Reluctant Cultivator in Konoha

literatureNero · Saturday at 8:16 AM

Champjklccmk said:
AN:

Sorry about the previous version. Fixed the spacing!

Prologue

It worked!

Why did it work?

It shouldn't have worked.

What the fucking fuck?

My mind was awhirl. Sweat drenched my whole body, causing my clothes to stick uncomfortably close to my skin. No strength reached my limbs and my lungs felt devoid of air.

Yet, all of that was ignored.

Chakra flooded my pathways, which isn't all that strange. I was learning to be a shinobi of Konoha, after all. Our class was taught to use this energy a few months back and every single one of us has succeeded to varying degrees.

But not like this.

It was just a passing fancy. A lark. Nothing should have come of it.

The denser, purer particles of spiritual matter currently flowing through my body proved otherwise.

Was this always possible? How did no one figure this out? Konoha spawned some of the most powerful monsters in the world! Not to mention the Warring States era that preceded its founding.

The Kages. The Sannin. Shit, the sages who made nature energy their bitch!

None of them? I refuse to believe that.

Still, what I accomplished was undeniable. I actually cultivated chakra and its effects were already showing.

Vision, hearing, taste, touch, and smell. All my senses have been enhanced.

Then the full implications of what I'd done hit me like a Rasengan to the gut.

"What am I going to do?" I couldn't help asking out loud in dread.

Chapter 1 - Time-skip no Jutsu!

Tell me if you've heard this story before. Some dude dies (doesn't matter how) and somehow finds himself in a place that's supposed to be fictional.

I've certainly read my fair share of those. Mostly to pass the time. Never because I actually wanted to experience it.

Yet, here I am.

No, I'm not going into the whole 'getting squeezed out between my new mother's thighs' schlop. I was born, I grew up, and now I'm learning to be a ninja.

Dear god, I still flinch when I think that word.

'Ninja.'

Before you start reaching for those pitchforks, I've got nothing against anime enthusiasts. I watched a few, myself.

I'm what you would call a 'filthy casual' or something. Fanfiction and web novels were as far as my 'nerd cred' extended. What can I say? They helped stave off boredom.

But, back to the main point: Inexplicably finding myself in Konoha.

My status? Civilian. My parents owned a store selling general goods. Nothing exciting.

As for my (ugh!) ninja abilities – until today, I had none. No, seriously, I was painfully average.

Even with my retained mental faculties, I had absolutely zero luck with gaining any kind of advantage expected of someone in my situation. To a certain degree, I understood why a lot of the fics I used to read exaggerated crucial details. If they made the main character's life too hard, it wouldn't be fun.

Unfortunately for me, this isn't fanfiction. This world had actual rules and imposed serious limitations.

Take chakra, for example. Some stories made sensing and using it sound simple. As a newborn, you had all the time in the world. So, it should be easy to focus on finding your chakra, right?

Wrong!

I spent months trying and all I managed to do was scare my parents into thinking I had severe constipation. This didn't change until I got into the academy, where chakra use was strictly regulated.

Yeah, who would have thought that teachers wouldn't want to just hand little kids a live grenade before sending them out to play? Well, when there wasn't a war going on, that is.

Different times, different rules.

And I'm getting off topic again. Where was I?

Ah! Chakra, yes. So, no, I couldn't use chakra until I got to the academy. I could, however, start preparing for my inevitable entrance into 'child soldier university' in several ways. Namely, exercise and reading.

By now, some of you might be wondering why I would want to be a ninja in the first place. I'm not the main character. There was no clan name or great legacy forcing me down the path of blood and violence.

My family wasn't rich, but we were fairly well off. I could have gone to regular school (yes, they have those here) and helped out with our store. If I were an actual native of this reality, I might have done just that.

But I wasn't. I knew stuff. Stuff that would inevitably find me, even if I didn't go looking for it.

To my admittedly limited knowledge, Konoha would be attacked twice. Once by Orochimaru and then by that Pain dude. Or was it Pein? Never mind, doesn't matter.

Why not just leave, you ask? How? How would I do that?

Even forgetting the fact that I had parents who had built a life here, there's no internet in this world. No convenient transportation systems, either. The most advanced form of widely available mode of mobility is the steamboat.

You know what else is here? Bandits. No, not just bandits. Ninja bandits. The kind who reduce civilian caravans into slurry on the regular.

How do you think hidden villages pay their highly skilled, highly trained cannon fodder who never got any screen time? Escort or guard detail, that's how.

Living out in the boonies isn't any better, either. Bandits attack smaller towns and villages too.

Ironically, Konoha is one of the safest places to live in if you were a civilian. Until it isn't.

So, where does that leave me?

Well, if I can't count on others to protect me and those I care about, I'll have to do it myself. Problem was, I turned out to be supremely untalented in all things ninja.

Hear me out before you start calling me a lazy bum, making excuses, and never putting in the work.

I'm not saying that I'm completely hopeless. That would be Naruto (relax, we'll get to him later). But for all of my perceived advantages and preparations, I was still completely outclassed by some of the kids I got to school with.

A few names are fairly obvious, with Sasuke being right at the top of the list. But Kiba, Shino, and even Hinata were all kicking my ass.

It's hard to even describe how fast these named characters were, even as children, or how hard they can hit. The first time I went up against the Hyuga girl, for example, was also the first fight of the Taijutsu class. I don't know if I was just unlucky or if this was part of some planned match-up.

Either way, I got the absolute stuffing beaten out of me.

She didn't even use her eye thing! And her attacks? Dear god, they were indescribable. Those tiny hands packed so much force that a later examination revealed microfactures all over my arms and chest.

How did anyone ever consider this tiny terror weak?

By the end of the day, she did come over to apologize for hurting me and I admit, it yielded some complicated feelings.

On one hand, she didn't mean to be so rough. On the other, I couldn't get my head around the fact that this was the same person who showed me a glimpse of how vicious ninjas can be. The two concepts just wouldn't merge.

In the end, I could only give her a strained smile and tell her there were no hard feelings.

Things didn't really get much better from there.

Practically all of the clan kids were better than me at fighting. I did better than the other civilians, but that's not saying much. As for Naruto…

Look, it's complicated, okay?

He's got stamina for days and even though his technique was atrocious, he didn't need it when facing me. The kid was a pure brawler and while Sasuke had the skills to take him down with no issue, I found the hellion a lot more challenging.

Not because he was better at combat than I was.

It's because He. Would. Not. Stay. Down!

When we first fought, I moderated my strikes like I did with the other civilians. That turned out to be a mistake. When the spar finally ended with me as the victor (barely), my fists, knees, and elbows felt like ground meat.

I've only fought him four times in the nearly three years we've been at the academy, and I thanked Lady Luck every day for this boon.

Regarding the rest of the schooling aspects, I was doing quite well! While not exactly a genius, I was raised in a house of academics in my previous life. So, I've made use of a few effective methods to make studying more productive. I even shared these methods with my classmates, though, only those who didn't come from clans.

Those brats already had plenty of advantages. I wasn't giving them another one.

Did I share it with Naruto? I suppose this is a good spot in this long and winding monologue to talk about him.

