Kakashi stood before a massive boulder, his posture relaxed but focused. "Today, I'm teaching you a C-rank jutsu called Wind Style: Wind Cutter Technique. Pay attention."
Meian watched intently.
Kakashi turned to face the rock. His hands flowed through a rapid sequence of seals—each movement precise, economical. "Wind Style: Wind Cutter Technique."
A crescent of compressed wind erupted from his palm.
The sound split the air with a sharp crack. A meter-thick boulder sitting ten meters away cleaved cleanly in two, the cut edges smooth as glass.
Meian's eyes narrowed with appreciation. This was the kind of jutsu he preferred—elegant, direct, devastating.
"Your turn," Kakashi said, stepping back.
Meian didn't hesitate. His hands moved through the seals faster than before, muscle memory cementing each position. "Wind Style: Wind Cutter Technique."
The wind erupted from his grip—but it was wrong. The blade that tore free was massive, several meters wide, the release point unstable with raw power.
Boom.
The rock didn't cleave. It exploded, exploding into fragments that scattered like shrapnel. The wind blade continued unobstructed, slamming into the cliff face behind it and carving a gash that stretched for tens of meters, cutting meters deep into solid stone. The cut was so clean, so perfectly executed, that it looked surgical.
Silence followed.
Kakashi's expression shifted—a subtle tightening around his eyes. He studied the cliff face for a long moment, then turned back to Meian.
"It's not a lack of chakra control," Kakashi said quietly. His voice carried the weight of understanding. "Your chakra itself is of exceptionally high quality. Denser. More refined. When you release it, there's less waste."
Meian met his gaze without flinching.
Kakashi stepped closer, his expression serious now. "Listen to me carefully. Your physiology is unusual—gifted, even. But you cannot speak of this to anyone. Not your closest friend. Not your family. Not a soul." He paused, letting the words settle. "If word of this spreads, people will pursue you. Some will want to study you. Others will fear you. Even I may struggle to protect you if powerful forces decide they want what you have."
Meian nodded slowly, his face composed. "I understand, Kakashi-sensei."
"Do you?" Kakashi's eye narrowed slightly. "You already suspected something was different, didn't you?"
Meian allowed himself a faint smile but said nothing.
Kakashi let out a dry chuckle. "You're cautious. Good. Someone observant enough to understand the world in half-truths needs to be." He placed a hand on Meian's shoulder. "Keep that instinct. Grow stronger in silence. There's wisdom in that path."
Before Meian could respond, Might Guy appeared from around the tree line, his gaze immediately locking onto the massive scar in the cliff face. His eyes widened.
"That power rivals a B-rank jutsu!" Guy's voice was loud, enthusiastic. "Kakashi was right to take you on. Meian, you might become another Minato Namikaze someday."
The Fourth Hokage comparison hung in the air. Guy wasn't joking anymore—his posture had changed, his expression sincere rather than boisterous.
"Thank you, Mr. Guy," Meian replied diplomatically. "But I still have much to learn."
Guy shook his head, studying Meian with new respect. "No. Your talent is extraordinary. Truly." He paused, then added, "If you ever want guidance in taijutsu, find me. It's where my knowledge runs deepest."
"I'll keep that in mind," Meian said.
As the sun dipped lower, Kakashi glanced toward the horizon. "We should head back. I have a mission tomorrow."
"So do I!" Guy grinned. "Meian, rest well. You've earned it."
Meian nodded and began his descent down the mountain, his mind already turning over everything that had transpired. By the time he reached home, exhaustion had settled deep into his bones. He fell asleep without ceremony, grateful for the respite.
The next morning brought routine. Classes at the Academy were unchanged—the same faces, the same assignments. Meian took his usual seat and reached for his textbook when Ino slid into the desk in front of him, her expression sharp with barely contained excitement.
"I know your secret," she whispered.
Meian's hand froze mid-reach. He looked at her with a measured expression. "Do you?"
"You threw that match against Hinata on purpose," Ino continued, her voice low. "You cheated. Your shuriken scores were perfect except for one intentional miss. Everyone can see it now—you've been holding back the entire time."
A small smile crossed Meian's face. "I sensed you spying that day. I simply didn't care enough to acknowledge it."
Ino's face flushed—partially from embarrassment, partially from indignation. "That's not— Fine. I'm going to tell Iruka-sensei everything."
"No, you won't," Meian said calmly.
"And why wouldn't I?" Ino's voice rose slightly before she caught herself, glancing toward the front of the classroom. She leaned in closer. "I could destroy your reputation right now."
"Because if you wanted to cause me trouble, you wouldn't have told me first," Meian replied, returning his attention to his book.
Ino bit her lip, frustration mounting. He was right. She'd come here hoping to bargain, to find some leverage—but he'd already seen through her. "Why won't you show your real strength?" she asked, genuinely curious now. "You're stronger than Sasuke. Why hide it?"
Meian didn't answer. The bell rang, and Iruka entered the classroom. Ino slid back to her seat, her jaw clenched with frustration—like punching through water, her efforts generating no resistance.
Across the room, Hinata's pale eyes flickered between Meian and Ino, worry creasing her features. Her fingers twisted together anxiously as thoughts spiraled through her mind: What are they discussing? Is Ino threatening him? Is this because of me? Did I cause this?
The guilt settled over her like a familiar weight.
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