world I had only heard of. There’s a lot of interesting stuff here, and I’d love to explore it, but until I have enough strength to feel comfortable, I won’t take risks.

 

My routine was simple: morning training, Academy and lessons there, then return home, lunch, and back to the Academy grounds for personal training. The first weeks were tough to maintain this rhythm because my body and mind signaled the need for rest. But I set a goal to catch up with my clan peers in physical terms. I needed to train three times more and a hundred times more efficiently to close the gap between us.

 

And I indeed achieved success. When my body realized that I wasn’t going to stop, there was an explosive growth in my strength. As my body developed, the amount of physical energy I could use to create chakra and techniques increased. But that wasn’t my only achievement.

 

My chakra control abilities also grew because I put in a lot of effort to improve them. Routine showed its positive side here as well. In six months, my chakra control skills almost rivaled those of the Nara and Yamanaka twins, which was already a significant achievement. I was still far from Neji’s level, but everything was ahead. I also made significant progress in theoretical disciplines.

 

The only area where I wasn’t doing so well was taijutsu. Due to a lack of time for training, I didn’t advance much in this discipline compared to other students without clan experience. Of course, my physical abilities allowed me to outperform all the students without a clan style, but the clan students surpassed me in technique and variety of moves. This gap I couldn’t close with my efforts alone. I needed to turn to Ichigo-sensei or ask my father to find me a tutor. Which is what I decided to do.

 

“Dad,” I addressed him on the last day of the academic semester.

 

The school year consisted of three semesters with breaks for vacations and various holidays. Only in the final year were there two semesters.

 

“Yes, Suzuki?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as if wondering what I wanted.

 

“Remember you promised to find me a tutor?” I began.

 

“Well?”

 

“Can you find one for this vacation? I need a taijutsu tutor.”

 

“Alright,” he nodded, thinking for a moment. “Yes, I can do that.”

 

“Thank you,” I replied gratefully.

 

Of course, it’s hard for me to consider them my parents, as I’ve only known them for six months. But even in this short time, I’ve gotten to know them well. They are reasonable, mature people, and sometimes I feel sorry for them. After all, I’m not their son in the truest sense of the word. In some way, I "replaced" their real son to survive myself.

 

I had no desire to refuse the opportunities I could get from them, so all I could do was wait for the tutor to arrive.

 

My father arranged something that same day. While I was training in chakra control, he came into my room.

 

“Tomorrow morning, head to the ninth training ground,” he said. “Your new tutor will be waiting for you there.”

 

“Thank you so much,” I replied. “What’s my tutor’s name?”

 

“Zaraki Sosuke,” he said, naming someone completely unfamiliar to me. “He’s retired but still has enough skills to teach someone.”

 

“Got it,” I nodded.

 

Let’s see how well he teaches and how quickly I can learn from him. I think that in two weeks of vacation, working every day, I’ll make at least some progress. I have refined strikes, but no experience in applying them, because none of the clan sparring partners gave me the opportunity to train with them during school sparring sessions.

 

The next morning, as the first rays of sunlight pierced through the thick clouds, I looked out the window. The world outside was covered in a white blanket: trees, rooftops, and roads—all covered with a gentle, sparkling layer of snow that shimmered in the morning light. Yes, winter was in full swing. I remember from geography lessons that our region has a temperate climate: snow stays for only a month, after which the temperature starts to slowly climb, not dropping below zero. In summer, the air is filled with warmth and the scent of flowers, making the days particularly pleasant, while in winter, despite the cold, it’s rarely harsh and biting.

 

The year-end festival is not just a date on the calendar; it’s a special event infused with centuries-old traditions and local culture. Streets are adorned with bright lanterns, and homes are filled with the aromas of festive dishes. People believe this festival celebrates the birth of the Sage, who, according to legends, lived just over a thousand years ago. However, whether this story is factual or merely a beautiful legend crafted by time, no one can say for sure. Old scrolls and historical records that could confirm or refute this story have been lost to the ages. Interestingly, even the Hidden Villages, now bastions of culture and power, are relatively new phenomena on the historical stage, replacing long and bloody centuries of clan wars where each clan sought to assert its dominance over the others.

