The days had settled into a rhythm.
Mornings began before sunrise with training. Might Guy's regimen was as brutal as ever, but Oliver had learned to match Lee in endurance. Push-ups, sprints, weight training—Guy's methods bordered on insanity, but they worked. His speed had nearly doubled, his reflexes sharper than ever.
After that came weapons training with Tenten. She challenged him constantly, testing his skill with tonfa, kunai, and shuriken. But most of all, she admired his archery, often debating strategies with him on how to make it more effective against ninja opponents.
Afternoons were different.
Rather than continue with physical training, Oliver had started spending time in the village library. It was there that he found his next path—one that would make him deadlier than ever.
The Forgotten Taijutsu Style
One day, as Oliver browsed through the library's restricted section (courtesy of a transformation disguise as an older shinobi), he stumbled upon an old, dust-covered scroll.
It was incomplete, torn at the edges, and many of the techniques inside were faded beyond recognition. But what caught Oliver's attention was the name.
"The Phantom Step Style – A Taijutsu of Evasion and Counterattack."
As he read through the first pages, his heart raced.
This wasn't like the brutal direct combat of the Strong Fist that Guy used. Instead, it focused on precision—dodging at the last possible second, redirecting enemy attacks, using their momentum against them.
It reminded him of something he had once seen back in his world.
"This… this is almost like Drunken Boxing. But refined."
The problem was that half the techniques were missing, leaving only the core principles.
But Oliver was no stranger to improvisation.
If this was incomplete, then he'd just have to complete it himself.
For the next few weeks, his training routine changed. He still trained with Guy and Lee, but now, he practiced footwork in secret. He tested movements in the dead of night, dodging thrown kunai, weaving between moving targets, disappearing from predictable attack paths.
He would make this style his own.
The Art of Seals
But taijutsu wasn't the only thing Oliver had taken an interest in.
Hinata had noticed his obsession with movement and control and had quietly recommended another field of study.
Fūinjutsu.
At first, Oliver had dismissed it. Seals? That sounded like something outside his skill set. But then Hinata explained.
"Fūinjutsu is about precision, control, and preparation. You don't have to be the strongest—just the smartest."
That had gotten his attention.
So, he had begun learning.
Basic storage seals at first—simple scripts that could hold weapons, tools, or food in small scrolls. Then, explosive tags—studying how they worked, how to place them strategically in battle.
It was a slow process, but he was learning.
And he had an idea.
"What if I could fuse archery and fūinjutsu?"
The thought excited him. If he could create arrows with special seals—explosive arrows, paralyzing arrows, or even tracking arrows—his combat effectiveness would increase dramatically.
It would take time. But he was patient.
Life Beyond Training
Despite everything, Oliver had carved out a life in Konoha. It wasn't easy, but he had found small joys along the way.
One of those joys? Cooking.
Since some villagers refused to sell him food, Oliver had learned to prepare his own meals. And as it turned out—he was good at it.
He often cooked with Lee and Tenten after training, making simple yet nutritious meals to replenish their energy. Rice, grilled fish, stir-fried vegetables—nothing fancy, but always flavorful.
One night, even Hinata joined them. She had been hesitant at first, but after tasting Oliver's miso soup, her face lit up.
"This is… really good, Oliver."
That moment stuck with him.
For all the hardship, all the suspicion, all the hostility from the village—these small moments of peace made it worth it.
He was still an outsider.
But he wasn't alone.
The Watchers in the Shadows
Yet, despite these moments of peace, Oliver knew the storm was coming.
The Anbu's surveillance had intensified.
More than once, he had caught glimpses of them watching his training. He knew they were waiting for something.
And soon, they would act.
He had to be ready.
Because Oliver Queen wasn't just surviving in this world anymore.
He was thriving.