Only cowards choose to take their own lives.

Training grounds.

“Lower your hips a bit more—your squat isn’t right at all.”

“Remember, from today onward, stop obsessing over how many reps you can do. I don’t care if you manage two thousand push-ups, three thousand squats, or five thousand kicks. Those numbers are worthless, serving only to make you look hardworking.”

“That’s right, slow it down. I want you to take two minutes to complete a single slow squat. The same goes for the rest of your exercises.”

...

Kisame had transformed into a fitness coach, correcting Might Guy’s habitual training mistakes one by one.

Guy’s family was poor, without the means for a gym membership, so Kisame taught him bodyweight exercises—the so-called “prison workout.”

“Next, do a single slow push-up lasting five minutes. One arm only.”

Kisame set Guy a challenge.

With Kisame’s guidance, Guy placed his left hand behind his back, planted his right palm on the ground, tensed every muscle in his body, and began to lower himself at a painstakingly slow, steady pace.

Once at the lowest point, he held it for thirty seconds.

Then, at the same slow, steady speed, he pressed himself back up to the starting position.

Throughout, Guy’s face gradually flushed red, his whole body trembling as he struggled to maintain muscular control.

He barely managed to finish.

“How do you feel?” Kisame asked.

“Kisame, I only did one push-up, but it was more exhausting than doing hundreds the usual way! This training method is incredible.”

Guy’s face was a picture of amazement, fatigue mixed with excitement.

His body was tired, but his spirit was exhilarated.

Because, even in such a short time, under Kisame’s guidance, he could sense himself growing stronger.

“I’m only two years older than you. Drop the honorifics—just call me ‘brother.’” Kisame replied calmly.

“Alright, brother!” Guy snapped to attention and answered promptly.

At that moment, out of the corner of his eye, Guy suddenly spotted a familiar figure not far away.

“Kakashi, what are you doing here?”

He called out in surprise.

Oh?

Kisame also turned, following Guy’s gaze toward the entrance of the training grounds.

There stood a boy with white hair, a black facemask concealing his features, about one and a half meters tall.

With the mask covering the nose, mouth, and chin—those features that most define a face—one could hardly tell if he was handsome or ugly. But his demeanor was undeniably cool, the type most girls would find attractive.

“Guy, weren’t you looking for me?” Kakashi walked over, hands in his pockets, his voice cold.

He was aloof, not even glancing at Kisame as if the latter were nothing but air.

A complete dismissal.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Guy slapped his forehead, suddenly recalling that he’d arranged to ask Kakashi for advice about the Chunin Exams.

“My time’s short. I can only spare ten minutes.” Kakashi said, then gestured for Guy to follow him to a quieter spot nearby.

“By the way, this is Brother Kisame from the Hidden Mist—he’s also here for the Chunin Exams. Why not tell him about them too?” Guy, ever enthusiastic, drew Kisame over and introduced him to Kakashi.

Kakashi frowned and was about to refuse, but Kisame spoke first:

“No need. I have something to attend to at the hotel.”

“It’s alright, brother Kisame. I’ll take notes on everything Kakashi says and bring them to you later.” Guy said, already fishing out pen and paper.

Kisame smiled, patting Guy’s shoulder in thanks.

Then he looked at Kakashi and suddenly addressed him:

“I’ve long heard of the famed White Fang of the Leaf, Sakumo Hatake.

The Hatake sword style appears ordinary, but is simple and efficient—designed to end a fight in a single blow, with no unnecessary flourishes.

That philosophy aligns perfectly with my own unrestricted taijutsu, and I’ve always wanted to come to the Leaf and learn from you all.

But...”

Here, Kisame’s tone shifted, and he sighed with regret, “It’s a pity the White Fang was too soft-hearted, his nerves too fragile. To think he’d take his own life over a few idle rumors from the villagers.”

“What did you say?”

Kakashi’s heart was stabbed by those words. He glared at Kisame with eyes as cold as ice; tension crackled in the air.

His father, Sakumo Hatake, was a remarkable ninja.

But during one mission, Sakumo chose to save his comrades over completing the objective, which led to great losses for the village. He became the target of their resentment—even those he had saved turned on him in blame. In the end, he was pushed past his limit and took his own life.

Losing his father as a child dealt Kakashi a blow from which he never truly recovered; it closed him off emotionally, turning him into the cold, reserved, and rational person he became.

There’s a phrase—“dead mother’s face”—to describe someone who always looks as if they’ve lost a loved one.

Kakashi had lost his mother early, then his father to suicide; his face bore that expression, twice over.

Even so.

Though he harbored some resentment for being left behind by his father’s suicide, Kakashi would never allow anyone to slander him.

Because that man was always his hero.

“Oh? Did I say something wrong?” Kisame seemed utterly unconcerned, ignoring Kakashi’s furious gaze just as Kakashi had ignored him earlier.

Looking down from his greater height at the not-quite-one-point-five-meter Kakashi, he continued:

“Whether it was depression from village gossip, pressure from the higher-ups, or even some noble desire to protect his son...

Whatever the reason, whatever grand cause, suicide is the coward’s way out.

As long as you’re alive, any problem can be solved. Once you’re dead, nothing remains.

The men of the Leaf could use a little more backbone.”

If Kisame had been in Sakumo’s place, the village would have been awash in blood before he’d ever submit.

“Take back what you said.”

Kakashi raised his head, fists clenched, eyes locked on Kisame, killing intent swirling in his gaze.

He had graduated at five, become a Chunin at six, and at not quite eleven years old had completed hundreds of missions, his hands stained with blood.

He was truly capable of killing.

“I have no wish to argue. Since we’re both ninja, let’s settle this with our fists.” Kisame met Kakashi’s eyes unflinchingly, then pointed at the ground. “I’ve got urgent business today. If you want my apology, meet me here tomorrow at nine for a duel. Show me whether Sakumo’s son is as hollow as he thinks—or if you’re just another useless coward.”

With that, Kisame turned and strode away, leaving no chance for Kakashi to reply.