 

Dressing warmly, I hurried to the training ground. It wouldn’t do to be late for the first meeting with the tutor who was supposed to help me with martial arts. The ninth training ground was a bit far from my home, but a light jog got me there quickly. Cheerfully waving at the people I passed, who were also hurrying about their business, I tried to imagine Zaraki Sosuke. It wasn’t easy.

 

At the ninth training ground, the ground was well-trodden, so there was no need to worry about the white snow, which could turn out to be just dirt.

 

On a small folding stool covered in worn fabric sat a man whose eyes were hidden behind dark, almost impenetrable glasses. His hair, black as night, stuck out in all directions, creating the image of a rebel or someone who hadn’t seen a comb in a long time. His hair reminded me of the needles of a hedgehog, ready to defend against any threat. His tanned face bore several long scars, each seeming to tell its own story of battles and adventures. His clothes were simple: a worn shirt and faded pants, but they couldn’t hide the powerful muscles and trained body that seemed ready for action at any moment.

 

Noticing me, he tilted his head slightly and stood up.

 

“Good day,” I began. “My name is Suzuki Grandvitara. You must be Zaraki Sosuke?”

 

“That’s me, kid,” the man responded in a deep bass voice. “I haven’t met anyone else with that name and surname.”

 

“Nice to meet you,” I said with a slight bow.

 

“Pfft,” he snorted. “Let’s not waste time on formalities. Your father hired me to train you in taijutsu. We have two weeks to make something out of you. Ready to work?”

 

“Yes, tutor,” I replied.

 

“I’m not a tutor,” he snapped. “I’m a coach. Got it?”

 

“Yes, understood, Coach,” I corrected myself. Strange, why did he react so strongly to the word "tutor"? After all, he would be teaching me, even if only for a short time. Perhaps it’s related to some local cultural etiquette that I’m not aware of.

 

“Good,” he said. “Then attack.”

 

I didn’t need to be asked twice. I set aside my things, which I didn’t want to damage during the fight, and quickly scanned the surroundings, trying to memorize as many details as possible. I started doing this so that I could assess the battle position in fractions of a second, rather than whole seconds. These moments could mean the difference between life and death, or even the lives of my comrades.

 

After a brief moment of stillness, I gathered all my strength and attacked him sharply, trying to surprise him with my sudden burst. His eyes, cold and calculating, instantly analyzed my every move. Of course, he was a shinobi—every gesture, every step revealed his professionalism. His stance, confident and impenetrable, suggested that he could defeat me in an instant. But since this was a lesson, he gave me the opportunity to show my skills, to understand where I was strong and where my weaknesses lay. His speed was about the same as mine, and he didn’t use anything from his arsenal that could send me to the afterlife.

 

When he saw that I had shown everything I knew, he began to attack in return. His movements were sharp and precise, each strike aimed at testing my defense and agility. Despite all my attempts to dodge or parry, within a few dozen seconds, I found myself face down in the cold, cheek-numbing snow.

 

“How does the snow taste?” Zaraki asked with a slight mockery.

 

“Not great,” I replied, coughing.

 

“You’ll taste it many more times,” he said. “What can I say... there’s a lot to work on. On a lot of things, but nothing insurmountable. Let’s go again.”

 

The second time I attacked him, but I changed my strategy a bit. My strikes were sharper and faster. This didn’t impress the shinobi much, as I again ended up face down in the snow. I won’t be able to defeat him just yet. I can only learn and develop, and maybe someday I’ll make Zaraki fall into the snow. But that’s in the future.

 

“We’ll use the fast development method,” he said. “More practice and less talk. You get plenty of that at the Academy.”

 

I didn’t fully understand what he meant. But I think I could guess…

 

My guesses turned out to be correct. For two weeks, Zaraki Sosuke “tortured” me every day from morning till evening. Our days consisted entirely of sparring with a few hours for working on some new technique. After that, more sparring where I tried to apply the new technique. Of course, I had no victories. Only defeats. They fell into two categories: painful and not so much.

 

The painful ones happened when I made a gross mistake during sparring. If my mistake could have cost me my life, I faced pain that twisted my mind and body into a tight knot. I wanted nothing more than for that pain to stop. The second day of training consisted solely of this pain. I came home completely dirty from rolling in the dirt.

 

After that, the number of painful defeats decreased, replaced by less painful ones with a brief lecture when I recovered. I had to always be on guard to remember the tutor’s instructions. Of course, this didn’t mean that by the end I didn’t have any easy defeats. No… they still made up at least a quarter of all my training sparring sessions.

