Chapter no.27 Naruto

Chapter no.27 The Kouhai and the Kunoichi

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Tenten had always dreamed of having a junior—a bright-eyed, eager kouhai who would follow her around, help her polish her weapons, and listen with awe as she rattled off the finer points of bladecraft. She imagined spoiling them with sweets, teaching them techniques, and occasionally ruffling their hair like a doting older sister.

The fantasy had likely come from her years at the orphanage, where she had been the self-appointed big sister. But not the soft, nurturing kind. No, Tenten had been the tomboyish protector, the one who'd scrape her knuckles and grind bullies' faces into the dirt if they so much as looked at her younger charges the wrong way. She had been their defender—rough around the edges, but fiercely loyal.

Her fascination with weapons began early, fueled by an unapologetic disdain for the stereotypical games other girls played. Dolls? Ridiculous. What use did a doll have? None. Unless, of course, you retrofitted it.

Tenten's first and last doll had been a shabby thing someone at the orphanage gave her, probably out of pity. To her, it was nothing but raw material. With scavenged sewing needles for hands and scissors attached to its stubby legs, she transformed it into the Princess of Blades. Princess wasn't a toy; she was a tool—one that could cut fabric, sew patches, and terrify the occasional boy who dared to tease her.

The matron, however, had not been impressed. Tenten couldn't understand why. Princess was practical, useful, and infinitely cooler than any ordinary doll. But the other girls had shrieked in horror, and the doll had been confiscated.

Her obsession with sharp things only deepened when she was adopted by a kunoichi and a blacksmith. It had felt like fate, as if she'd been plucked out of obscurity and handed over to the perfect family. Her new parents were loving and patient, but they didn't share her fascination with pointy things—not at first.

Tenten's father, in particular, had been amused by her enthusiasm. He'd given her rounded training tools with dulled edges, designed to be as harmless as possible. She'd hated them.

"Why does everything have to be round?" she had grumbled, holding up a blunt kunai with utter disdain.

"Round is safe," her father replied with a chuckle.

"But round isn't scary," she countered. "Pointy is scary."

He had laughed, ruffling her hair. "You'll understand when you're older."

She hadn't. What she had done was throw the kind of tantrum only a six-year-old could manage, complete with stomping feet and tearful proclamations of "I hate you!"

Two years later, her mother didn't come home from a mission.

Tenten never forgot the hollow feeling that settled in her chest when her father sat her down, his face drawn and pale, to tell her what had happened. Her childish outburst haunted her, replaying over and over in her mind.

When he handed her doll back to her that night, her father's voice was quiet but firm. "You said pointy things are scary, didn't you? Well, we're going to make them less scary. For you."

And so they had. Her father had begun training her in earnest, teaching her the art of weaponry. She threw herself into it with everything she had—not just to honor her mother's memory, but to ensure that she would never be weak, never be helpless. Every kunai, every shuriken, every blade she mastered became a small triumph, a step forward on a path she had carved for herself.

Over the years, her obsession with weapons became both her passion and her identity. But somewhere deep down, Tenten had always hoped to find someone who shared that same love. Someone who didn't just see weapons as tools, but as extensions of themselves—things that demanded respect, care, and artistry.

She doubted she'd ever find that person. It was more of a whimsical daydream than anything else, something she thought about in quiet moments while polishing her kunai or practicing her throws.

Then Kakashi Hatake had shown up one afternoon, asking if she could help Uzumaki Naruto with his swordsmanship.

Tenten wasn't sure what she'd expected when she agreed to train Uzumaki Naruto in swordsmanship, but what she got was a walking disaster with a greatsword and a grin too wide for his own good. He had spirit, sure, but skill? Nonexistent.

"GIVE ME TWENTY SWINGS, MAGGOT!" Tenten barked, pacing back and forth.

Naruto's face twisted in annoyance, but he gritted his teeth and complied. He swung the massive Zweihander in wide arcs, each swing accompanied by a grunt of effort.

By the time he hit number twenty, sweat poured down his face, but his swings looked no better than when they started. Tenten pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling sharply.

"Stop," she commanded.

Naruto froze mid-swing, his blade wobbling precariously in his grip.