Now, we all know his story. Ostracized by people through no fault of his own, the protagonist grows up lonely and isolated. Some self-inserts then enter the picture and all of Naruto's troubles disappear.

Hurray!

As with all things related to him, though, it ain't that simple.

Contrary to what quite a few what-if stories depict, the villagers weren't actually cruel to him. They didn't chase him away, form mobs while chanting "Burn the demon!" or go out of their way to make his life miserable.

No, Naruto was ignored and neglected.

One could argue that this was still bad and I would agree. It also, unfortunately, left my hands tied.

Had I been born an orphan, our team-up would have been swift and legendary. But I wasn't. Instead, I had parents. Parents who would become targets if I went anywhere near Kurama's container.

Not just by the other mundane inhabitants of Konoha, either. But by other ninjas, Root…Danzo.

You see my problem?

On top of that, I didn't have any cheat skills or convenient gifts from ROB to get me out of trouble. I had to make a choice and I chose my family.

This wasn't to say that absolutely nothing changed for Naruto. At school, I could get away with giving him some assistance. I just had to frame it the right way.

While helping my fellow civilians, I could also toss some advice or useful observation his way. It didn't always work, but he wasn't as bad as he was portrayed in the source materials. I also asked questions and clarifications in class as often as I could get away with. If it ended up helping Naruto understand the lessons better, well, that's not my fault.

At the end of the day, though, I'm severely limited in how much I can change things. Take the Uchiha clan massacre, for example. Given everything I told you about my time here, could I have done anything to prevent it?

Don't bother, the answer is no. I'm basically a nobody here, with all that entails.

Or, I was.

Which brings us to what happened today. See, I've been training to use my chakra for a while now. As it turns out, you really do need the assistance of an experienced teacher to even get started. By exposing us to their chakra, the academy's instructors acted like car batteries to jumpstart our own sleeping potential.

Not the best analogy, but I'm sticking with it.

Naturally, the clan kids didn't need such distasteful methods since they had mommy and daddy to help, the pampered little shits.

…

Okay, I may have grown bitter at some point.

Moving on, I considered my chakra awakening the true start of my journey toward power. Alas, it wasn't that easy. Control came easily enough, but I had such paltry amounts that I may as well not have had any.

Thanks to my meta knowledge, I was able to increase how much chakra I had through some grueling training, but the improvements were miniscule. Half a year later, my capacity was only a little above what someone from my background should possess. Not bad. But not good, either. Especially for what's coming.

So, there I was, in one of the least-frequented training grounds in Konoha, resting against a tree after busting my ass off for little to no gain. It was a Saturday and I had already spent hours walking up and down its trunk to hone my control and expend my store of chakra.

Of all the options via fanfiction that I've tried, this was really the only one to produce measurable results. That I was able to do it at all while would have been a major accomplishment given my relative youth. But knowing what I did, it also highlighted how badly I stacked against my contemporaries in chakra capacity.

Unfortunately, I've simply exhausted all other reasonable possibilities.

And this is where the trouble started.

It began as a stray thought, really. A spark of insight where the similarities between chakra and chi started dancing in my mind. Thinking of chi got me thinking of all the myths and legends about it back on Earth. And following that trail of ruminations somehow brought about memories of fics involving young masters, magical plants growing in random places, and flying swords.

This then got me thinking of absurd possibilities. Ridiculous possibilities. Impossible possibilities…

…Might have gone too far with that last one, but the point is – could it be? Well, why not? I've already tried everything else. This is just the proverbial kitchen sink I have yet to throw, so throw, I shall.

Having made up my mind, I then had to consider how I would even start. Do I just…think really hard?

Should I curse at the sky until the heavens strike me down with lightning?

Fuck it, the KISS methodology, it is.

Closing my eyes, I focused inward to feel out my chakra. Through constant practice, my control now allows me to move the energy through my pathways at the speed I want. What I haven't tried yet, however, was compressing the stream of jutsu fuel in my body.

You know, like how those cultivators supposedly get stronger while hiding in their closets.

As I was doing this, the similarities between the concepts governing this reality and those stories I remembered became more difficult to ignore. Chakra and Chi or Qi. Tenketsu and Meridians. Chakra Coil and Dantian.

I'm sure I got some of those wrong, but that's not important right now.

Not when I started noticing tangible developments with this approach. Kicking my mounting disbelief down to the abyss of my consciousness, I started putting in more effort to compress and circulate my chakra all over its pathways.

Finally, after literal hours of me doing this, I felt a shift that was nearly impossible to describe to someone who couldn't feel chakra. The best way I can put it would be like switching to 4K resolution after watching YouTube at 240p for most of your life.

When I opened my eyes, I knew deep in my soul that my life was never going to be the same ever again.

It took me far longer than I'd like to admit before I calmed down enough to go home. At that point, night had already fallen, and my folks were worried sick.

They grounded me for a week.

I would've protested, but honestly? The punishment gave me an excuse to hid- I mean, spend more time at home. I had to get a handle on this problem before school started, but I didn't know where to even begin.

A few tests in my room immediately made a few things clear, however.

My chakra flowed more easily than it ever did. It responded to my wishes like an eager puppy, unaware that its very existence is putting my life in danger. While I did appreciate the difference that its new (density? purity?) quality is making in weaving jutsu, I was more interested in avoiding attention.

Konoha is constantly being monitored. The Yamanaka clan has incredible sensors and don't even get me started on the ninja working at T&I. That they didn't immediately track me down after my reckless discovery was a miracle on its own.

Still, I'll be going back to school tomorrow and I'll be surrounded by teachers. All of whom are ninja and are bound to notice the changes in my chakra.

Do I quit the academy? It wouldn't be strange. Civilian students drop out all the time.

But then my parents would ask questions. The teachers would ask questions. What excuse could I possibly give that wouldn't lead to more, well, questions? I wasn't exactly struggling and I practically had to beg before I was allowed to enroll in the first place.

So, what? Just go to class and pretend that nothing happened? Play dumb when the inevitable inquiries start raining down on me?

Lying in bed, I groaned into a pillow.

How did such a stupid test end up trying a noose around my neck? Even now, I still can't believe that no one else has made this discovery. After thinking about it more, it's so stupidly obvious!

We were already practicing chakra control. Sage training existed in this world. What? Did no one wonder what would happen if you compress those energies and rapidly circulate them around the body's local network of pathways?

Then there are the biju, tailed beasts that are basically just masses of chakra given form. That last part shouldn't be possible without compression. Chakra dissipated when it escaped the body. So, the biju must be drawing in their energy to a fixed point, thus making their chakra denser.

Of course, none of this is confirmed. For all I knew, I could be completely wrong. But they are a good jump-off point to cultivation.

There wasn't any indication that someone made this connection, though. Not in the anime. Not in any of the fanfiction I used to read. Heck, not even in our academy books and scrolls, and I've read practically all of them.

I was trying to get ahead, okay? Sue me.

Without any point of reference, I wasn't sure how the changes in me would be perceived. Will I be treated as a spy? Will they think that I was replaced by a foreign shinobi?

