Naruto: The Outsider's Resolve: CH_330

"Takuburo... you have no talent for the sword."

Deno Takuburo was crushed when he heard those words at the tender age of eight from his teacher, who immediately took back his words, but it was too late as they were engraved in his mind from that day forth.

He held no intrinsic interest towards kenjutsu. He wanted to learn it because it made him feel closer to his father, who, like countless others, had lost his life in the Third Shinobi World War. He liked going through the basic kata in the backyard, just like his father did first thing every day. He cherished his mother's smile when she saw him with a sword, commenting on how much he resembled his father. He wished to grow worthy enough to wield his father's sword, the only thing of his father's that had returned from the battlefield.

Takuburo was grateful for those words spoken by his father's close friend, who had volunteered to teach him kenjutsu alongside his own son. For the first time in his life, he became serious about pursuing something because he wanted to prove those words wrong.

Alas, his teacher's words came to be true.

He had no talent.

Within a year, he was outclassed by his teacher's son, who trained only half as seriously. Takuburo's technique was nowhere as polished despite working twice as hard, and their sparring record was so lopsided because he only won when his opponent made a lazy mistake or threw the spar to give him a win. Takuburo felt furious when the latter happened but couldn't show his anger because, just like the fathers, the son had also become close friends—he knew that his friend was only trying to look after him, even though it was absolutely infuriating to be given wins as charity.

Takuburo wanted to win. If his talent wasn't enough, he decided to compensate through effort. He worked harder, twice as long, and by the time academy graduation arrived, the situation had turned around. His best friend couldn't hold a candle to him when it came to technique, and they had stopped because they were too far apart in skill.

"I have talent," Takuburo declared to his teacher on graduation day, the day he became a shinobi. He had proved the words wrong.

That day, his teacher nodded with a smile and congratulated him with a brand new sword. He wanted to use his father's sword, but it wasn't an appropriate fit yet, making him grateful for the gift. He wholeheartedly thanked the man who had grown beyond his father's friend to a father figure.

However, the young Takuburo missed the true feelings behind his teacher's smile upon hearing the bold declaration. The words that were unsaid that day... he would understand them in the near future.

Takuburo passed the jōnin team test and trained under a jōnin right out of the academy. Being a genin wasn't tough except for the number of duties—between missions, team and personal training, and spending time with his friends and family, he wasn't left with much time to himself. He didn't mind it, as each day was fulfilling. He wanted to be someone his father would be proud of, so he gave it his all daily.

One and half years passed quickly, and their team registered for the Chunin Exams.

"Dear, you should take this with you," said his mother as she placed his father's sword in his hands. "You're ready for this. Make him proud."

He vowed to do just that.

They travelled to the Hidden Sand for the exams, a rare opportunity to see another major hidden village he greatly appreciated. He managed to reach the final round on his first try and confidently faced his opponent.

"What a disappointment," said the Hidden Sand genin as he mockingly gazed down at Takuburo on his knees. "I looked forward to fighting one of you tree-huggers because you were strutting around so arrogantly. But, this is it? Come on, why did you even bother to come?"

Takuburo didn't hear his opponent nor the proctor declaring the fight over. His gaze and attention were affixed on the shattered remains of his father's sword. It was the thing that connected him to his late father, but here it was—broken.

Since he had become a genin, he had fought and sparred against many kenjutsu users, and he barely lost against peers his own age when it came to kenjutsu. He was proud of his skill and thought as long as it wasn't someone with drastically more experience, he wouldn't lose to them when it came to wielding a sword.

His final-round opponent was a kenjutsu user of the same age as him, but he was humiliated beyond anything he had faced. He wasn't given a single chance to be on offence and was forced to be on defence, desperately trying to hang on and not getting defeated.

He got toyed along like he was a plaything.

As he stared at the shattered blade, Takuburo recalled his teacher's smile he couldn't recognise because he was too young. It was the smile of someone who didn't have the heart to tell a child the truth and break his heart.

He was not given a rank promotion upon his return to the village.

"... Takuburo, I think it would be better if you shift your focus away from kenjutsu to ninjutsu," said his jōnin teacher. "You shouldn't put all your eggs in one basket. Versatility is important for a shinobi..."

Takuburo understood what his teacher was tactfully trying to tell him without hurting his feelings. He had been under his tutelage long enough for the jōnin to know the value of kenjutsu in his heart.

It was his way of telling him what was told to him all those years ago.

He had no talent for the sword.

"I-I... see," Takuburo bowed his head.

He followed the advice and allotted more time to ninjutsu than before. The changes and guidance paid dividends. He was promoted to chunin after four more years and continued working hard for years until he found himself before something he didn't think he would ever see.