"First things first," Tenten said. "You don't just swing a sword like it's a club. This isn't some blunt instrument—you're holding a crafted weapon, and you're treating it like a stick you picked up off the ground. Now show me your grip."

Naruto adjusted his hands on the hilt, clutching the massive weapon so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Like this! Solid grip, no way it slips!"

Tenten's eye twitched. "Solid grip? You're choking the life out of it!" She grabbed his hands, peeling his fingers back one by one with no small amount of irritation. "Your grip isn't supposed to turn your hands into stone! Loosen it up! Think of it like holding a bird—tight enough that it doesn't fly away, but not so tight you crush it to death."

"Uh… like this?"

"Better," Tenten said. "But not good enough. Your blade's weight is all on one end, so you need to let your dominant hand guide the swing while your other hand stabilizes it. Right now, you're trying to manhandle the damn thing into submission."

Naruto shifted his grip again, his hands sliding closer together. He gave the blade a test swing, and while it was far from perfect, it didn't look quite as clumsy.

"Not terrible," Tenten admitted begrudgingly. "But we're just getting started. Now your stance. Let me guess—you're about to drop into something ridiculous, aren't you?"

Naruto, already planting his feet wide apart and hoisting the Zweihander over his shoulder, froze mid-movement. "What's wrong with this? I've got a stable base!"

"Stable?" Tenten snorted. "You look like you're about to chop down a tree, not face an enemy. Your stance is so stiff, I could knock you over with one good shove." To prove her point, she flicked his shin with her foot, and Naruto wobbled unsteadily.

"Your sword isn't just about power, Naruto," Tenten continued. "You've got reach and control on your side, but if you plant yourself like a rock, you'll never be able to use either. You need to move. Movement is life. Movement is survival."

Dropping into her own stance, Tenten bent her knees slightly, her feet shoulder-width apart. "Watch me. See how I'm steady, but not stiff? This lets me shift in any direction without losing balance. Now copy it."

Naruto mimicked her stance, adjusting his feet and bending his knees.

Tenten hummed, nudging his leg with her foot until his positioning improved. "Keep your knees soft. You lock them, and you're going to tip over the second someone puts pressure on you. Now hold that sword steady and don't lean forward like an idiot."

"This feels weird…"

"It's supposed to," Tenten said. "Because for the first time, you're not doing it wrong. Now swing the damn sword, and don't embarrass me this time."

Naruto exhaled, focusing on his grip and stance as he swung the Zweihander in a wide arc. This time, the blade moved smoother, with more control. He held steady at the end of the swing, his balance intact.

Tenten's sharp eyes caught every detail, and for the first time that afternoon, her lips curved into something resembling a smile. "Finally. You're not completely hopeless."

"Ha! I knew I was awesome!"

"Don't get cocky, maggot!" Tenten snapped. "You did one decent swing. You've got a thousand more before I'll call it 'awesome.' Now keep going. Again!"

Naruto groaned but complied, his swings growing steadier as the minutes passed. Tenten barked corrections with every misstep.

"Your grip's slipping! Fix it!"

"You're leaning forward too much—keep your weight back!"

"Your follow-through is sloppy! Tighten it up!"

By the time an hour passed, Naruto was panting heavily, his movements slower but far more precise. Tenten stepped in front of him, her sharp gaze locking onto his tired face.

"Alright, maggot," she said, pointing her katana at him. "Now that you're not embarrassing yourself with the basics, we're moving on to tempo."

"Tempo?" Naruto panted. "Like… rhythm or something?"

"Yep," Tenten said. "Swordsmanship isn't just about swinging harder or faster. It's about when you strike. If you time it right, even someone stronger or faster than you will fall. You, however, have all the finesse of a bull in a china shop. So, we're going to fix that."

She raised her katana, moving it in a slow, deliberate arc before snapping into a quick feint. Naruto instinctively raised his Zweihander to block, but Tenten redirected and lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"See what just happened?" she asked. "You reacted too fast. I didn't need to overpower you—I just needed you to overcommit."

"So what do I do? Not block?"

"You wait," Tenten said simply. "Patience is a swordsman's best weapon. Don't swing at every opening—wait for the right moment. Practice finding your rhythm. If you master that, you'll control the fight instead of reacting to it."

