▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The first day at the camp was a morning of sights, sounds, and smells that were utterly foreign to (Y/N). Everywhere she looked, there were men doing whatever they were doing-practicing swordplay, sharpening weapons they owned, and grumbling about the heat. As the sun blazed overhead, the chaos of the camp seemed to never stop. (Y/N) had made it her mission to keep her head down, not draw attention, and, most importantly, avoid any kind of interaction. After all, blending in was the key to her survival.

But just as she thought she might make it through the day unnoticed, fate had other plans for the plot.

She was walking past a group of men who were gathered around a fire, grilling something. She was minding her own business, when one of them-a guy with a face that looked like he'd never seen a boxing fight-spotted her. His gaze locked onto her, and suddenly, (Y/N)'s peaceful existence crashed down.

"Oi! You there!" He called out in his loud and deep voice, causing (Y/N) to freeze mid-step. She tried to act casual, but it was clear her cover was blown.

"Me?" she asked, keeping her voice low, her heart racing. "Uh, I think you might have the wrong person."

"Ha! You're one of those newbies, huh?" the man laughed loudly, as if the entire camp needed to hear his amusement and to add the fact that he's a newbie himself. "I like the way you look-you're the kind of guy who's got spirit!"

(Y/N) blinked, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected compliment. Did he just say I have spirit? she thought, her mind scrambling for a response. "Uh, yeah! Spirit, that's me, alright..."

"Perfect!" he grinned, slapping his massive hand on (Y/N)'s back, nearly sending her stumbling forward. "We need a guy like you in our group."

Before she could protest, another man stepped forward. This one was smaller but still built, with a mischievous gleam in his eye and a grin that never seemed to leave his face. He wasted no time in adding his own commentary.

"Yeah! We've been looking for someone with real potential," the small guy said, giving (Y/N) an exaggerated once-over, his eyes narrowing with playful scrutiny. "You look like you've got some muscle under that... uh, well, whatever that is you're wearing."

She froze, trying to pull her collar up higher to hide the obvious bump of her chest. "It's just... uh, you know... extra cloth to keep the sun off."

Small guy raised an eyebrow but didn't seem particularly convinced. "Right, sure. Sun protection," he said, crossing his arms and clearly sizing her up. "You don't fool me. I see the strength in your eyes." (Y/N)'s internal panic button started blaring, and just as she thought she might collapse under the pressure, another voice chimed in.

"Well, you sure as hell don't look like any of these other guys," said the third man, he was tall and somewhat buff, with a serious face and a deep voice that made her feel like she was being judged on every word she said.

Tall guy peered at her thoughtfully before continuing, "You've got a fire in you. I can tell. What's your name, buddy?" (Y/N), who had spent all night rehearsing how to introduce herself, that didn't sound completely ridiculous, blurted out, "Taro Inoue," hoping her tone would pass as believable.

"Inoue, huh?" Tall guy says, rubbing his chin as though trying to recall if he'd ever heard of such a name. "Sounds like a good one. I'm Taishi, by the way. This here's Tomohiro, Tomo for short" he gestured to the grinning small guy beside him, "and Tatsunori, the loud guy, obviously."

"Nice to meet you... I guess," (Y/N) mumbled, trying to keep her cool. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, but she quickly realized that these three were far too friendly for comfort. They weren't giving her a chance to escape.

Tatsunori leaned in with a grin so wide it looked like it could eat her alive. "So, Taro, we need you in our crew. We've got a system here, see? It's all about teamwork. You work with us, we look out for you. We get stuff done, and we make it out of here alive, right?"

"Right..." (Y/N) said weakly, her mind still racing. How do I get out of this without blowing my cover?

Tomo wasn't letting up either. "And we're all about fun here, too. You won't get bored in our crew. There's always something happening, whether it's training, eating, or... well, causing a little bit of trouble." He winked, and (Y/N) forced a chuckle that sounded more like a strangled gasp.

Taishi added, "Yeah, and we need all the strong people we can get. I mean, you do look like you've had some experience swinging a sword, right?" His tone was more serious now, his eyes studying (Y/N) carefully.

"Of course!" (Y/N) said a little too quickly, her heart thumping in her chest. "I-uh, I've... uh, trained a bit. Here and there. Mostly, uh, woodcutting and the like."

Tatsunori threw his head back and laughed. "Woodcutting, huh? Good enough for us. But we're gonna need you to do more than just swing a sword around. You've got to work hard to prove yourself here."

"Got it," (Y/N) said quickly, hoping she wouldn't end up in some kind of wrestling contest for their amusement. "I'll do my best."

The trio exchanged glances, as if confirming some silent agreement between them. "Alright, then. You're in!" Tomo said, clapping her on the back so hard she almost stumbled again. "You've got the job. Welcome to the group, buddy."

She blinked, a mix of dread and confusion swirling in her gut. This was not part of the plan. She was just trying to lay low, but now, it seemed like she had been adopted by this overly enthusiastic trio of men who were far too eager to have her join their band. As the three of them walked away, still chatting about their plans for the day, (Y/N) was left standing there, speechless. She had been pulled into their antics without even knowing how it happened.