By the end, I couldn't think of a solution, so I went back to school a trembling mess. Naturally, my parents noticed and I gave the excuse that I didn't get enough sleep. My mother wanted me to stay home for the day, but that would just be putting off the inevitable, so I convinced her I'd be fine.

At the academy, some of my classmates made comments about me looking like a corpse warmed over. I gave them the bird.

Strangely enough, classes started as they usually did. Some of the teachers did ask if I was okay, and I used the same excuse I gave my parents. I was chided for being so irresponsible, but that was about it.

It was during Taijutsu that things took a turn for the worse. In hindsight, I should have expected it. It was always Taijutsu class.

Expecting to get my ass handed to me, as usual, I squared off against Kiba. Cue obligatory taunts and boasting by my opponent, followed by Naruto screaming encouragement and vitriol at the sidelines.

When Iruka gave the signal to begin, Kiba charged straight at me, fully confident that I wouldn't be able to deal with his speed. This was certainly the case every time we sparred in the past.

Now, though? He was much slower than usual. Not in the 'moving through syrup' way. More like he was just a regular kid with no special training.

As such, he was much easier to follow and counter.

Full disclosure: the prospect of finally winning a fight against one of the clan kids completely pushed my chakra issue out of my mind.

He swiped, I ducked, grabbed the offending limb, twisted my hips and legs, and then threw Kiba out of the ring. From the look on his face, the Inuzuka clearly wasn't expecting that. It would have been funny if it wasn't for the deafening silence that followed.

Then I remembered and froze.

Oh, fuck.

"Kenta."

I was fucked. Utterly and completely fucked.

"Kenta!"

Root was going to find me. Danzo will give me to Orochimaru and I'll be dissected on a lab table, probably while conscious.

"Shiozaki Kenta!"

Or maybe I'll be taken to T&I where Ibiki will pull out my fingernails and–

Before I could spiral any further, hands grabbed my shoulders and I blinked. Iruka was there, kneeling in front of me, face full of concern and worry.

"You back with us, Kenta?"

I didn't trust myself to speak, so I jerkily nodded my head instead.

"What happened?"

The question was simple enough. It should have been easy to answer. But out of nowhere, all the stress, anxiety, frustration, and humiliation that I've accumulated over the years hit me all at once.

"I don't wanna die, sensei."

The choked sob escaped me before I could stop myself.

Chapter 2
My fingers curled into the fabric of my pants, the echo of Kiba's crash landing still reverberating in the stunned silence of the training field. The other students stared, some wide-eyed, others slack-jawed.

But those were the least of my concerns.

Oh no. Oh no.

Iruka's eyes were wide in alarm, his mouth open in shock.

Why would you say that? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Before the spiral of self-berating thoughts could tighten any further, a loud voice shattered the tension.

"Yeah! Take that, dog breath!" Naruto whooped, pumping both fists into the air with all the subtlety of an exploding tag.

And just like that, the vice clenching my heart loosened its grip.

"What'd you say, you idiot?!" Kiba barked, scrambling upright, his earlier disbelief replaced by the more familiar scowl of bruised pride.

"You heard me! How'd you like the taste of dirt?" Naruto stuck his tongue out for good measure.

The argument flared instantly, the kind of noisy, over-the-top chaos I usually found exhausting. Today, it was a gift from the gods. A perfect distraction.

Iruka sighed, rubbing his temples, "Alright, that's enough! Naruto, back to your spot. Kiba, get over here."

Naruto stuck out his tongue again as Kiba snarled, but both obeyed with only a few grumbles. Then Iruka turned to me.

"Kenta, are you alright?"

I swallowed hard.

"Y-Yeah. Just tired."

Iruka didn't press. He gave me a long, assessing look, then nodded.

"We'll talk later if you want. For now, you and Kiba make the seal of reconciliation."

Once we did, Iruka told us both to take a seat.

I nodded and made my way to the benches, legs suddenly shaky. My pulse still thudded in my ears, but Naruto and Kiba's commotion had given me the time I needed. My breathing was gradually evening out.

That... could have gone so much worse.

I just had to hold it together for a little longer.

I sat as still as I could, trying not to draw any more attention.

It didn't work.

Whispers drifted through the air. I caught snippets: "Did you see that?" "It was so fast!" "Kiba got tossed."

Someone actually whistled.

I kept my head down and stared at the dirt beneath my feet, doing my best impression of someone too exhausted to care. If I were fortunate, they'd chalk it up to luck. A freak accident. Kiba had overextended. I'd reacted on instinct. Nothing worth talking about by next week.

I hoped.

Naruto's argument with Kiba had bought me precious seconds. Iruka's professionalism kept it from escalating. But the classroom jungle operated by its own rules, and kids noticed.

I couldn't afford to stand out.

Letting out a slow breath, I catalogued what had happened. My movements during that match weren't anything flashy. If I played it cool, I might be able to pass it off as the result of extra training.

And Naruto... bless that chaotic little menace. The boy could derail an entire funeral with his mouth, and today, that trait had probably saved my skin. Between him and Kiba yelling at each other, most of the attention had been siphoned off me.

I reminded myself to never admit that out loud.

All right. Don't panic. Stay boring. Fade back into the middle of the pack.

Just a normal civilian kid doing his best.

And maybe getting lucky once in a while.

Dinner that night was curry, Mom's go-to for cold or stressful days. I didn't know which she'd had, but my guess was both. The scent hit me the moment I walked through the door: garlic, ginger, and something spicy enough to clear sinuses.

"Welcome home," she called from the kitchen. "Wash up and set the table, please!"

"Yes, Mom," I replied, kicking off my sandals and heading straight for the sink.

The table was already half-set, like always. My father's habit of leaving out the plates and letting me finish the rest was a kind of unspoken ritual. It wasn't a big thing, but it was consistent and comforting. Like the slight clatter of chopsticks on ceramic. Like the squeak of Mom's apron as she moved between pots.

When the three of us finally sat down, the silence lasted all of three seconds.

"You look like you went twelve rounds with a wild boar," Dad said bluntly, peering at me over his glasses. His sharp, dark brown eyes studied my posture like I was a complicated receipt.

"I'm fine," I said, mechanically scooping rice into my bowl.

"You're pale," Mum added, brow creased. "And you've barely touched your curry."

"I just sat down."

Dad raised an eyebrow.

"Not denying the pale part, though."

I sighed and leaned back slightly.

"We had sparring drills today. I was paired with Inuzuka Kiba."

Mom clicked her tongue.

"Those Inuzuka boys. Always so reckless."

"His dog wasn't there, was it?" Dad asked immediately. "You'd tell us if you were fighting animals, right?"

I resisted the urge to snort.

"No, Akamaru's still too young for that. It was just Kiba. I got lucky."

Dad and Mom exchanged a glance. Not suspicious, exactly, but knowing. The sort that said they'd heard me pull this kind of excuse before.

Which I have.

"Well," Mom said, ladling more curry onto my plate even though I hadn't asked, "luck or not, don't let him hit your head. We don't want to test how thick your skull really is."

"I'm starting to think the academy's harder on civilians," Dad muttered, stabbing a potato chunk with intent. "They expect you to keep up with all those clan kids. Ridiculous."