Slowly, the boy nodded.

"Good. Now shut up and swing. You've got a lot of ground to cover, maggot."

Naruto's swings had been relentless for the last half hour, though to Tenten's trained eye, his technique was still rough.

"Alright!" she barked. "Stop embarrassing yourself and listen up. We're moving on to something even you should be able to understand: edge alignment."

"Edge alignment? That sounds important."

"It is important. If your blade's edge isn't lined up with the direction of your swing, you're smacking things with the flat. You're not slicing; you're slapping. You might as well be swinging around a plank of wood."

Naruto frowned, gripping his sword. "So, how do I fix it?"

"First of all, loosen up! I can see those white knuckles from here!" Tenten marched over and yanked his hands off the hilt, holding them up for inspection. "What did I tell you about strangling the damn thing? You're not trying to choke it to death!"

"But I need to hold it steady!" Naruto protested.

"And you can do that without squeezing it like it owes you money," she shot back. Grabbing his hands, she adjusted his grip. "Your dominant hand goes here, near the guard. That's your guide. Your other hand stabilizes. Got it?"

Naruto grumbled but nodded, shifting his hands into place.

"Better," Tenten admitted grudgingly. "Now, when you swing, stop thinking about just hitting things. Imagine cutting. Visualize the edge slicing cleanly through whatever you're aiming at. Let the blade do the work."

Naruto nodded and swung again, this time focusing on the edge of his Zweihander. The blade hissed through the air with a sharper, more precise sound.

"Not bad," Tenten said, stepping back to give him room. "But we're not done. Here's your next drill: pick a target—a tree, a dummy, whatever—and focus on clean, straight cuts. Precision over power. If the cuts are sloppy, adjust your grip until they're not."

"Got it!" Naruto said, already zeroing in on a nearby wooden training dummy.

[4 Hours Later]

Naruto stood over the training dummy, panting heavily as he inspected the marks he'd made. The cuts were cleaner than before, though still far from perfect. He leaned on his Zweihander, his arms trembling from fatigue.

"Not terrible," Tenten said, appearing behind him like a shadow. "You're starting to understand what it means to use the blade properly. But we're not done yet."

Naruto groaned. "Of course we're not."

Tenten ignored him, raising her katana in a swift, practiced motion. "Next lesson: centerline control."

"What's that?" Naruto asked, dragging his sword upright.

"It's the imaginary line running down the middle of your opponent's body," Tenten explained, stepping into a combat stance. "Whoever controls the centerline controls the fight. Keeping your blade aligned with it forces your opponent to either attack you head-on or risk exposing themselves. If you let your sword drift off-center, you're wide open. Understand?"

Naruto nodded slowly.

"Good. Let's see how well you hold it."

Tenten closed the distance in an instant, pressing her katana lightly against Naruto's Zweihander and pushing it aside. "See? All I did was shift your blade a little, and now I've got a clear shot at your head. You can't let that happen."

Naruto adjusted his grip, trying to keep his sword aligned as Tenten moved around him, testing his control with quick jabs and feints. Every time his blade wavered, she struck—lightly tapping his shoulder, arm, or ribs to emphasize his openings.

"Stay grounded!" she barked. "Your arms can't do all the work. Use your stance! Let your whole body stabilize the blade!"

Gritting his teeth, Naruto widened his stance, bending his knees and lowering his center of gravity. Slowly but surely, he began to track her movements more effectively, keeping his blade steady even as she tried to throw him off balance.

"Better," Tenten said. "Now, here's your next solo drill: draw a line—chalk, rope, whatever—and practice moving while keeping your blade aligned with it. No rushing. Keep it slow and steady until it feels natural."

"Got it," Naruto said, determination burning in his eyes.

By the time the sun sank below the horizon, Naruto lay sprawled out on the grass. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, and his hands felt raw enough to peel like overripe fruit.

"I'm dead. This is what death feels like."

Tenten strode over, her silhouette outlined by the fading light. Without a word, she tossed a small bottle onto his chest.

Naruto sat up with a pained hiss, glaring at the offending object. "What's this?" he asked suspiciously, uncapping it. One sniff had him recoiling like she'd thrown poison gas at him. "What the hell is this?!"

"Onion pineapple juice."