"Well... that could've gone worse," she muttered under her breath, watching them head toward the training grounds. She was officially part of a group-whether she liked it or not. And with that, she sighed, realizing that her quiet, unnoticed life in the camp had just come to an end.

With a reluctant chuckle, she followed behind them, hoping the next few days wouldn't end in complete disaster. After all, they might be a little overbearing, but they could be worse. Right?

"Just don't make me fight anyone," she whispered to herself. "Or I'm done for."

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Yuki stood with his hands resting on his hips, looking over the group of recruits with a mix of disbelief and frustration. His brow furrowed as he scanned their clumsy attempts with the wooden staffs. Some were holding the weapon as if it were a mere branch, others swinging it with no control, and one-whose name Yuki couldn't quite remember-was holding it between his legs, as if it were some kind of giant broom.

A sharp sigh escaped his lips. He could feel his patience wearing thin. They really sent me this bunch of misfits. Yuki thought, rubbing his temples as his eyes darted over the disjointed movements. This is going to be a long training.

He glanced at the horizon, where the sun was beginning its ascent, casting a golden hue over the camp. The men around him-these so-called "soldiers"-lacked the discipline he had known from a young age. The men who'd been sent from every corner of the South were certainly strong, but their fighting skills were nonexistent. They didn't know the first thing about real combat.

"Did they send me daughters when I asked for sons?" Yuki muttered under his breath, his voice rising with irritation. He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his frustration. He needed to calm down. "You're the saddest bunch I've ever met," he said aloud, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

The group froze at his words, a few of them casting wary glances at each other. Yuki's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the ragtag group of men before him. He could hear the sound of someone stumbling behind him-probably one of them messing up again. Yuki didn't even turn around. "I'll make a man out of every one of you," he said, his voice firm and commanding now. He was going to break through their stubbornness and laziness. They had to learn, or they'd be useless on the battlefield.

With that, Yuki slowly removed his upper tunic, revealing his well-trained muscles. The men stopped fidgeting and turned their attention to him, their eyes wide as he adjusted the wooden staff in his hands. (Y/N), watching from the sidelines couldn't help but look away. Concentrate, for your family. She thought and composed herself.

Yuki assumed his stance, demonstrating the perfect form with slow, deliberate movements. He twisted the staff above his head, striking at imaginary opponents, then swiftly pivoted and spun, the wooden pole cutting through the air with precision. Yuki's movements were graceful yet lethal, each swing a testament to the countless hours of training he had endured in his own youth.

"Watch closely, you idiots," he said over his shoulder, his voice steady and cold. "This is how it's done." The others stared at him, some with their mouths slightly agape, others mimicking his motions awkwardly. Yuki bit back another sigh. At least they're trying. He paused for a moment, letting them catch up to the basics of the technique, before setting the staff down and turning to face them fully. "Alright, enough watching me. Now, you're going to practice. Let's see if you can follow through for once."

One by one, they picked up their staffs again, trying their best to mirror Yuki's movements. The results were, predictably, less than stellar. One man tripped over his own feet, another slammed the staff into the ground with a force that almost knocked him off balance. Yuki clenched his teeth. It's going to take everything I have to turn these guys into competent fighters.

After several more failed attempts, Yuki stepped forward, grabbing the closest man by the arm and yanking him upright. "What are you doing?" he says with a commanding voice "The point of the swing isn't to just whack at the air. You need control, precision. Like this." He demonstrated again, his hands moving so fluidly it was as if the staff was an extension of his body.

The man nodded, trying to imitate Yuki's movements, but his arms were stiff, and his stance wobbled as he swung the staff like a blunt object. "Again," Yuki commanded, exasperated, though there was a hint of determination in his voice. "Get it right this time. No more excuses."

They continued training until Yuki's patience was nearly exhausted, but each misstep they made only seemed to strengthen his resolve. He wasn't going to let these men fail. No matter how clumsy, how unskilled, he would teach them what they needed to know. As the sun set and the camp began to quiet down, Yuki allowed them a moment of rest, his voice echoing across the training grounds. "This isn't over," he warned them. "Tomorrow, we start again. You all better be ready."

A few groans echoed in response, but none dared argue. The camp had grown silent again, the men having been exhausted by their attempts, but they knew that with Yuki around, there would be no room for failure.

Yuki allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction, but his thoughts drifted to the bigger picture-the battle with the Northern clan that loomed on the horizon. These men may not be ready for battle now, he thought, staring at their tired faces. But I'll make sure they are. They'll learn what it means to fight. For the South.

With a resolute sigh, Yuki turned away from them and walked toward his tent. The night was growing colder, and tomorrow's work would be just as hard as today's.

But he'd see it through, no matter what.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

The sun beat down mercilessly on the training ground, the air thick with the scent of sweat and the faint smell of burning wood. The recruits were lined up, eyes narrowed against the morning light as Yuki stood before them, arms crossed, a look of stern determination on his face.

"Time is racing toward us, 'til the North arrives!" Yuki shouted, his voice carrying over the camp. He turned and motioned to the field ahead, where an array of grueling challenges awaited. The recruits looked on, unsure of what exactly Yuki had in mind.

