Red Nara

A couple of months after I turned five, messages started coming in that Suna and Iwa had shifted from border skirmishes to full-scale combat operations, and in connection with this, the Hokage declared heightened combat readiness for all active shinobi.

If... more precisely, when the front lines shift to the territory of our allies, Konoha will have to intervene, and all suitable individuals in terms of health, who retired after the First World War or for some other reason, will be called back into service. This includes Nara Saya, who found herself in reserve due to her ongoing pregnancy.

According to the calculations of our clan's analysts, this will be approximately in a year or two, maximum three. And it's precisely for this reason that I pleaded with Mom to start practicing taijutsu with me. Despite my young age, I was already the same height as seven-year-old Shikaku and reached Mom's mid-chest.

Of course, 138 centimeters wouldn't impress anyone, but it was already possible to build muscle for striking power and to learn the katas of the academic style of taijutsu, designed exactly for such sizes and providing the necessary foundation for further improvement of students' hand-to-hand combat skills.

Unfortunately, in a burst of overestimating my own abilities, I insisted that Mom not hold back her strikes, unlike her speed, although she didn't hit dangerous points, hitting which could kill not only a child but also an adult.

So I had to lie down, wait until the regeneration of the Uzumaki kekkei genkai did its job, and I could resume sparring. And although in the evening, mental fatigue from the four dispersed clones that attended lectures at the hospital, mastered the science of clan-specific jutsu theory, learned other lessons, practiced a little taijutsu, and trained chakra control would be added to my beaten body, it was worth it.

Experience in battles with opponents much stronger than you will prepare you well for a future shinobi career, and I learned to endure pain back when I trained with Grandpa. It's precisely because the Uzumaki don't spare their children in training that the entire secret of the strength of their fighters lies.

Well, and the fact that ordinary children would just break under such training. Fractured bones, torn muscles, brain concussions, displacements, and bruises of internal organs are commonplace during sparring sessions among my red-haired relatives.

Thanks to the kekkei genkai, we are much hardier and won't die from such injuries, even a torn heart or a slashed throat won't cause immediate death for most Uzumaki, allowing them to drag their killer to the grave. Of course, I haven't seen it myself, but Grandpa told me about such cases, as well as the fact that with a good medical-nin nearby, there is some chance of survival even with very severe injuries (the grandfather he mentioned, who visited once, didn't even have a scar on his neck!).

Ordinary shinobi don't stand a chance in such situations. So I had to endure and gain invaluable experience while I had the chance. I doubt I'll be able to convince anyone else to engage in such intensive training if Mom returns to missions. And many will participate in the war.

"I'm ready to continue," feeling better and making sure my head wasn't spinning, I got up and, after making a few warm-up movements, took up the basic stance of the academic style of taijutsu.

"Alright, but if you feel weakness or sudden pain just from the movements, let me know immediately," Mom nodded and took the same stance, "now it's your turn to attack!"

Nothing improves mood like a good portion of fruit ice cream! Taking one day off from exhausting training, I escaped from Nara's estate, after getting permission from Mom, and went in search of the cafe that Choji praised so much, claiming he hadn't tasted a dessert better than theirs yet. Considering that it came from a member of the Akimichi clan, it was only natural that I wanted to try it too.