I winced. My first bout with Hinata remains unforgotten by Pops, it seems.

"We knew it wouldn't be easy," Mum replied softly. "But he wanted this."

That earned me a pointed look from both of them. I offered a half-hearted shrug.

"Still do."

It wasn't a lie. Not completely. Dad sighed and leaned back, one hand resting on his still-full bowl.

"You sure nothing else happened? You're twitchier than usual."

That was harder to answer.

"I just pushed myself too hard," I said eventually, reaching for the water jug. "Didn't expect to do well. I guess I surprised myself."

"You don't have to outdo everyone, sweetheart," Mum said gently, giving my hand a brief squeeze before pulling her own back. "Just do your best."

I nodded, chewing slowly, aware of how carefully I was being observed. Mom's sharp eyes, Dad's furrowed brow, both tracking me like I was going to burst into flames if left unsupervised.

This wasn't new.

I wasn't a prodigy. I was fit, as required by the academy, but not the fittest. But my parents had always supported the whole ninja thing, even if it clearly terrified them. They knew what the academy meant. What being a shinobi meant.

And they still signed the papers. Still made lunches. Still made sure I got home every day to a warm meal and clean clothes.

"You know," Dad said suddenly, reaching for seconds, "I still think you should've taken that aptitude exam for civilian school. You'd do well running the store. Business is going up. We could expand."

"Masaru," Mum said with quiet exasperation.

"I'm just saying! Options can't hurt," he offered.

"I'll think about it," I muttered, forcing a smile.

That seemed to be enough. The conversation shifted to shop talk–new supplier delays, a customer who'd tried to haggle over dried persimmons, a passing mention of next week's flower festival. I played along, contributing where I could, and feeling grateful for the routine.

By the time dinner wrapped up, I'd managed to finish two bowls and even mustered a laugh when Dad made a pun so bad it earned him a flick to the forehead.

Mom gave me one last once-over as she collected the dishes.

"Go lie down early tonight, Kenta. You look drained."

"I will," I promised, and meant it.

Sort of.

I was going to my room. But sleep wasn't in the cards yet.

There was too much to process and too many unknowns for me to settle. I needed clarity. And journaling, oddly enough, had become my best tool for that.

Still, for a little while longer, I stayed at the table and listened to the soft domestic sounds of my parents cleaning up.

It helped.

Normalcy helped.

Because I had no idea how long I'd be able to keep it.

Back in my room, I shut the door with a soft click and leaned against it for a moment. The warmth from dinner still lingered in my chest, but it couldn't hold back the tide of thoughts pressing at the edges of my mind.

Neither did a shower.

Fortunately, I'm not completely out of options.

Dragging my chair to the desk, I reached for the battered notebook I'd hidden under a stack of school scrolls. It was plain, matte black, and filled with handwritten notes, hypotheses, and flow diagrams. All of it written in English.

My chakra journal.

The one I started in my frantic attempt to gain some modicum of control over my spiraling situation.

I flipped to a fresh page, sharpened my pencil, and wrote the date at the top.

-

Entry #9 – Post-Sparring Observations

Subject: Kenta Shiozaki (Self)

Objective: Continued documentation of internal energy manipulation. Observations following unintentional enhanced physical performance during academy sparring.

Overview: Earlier today, during scheduled taijutsu practice, I experienced a notable performance spike. Successfully redirected and counter-threw opponent Kiba Inuzuka. Subjective time perception during the engagement was altered – visual input appeared clearer, and movement tracking was easier.

Hypothesis (Working): Ongoing chakra compression and circulation practice has measurably improved baseline physical capabilities. Likely due to increased chakra density and efficiency in internal pathways.

-

I paused, tapping the pencil against my chin. That was a lot of speculation. I needed more detail.

-

Supporting Data:

Sensory Augmentation:

Visual: Able to perceive minute shifts in opponent posture.

Auditory: Heard Kiba's foot pivot on packed soil before attack.

Tactile: Noted grip tension in opponent's arm prior to execution of throw.

Motor Coordination:

Reaction time decreased.

Joint movement felt smoother, more instinctive.

Reduced conscious lag between decision and action.

Possible Factors:

Chakra cycling over the previous two days.

Compressive hold techniques (see Entry #8) prior to chakra exhaustion.

Mental state during spar: high alertness, strong fear stimulus.

-

That last one was important. I scribbled a note to revisit it later.

-

Interpretation: Early signs suggest this form of chakra refinement mirrors certain aspects of xianxia-style cultivation (as depicted in low-accuracy fictional accounts). Dense chakra appears to improve mind-body synchronization.

-

I snorted. Low-accuracy was putting it kindly. Most of the cultivation stuff I'd read focused on shouting at the sky, hoarding magical pills, and jade-like beauties (whatever the hell that meant). Very little attention had been paid to the actual logic behind the power scaling. Then again, most of those stories were meant for spectacle, not scholarship.

Still, there were parallels worth considering.

I turned the page and drew a basic diagram of the human chakra pathway system. Well, my understanding of it. The tenketsu points, the major and minor channels. Overlaying it in pencil, I tried sketching out what I thought might be the equivalent of meridian networks from those old novels. Nothing exact, but the resemblance was enough to make me uneasy.

Were they the same system? Had I just stumbled into a forgotten method of refinement that this world had long since abandoned?

Or had I accidentally forced my chakra into a new configuration entirely?

I underlined that question twice.

-

Risks and Unknowns:

Chakra behaviour under extended compression: no existing models.

Possible long-term side effects: strain on tenketsu? Coil degradation?

Detection risk by sensors or higher-level ninja.

Psychological strain (paranoia levels increasing; see Entry #7).

-

I paused again, setting the pen down and flexing my fingers. Writing helped. It created distance and gave me something to measure, track, and analyse. I wasn't just panicking over unexplained power jumps, but rather, studying them.

There was a comforting reassurance in that. The kind that came from treating a problem like a puzzle instead of a threat to life and limb.

It didn't fix anything, but it helped me breathe a little easier.

I picked the pencil back up.

-

Next Steps (Preliminary Plan):

Continue daily cycling, but no new compressions for three days.

Record physical/sensory baselines each morning.

Begin sketching a training regimen adapted for stealth conditioning.

-

The last point came with a bitter edge of irony. Here I was, a supposed ninja-in-training, trying to avoid being noticed for getting better.

But the truth was simple. I didn't want attention from teachers. I definitely didn't want Root sniffing around.

My goal was to survive until I was strong enough to protect my parents and anyone else I cared about.

I closed the notebook, slid it back under the scrolls, and sat in silence.

Stillness was good. Stillness was safe.

But my hands wouldn't stop trembling.

Tomorrow, I'd finish the rest of the analysis.

The next morning, I woke early. Too early.

I hadn't slept much, but my body felt strangely light. The way it does after too much caffeine and too little rest: wired, but not quite functional.

Dragging myself out of bed, I grabbed the notebook again and returned to my desk. My parents wouldn't be up for at least another hour. That gave me time.