First, they carried two heavy buckets of water through an obstacle course up the mountain, next the ran through a field lined with flaming arrows, each one arcing dangerously close to their heads as they dodged and weaved. They crossed a deep, rushing river, their balance tested as they teetered on the slippery rocks. They practiced archery, firing arrows at distant targets, struggling to maintain steady aim. Then came breaking bricks with their bare hands, a challenge that left their knuckles raw and their spirits even more so.

Finally, after days of relentless training, Yuki called for one-on-one sparring matches, each man facing a different opponent. They were out of breath, weak from the grueling exercises, and their stances wavered. But still, Yuki demanded more. He moved among them like a shadow, correcting form, offering harsh advice, his voice never wavering.

Despite their desperate attempts to keep up, the recruits were pathetic-sloppy with their stances, fumbling with their weapons, and unable to break through the exhaustion that hung on them like a heavy cloak.

The day had dragged on, and when the morning turned to blazing afternoon, Yuki saw it was time to introduce the next challenge. He raised his hand to signal the others to stop their training. He was drenched in sweat, his body tired from the day's efforts, but his focus never wavered. He reached for his bow and pulled an arrow from his quiver, notching it with practiced precision. With a fluid motion, he drew it back and let it fly, sending it high into the air. It lodged itself perfectly at the very top of a tall wooden pole.

"Retrieve the arrow, anyone who would like to volunteer?" Yuki's voice was sharp and commanding, his eyes scanning the group of recruits. Silence fell over them. They stood still, unwilling to step forward, afraid of failing-afraid of looking foolish.

Yuki waited, the tension palpable in the air. It seemed no one had the courage to be the first.

Tomo, muttered something under his breath, barely loud enough for Yuki to hear. "Psh, pretty boy..."

Yuki's eyes flickered with a knowing smirk. "Tomohiro? Care to go first?" he called, his voice cold yet teasing.

A few of the other recruits snickered, some even snorted in amusement. Tomo glared at them, his face flushed with embarrassment, but he couldn't back down now. He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders, already starting to move toward the pole.

But before Tomo could reach the base of the pole, Yuki raised a hand, stopping him.

"But before you do-" Yuki's voice rang out once more, and a servant quickly approached with a container, carrying a pair of heavy weights. Yuki took them, one in each hand, and slung them over Tomo's arms, forcing the man to balance the weight. The recruits gasped, some confused, others looking on in silence as Tomo struggled to bear the load.

"This represents strength," Yuki explained, his voice steady. He let go of the weights, allowing them to settle on Tomo's shoulders. "And this represents discipline." He gestured toward the other weight before looking up the towering pole where the arrow had lodged. "You need both to retrieve the arrow."

Tomo, grumbling under his breath, adjusted the weights and approached the base of the pole. He gripped it tightly, his fingers slipping slightly from the sweat on his hands. He began to climb, his muscles straining under the added burden. The pole creaked under his weight, but Tomo kept going, each movement slow and labored.

But it wasn't enough. Despite his efforts, Tomo could barely make it halfway up the pole before he lost his grip and tumbled to the ground with a loud thud. The other recruits winced at the sight. Tomo, breathing heavily, looked up at Yuki, who stood silently with his arms crossed, his eyes unreadable. Tomo's face flushed with embarrassment, and he stood slowly, wiping the dirt from his hands.

Yuki's gaze never left him as he spoke, his tone as sharp as a blade. "It's not just strength that you need. It's discipline. Without both, you'll never succeed. The North isn't waiting for us to catch up."

One by one, the recruits lined up, each taking their turn to attempt the climb. Each one failed in some form or another-struggling with the weight, their balance faltering, or simply not possessing the strength to climb the pole. It was a humbling sight. Some slipped and fell, others lost their grip in frustration. Even (Y/N) fell to her bum unceremoniously.

Yuki could only watch in silence as they tried, his expression stern. The arrow at the top of the pole remained untouched, a symbol of the challenge that none of them had yet overcome. It wasn't about the task itself-it was about the lesson.

Weaknesses must be revealed, Yuki thought to himself, his jaw tightening. Only through failure will they see what they need to work on.

The last recruit fell to the ground with a loud grunt, his hands scraped and bloodied from the effort. He looked up at Yuki, defeated. The others followed suit, each one sitting down, panting, catching their breath. Yuki walked away, the disappointment clear on his face. The arrow at the top of the pole was still there, untouched. And he would leave it there, for now. He didn't need it retrieved today. Not until they were ready.

He turned toward the recruits one last time, his voice echoing in the still air. "Tomorrow. We start again. And we won't stop until you've learned what it means to be warriors."

The men didn't say anything in response. They knew the meaning behind his words. They had failed today-but tomorrow, they would try again. And maybe, just maybe, they would succeed.

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

Unedited

Author's note:

Can y'all guess which Tomo befriended y'all? Ogawa or Yamamoto? I wanted to incorporate Yao, Ling, and Chien Po but I also wanted to keep the personalities of the three rjn players (Hopefully I did). Lovelots!

riariesquillᝰ.ᐟ