 

The most important question one could ask: did I make any progress? It's hard for me to say, because I can't compare myself now to before, since I kept losing and still do. The tutor was stronger, faster, and more experienced, and he remained that way. Only in sparring with a classmate will I be able to draw proper parallels and make comparisons. As it stands... I'm not yet ready to compete with a chunin.

 

"What can I say," Zaraki began as we finished our last sparring session and I got myself into relative order. He paused for a moment, as if searching for the right words. "Overall, during our training, I can say that you’ve made significant progress in your skills."

 

"Thank you, tutor," I replied.

 

"Hold on, don’t rush," he waved his hand. "Against an experienced chunin and possibly a genin, you won't stand a chance, that’s for sure. But you now have a solid foundation and experience that, over the next six months of training at the Academy, you can build on to finish your studies at a very high level."

 

I nodded because I understood his words as well. Someone else might have been disappointed, but not me. I know that in such a short vacation period between semesters, it's impossible to become a master of taijutsu. But I still hope that I’ve become at least a little better.

 

"I’m not saying you don’t have talent," Zaraki continued. "No, you do have talent, but I think you should focus on ninjutsu. And as for taijutsu, ask your sensei at the Academy to train you after classes. And one more piece of advice... I think you should try genjutsu. I believe you might have even greater talent in that direction."

 

"You think so?" I asked.

 

"I’m sure," Zaraki said. "Tell your teacher. Ask him to show you some basic genjutsu. See how it goes for you and if you like it at all."

 

"I understand, thank you for the advice," I bowed. "I also want to thank you for the training and guidance."

 

"Tutoring," he corrected me. "Not teaching, but tutoring."

 

"Yes, thank you for the tutoring," I said.

 

Zaraki Sosuke stood up and stretched. Then he pulled out a small bag of seeds. Chewing on a few, he continued:

 

"If you need it, have your father contact me again for tutoring. He knows where to find me."

 

"Of course, thank you," I said.

 

"Take care..."

 

The tutor my father hired walked off into the sunset. And this wasn’t just a figure of speech, but reality. He really did walk towards the sunset, disappearing into the snowy reflections and glimmers of the setting sun. The moment I blinked, he was gone.

 

Adjusting my clothes once more, I headed towards home. Tomorrow starts the next and simultaneously the final semester of training. I need to focus on practicing academic techniques and also follow the tutor’s advice. I don’t think he would give me any completely unreasonable or foolish advice. That would harm his reputation, which few people want.

 

Returning home, I immediately met my father, who had come home early from work today.

 

"Well? How was your tutoring?" he asked as soon as I walked in.

 

"You know, I’m satisfied because I think I did improve," I replied after some thought. "It’s hard to say how much improvement there was, but I got better. And his final pieces of advice could be very useful."

 

“That’s great,” my father nodded at my words. “Honestly, I didn’t know what you’d get out of it because Zaraki was the most affordable tutor available. I hope the results will be positive.”

 

“Heh,” I chuckled. “We’ll see.”

 

As I went to take a bath, I paused for a moment to look at myself in the mirror. My body was covered in bruises that were either forming or already fading. There weren’t many contusions, as the tutor had been very careful in that regard. Treatment by a medical ninja could be very expensive. Neither he nor I wanted to spend a lot of money.

 

My body had changed at first glance. It had become more toned, with abs forming, muscles growing around my bones, and the remnants of baby fat disappearing. In addition, over the past six months, I had grown significantly due to my intense training and abundant nutrition. I wasn’t taller than my parents yet, but I think I’ll soon outgrow my mother and then my father.

 

After posing a bit in front of the mirror, admiring my new muscles, I decided to rest.

 

In the morning, I was awakened by the sound of the wind playing with the curtains of my window and the soft layer of fresh snow on the windowsill.

 

“Good morning,” my mom greeted me with a smile, holding a hot cup of coffee. “How did you sleep?”

 

“Not bad,” I replied, stretching. “It was a bit chilly, but then I warmed up under the thick blanket.”

 

“Yes, it’s very cold outside today,” she said, looking at the snowflakes swirling outside the window.

 

“Good morning, father,” I greeted him, noticing him at the table reading the newspaper.

 

“Ready to show everyone your achievements?” he asked, raising an eyebrow and grinning.

 

“I think so.”