-

Entry #10 – Continued Observation & Baseline Establishment

Physical Status (Morning):

Muscle soreness: Moderate (primarily in legs and shoulders)

Breathing: Normal

Heart rate: Elevated, but likely due to stress

Chakra flow: More responsive, smoother circulation through standard control exercise (leaf sticking test passed in 1.4 seconds, meeting the 10-minute minimum duration)

Mental Status:

Focus: Fractured, intrusive thoughts recurring

Emotional state: Restless, low-grade anxiety with mild detachment

-

I scribbled a note beside it: Begin meditation? Look into actual shinobi mental conditioning techniques.

As I sipped a lukewarm glass of water, I turned my thoughts back to the central question since all of this started. Why had this worked? What mechanism had I accidentally stumbled into?

In fiction, cultivation usually involved something abstract. Intent, willpower, spiritual resonance, whatever handwave the author needed to justify powering up. But there was almost always a structure to it, even if it was nonsensical.

Could I reverse-engineer one that made sense in this world?

I flipped to a clean page.

-

Attribute Comparison: Chakra vs Cultivation Qi

Source

Chakra: Physical + Spiritual energy (dual origin)

Cultivation Qi: Spiritual energy only (usually)

Behavior

Chakra: Malleable, explosive

Cultivation Qi: Stable, internal, growth-focused

Uses

Chakra: Techniques, attacks, augmentation

Cultivation Qi: Self-refinement, long-term gains

Control Method

Chakra: Mental focus, hand seals

Cultivation Qi: Meditation, breathing, spiritual flow

Flow Pattern

Chakra: Circular, jutsu-specific

Cultivation Qi: Looping, ascending tiers

-

I stared at the list for a long time while trying to repress the incredulity rising from my gut.

Could my breakthrough have come from treating chakra as if it were qi? What if I had simply... forced it to behave differently?

I'd always assumed the mechanics were fixed: Chakra as a force, chakra as fuel. But what if that assumption was wrong? What if chakra was more flexible than even the textbooks said?

I flipped back to my sketch of the chakra pathways and began adding directional arrows. Mapping where the compression might be strongest, where flow met resistance.

Somewhere around the lower stomach, I drew a new circle and labeled it tentatively: "Core Compression Node?"

Not quite a dantian. But not not a dantian either.

I jotted down another note: Develop a chakra map tailored to personal circulation habits. Compare with basic academy flow charts.

A yawn tore itself free from my throat, but I forced myself to keep going.

-

Additional Notes:

Previous tests show chakra strings respond better to denser chakra. Thread techniques (if developed) could become more effective.

Could apply to tool manipulation.

Hypothesis: Denser chakra equals better weapon control?

-

The idea of spinning a storm of shuriken around me like in a goddamn anime boss battle wasn't as far-fetched as it used to be. Dangerous? Yes. Flashy? Unfortunately. But plausible? If I kept this up, maybe.

Still, for now, I wrote in bold: No experimentation with weapon manipulation until control is more precise.

I didn't need to accidentally behead myself trying to recreate Kratos' Blades of Chaos with some ninja wire and overconfidence.

-

Next Steps (Updated):

Daily chakra journaling

Begin control tests (sensory, strength, and dexterity drills)

Avoid combat practice with notable changes for now

Observe chakra flow changes when exhausted vs well-rested

Track chakra quantity over time with basic chakra exercises and low-ranked jutsu

-

The page was half-full when I sat back, rubbing my eyes.

This was going to be my life now: Quiet experimentation. Vigilant secrecy. Meticulous data.

It was almost like being in a lab again.

Except this time, failure didn't mean a bad grade. It meant exposure. It meant Root. It meant getting dissected by a snake man in a cave.

I closed the notebook.

A quiet knock on the door snapped my head up.

"Kenta, breakfast in ten."

"Got it, mom, I'll be right there!"

I slipped the notebook back into its hiding place and rolled my shoulders.

Time to play the civilian student again.

But I'd be back here tomorrow. Same time. Same plan.

The morning started off deceptively normal.

I arrived at the academy just early enough to avoid the main crush of students and settled into my seat like I hadn't just rewritten a small part of chakra theory in my bedroom the night before. That was the goal, anyway: blend in, be forgettable. Fly so low to the ground, I might as well be a worm.

And for maybe fifteen minutes, it worked.

Then Naruto showed up.

"Yo, Kenta!"

I winced.

"Dude!" He was practically vibrating as he dropped into the seat beside mine. "That throw yesterday? That was awesome! I didn't think you had it in you!"

"Neither did I," I muttered.

"You gotta tell me how you did it," he said, already leaning in like we were co-conspirators in some grand scheme. "Like, was it a secret technique?"

I blinked at him.

"Naruto, I'm a civilian."

"So? You still pulled it off. I've seen you fight before. You don't usually win."

"Gee, thanks."

"No offense!" he said, waving both hands. "Just, this time you were like BAM! WHAM! And Kiba was all 'what the hell just happened?'"

I rubbed my temple, a headache starting to form. I'd had contingency plans for dealing with Iruka. For deflecting teacher suspicion. For hiding changes in my chakra flow.

I had not accounted for Naruto's complete lack of verbal brakes, essentially demanding tips and tricks that he could use.

"I'll think about it," I said finally, cutting him off before he could yap any further. "I'm still figuring it out myself."

That seemed to satisfy him. At least temporarily. He gave me a broad grin.

"Cool! We can train together sometime, right?"

I gave him a noncommittal noise in response and immediately turned my attention to the front of the classroom. Let him interpret that however he wanted.

The moment class officially began, Iruka entered with his usual clipboard and calm expression. I braced myself for… something. A pointed look. Maybe a subtle comment. But nothing came. He greeted the class, ran through announcements, and moved straight into the day's first lecture like it was any other morning.

Which almost made it more unsettling.

I tried to focus, but I could feel eyes on me. Not Naruto's. He'd gone back to doodling something that looked suspiciously like a frog wielding a kunai. No, this was someone else.

I glanced across the room.

Hinata.

She wasn't staring, exactly. But every so often, her eyes flicked in my direction, thoughtful and quiet. She didn't seem upset or suspicious. Just... observant.

Which was arguably worse.

I'd gone three years without being particularly remarkable. And in less than 24 hours, I was being watched by both the class loudmouth and the shy genius with a built-in chakra microscope.

Perfect.

Behind me, I heard a quiet sniff.

Kiba.

He was seated two rows back and one aisle over. Arms crossed, jaw tight. His leg bounced beneath the desk like he was restraining the urge to bolt.

He didn't look angry. Not really. More like... unsettled. Embarrassed, maybe. Confused?

I didn't blame him.

We'd sparred half a dozen times over the years. He'd never had trouble beating me before. Yesterday was the first time I beat him. It wasn't even a flashy move. Just a clean and efficient execution borne of muscle memory and instinct.

I didn't think he'd forget it anytime soon.

When the lecture ended, Iruka assigned us a team drill outside. As the class moved to collect training gear and head for the field, he paused beside my desk.

"You're partnering with Shino and Ami today," he said quietly.

I blinked. That was... new. I usually ended up with other civilian students.

"I want to see how you handle being in mixed teams," he added with a small nod.

