Chapter 49: Training II
The sun pierced through the curtains of Akira's room, bathing the room in a soft golden light. The first rays gently caressed his face, slowly pulling him out of his sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, gradually getting used to the ambient light. His mind, still foggy from sleep, began to clear up little by little.
With measured movements, he pushed aside his blanket and sat on the edge of his bed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. The morning chill made him shiver slightly, but this sensation was pleasant, invigorating. He finally stood up, stretching his muscles still stiff from the night. He headed towards the bathroom to get ready.
Once ready, he left his room and descended the main staircase of the house. The smell of breakfast prepared by Mikoto was already wafting up to him.
Entering the dining room, he was greeted by the smiling face of his mother, Mikoto. She was already busy, arranging the final dishes on the table. The room was bathed in light, the large windows generously letting in the morning sun.
"Ah, you're already awake, my dear," greeted Mikoto with a warm smile that illuminated her face. Her eyes landed on her Akira with tenderness. "How was the night?"
Akira waved in greeting. "Good morning, mother," he replied as he took his seat at the table. His eyes quickly scanned the room, noting the absence of his father, Fugaku. "Is father already gone?"
"He just left," Mikoto replied, continuing her preparations.
At that moment, familiar footsteps were heard in the hallway, and Itachi appeared in the doorway. His elder, greeted their mother respectfully.
"Are you leaving now?" asked Mikoto, though she probably already knew the answer. Her gaze shifted from one to the other of her sons.
"Yes," Itachi simply nodded, his expression serene.
Mikoto nodded understandingly. "Alright, I've prepared some snacks for you," she said, handing them carefully prepared baskets. "Eat them when you take a break."
Mikoto accompanied them to the front door. At the threshold, she gave them one last affectionate smile. "Have a good day and take care of yourselves," she said.
The two brothers nodded in agreement, then set off on the path leading to the training grounds.
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After a few minutes of walking through the woods, they finally arrived at the training grounds. The clearing stretched out before them, scattered with wooden training dummies worn by repeated impacts. The grass, trampled by generations of ninjas, formed natural circles around the most used areas.
Akira stepped onto the grounds, observing the state of the facilities. Several dummies bore the characteristic marks of previous training sessions: kunai impacts, shuriken gashes, areas blackened by fire techniques. This terrain had witnessed many hours of intense training, and today would be no exception.
"What exercises do you plan to do?" asked Itachi, his voice calm. He stood slightly back, his usual serene expression on his face.
Instead of answering directly, Akira turned to Itachi. "What exercises do you usually do?"
Itachi took a few steps forward, his ninja sandals silently treading the grass. "At the moment, I'm only training in shuriken throwing," he replied with his characteristic frankness. His answer, though direct, caused a moment of surprise in Akira.
"You don't do any physical exercise?" asked Akira, troubled by this unexpected revelation. The disbelief in his voice was palpable.
"No, I don't think it's necessary," Itachi simply replied, as if this approach was perfectly natural.
Akira brought his hand to his face in a gesture of disappointment. 'Damn, now I understand why he's so physically weak,' he thought. "Listen, Itachi, if you don't train, you won't be able to last long in close combat," he explained.
But instead of responding to this pertinent remark, Itachi caught Akira off guard with a completely unexpected question: "Why don't you call me big brother?"
This question hit Akira like a bucket of cold water. His body instantly froze, and a strained smile appeared on his face. "Huh!! What kind of question is that?" he stammered, taken aback. "I-It's, we're already brothers, whether I call you that or not won't change anything," he tried to explain.
"I understand," Itachi acquiesced with disarming simplicity, accepting this explanation without further insistence. "So, when do we start?"
Relieved by this change of subject, Akira regained his composure and laid out his training plan: "We'll start with some stretching and a few laps around the field, then we'll do sit-ups, squats, and push-ups, and finally you'll teach me shuriken throwing."
At these words, Itachi's face lit up in a rare but sincere way. And so, their training began.
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