Today, the Academy was closed—no classes.
Saitama had been training all morning, and now it was about time to return home for lunch.
"Crunch!"
Saitama turned his head toward the sound.
Shisui stood beneath a tree not far away, one foot on a snapped branch.
"Granny Kaka told me you'd be out here training," Shisui said with a small smile.
They had only known each other for a few months, but their bond felt like something forged over years. There was an ease and familiarity between them that few six-year-olds shared.
Lately, however, Shisui had changed.
Ever since he began receiving special training from his father and the clan, he had grown quieter—no longer as carefree or mischievous as when they'd first met.
"Out here training again, huh?" Shisui said casually.
"Nothing else to do," Saitama replied, adjusting the strap of his ninja pouch until it rested comfortably against his thigh.
"I might take a few days off from the Academy. My father's taking me out for field training," Shisui added, eyes drifting to Saitama's stance.
Saitama could tell—Shisui was thinking about something.
"Want to spar?" Shisui asked, drawing the short blade from the sheath on his back.
He knew Saitama's true ability. Even though Saitama kept a low profile at school, he wasn't fooled.
Saitama's talent, especially in kenjutsu, had been clear since the first time they trained together.
A slight smirk curved Saitama's lips. He was curious too—just how far apart were they now?
Reaching behind his back, Saitama wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his own blade.
"Alright. Let's do it."
Though only six years old, the seriousness in their expressions made them seem older—like true shinobi.
They had sparred before, but always casually, never to the point of deciding a winner.
Now, under the rustling canopy of the Uchiha forest, the wind stirred between them—an invisible thread of tension.
"Hah!"
Saitama made the first move.
He lowered his body and exploded forward, right foot digging into the dirt as he charged at Shisui.
This was a test—a measure of how far he'd come with his solitary training.
"Clang!"
Shisui met the descending slash with a horizontal block.
But to his surprise, Saitama's blow carried more force than expected—his arms dipped slightly under the pressure.
They were the same height, but Shisui's lowered posture left Saitama's abdomen exposed.
Not giving Shisui a chance to counter, Saitama jumped back immediately.
His fighting style was designed around decisive strikes—attack hard, and if it didn't land, retreat and try again.
"Good reaction," Saitama commented, tightening his grip on the hilt.
Shisui gave a faint smile.
He knew better than anyone how much effort it took to react at that speed. All his daily training was finally paying off.
Raising his blade across his chest, Shisui said, "My turn!"
He dashed toward Saitama.
The distance between them vanished in a blink.
Saitama's eyes narrowed—he wasn't going easy.
With swift motion, he drew two kunai from the pouch strapped to his thigh and flung them toward Shisui.
"Cling!"
Shisui deflected them effortlessly—and surged forward again.
"Clang!"
"Clang!"
Steel clashed in a flurry of movements. The two exchanged blows, short blades meeting mid-air as they weaved back and forth across the training ground.
But constant close-range combat wasn't Saitama's preferred method.
After another quick exchange, the two broke apart—both landing on one knee and skidding backwards.
Shisui's swordsmanship had clearly improved. Having someone teach him directly gave him a strong foundation.
Then—
"Thud!"
Their legs collided as they dashed forward again—neither giving way. The moment their blades locked, Saitama knew he had to switch tactics.
Clashing endlessly with Shisui would only put him at a disadvantage.
He shifted his angle—and with one powerful motion, slashed toward Shisui once more, seeking a clean opening.