The problem with secrets was that success made them harder to keep.
Haruki learned that lesson over the following weeks.
His Water Bullet Technique improved steadily.
His chakra control continued to sharpen.
His Academy scores climbed.
And with every improvement came more attention.
More questions.
More eyes.
The exact thing his father had spent years trying to avoid.
Unfortunately, Haruki was beginning to understand something unpleasant.
Strength and anonymity rarely existed together.
Rain fell across Kirigakure.
Not unusual.
Rain visited the Hidden Mist almost as often as the mist itself.
Students hurried through the Academy gates beneath umbrellas and cloaks.
Training continued regardless.
Daichi didn't care about weather.
"Shinobi don't stop because they're wet."
That had become one of his favorite sayings.
Nobody liked it.
Especially today.
The training grounds had become little more than mud and puddles.
Students slipped.
Complained.
Fell.
Repeatedly.
Daichi seemed unusually cheerful because of it.
"Pair up."
Groans immediately followed.
Haruki already knew who his partner would be.
Sure enough—
Ren walked over.
"Don't look so disappointed."
"I wasn't."
"You definitely were."
Haruki sighed.
Their rivalry had evolved over the months.
Less hostility.
More competition.
Still annoying.
But tolerable.
Sometimes.
The two moved toward a section of the training yard marked for sparring drills.
Today's exercise focused on movement.
Dodging.
Positioning.
Maintaining balance on unstable terrain.
A practical lesson.
A difficult one.
The first few exchanges were normal.
Punches.
Blocks.
Counters.
Controlled.
Safe.
Then the rain intensified.
Mud splashed beneath their feet.
Visibility worsened.
Several students slipped completely.
The instructors called for everyone to continue.
Typical.
Haruki shifted backward as Ren attacked.
A kick narrowly missed his ribs.
He sidestepped.
Adjusted his footing.
Prepared a counter.
Then disaster struck.
Not a dramatic disaster.
A stupid one.
The worst kind.
His foot landed in a deep puddle.
The water was colder than expected.
His concentration wavered.
Just slightly.
Only for a moment.
Yet that moment was enough.
A thin layer of frost spread across the puddle.
Instantly.
Silently.
Dangerously.
Haruki's eyes widened.
No.
Ren stepped forward.
His foot hit the frozen surface.
And immediately slipped.
The boy crashed backward into the mud.
Hard.
The entire training yard erupted with laughter.
Ren groaned from the ground.
"Ow."
Students pointed.
Several were already making jokes.
Haruki wasn't listening.
His heart hammered inside his chest.
The frost.
The ice.
The evidence.
Had anyone seen?
Had anyone noticed?
He forced himself to look around naturally.
Not panic.
Panicking attracted attention.
The puddle had already returned to normal.
Rainwater concealed everything.
Maybe—
Maybe nobody saw.
Then he noticed Daichi.
The instructor stood several meters away.
Watching.
Not the puddle.
Haruki.
Their eyes met briefly.
The moment lasted less than a second.
Then Daichi looked away.
Continuing the lesson as if nothing had happened.
Haruki's stomach tightened.
Had he seen?
Or was he imagining things?
The uncertainty was worse than certainty.
The remainder of training passed in a blur.
Haruki made mistakes.
Small ones.
Nothing obvious.
His focus remained elsewhere.
Every few minutes he replayed the accident.
The frost.
The slip.
Daichi's expression.
The questions never stopped.
By the time classes ended, he had convinced himself of three completely different possibilities.
Daichi noticed.
Daichi didn't notice.
Daichi noticed something but didn't understand what.
None of those answers felt comforting.
That evening, Haruki skipped his normal training session.
For the first time in months.
Instead, he sat beside the canal.
Thinking.
The water flowed quietly beside him.
Mist drifted overhead.
The familiar calm failed to reach him.
His father's warnings echoed endlessly.
Hide it.
Never reveal it.
Not until you're strong enough.
The memory hurt.
Because his father had been right.
Haruki wasn't strong.
Not yet.
If someone discovered the truth now...
What could he do?
Nothing.
The realization frustrated him.
A pebble suddenly bounced off his shoulder.
Haruki blinked.
Then looked up.
The black-haired Academy girl stood nearby.
Arms crossed.
Looking annoyed.
As usual.
"You're staring at water."
Haruki frowned.
"So?"
"So it's weird."
Fair point.
She sat down beside the canal.
Several moments passed in silence.
Then she spoke again.
"You were distracted today."
Haruki looked at her carefully.
"What makes you say that?"
"You lost."
That answer immediately annoyed him.
"I've lost before."
"Not like that."
The girl shrugged.
"You looked scared."
Haruki froze.
Not because she was right.
Because she was.
The silence stretched.
Eventually she stood.
"Whatever your problem is, fix it."
Then she started walking away.
After several steps she paused.
Without turning around.
"The Academy gets harder."
Her voice sounded quieter than usual.
"People who hesitate get hurt."
Then she left.
Leaving Haruki alone with his thoughts.
Again.
Later that night, inside a small Academy office, Daichi reviewed reports.
Student evaluations.
Attendance records.
Performance assessments.
Routine work.
His pen paused above a page.
Haruki Mizuno.
The instructor frowned.
The memory returned.
The puddle.
The slip.
The brief flash of something unusual.
Something he couldn't quite explain.
Daichi tapped the desk thoughtfully.
Then shook his head.
Probably nothing.
Students did strange things all the time.
Still...
He made a small note in the file.
Nothing serious.
Nothing alarming.
Just an observation.
A reminder to keep watching.
Meanwhile, Haruki stood alone beside the canal.
The moon reflected across the water.
His hands slowly formed a sequence of signs.
Not for Water Release.
Not this time.
An experiment.
A risk.
A mistake he intended to understand.
Chakra flowed.
Cold gathered.
The water's edge froze.
Only for a second.
Only a few inches.
But it happened.
Haruki immediately released the technique.
The ice cracked.
Then melted.
Gone.
Yet the evidence remained inside his mind.
The bloodline was becoming easier to access.
Easier to trigger.
Harder to hide.
And if today's accident had taught him anything...
It was that eventually, mistakes stopped being accidents.