Yep, there it was.

Out on the training field, I kept my head down and listened to Iruka's instructions as best I could. The drill was simple on paper: retrieve a flagged object from a makeshift base while a defending team tried to stop you. Not life-threatening, but an excellent way to see how students handled movement, teamwork, and improvised strategy.

Shino was his usual unreadable self: calm, silent, and already half-vanishing into the tree line. Ami, on the other hand, looked like she'd just been handed a spoiled ration pack.

"Of all the people," she muttered, arms crossed.

"Nice to see you too," I replied dryly.

She rolled her eyes and turned away, muttering something about 'dead weight.'

Great. This'll go well.

Iruka blew the whistle and our group took off. Shino melted into the foliage, and Ami immediately tried to take charge, issuing clipped instructions and veering off into a direct assault path.

I stayed to the side. Not out of spite. I'd just rather play to my strengths, as it were.

I let her pull aggro, and let Shino do the real scouting. I'd act as the floater. Support, counter, backup, what have you. Something neutral and unthreatening.

We didn't win. But we didn't embarrass ourselves either. Shino managed to grab the flag while Ami took a hit to the shoulder and blamed me for not backing her up. I let the complaint slide off me like rain on oiled cloth.

What mattered more was Iruka.

He was watching us throughout the whole exercise, seemingly without paying particular attention to our group. But my recently enhanced senses still caught him glancing our way more times than I was comfortable with.

Funnily enough, I didn't get the impression that he was suspicious, exactly. Rather, it was more watchful and measuring. As if he was trying to piece together a puzzle.

I kept my reactions minimal to the best of my abilities, though, I wasn't sure how well I did.

By the end of the exercise, Iruka called the class into a loose semi-circle and offered feedback. When he reached our group, he gave all three of us the same neutral praise: "coordinated under pressure," "good adjustment to terrain," "could improve communication."

But when our eyes met, he gave me a small nod. No more. No less.

I returned it for want of a better response.

Back in the classroom, things returned to their usual rhythm. Except now I was paying more attention to everything. Who looked at me. Who didn't. Who whispered. Who shrugged me off like before.

Naruto was already bouncing back to his usual antics, dragging Chouji into a loud debate about whether a kunai or a shuriken would win in a fight if they had souls. Hinata still glanced over now and then, but never for long. Kiba didn't say a word.

And Iruka? He kept me in his periphery. Called on me twice during history. Asked me to demonstrate a basic substitution jutsu in the next practical.

It was subtle, but I got the message.

Weapons training was the final class of the day. It was held on the outdoor range behind the academy proper. Rows of wooden targets at various distances, surrounded by worn grass and the occasional embedded kunai someone had failed to retrieve the day before.

We lined up, each of us with a small basket of practice shuriken. The assignment was straightforward: practice accuracy and form. We'd done this dozens of times. Some kids took it seriously, others less so.

Today, I was focused.

Maybe too focused.

I took a spot near the end of the line, away from the more competitive students. My hands were steady, but my head buzzed with calculations. Breathing, grip, balance, weight distribution. My internal chakra flow hummed. Like it was waiting for something.

Iruka paced behind us, correcting stances, commenting here and there. I watched him out of the corner of my eye, but he hadn't said anything to me directly yet.

I picked up the first shuriken and let my breathing settle.

Inhale. Exhale. Aim. Release.

It embedded with a solid thunk. Just a bit off-center.

Not bad.

Second throw. Slightly better. Third, better still. I adjusted unconsciously, aligning the slight changes in chakra flow to guide the rotation.

By the fifth throw, I wasn't even thinking about the weapon itself. Just about timing, intention, and the flow of every motion.

The sixth shuriken left my fingers and cut through the air like a bullet.

It struck the wooden post with a sound like an axe splitting timber. The entire target shuddered.

The silence that followed was instant and complete.

Even Naruto clammed up.

I stared at the shuriken. It had sunk far deeper than anything I'd managed before. Deeper than anyone else in our class, for that matter.

I hadn't used more strength. I hadn't forced it.

It was the chakra.

Too dense. Too refined. It must've leaked onto the weapon and coated it, even if unintentionally. My internal refinement had passed some kind of threshold, maybe a shift in how the energy interacted with physical objects.

Someone muttered a low curse.

I swallowed and stepped back in line, suddenly very aware of my heartbeat.

Iruka walked slowly to the target, hand on his chin. He crouched, examined the shuriken, then stood and looked over his shoulder at me.

His eyes were unreadable.

Then, just a small nod. Barely more than an acknowledgment. And he moved on without a word.

My shoulders slumped in relief.

The rest of the session passed in a blur. I intentionally missed a couple of throws to even out my results. Far too late, I know, but no one said anything.

When class ended, most students scattered quickly, eager to play. I stayed back, taking my time to pack up my tools.

Iruka approached, hands in his vest pockets.

"Good work today," he said casually.

"Thanks," I replied, trying to keep my tone even.

He glanced toward the target range.

"Those were some clean techniques you were showing."

I offered a noncommittal shrug.

"Been practising."

"I can tell."

There was a beat of silence, then he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"You're doing better. Keep going."

He said it like he meant it.

I nodded.

"I will."

He gave me a small smile and walked off.

I stood there for a moment longer, watching the last rays of sunlight stretch over the field.

I wasn't sure what Iruka suspected. If he knew anything, or if he was just guessing.

But he wasn't pushing.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, I felt like maybe I wasn't completely alone.

That feeling lasted until I walked home and nearly jumped out of my skin when a cat darted across the street.

Still, the smile lingered a little longer than usual.

Tomorrow would come. More drills, more whispers, more chances to slip up.

But I had survived one more day with my secret intact.

Chapter 3
The afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of Hokage Tower, painting gold bars across polished floors and the framed photographs of heroes long gone. Iruka Umino stood just outside the circular office doors, breathing slowly through his nose.

The doors slid open with a hush of oiled hinges. Wood smoke and fresh parchment greeted him, an oddly comforting blend that always clung to the Third Hokage. Sarutobi Hiruzen sat behind his broad desk, silhouette defined by a nimbus of late‑day light. He was reading a mission report with the slow care of a man who knew haste birthed mistakes. At Iruka's footfall, the old shinobi glanced up and motioned him forward.

"Iruka‑kun," Hiruzen said, voice warm but alert. "You asked for a few minutes. I trust the academy hasn't burned down?"

Iruka managed a faint smile as he stepped onto the rug before the desk. "No, Hokage‑sama. Though Naruto nearly set the sparring mats on fire again." He lifted the scroll tucked beneath his arm. "This is about a different student."

Hiruzen set his paperwork aside. Fingers steepled, he watched Iruka the way one might watch a cloud to see if it meant rain.

"Proceed."

Iruka unrolled the scroll. Words marched across the page in his neat, utilitarian hand: attendance, grades, health reports, sparring logs. But a single name was circled in red ink: Shiozaki, Kenta.

"A week ago, during a routine taijutsu rotation, Shiozaki demonstrated a level of control that, frankly, didn't match anything we'd seen from him before." Iruka kept his tone measured, professional. "He took Inuzuka Kiba down with a textbook shoulder throw with hardly any effort. It was almost completely contrary to his past performances."

