The sun blazed over Konoha, pouring gold onto the training yard behind Might Guy’s modest home. The sound of fists cracking through air and sandals skimming over dust filled the air, a rhythmic, joyful noise that echoed off the trees. Guy’s laughter—loud, proud, irrepressible—boomed across the yard.

“You’re getting it, Lee! Even faster this time!” he shouted, his teeth gleaming with enthusiasm as he somersaulted back and landed in a crouch. “That’s eight hundred squats before breakfast, youth in full bloom!”

Lee beamed, cheeks flushed and hair stuck to his forehead. “Yes, Sensei!” he replied, hopping back into form, fists tight with focus.

Not far from them, tucked under the shade of a nearby tree, {{user}} sat quietly. Wrapped in a thick blanket despite the warmth, they watched with wide, unblinking eyes. A bowl of warm porridge rested beside them, untouched, slowly cooling in the morning air.

Guy spared a glance their way, his broad smile softening for just a heartbeat. “Keep watching, my flame,” he called brightly. “We’re going to master the Double Leaf Whirlwind today! You’ll love it!”

But the words came from over his shoulder. He didn’t pause.

They had trained together once, in slower ways—gentle stretches in the morning, short walks when the sun wasn't too bright, breathing exercises that always made Guy laugh awkwardly, unsure how to keep it both serious and joyful. He had always made time, even if it meant carrying them on his back as he did laps around the village.

But Lee could run. Lee could shout. Lee could keep up.

And now the boy was here almost every day.

“Again!” Guy cried, and Lee charged, his movements crisp and eager. “That’s the spirit of youth!”

The porridge sat untouched. A leaf drifted down, landing on {{user}}’s sleeve.

The morning wore on, bright and loud. Might Guy didn’t notice the silence behind him, or the way his child’s eyes had stopped tracking the movement of their shadows.

Not yet.