The village was still asleep.
Satoru left through the eastern gate before dawn, the streets empty and quiet. A few lanterns still burned near the watchtowers, their flames flickering against the pre-morning darkness. He carried minimal equipment; no scroll in hand, no obvious indication that he was there to train.
His purpose was observation, not confrontation.
He had spent the past week refining the First Gate. He understood its activation, its duration, its cost. But understanding the technique and understanding the person who had mastered it were different things. He wanted to observe Guy before approaching him. More than what he had seen in the anime or the manga. More than what reputation suggested.
Guy is a specialist. Specialists develop habits. Habits reveal priorities. If I can observe those priorities first, I can approach the conversation intelligently.
Training Ground 3 was a wide-open field, its grass worn in patches from years of use. Scattered trees lined the perimeter, and several battered training posts stood like silent sentinels. The earth was packed hard in places, evidence of countless hours of physical training.
Satoru chose a tree near the perimeter with enough foliage to conceal him. He suppressed his chakra, deactivated his Sharingan, and settled into the branches. He deliberately avoided using his sensory abilities because he didn't want to announce his presence through unnecessary chakra activity.
I'm not hiding because I intend to spy maliciously. I simply don't know what kind of person Guy is yet. Better to observe first.
Time passed.
The training ground was quiet. No birdsong beyond the occasional movement in the trees. The sky gradually changed from black to dark blue.
Satoru checked the time.
4:29.
He expected Guy to arrive eventually.
4:30.
Footsteps.
Might Guy entered the clearing.
Sixteen years old. Bowl cut. Green jumpsuit. Extremely serious expression.
No partner. No equipment. No dramatic entrance.
He simply walked into the training ground as though this was the most normal thing in the world.
Satoru initially expected some stretching or basic warm-up.
Guy immediately dropped into a push-up position.
He began doing push-ups. Fast. Controlled. Repetitive.
Satoru counted initially.
Fifty.
One hundred.
Two hundred.
Guy didn't slow.
Satoru stopped counting because the number became ridiculous.
Guy transitioned directly into sit-ups. Then squats. Then handstand push-ups. Then more exercises. No meaningful rest periods. His breathing remained controlled. Sweat began forming, but he didn't appear exhausted.
Satoru was genuinely stunned. He had trained himself physically. He had seen taijutsu specialists. He knew what disciplined shinobi conditioning looked like.
This was fundamentally different.
Guy isn't simply building strength. He's training endurance, explosive output, balance, coordination, and recovery simultaneously. Every movement is precise. There is almost no wasted motion.
Satoru began mentally recalculating what "taijutsu specialist" actually meant. His previous understanding was too shallow. He had thought of physical training primarily as something that supported ninjutsu and combat. Guy appeared to have made his body itself the weapon.
That was the warm-up? Then what exactly does he consider training?
He realised why Guy's physical reputation existed despite having no famous bloodline or ocular kekkei genkai. Guy had simply spent years pushing his body further than almost anyone else was willing to push it.
Guy finished a set. He stood. Stretched casually.
Satoru expected another exercise.
Instead, Guy became completely still.
Satoru noticed something subtle. Guy's posture changed. Not dramatically. Just enough to make Satoru's instincts activate.
Guy disappeared.
No warning. No obvious preparation.
Satoru's mind struggled to process the movement. He immediately looked toward the field.
Nothing.
Then his instincts screamed.
Presence directly behind him.
Satoru spun.
Too late.
Guy's foot connected with his back.
WHAM!
Satoru was launched from the tree. Branches snapped as he crashed through them. Leaves scattered everywhere. He hit the ground hard and rolled several times.
He ended up lying amid broken twigs, trying to understand what just happened.
Guy stood over him with arms crossed.
Surprisingly conversational.
"You know, it is not very kind to sneak up on someone during their morning training."
Satoru got up and raised his hands. "I wasn't trying to attack you. I came to ask something."
Guy immediately questioned why Satoru had waited for an hour. "You were in that tree for a long time. I knew you were there from the moment I arrived."
Satoru's blood ran cold.
He had suppressed his chakra. He had chosen his position carefully.
Yet Guy had detected him anyway.
Guy's awareness isn't dependent on sensory ninjutsu. His physical senses and battlefield instincts are extremely developed.
