Lotm Rogue-like across worlds.

The idea of going to eat at Ichiraku Ramen belonged to Naruto. After a morning workout in which he somehow managed to turn sparring into a show with falling shurikens and clumsy movements, he suddenly declared with a wide smile:

—Hey, Seiji! Shall we go get something to eat? You've never been there, have you?

I was silent. Indeed, I have never visited the Ichiraku-Ramen. Eating out was a rarity for me, a habit left over from the days when every coin mattered. But now I could afford it.

"Well?" Naruto looked at me questioningly, waiting for an answer.

—Okay,— I agreed, deciding it was a good distraction.

On the way, Naruto chatted about everything. He told how he once accidentally poured too much soy sauce into the ramen, but ate it anyway, "because you can't let food go to waste." He moved from topic to topic so easily that it seemed as if he was deliberately trying to fill the silence so as not to let me insert a word.

Ichiraku turned out to be a small place with a cozy atmosphere. Sitting at the counter, I looked at the kitchen — everything looked clean and orderly, and the smells were very appetizing.

— Two miso ramen! Naruto shouted before I could say anything.

When the ramen arrived, Naruto enthusiastically started eating. I tried the broth first, marveling at its rich taste.

— Well, how do you like it? Naruto asked with his mouth full.

"Not bad,— I said shortly.

We ate in silence for a while, but Naruto didn't seem to like it. He looked at me and suddenly asked:

— Listen, why are you always so calm? Even when you win in training, you don't smile.

— And why? — I answered the question with a question, continuing to eat.

Naruto thought for a moment, but then his gaze became more focused.

— You know, sometimes I wonder why I have such bad grades. I'm trying, really! But these tasks... They're complicated.

— What exactly is difficult? I asked, looking at him. Naruto usually didn't complain about the difficulties.

— The chakra is not that difficult. Imagine that this is the energy that connects body and spirit. It is born from two sources: physical energy, which comes from your cells, and spiritual energy, which comes from your emotions and thoughts. They mix, and you get the chakra.

Naruto blinked a few times, clearly trying to make sense of it.

— Okay, but how will this help me?

— For example, when you perform a technique, you need to direct the chakra through certain paths in the body. These paths are like channels. Can you feel the chakra moving?

— well... Not really.

"Then start with a simple one. Sit down and try to concentrate. Feel where the warmth is in your body and imagine that you are moving it. This will be the first step.

He nodded, thinking about something, and then smiled broadly.:

— Ha! You sound like a real teacher. Maybe you'll train me.

"No,— I said. — I already have a training schedule.

Naruto looked disappointed, but quickly found an excuse for himself.:

— Well, okay! But I'll try anyway!

After that, the conversation turned to simpler topics. Naruto told stories from his childhood, and I listened in silence. He looked pleased when he left Ichiraku.

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At the same time, my training sessions with katami were progressing. Kaito's advice proved useful, and now I could feel my body becoming more precise in my movements, and my technique becoming more confident. At one of the playgrounds, after another training session, Kaito came up to me.

—Seiji,- he began, - I've noticed your progress. Surprisingly fast.

I nodded, accepting his praise. It was more of a statement of fact than a compliment, and so I saw no reason to respond.

— Do you have a suitable place for training? - he asked after a short pause, his tone remaining matter—of-fact.

I shook my head. I usually trained wherever I could find free space—on playgrounds, in the woods, or even in small wastelands.

— Then try one of the training grounds in the western part of the village. It's rarely used, so no one will bother you," Kaito suggested, nodding slightly, as if confirming the correctness of his choice.

His words seemed logical, and I decided to take advantage of this offer.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

In the evening, I went to the specified training ground. The road there ran through a narrow path that wound through the trees. A light wind rustled the leaves, and at times it was the only sound breaking the silence. The landfill turned out to be a vast area surrounded by trees, which created a sense of privacy. The wooden training poles were located a few meters apart, and all around there was only the rustle of grass and the distant sounds of nocturnal insects.

I stopped in the center of the polygon, looking around the space. There were no unnecessary details, just pure functionality. The lack of distractions made this place ideal for focused training.

I wondered if I should warn Sasuke that I was going to train here. If he wants, we could continue our sparring sessions. Although, knowing him, I was pretty sure he would prefer to train alone. This thought did not require immediate action, and I decided to postpone it for later.

First, the warm—up. It was not just a formality, but an important part of any training. I started with circular movements of my arms and legs, warming up my joints. Then there was a series of squats and push—ups, which smoothly flowed into flexibility exercises. Each time, I tried to improve my body control by focusing on the uniformity of my movements.

After the warm-up, I moved on to work with shuriken and kunai. The wooden targets mounted on poles seemed like a simple target, but I understood that not only accuracy was important, but also speed. In real combat, procrastination can be fatal. With each throw, I tried to imagine that there was a moving target in front of me, changing the angle of attack and the force of the throw. Sometimes I imagined a kunai piercing through an opponent's defense, like steel getting stuck in a target for a moment.

Then it was time for kat taijutsu. It was the most difficult and demanding part of the training. I started with simple kick sequences: straight, sideways, low. The hands moved as if on command, each phase of the blow was practiced to automatism. Then there are blocks and slopes. It was important not only to avoid a blow, but also to prepare for a counterattack.

One of the key elements was working with the balance sheet. I focused on a lunge with a body twist and a subsequent kick to the side. This technique required coordination: first a step, then a turn, and then a precise blow. The movement was not designed to cause serious damage, it served to knock the opponent off balance and create the opportunity for a series of short punches. Gradually, I complicated the combinations by adding defensive elements and moving from single strikes to bundles.

One of these bundles was a series of movements: an upper-level block, a tilt, a step forward, and an elbow strike. It required precision and a complete understanding of the distance. If the step was too short, the blow lost its power; if it was too long, I risked losing my balance. Over and over, I searched for the perfect rhythm.

The training session lasted about two hours. During this time, I managed to break out in sweat, but I felt satisfied with the work I had done. The moment I stopped to catch my breath, the silence of the training ground seemed too absolute to me. There was something strange about how suddenly everything went quiet.

I froze, trying to catch something in the depths of the forest. It seemed as if a shadow had flickered somewhere among the trees. It was just a moment, and I could have attributed it to my imagination, but an inner feeling told me that I was not alone. I slowly looked around the forest, trying not to show my concern. Nothing suspicious. Perhaps it was a passing ninja or just a curious onlooker.

Not wanting to make too much of it, I packed up my things and went home. Tomorrow will be a new day, and with it — new training sessions and, perhaps, answers to some questions. The feeling that I was being watched remained, but I preferred not to dwell on it.