A small Wind Release jutsu swirled in Uchiha Tatsumi's hands, a faint breeze dancing between his fingers.
He lounged under the shade of a massive oak tree in Konoha's training grounds, sipping iced watermelon juice. The cold, sweet-tart flavor soothed his groggy mind, refreshing him in the summer heat.
"Ice watermelon juice, now that's the stuff," Tatsumi murmured, shaking the cup with a contented sigh.
The juice was an iced treat Mikoto had sealed in a scroll, a trick she'd perfected for their group's outings.
"So cool, my heart's practically soaring," he added, grinning.
"Uh… Tatsumi, what happened earlier? Why's everyone acting like they're in pain?" Kushina asked, her brows furrowed as she approached Tatsumi under the tree.
She'd dozed off during the incident and missed everything, blissfully unaware of the chaos.
"Well, how do I put this…" Tatsumi scratched his cheek, his tone laced with lingering unease. "Let's just say Uncle Nishimura hit us with a verbal lashing and some kind of mental genjutsu. It was brutal."
"If you're trying to skip class, no wonder Sensei Nishimura got mad," Mikoto chimed in, her voice calm but teasing. She sat nearby, unsealing a scroll to reveal a pile of fresh fruits—apples, oranges, and more—arranging them neatly for the group.
"That's not what I meant, Mikoto," Tatsumi protested. "There's a reason we bailed. Sitting in that classroom was like being roasted alive. The sun was relentless! Right, Minato?"
Nawaki, clutching his own drink, nodded vigorously. "Exactly! Our seats were in the sun's direct line of fire. It's like the room was designed to cook us. And Nishimura's lectures? Snooze-fest. Total evaporation of our will to live."
Minato, rubbing the back of his neck, gave an awkward chuckle. "Heh, Nawaki's not wrong. Our spots get the worst of the sunlight. It's… let's just say 'uncomfortably warm' is an understatement."
Tatsumi smirked. A few years ago, Minato was the model student, never dreaming of skipping class. Now, here he was, dodging lectures with the rest of them. Nawaki's knack for dragging others into his schemes was undeniable. Not that Tatsumi could complain—he'd been the one to suggest skipping today.
Still, he was starting to appreciate the value of curtains. Not just for privacy, but to block out that merciless Konoha sun.
"My seat's not that bad," Kushina said, tilting her head. "It's in the shade, so I don't really get it."
"Same here," Mikoto added, slicing an apple with a kunai. "No direct sunlight, no problem."
Nawaki groaned. "You two don't get it! Our seats are like the surface of the sun. Sitting there for Nishimura's droning is torture. You can't focus when you're melting."
"How bad could it be?" Kushina asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tatsumi thought for a moment, then deadpanned, "About as bad as Nawaki's IQ on a good day."
Kushina snorted, nodding sagely. "Oh, that bad? Yeah, no one could survive that."
Nawaki spluttered, "Hey!"
"By the way, what did Nishimura say after class? I was… uh, out of it," Nawaki asked, changing the subject.
Tatsumi sighed. "He said it's our turn to clean the entire academy. Again."
"What?!" Nawaki shot to his feet. "We did that last year!"
"Yeah, well, last year was for fourth years. This year, it's fifth years' turn," Tatsumi said, spreading his hands helplessly.
"…"
"Sensei Nishimura, have you no shame?" Nawaki muttered, slumping back down.
"Speaking of Nishimura," Minato said suddenly, his tone thoughtful, "he mentioned something that's been bugging me."
The group turned to him, curious.
"He said the village's atmosphere feels off lately. Like… martial law might be coming. That's never happened before," Minato continued, his blue eyes narrowing slightly.
Kushina nodded. "Yeah, I overheard Tsunade saying something similar. Apparently, there's tension between the Land of Rain and the Land of Grass. Grass is our ally, right?"
Nawaki perked up, ever the gossip. "Oh, I've got the scoop! Word is, Konoha's been sending shinobi to the border. No one's saying 'war' yet, but it's getting dicey."
War. Tatsumi's mind drifted. The Second Ninja War was looming, though the manga never pinned down its exact start or trigger. In his past life, war was a distant concept. Here, as a shinobi, he'd inevitably face it.
"I wonder… if war breaks out, will we make it back from the battlefield?" Nawaki said suddenly, his usual bravado replaced by a rare, wistful smile.
Death didn't seem to weigh heavily on him, a stark contrast to his usual loudmouth energy.
Tatsumi glanced at him, his voice firm but teasing. "As long as you don't get yourself blown up by a paper bomb, you'll probably make it."
Nawaki laughed, waving off the jab. "Pfft, me? Get killed by a paper bomb? What kind of idiot do you take me for? Besides, I've got wishes to fulfill. No dying yet!"
"Oh? What wishes?" Tatsumi asked, leaning back against the tree. "Spill, in case you don't get another chance."
Nawaki grinned, undeterred. "First off, I don't have a girlfriend yet. Gotta fix that."
Tatsumi snorted. "Sorry, buddy, that wish might be a lost cause."
"Hey! My standards aren't that high, okay?" Nawaki shot back. "Sure, a good-looking face is nice, but an interesting soul? That's the real deal. Why not both?"
Tatsumi loosened his collar, feeling a mix of amusement and exasperation. Then, with a swift motion, he aimed a playful kick at Nawaki. "That's your idea of low standards?"
Minato, watching the chaos unfold, quietly shifted his gaze to the sky, pretending not to know them. At this age, he didn't get the fuss about girlfriends. The girls in their class who fawned over him were… fine, but none sparked his interest. Not like training did.
For Minato, the real thrill came from sparring with Tatsumi. They'd swap ninjutsu techniques, analyze chakra theory, and push each other to improve. Those moments—grinning through sweat and exhaustion—were when he felt alive. Tatsumi was his best friend, no question.
Girls? They could wait. He'd rather study chakra flow or perfect his kunai spin.
"Hey, Tatsumi!" Minato called, jogging to catch up as Tatsumi and Nawaki's bickering wound down.
"What's up?" Tatsumi asked, glancing over.
"Enough messing around. Let's hit the training ground for a proper spar. You know, a good old-fashioned battle of youth!" Minato's eyes gleamed with excitement, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips.