“There’s a common misconception among shinobi that chakra control makes them stronger… that by improving their control over their ability to mold and manipulate raw chakra, their jutsu will become more destructive or effective—this, however is a misunderstanding that has propagated far and wide,” Anko said as she slowly paced between the walls of a large room.

“What do you think?” she asked Takuma.

Takuma stood in the center of an empty room with nothing but his underwear on. There was a desk in front of him propped up tall on bricks till it was the height of a standing desk. There was a large tray on the desk with coarse sand of two colors in it—blue and red. There was a mound of the two colors mixed in the middle and two small piles of single-colored sand on either side of the tray.

“Chakra control helps in the efficient use of chakra; we waste a significant amount of chakra each time we use a jutsu. By improving control, the wastage goes down, and you’re able to do the same with less—thus the perception of increased strength,” his eyes were stuck to the tray as he answered, “but in truth they always had that strength, they just weren’t able to use it properly…”

Takuma pressed eight fingers into the mixed coarse sand mound, and pulled away the grains of sand with the entire length of his fingers. He stared intensely at his left hand as the red dyed sand grains fell one by one back into the mound; he winced each time a blue dyed grain fell. He did it until only the blue grains were left and then turned to his right-hand and did it again, this time with the colors reversed. When he was done, he dumped the separated sand into their respective piles.

Anko said, “Correct. Chakra control doesn’t make people stronger; it only makes them more efficient, and while it does increase their combat ability, we should be clear about the distinction.” She then yelled: “Thirty seconds!”

Takuma, halfway through separating the sand through targeted chakra adhesion, dropped the sand back into the mixed mound, wasting his progress, and thus increasing his irritation.

He moved to a fortified heavy punching bag hanging from the ceiling and threw an augmented jab. His arms, from the back of his fist to the top of his shoulders; his collar, shoulder blades, and his chest were covered in spaced-out smooth marbles through chakra adhesion. The moment he threw the augmented jab at the heavy bag, several of the marbles shuddered from the force and fell to the ground.

The marbles were polished smooth, making them slippery. Even a slight disturbance in chakra flow would make the adhesion come off—and augmented strikes were all about creating large disturbances. The chakra for the augmentation flowed from his lower abdomen, going up to his chest, then to his shoulder, before going down his arm and out of his fist. More than two dozen marbles were on that route, and if Takuma allowed the chakra flow for the augmentation to disturb the chakra flow for adhesion, the marbles would fall.

“Ugh!”

Takuma cursed. Every thirty seconds, he had to throw an augmented punch while ensuring that no marble came unstuck. The marbles coming free meant that he didn’t have sufficient control over his chakra flow. The purpose of the exercise was to perfect the chakra flow for augmented strikes— to use the least amount of chakra for the most damage possible, to mobilize the chakra as fast as possible, and to increase the ease with which Takuma could use augmentations.

He had gotten a nasty recoil from the augmented shoulder charge against Masumoto. It had opened a whole new dimension for Takuma in regard to augmentations, but it didn’t change that he hurt himself, and thus needed training. Anko had set the short-term goal of using augmentations from anywhere in his body without getting hurt—and the long-term goal of backing every taijutsu attack with augmentations no matter the situation.

“Pick ‘em up,” Anko ordered.

Takuma huffed as he pointed his open palm toward the floor. Chakra strings shot out of his fingertips and attached themselves to the fallen marbles. His face twisted in strain as the chakra strings pulled the marbles up. One of the strings snapped mid-way, making Takuma sigh deeply. He re-cast the line and snagged the last remaining marble on the second try.

When Anko had initially started training Takuma, they had devoted all of his time and effort up Takuma’s physical energies to correct his energy imbalance. But she had also promised to help him improve his chakra control, and after interviewing him on how he had been training his chakra control until then, she had devised a regimen to improve his chakra control.

Separating minuscule sand grains according to color and using chakra strings to pick up objects were two exercises Anko had him training for one hour every day… He did another hour at night in his own time.

But that was not all in Anko’s regiment.

“Focus!” she shouted at him. “The waves are becoming messy.”

Four water tentacles stuck out from the water mass on his lower back. The tentacles wriggled in a sine-wave pattern, with each tentacles moving at a different speed, creating waves of varying frequency and amplitudes. It was an exercise much similar to tracing a square with an index finger of one hand while the other index finger traced a circle simultaneously—but with more complexity and difficulty. It required Takuma’s constant attention to move the individual tentacles according to their own pattern and any slip up caused them to move at the same pattern and speed—which was a fail state.

Sweat dripped from Takuma’s chin as he focused on moving his tentacles. He had to become skilled enough with four tentacles before he moved up to eight, adding one tentacle at a time. It reminded him of his early days with Water Style: Eight Tentacles, he had to learn how to control the jutsu by increasing them one at a time.

“There’s another misconception, a much more important one,” Anko resumed her slow walk around the room. “Many shinobi believe that chakra control exercises increase their skill with their jutsu—they do not—chakra control exercises only make one chakra control efficient. If they actually want to improve their skill with their jutsu, there’s one sure-fire way to do it, and that is the repeated use of the jutsu.”

“Yes… I know.” Takuma continued to separate the sand. The grains were too small, and when he tried to unstick one of them, three around it would fall as well. The intention behind the exercise was to improve minute chakra movements until he could unstick one color in a single go rather than slowly unsticking them. “You have already told me this… which is why I have a clone doing my guard duties for me.”

Every morning, Takuma made two clones, using half of his substantially large pool of chakra. One of the clones would do his duties for the day, clean the room, and wash his gear and clothes, while the other clone would read complicated jutsu text, study up on topics, make reports and notes, and in the evening, the clone would sit down with Takuma and teach him what he had learned that day like his own personal tutor. Takuma still had to do self-study, spend time reading and comprehending the concepts, but the clone made it easier to digest the topics.

It wasn’t the cheat-like Shadow Clone Jutsu, but Takuma was getting his worth out of the Water Clone Jutsu.

The Eight Tentacle exercise and the thirty-second loop of chakra augmentation had the same concept of improvement through repetition.

The tentacles held his chopsticks and bowls for him, they bathed him, and half of his kunai and shuriken throwing practice was done with the tentacles. He threw out 120 augmented punches during his hour with Anko and another 120 at the evening training with his duty clone barking at him like a training instructor.

“Because you don’t listen to me, I have to keep repeating myself,” said Anko.

Takuma pursed his lips. Anko was still upset that he had sprung the Masumoto/Bishop plan at her at the last moment, leaving her no choice but to accept. She didn’t look like she was angry at him, but he knew that he was running on thin ice with her.

“Thirty seconds!”

Takuma jumped to the heavy bag and threw an uppercut this time.

“You’re sweating too much; keep hydrated,” Anko threw a water canteen at Takuma, caught by one of the tentacles.

“Taste a bit off, but thanks,” said Takuma after he emptied the water canteen in one go.

“Because it’s Daiki’s sweat,” said Anko, “all natural.”

Takuma and his tentacles froze for a moment but then calmed down the next second. It wasn’t salty, therefore not sweat. He shot the teasing Anko a look before going back to his training.

“So, what are you doing after this?” asked Anko.

“Rest,” said Takuma, shortly, moving over to the sand tray.

There were only five more minutes until the training session ended. He was going to rest and recuperate some of his chakra to train Earth Style: Earthen Dome a few times before his third physical workout of the day.

“So, you’re free, that’s good.”

As Takuma was separating the sand, most grains of both colors suddenly fell from his fingers. Thinking that he had made a mistake, he opened and clenched his hand before dipping his fingers back into the mound—which was when the marbles on the right side of his back hit the ground and rolled down the wooden floor.

“What the hell?” Takuma frowned as he raised his hand to shoot out chakra strings, only to find that his entire arm had gone numb. He shook it off, but the numbness climbed to his shoulder, and he found himself unable to lift it.

Within a few seconds, Takuma’s entire right side was numb, and he fell to his knees, unable to stand. The immobility rapidly spread to his left side, and with great difficulty, he turned his body toward Anko as all the marbles on his body fell and bounced off noisily before rolling away.

“Anko, h-help!” Takuma said with great difficulty as his mouth and tongue were also going out of function.

Anko stood there looking down at him with a closed-mouth smile. The smile struck Takuma with a revelation: Anko’s water canteen and the off-tasting water that she dismissed with a joke.

She had poisoned him!

“Y-You!”

Takuma could no longer stand and fell to the ground like a marionette-less puppet. The water tentacles failed before his fall, and he found himself drenched and lying in a small puddle on the floor. He could only stare at Anko while fear gripped his heart. He didn’t see it coming. Why would she do that? Yes, she was unsatisfied with his behavior, but not enough grounds for poisoning.

“Oh, shut up. You’re thinking too much,” Anko squatted near and lightly slapped his face. “I’m not trying to kill you, you stupid brat… This is a training exercise, which is why I asked if you had free time. I like you kid, why would I want to kill you? It’d be a different matter if we didn’t get along, though.”

A thin, yellow and black snake slithered out of Anko’s wide sleeves and climbed up to her shoulders. The snake’s slit eyes rolled this way and that as it stared at him with a low hiss. Then, to his surprise, the snake spoke,

“Don’t worry, kid,” the snake sounded peppy as if this was all hilarious. “It’s a mild paralyzing agent made from my venom. It’s a tested recipe, so don’t worry; you’ll be fine in three to four hours, depending on your constitution.”

Takuma could only make pathetic noises, losing his ability to speak.

“Do you remember when I was teaching Iori how to sober herself after drinking using chakra, and you wanted to learn it as well?” said Anko with a smile. “I hope you remember to do that because that’s how you escape this situation faster. It’s much more difficult than getting rid of the effects of booze, but you can get rid of this poison with that method—no antidote required.”

Takuma glared at Anko as she got up, doing his best to express the anger he was feeling. He fought against the paralysis and weakly flapped on the ground.

Anko sighed and squatted back down. She gently stroked his chin, looking into his rage-filled eyes.

“You wanted this,” she said.

Takuma wanted to yell and shout that he, by no means, wanted this—whatever this was.

Anko chuckled. “You were so excited when I told you I’d teach you my teacher’s methods. Remember?”

Takuma stopped struggling and went still on the ground, staring at Anko. He did, in fact, react that way. Until now, Anko’s regiment made sense in every way, and Takuma liked them very much because he could see the potential gains he would get in the future, but there was nothing uniquely “Orochimaru” about them except that they were all very smart and well thought out.

“This is how Orochimaru taught me chakra control,” she said. “You’re lucky, Takuma, that the effects will fade in three to four hours. The snake he used bit me directly, and that venom was much stronger—it lasted twenty-four hours, an entire day… I had no way to stop it and ended up shitting and pissing myself while trying to burn the poison away with chakra. You probably might do that as well, but the chances are lower than mine. I don’t want to embarrass you, after all.”

The snake laughed at Takuma from Anko’s shoulder as she stood up.

“I will be back in three hours to check on you, but I expect you to free yourself before that and come find me.” Anko turned and walked away. She was out of Takuma’s sight and at the door when she spoke again. “Get used to this; we’ll be doing this every day from today onwards. A different venom every day—some more annoying than others.

“As long as you don’t give up, I’ll see to it that you compete with the likes of iryo-nin and fuin-nin.”

The next thing Takuma heard was the door closing, and he was left all alone.

For a few minutes, Takuma did nothing but lay limp on the wet floor. Eventually, however, he started to run chakra through his body to burn the venom’s effect from his body.

If Anko could deliver on her promise just now, he would do anything she asked of him.