"That's illegal. That has to be illegal."

Tenten rolled her eyes. "Stop being dramatic. It's good for recovery. Pineapple helps with inflammation, and onion's packed with nutrients."

"Yeah, nutrients that'll kill me." Naruto shoved the bottle back at her like it might explode. "This isn't recovery—it's a war crime."

"Don't be such a baby, Uzumaki." Tenten leaned back on her hands. "You want to get stronger or not? I drink this all the time. Look at me—perfect condition."

Naruto squinted at her, skepticism all over his face. "Yeah, but you're also insane. That stuff's probably why."

Tenten smirked, her tone teasing as she tipped the bottle back and took a long sip without flinching. "Crazy enough to out-train you, maggot," she said, emphasizing the last word with a smirk. "Now drink it, or tomorrow you're doing another hundred swings—and I won't be nice about it."

Naruto groaned, pinching his nose as he took the tiniest sip. The second it touched his tongue, he gagged violently and practically threw the bottle back at her. "Nope! Nope! I'd rather die sore. You win."

Tenten shrugged, taking another sip like it was a glass of water. "Suit yourself. More for me."

Naruto flopped back onto the grass with an exaggerated groan. "You're evil, you know that? Like, pure evil."

"Better to be evil and strong than nice and weak," Tenten shot back. "But I guess you wouldn't know, seeing as you're still weak and nice."

"Wow," Naruto said. "Who knew you were so mean? Here I thought you were the pretty kunoichi who throws knives, but no—you're a total sadist."

"Pretty kunoichi, huh? Was that a compliment, Uzumaki?"

"Don't make it weird!"

"You're the one who said it," Tenten teased, tossing a pebble at him.

Naruto dodged it with a half-hearted glare, then turned to watch the last streaks of sunlight fading into twilight. For a moment, the two sat in companionable silence.

"Today was a good day."

"Yeah. A good day to learn I suck and I'm a maggot."

Tenten laughed. "I didn't mean it like that, you idiot. I was just trying to motivate you—get you fired up, you know? Push you to prove me wrong."

"Well, it worked," Naruto admitted, rolling his shoulder with a wince. "We got through the basics, and I think I can figure the rest out on my own. I mean, I kinda have to, right? No one here really knows how to use a Zweihander properly."

Tenten nodded. "Exactly. We can teach you the basics, but the rest is on you. You've got to make it your own."

"One week!"

Tenten blinked. "What?"

"I'll figure out my own style in one week."

Tenten snorted, trying—and failing—not to laugh. "Oh, sure. One week. You're going to master a fighting style in seven days. That's totally realistic." Her tone was laced with sarcasm, the kind people use when they're trying not to outright call someone delusional.

"You'll see. I've got a trick up my sleeve."

"Oh, this I've got to hear," Tenten said, leaning forward.

Naruto explained his shadow clone training method with the kind of enthusiasm usually reserved for ramen. When he finished, Tenten stared at him, her jaw slack.

"That's such a bullshit jutsu."

Naruto laughed, already feeling his energy return. "Hey, don't hate the player, hate the jutsu. But think about it—if I use it right, I'll have my style in no time."

"Right," Tenten said. "And when you do, you can come back, and we'll spar. Swordsman to swordswoman."

"Deal." Naruto grinned. "But when I win, you've got to admit I'm better."

"When you win?" Tenten scoffed. "Keep dreaming, maggot. You're not ready to beat me yet."

"I'm serious!" Naruto said. "And when I do win, maybe I'll even teach you something. Swordsman to swordswoman."

"Sure, Uzumaki," Tenten said. "Swing by the blacksmith shop near the eastern edge of the forest when you're ready. I'll be waiting."

Naruto nodded, filing the address away. Then, with a sly grin, he added, "Oh, and don't worry—I'll bring an armor set for you. You're into armor, right? I've got a place I can get some."

"You're bringing me armor?!"

"I mean, you can't go around calling yourself a badass swordswoman without some awesome armor, right?"

Tenten rolled her eyes, though a faint blush dusted her cheeks.

The sunset bathed the training ground in warm hues, casting long shadows over the grass. The boy turned to glance at the horizon, the fading sunlight catching in his blue eyes before he looked back at her and smiled.