"We are impressed, Chunin Takuburo... How would you like to work for ANBU?"

Soon after, Campbell was born.

———
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Campbell gazed at the rookie he was teaching the basics of the kenjutsu. He took the assignment because he was promised more time off he wanted because he wanted to travel with his mother.

It had only been four days since they had started their lessons, but it was clear to him that Takuma was not a prodigy. Seeing that he was only fourteen years old, Campbell wondered if he was one of those logic-defying prodigies, but he seemed extraordinarily ordinary. Campbell also thought he was a genius in some other field. However, upon reading the personnel file, he was started at what someone so young had accomplished and understood why Takuma had been inducted into the ANBU.

"How am I doing?" asked Takuma as he repeated the basic downward slash.

"Below average," Campbell said bluntly.

He believed in the usefulness of sugar-coating words and white lies, but there were times when the hard truth was needed. Takuma would be a field operative, and overestimating their capabilities was one of the worst things an operative could do. It put everyone, including the operative at risk.

"Hmm, I figured," Takuma said nonchalantly.

Campbell raised a brow. He expected some anger, excuses, or at least disappointment, but indifference wasn't characteristic of someone his age. It reminded him of the youngest Captain ANBU had ever seen.

"I have never been a quick learner. It will take me a long time before I am satisfied with the results of my efforts." Takuma stopped swinging for a moment and sighed. "And it's not like I'm in a place where I can polish my skills by fighting myself bloody every other day," he almost sounded nostalgic before he returned to swinging the sword.

"Don't you think it would be better to find something that you're good at instead of toiling away at something with an uncertain future?" asked Campbell.

Takuma stopped again and seemed to be in thought before starting,

"...My mother told me that when she was young, she excelled in everything she picked up—be it sports, academics, or arts—everything came easy to her. But everyone has things they aren't good at, and she, too, came across things like that. People called her a 'genius', so there was also pressure to be good at everything she attempted to stand up to the expectations, so she would drop anything that she didn't pick up quickly... Eventually, she grew up, and there was less time to explore new things, so she even became even more picky and only picked things that clicked instantly—until one day, she realised how much she had missed out on because she abandoned everything that wasn't easy for her."

Campbell had observed Takuma for the few sessions they had met, and the rookie kept his thoughts and emotions close to his chest. But right now, there was a look of sad longing on his face, his feelings were on his sleeve.

He knew Takuma was an orphan from his file.

"It affected everything in her life. That way of thinking bled into everything in her life—relationships, career, lifestyle—everything that showed resistance, she would throw it away... She told me she had a lot of regrets and didn't want me to go through the same. She said to give things a fair chance before I give up." Takuma chuckled as though remembering her joke. "Unfortunately, I didn't inherit her talent, so if I start abandoning things that don't come easy to me, I will be left with nothing. And I put a lot of weight into effort... As you said: Effort isn't all it's cracked up to be, but it won't disappoint... I believe as long as I put in effort, I will get results."

Takuma wore clothes that covered his entire body, but Campbell could tell he wore a complete set of weighted gear. He didn't know how heavy the gear was, but he deduced it was heavy, seeing how much Takuma was struggling against the strain. He also deduced that Takuma was used to wearing weighted gear because his movements weren't awkward like one would expect from someone who was just starting out.

Even though Takuma was talking, the swings weren't made absentmindedly and were full of focused attention and intention. He wasn't just swinging for the sake of it and calling it hard work; he was someone who cared about the quality of work he was putting in.

This was someone who knew what it truly meant to put in effort. And that was perhaps the problem. Campbell knew how people who believed in the value of effort thought like. They put their entire faith in the ideal of hard work, and because of that, they shattered when they faced reality's bitterness.

—Effort isn't all it's cracked up to be, but it won't disappoint—

Even though Takuma returned those words to him, Campbell didn't think the young shinobi understood what the words meant. They were cruel words disguised as motivation.

"...What will you do if the results of your efforts are not enough?" asked Campbell, clenching his fists behind his back.

"I will judge and analyse the situation to find a smart way to redirect my efforts," Takuma said as he continued to swing the wooden sword.

Campbell's clenched fist loosened as his shoulders eased imperceptibly. He nodded because that was the right answer. The kid was smarter than him, and even if he didn't completely understand the bitterness, he was at least on the right path.

He picked up his wooden sword and walked to Takuma.

"You are doing it wrong. Move your foot back. Let me show you."

———

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A/N: So, Campbell is going to be a recurring character. I have a direction for where I want to take him and how he's going to connect to Takuma—but there is not a lot of stuff I don't know about him yet. However, I do know that his story will revolve around 'effort and hard work', but it will go in a different direction than people like Gai and Lee.