Before Satoru could finish explaining himself, Guy moved.
A straight punch toward Satoru's centre mass. No fancy technique. No flourish. Just raw speed and power.
Satoru immediately recognised the trajectory. His body reacted.
But his recovery wasn't complete.
He attempted to twist aside. His reaction was fractionally late. He redirected the strike toward his shoulder rather than taking it directly.
THOOM!
Guy's punch sent him flying. Satoru crashed several meters away. His damaged shoulder flared with pain. Chakra pathways reacted painfully to the sudden demand placed on them.
My body is still healing. My reactions aren't at their normal ceiling. Guy's physical power makes the difference even more obvious.
Guy closed the distance immediately. Another strike.
Satoru rolled beneath it. Grass and dirt exploded where the punch landed. He rose into a crouch. His mind started analysing.
Speed: absurd.
Acceleration: absurd.
Power: absurd.
Recovery between movements: almost nonexistent.
Footwork: extremely efficient.
No wasted movement.
Guy didn't look like he was exerting himself.
Satoru internally compared him to everyone he had fought. Guy wasn't simply faster. The difference was qualitative.
I have never fought someone whose baseline physical ability is this high.
Satoru activated his three-tomoe Sharingan.
The world sharpened. Guy's movements became easier to parse.
He saw weight shifts. Shoulder movement. Muscle tension. Changes in footing. Subtle preparation before strikes.
His predictive advantage returned. For the first time, he felt like he had regained control.
Guy attacked.
Satoru knew exactly what was coming. He predicted the trajectory. He predicted timing. He identified where Guy's fist would arrive.
His Sharingan had done everything correctly.
Satoru moved to evade.
Guy's fist still reached him.
BOOM!
It caught Satoru in the chest. He was thrown backwards. Air left his lungs. He hit the ground and slid.
The Sharingan hadn't failed to predict Guy. Satoru's body had failed to execute the prediction quickly enough.
He forced himself upright. His breathing was ragged. His vision blurred slightly. His shoulder throbbed. His pathways protested.
Guy observed him rather than immediately attacking again. Satoru noticed Guy studying his eyes.
Guy commented that Satoru had the Sharingan. But his body couldn't keep pace with his eyes. This created a dangerous imbalance.
Satoru internally acknowledged that Guy had identified the exact problem he had discovered during his First Gate training. The irony wasn't lost on him. He had spent an entire week learning that the Gates could remove physical limitations. Now he was standing in front of someone who had spent his entire life eliminating those limitations through training.
He forced himself to his feet.
He considered fighting without the Gate. Rejected it almost immediately. His current condition made the answer obvious.
Even at one hundred per cent, I don't think I could have dodged that. My eyes aren't the problem. My body simply isn't fast enough.
He mentally reviewed everyone he had encountered. Shisui. Other shinobi. Mission opponents.
None compared.
Guy may be the fastest shinobi I have ever fought. And the frightening part is that Guy isn't even using the Gates.
Satoru recognised that continuing normally was pointless.
Ninjutsu wasn't prepared. His concentration had been disrupted. Taijutsu wasn't sufficient. Sharingan prediction alone wasn't sufficient.
He needed to change the equation.
His thoughts returned to the past week. The training ground. The notebook. The repeated activation. The word he had learned to associate with the technique.
Permission.
Satoru closed his eyes.
Guy watched rather than interrupting.
Satoru turned inward. He felt the damaged chakra pathways. The sluggish circulation. The familiar restriction.
He didn't fight it. Didn't force it. Didn't push chakra violently.
He simply reached for the practised mental posture.
Allow. Permit. Not today.
The internal lock released.
The First Gate opened.
Chakra surged through his body. Muscles tightened. Heart rate spiked. His senses sharpened. His physical sluggishness disappeared beneath the surge.
The pain in his shoulder became distant. Satoru recognised that suppression of pain was dangerous, but right now it gave him what he needed.
He opened his eyes. Three tomoe Sharingan spinning.
His posture changed.
Guy's expression changed. Surprise first. Then recognition. His eyes focused on Satoru's chakra and physical transformation.
The casual demeanour disappeared.
There was genuine interest now. Perhaps the faintest hint of excitement.
Satoru noticed the change immediately.
Guy studied him for a moment.
Then said, "So, you know the Gates."
=====
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