It was a simple smile—boyish and confident—but it caught her off guard. For a fleeting moment, she thought—no, realized—he was more handsome than Neji.

Her cheeks flared red at the thought. Tenten's crush on Neji had always been a shallow one. Sure, he was striking, with that long hair and stoic face, but every conversation with him was either a bitter rant about destiny or some jab at the Hyuga clan. There was nothing fun, nothing warm. If he hadn't been handsome, she doubted she would've bothered with him at all.

But Naruto? Naruto was different. He wasn't just handsome; he was hardworking, vibrant, full of energy and warmth. And he respected weapons.

For a split second, she thought his boyish grin suited him far too well. He wasn't like Neji—stoic and distant—but maybe that was the point. Naruto wasn't what she expected... and maybe that's why the teasing had felt fun. Real. She crushed the thought before it could linger.

Her thoughts spiraled as her face grew redder, and she clenched her fists in frustration. Get it together, Tenten!

Naruto laughed at something, breaking her internal crisis. The sound of his laugh—carefree and natural—sent her heart fluttering in a way she didn't know how to control.

Desperate to change the topic—and distract herself from her own thoughts—she blurted out, "You know, I wish I could do the Shadow Clone Jutsu."

Naruto hummed.

"Maybe I could've had a chance as a medical ninja," she added quietly, almost as if speaking to herself.

"I could teach you it."

Tenten blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I could teach you the Shadow Clone Jutsu," he said casually, already considering how using Estus flasks to recover chakra could make it possible. Why not?

Could she really? No—that dream was buried for a reason.

"Forget it," Tenten said quickly, waving him off. "It's nothing, just a passing thought."

"Come on," Naruto pressed. "You could be more than just a weapons specialist."

Tenten froze.

Just a weapon specialist?

The words hit harder than she expected. The phrase dug up old memories and emotions she thought she'd buried long ago.

Her dream of becoming a medical ninja... the dream she'd abandoned.

It all came flooding back—the image of Tsunade, her role model, strong and compassionate, the greatest healer in the world. As a young girl, Tenten had idolized her, not for her strength or status, but for her ability to save lives. Tsunade had embodied everything Tenten had wanted to be: a healer, someone who could mend wounds instead of inflicting them, someone who brought hope instead of fear.

But reality had crushed that dream. Her chakra control hadn't been good enough, and no amount of effort seemed to fix it. She had tried and failed, over and over, until the truth became undeniable.

She wasn't talented enough.

So, she'd buried the dream. She'd turned to weapons instead—sharp, deadly, and reliable. She convinced herself that she loved them. And, to be fair, she did. But no matter how much she loved her weapons, they'd always been a second choice, a bitter consolation prize for a dream she couldn't reach.

The timing hadn't helped. It was around the same time she'd lost her mother, and the grief had made the rejection cut even deeper. She had thrown herself into training, determined to become the best weapons specialist in Konoha, not because it was her passion, but because she couldn't stand to feel like a failure.

No one knew about this. Not her sensei, not her teammates, not even her adoptive father. And now here was Naruto, oblivious as always, casually digging up something she'd worked so hard to bury.

"I think we're done here."

"Oi! Oi! Oi!" Naruto protested, scrambling to his feet. "What's that supposed to mean? What do you mean we're done?"

Tenten turned away, dusting off her training gear. She gave him one last look, her expression unreadable. "Hey, Naruto..."

"Yeah?"

"Where do you get off saying something like that?" she muttered. Tenten shook her head, more at herself than at him. "Forget it. Goodbye."

How does he do it? How does he say something so simple yet so painfully true?

"Hey! Tenten! Tenten!" Naruto called as she walked away, scratching the back of his head in frustration. "Where are you going?"

She didn't answer, leaving him standing there with a baffled expression.

Naruto sighed, slinging his Zweihander back over his shoulder. He hadn't even gotten to explain how she could become a medical ninja on top of being a weapons specialist. Whatever. He'd figure out how to help her later. For now, he needed to focus on his own training.

"Guess I'm off to Lordran," he muttered to himself. "She'll see. I'll master this, and we'll spar again. Swordsman to swordswoman."

With that, he turned toward the horizon, ready to continue his journey.