Hiruzen nodded once, encouraging continuation.

"I assumed it was luck. Children surprise us, after all. But over the week that followed, I noticed smaller changes. His footwork is tighter and his recovery is faster." Iruka paused. "He also managed to bury a shuriken so deep in a target that it nearly split in half."

"Natural talent can bloom late," Hiruzen offered, though curiosity flickered in his dark eyes.

"I considered that." Iruka set the scroll on the desk and tapped a column boxed in green ink. "I requested our best sensor, Instructor Kayo, to observe him covertly. She sensed nothing abnormal. His chakra flow is described as 'unusually clean,' but nothing beyond the norm in terms of size or nature. We found no evidence of external tutoring. He trains in isolated but still public grounds, returns home on time, and maintains his written scores."

Hiruzen leaned back, exhaling through his pipe. A ribbon of smoke curled toward the ceiling.

"Yet your instincts disagree."

"Yes." Iruka met the older man's gaze. "Shiozaki's improvement is controlled and intentional, yet he's hiding it. In every subsequent spar, he's held back. I can sense that he means no harm. If anything, he seems frightened of attention."

"Not uncommon in civilians thrust among clan heirs," Hiruzen mused.

"True," Iruka admitted, "but most civilians either flounder or strive openly. Shiozaki is… different. He's improving under a self‑imposed ceiling."

Outside, a breeze rattled wind chimes along the veranda. The faint notes filled the thoughtful pause that followed.

At last, Hiruzen rose, hands clasped behind his back as he paced to the wide window overlooking the village. Shadows stretched across tiled roofs; laundry lines fluttered; merchants' awnings glowed amber in the dying light.

"What do you believe, Iruka‑kun? Is the boy a danger?"

Iruka's reply came without hesitation. "No, Hokage‑sama. I believe he's protecting himself. From what, I don't know."

Hiruzen hummed and turned. "Then we'll watch quietly. Children grow best without heavy hands on their shoulders."

He returned to the desk, took a clean strip of parchment, and inked three simple words: Shiozaki Kenta – Observe. Sealing wax glimmered as he stamped it with the Sarutobi crest.

Iruka bowed. "I'll keep my reports discreet."

"I trust you will." Hiruzen's smile was thin but genuine. "And Iruka‑kun, thank you for seeing the child, and not the anomaly."

The teacher's chest warmed at the praise. He bowed once more, scroll retrieved, and strode to the door.

Beyond the threshold, the Hokage Tower's corridor lay quiet. Iruka let out a slow breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

Kenta POV

Three months of pretending to be average have taught me two things: One, camouflage is exhausting. Keeping your head below the metaphorical grass line means stooping until your spine protests and your pride files a grievance. Two, exhaustion is an excellent cover. Nobody suspects the yawning kid of harbouring secret revolutions.

So here I am at dawn, propped against a frost‑nipped training post, writing in a notebook instead of doing push‑ups like every sensible future shinobi. I've already done the push‑ups: two hundred, slow tempo, and chakra dampened to civilian levels. Wouldn't gain much if you're using jutsu juice to cheat when exercising.

The real workout is documenting what I didn't show. For example – Leaf‑Stick Test #17: Baseline control: nine leaf‑sticks for 11s before drop. Compression loop: nine sticks, 24s. Improvement factor = 2.18×. Paranoia level: mild.

Paranoia deserves its own scale because it's the closest thing I have to a medical diagnosis. High means I'm one hallucinated ANBU away from sprinting into the Forest of Death to live as a hermit.

Moving on, however, my fighting style will be all about maximum damage and minimum spend. The shinobi world loves flashy overdrafts that I simply can't replicate. At least, not the way I was. Frugal murder's gonna be a necessity of things keep going as they are.

With that said, three months of tests, repetition, and theorising has yield interesting results.

For example, while writing in my notebook, I'm also cycling chakra through refined pathways. Efficiency sings under my skin like tuning forks. It's not multitasking since, quite frankly, that's a real thing unless you have Queen Administrator in your head. I just got really good at delegating the process to my subconscious. Kind of like how habits are formed.

Like always, I keep track of any sensations that stand out. Right now, my fingers are tingling, my vision sharpens, but my heart rate stays calm. After three rotations, fatigue starts to prickle behind my eyes. Good. I end the session there before idiocy overrides my prudence.

I'm still at the beginning stages of understanding this new aspect of my daily life. To truly master it, I'll need to collect a lot more data.

During lunch, I'm sitting under a maple tree and civilian kids crowd around while show off flashcards that say Iruka's Pop Quiz Survival Kit, free of charge. Teaching them mnemonics keeps my helpful cover shiny. It also lets me float questions I'm curious about without sounding nerdy.

"Why do you think nature affinity manifests so young in clan heirs?" I toss out while explaining the hand‑seal sequence for Bunshin.

A bespectacled girl shrugs.

"Blood," she says.

Exactly. Blood means genetics, which means there's a mechanism. Mechanisms can be reverse‑engineered. Or, in the case of enemies, countered.

I grin, pass her a card, and file the theory away.

This is just one of several ways I've started trying to even the playing field between clan kids and civilians. Not because I view the former with any ill will. Despite my numerous losses, I'm perfectly aware that these are still children.

No, what I'm trying to achieve is a shift in perspective. To nudge clanless students toward thinking less about competing and more about innovating. After all, quite a few figures of legend come from similarly humble backgrounds.

Cast the net wide enough and who knows? Maybe one of these munchkins could develop methods that would outshine their peers. Me, included.

Then, anything I do wouldn't seem so out of the ordinary.

That afternoon's Taijutsu spar saw me squaring off against Kiba again: fate's little joke. Unlike last time, I aimed to lose believably. Tightening my footwork, I intentionally widen my stance just enough to invite his sweep.

As expected, he takes it and I stumble. Kiba capitalizes on my 'mistake' and pins me on the ground. Was it too easy? Absolutely. Then again, this is usually how our bouts went, with the last one being the single (and hopefully, last) exception.

From the crowd's reaction, my loss was meeting their expectations.

Only Hinata's pale gaze narrows, you saw that feint, didn't you? I offer a sheepish shrug as if to say, Yeah, I'm hopeless.

She smiles back, unfazed.

Back at the forgotten practice clearing later that day, I test my chakra‑edge on a senbon instead of a shuriken. It's got a smaller surface, which requires cheaper coating. The result? A penetration depth into the straw target that's up 37% compared to the shuriken. The chakra expenditure is down 15%, as well.

For my next trial, I applied a whisper of electricity affinity along a wire while launching a senbon storm prototype. It failed immediately. All I got were sparks before the edge got disrupted and the senbon tumbled on the ground.

The problem was easily identified. Energy costs, plain and simple. It turns out, affinities amplify chakra expenditure exponentially. As a result, I'm sticking to making pure chakra edges until my reserves have risen to acceptable levels.

Over the course of the next few weeks, I started testing whether my "maximum damage, minimum spend" thesis survives contact with reality. Not combat reality, but the quieter, nastier realm of numbers, muscle fatigue, and the ever‑grinning blond gremlin who insists we're now training partners.

