The Shimura Actually Has Ice Release

Having parted ways with Asuma's group, Takeshi walked alone down the streets of Konoha, now draped in the quiet veil of night, humming a little tune he had improvised himself.

Recently, little Takeshi had been living quite a comfortable life.

Ever since that old man took Ryōma and the others off to who knows where on some mission, Takeshi had finally shaken off his previous status as a plaything, no longer forced to endure the "joy" of being treated like a new player getting a hundred pulls the moment he logged in.

Chit-chatting and goofing around with friends after school had become his daily routine.

Back home, he could enjoy meals prepared by Yakushi Nonō that far surpassed anything Danzō could ever make. Yes, this was the life he had always dreamed of.

With his eyes squinted into happy little lines, Takeshi cheerfully pushed open the front door. Just as he was about to call out to Nonō, he saw a young stranger standing before him.

"Nonō-san—what the hell?!"

Startled by the sudden appearance of the unfamiliar man, Takeshi cursed out loud.

Nonō poked her head out from the kitchen at the commotion and explained to Takeshi:

"You're back, Takeshi. That boy was sent by your father—his name is Shimura Ikku. From now on, he'll be in charge of your training."

Shimura... Ikku?

Looking at the young man in front of him—with delicate features and a scar on his left cheek—Takeshi judged he couldn't be more than ten or so years older than himself.

Gotta admit, the Shimura clan really had some strong genes. Any random young guy from their line was probably varsity-level if he picked up a basketball.

Only slightly less handsome than Takeshi himself, of course.

"Uh, hi there, Ikku-san."

Takeshi patted his chubby little face, quite proud of his looks, and greeted the man named Ikku.

Upon hearing Takeshi call him by name, Ikku tilted his head slightly, expressionless, silently staring at the cute little boy before him.

"Takeshi-sama."

Just as Takeshi started to wonder if the guy was mute, Ikku suddenly dropped to one knee and addressed him with great respect.

"Ack, uh, you can get up now. Why so formal?" Caught off guard by the abrupt motion, Takeshi quickly waved for him to stand.

"Danzō-sama has ordered that from today on, I will be responsible for your daily training and personal safety," Ikku said as he stood and relayed the command.

Due to the rising tensions across the shinobi world, both the ANBU and Root divisions had been facing serious manpower shortages. As a result, Danzō withdrew the two teams that had been assigned to protect Takeshi and handed the responsibility over to Shimura Ikku alone.

"Oh, that's... great," Takeshi said, scratching his head awkwardly.

Deep down, he obviously wasn't thrilled about someone hovering behind him with a whip every day. But since Danzō had only sent this one guy to train him, he supposed he could live with it.

As long as Yamanaka Akira didn't show up, everything would be fine.

Compared to Aburame Ryōma, who always struck with brutal precision, Takeshi was even more terrified of that human embodiment of a whip.

Whenever that guy showed up, Takeshi swore his skin tone visibly changed.

The guy in front of him looked like a refined young man. Surely he wouldn't pull any of the same torture-level stunts as Yamanaka Akira... right?

Before dinner, Takeshi still had a relatively decent impression of this fellow clansman.

But that changed drastically after dinner...

"To be honest, I don't really know how to train children your age," Ikku said, suddenly speaking as he stood with Takeshi in the courtyard.

Takeshi's eyes lit up at that.

Great! If he doesn't know, I can totally bluff my way through—er, I mean, teach him what true shinobi training looks like.

Which was certainly not something that started with a frame-perfect elite jōnin combo, followed by a farmer wildly swinging a whip.

"Ryōma-senpai is busy, so I couldn't ask him. Fortunately, Yamanaka Akira-senpai made time to explain things to me..." Ikku pulled a kunai from his ninja pouch, his face still expressionless.

"Uh... who did you say?" Takeshi's heart sank at the all-too-familiar name, his voice trembling.

"Yamanaka Akira-senpai. He said you're incredibly gifted. All we can do... is spur you on with a whip..." Ikku took a deep breath, channeled Wind Release chakra into the kunai, and shaped it into something that made Takeshi despair on sight: a whip.

"Okay, okay, what the hell—!" Before Takeshi could unleash a torrent of foul language, the whip was already flying toward him.

"Spurring you on means I swing the whip, and you dodge with all your might, correct?"

A blast of wind grazed Takeshi's chest, instantly slicing his shirt open.

"Full-force dodging?! I don't even have a Sharingan! How am I supposed to track a weapon imbued with Wind chakra?!"

Staring at his shredded clothing, Takeshi's reaction could only be described as pure panic.

Under Ikku's relentless whipping, Takeshi started out yelling all sorts of curses. But after getting lashed twice, he shut his mouth and focused entirely on finding any opening.

"Ow! Agh! Not there! Yamanaka Akira, screw you to hell!"

Amid howls of agony and furious shouting, Takeshi's life as a whipped servant began anew.

[Seriously, does this Shimura Ikku have a grudge against that old man or something?! Why the hell is this so intense right off the bat?!]

...

"Even though Wind chakra is formless, you can still roughly gauge the attack's position by watching the opponent's hand movements and the angle of the kunai swing."

Placing Takeshi's bruised head on her lap, Nonō broke her usual rules and allowed him to enjoy the sweet comfort of a lap pillow.

"I'm just a kid who hasn't even graduated from the Academy! How am I supposed to see anything at all?" Takeshi pouted and turned his head away, shooting a resentful glance at Ikku standing in the distance.

"Lie still, no fidgeting." Smiling as she gently turned his face back, Nonō adjusted his position to better tend to his injuries.

As the fragrance of Nonō's body wafted over and he felt the softness of her thighs beneath his head, Takeshi suddenly thought... maybe taking a few lashings wasn't that terrible after all.

"Even if you can't see clearly now, you will have to. Becoming a shinobi is your destiny. Danzō-sama has high expectations for you. If you don't work hard now to grow stronger, in the future..."

Remembering the orphanage children who had lost their families for various reasons, a sorrowful look crossed Nonō's face.

"You're Danzō-sama's son. Whether you want to or not, you'll have to face unspeakable darkness. That's something you can't avoid."

Recalling the things Danzō had done in the past, Nonō just couldn't bring herself to sincerely refer to him as "sama" with any real feeling.

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Pls Drop some Power Stones

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