How? I called it coupon trimming. Why? Cuz I'm a cheapskate in practically every sense of the word.

Shuriken are cheap, but senbon are cheaper. If I want to make any headway in testing my theories, I'll need smaller cutting surfaces to start with.

To that end, I smuggled a handful of tailor needles from my mother's sewing box.

Under the moonlight, I dripped a bead of chakra down each shaft, compressing until the energy layer thinned to invisibility. Then I flicked a needle at a water‑soaked sponge and pinned it to the fence.

Thunk.

Half the needle disappeared and the sponge split like overripe fruit. Chakra cost per throw: less than half a senbon edge. Damage? Equal if the target has vital organs (most do).

The Hyūga breathing routine (thank you, Hinata) isn't about relaxation at all. Turns out, diaphragmatic pulses can recycle chakra waste. A ten‑minute session nets me roughly five percent reserve recovery. Not huge, but free energy is free energy.

I've opted to practice it discreetly under the guise of napping during Iruka's afternoon lecture.

For anyone wondering why she would teach me something that should've been kept in the family, the answer is simple. It's already well-known by Konoha's ninja community and beyond. Granted, it's not commonly used, which is why Hinata brought it up.

Apparently, even in her clan, the routine isn't all that popular since it takes too much effort for negligible returns. When I asked if she could teach me, Hinata seemed surprised. After a moment of gaping at me, she smiled and agreed.

Not really sure what that was about. If I were to guess, no one has really asked for her help in anything. Must have been quite refreshing for the normally shy girl.

After class, at a riverbank close to my training grounds, it's day two of my unofficial sessions helping a certain blond protagonist train. Naruto insists on naming every drill "Super‑Ultra‑Mega Something."

I humour him since I'm stuck now with the gremlin.

At some point during the last three months, I forgot that I was supposed to be keeping my distance from the knucklehead. I was so absorbed with my experiments and drowning in paranoia that he just slipped under my guard.

It took two weeks for me to remember this little tidbit and by then, I was in too deep. Distancing myself from him would be downright suspicious at this point.

Oh, and it would also make me feel like a dick. I could justify not getting closer to Naruto when our relationship was practically nonexistent. Now that it's gone this far, the best I can do is to maintain cordiality.

That's what brought me here with the grinning ball of energy.

I show him the breathing trick. He tries it once, complains it's boring, and asks when we were blowing something up. I explain the coupon concept: get stronger for cheaper.

He stares blankly, then brightens.

"Like finding extra ramen coupons under the bowl lid!"

Exactly, I say. He finally tries again. The ground quakes less than usual. Progress.

We continued until the sun had fully set, at which point, we decided to call it a day.

My night journals now feature a new section: Affinities & Bloodlines – Plausible Mechanisms.

I sketch diagrams that would make my old college physics professor weep: frequency curves annotated with "maybe chakra Higgs field???" Confusing, but I'm getting closer by the day. Understanding how clan cheats work means I could design counters that cost pennies to the dollar that won't leave me a useless lump of meat right after.

That last part is really why I'm going through all this trouble, in the first place.

I remember enough canon details to know that big, flashy jutsu will be out of my reach for several decades. Even relatively simple ones like the Rasengan would require an absurd amount of chakra. Much more than what I currently have.

If I'm ever going to be useful in a fight within the next ten years, I have to find another way.

Tsunade's monstrous strength, using brute medical control and an anchored seal, was considered. But it was impossible to learn without an expert coach and bigger reserves. I'd probably end up blowing an arm off or something.

I wrote "DO NOT TOUCH" in the notebook margins with a double underline.

Going out to find the female Sannin wasn't in the cards, either, for reasons so obvious I won't even bother mentioning them. With that said, how was it possible that absolutely no one in this misbegotten village was able to learn her techniques before Sakura came along?

Did she never have genin students in the many years she was active? Both her teammates were able to teach kids. Why couldn't she?

What about the other medics? Were they that incompetent? Lazy? Uninterested?

These disgruntled thoughts followed me into bed and even in my dreams, I couldn't stop griping.

The next day, I'm once more surrounded by the eager smiles and bright eyes of fellow civilian students. I would have found the situation grating, but helping my classmates study remains my MVP cover. So, I couldn't just tell them to buzz off.

Instead, I stage a lunchtime tutoring circle, introduce more mnemonic songs.

Kunio, a shopkeeper's son with arithmetic terror, thanks me with dried squid strips. I trade them to Choji for intel on the best shortcuts in their clan's public areas, ostensibly to visit their stores. In reality, I'm trying to build a good mental map of possible escape routes.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice is screaming about "sleazy salesmen", "moral bankruptcy", and "capitalist scum" but I completely ignore it. I'm offering valuable goods and services here!

And I plan to offer more.

Case in point… My Wire Geometry 2.0.

The latest prototype uses hexagonal weave: three wires twisted into a single filament, chakra pulsed in rotating phases to shift rigidity on command. I'm in my bedroom-cum-workshop, trying not to get tangled or cut by my own creation.

It's an integral part of the kind of style I'm envisioning based on my preferences and limitations. Unfortunately, the current ninja wires that exist in the market just aren't suited to my needs. Hence, why I have to make my own.

Early the next morning, I conducted a field test by suspending two sewing needles and had them turn like orbiting moons around me. Compared to using generic ninja wire, the energy cost is down 12% and control is smoother, as well. The downside is the strain on my fingers. I'll need to design finger‑ring reels, maybe scavenged from a broken yo-yo.

Yet another thing on my growing list of things to do.

At the three‑week mark of the coupon campaign, my body filed a complaint that came in the form of a persistent tremor in my left calf and chakra exhaustion headaches creeping daily. These issues forced me to take a mandatory rest day.

It's to be expected, really.

Efficiency is addictive. The more chakra I save, the greedier I get for smaller costs and bigger returns. I could attempt to justify this as being a necessary evil for the sake of my survival, but that would be a lie.

The real reason has to do with agency. For so long, I've felt trapped in a Sisyphean cycle ever since I started at the academy. Always working towards a goal that seemed forever out of reach. Being reminded every day of my inadequacies without having the means to retort.

With the discovery of cultivation and everything that it's allowed me to do over the last few months, I now have answers to my own self-doubts. It doesn't matter that I couldn't talk about it in public.

The approval of anyone not my parents means jack shit to me.

But my discovery about chakra that then led to other subsequent findings? That was a lifeline. A real, tangible sign that I can do more than survive this world.

So, yeah. I refuse to feel bad about having something that is flooding my brain with endorphins instead of cortisol, for a change.

After enjoying a day of rest, I decided to cash in my phase‑two coupons. Time to invest the dividends into compound techniques. Synergies where two economical tricks fuse into something opponents will mistake for high‑tier ninjutsu.

Here's what I've got, so far:

1. Breath‑Battery × Wire Geometry

The Hyūga diaphragm pulses essentially recharge my reserves. The hex‑weave wire then doubles as a conduit. Individually, neither is all that impressive. But what if the pulses drip straight into the wire loop, topping the edge mid‑orbit?

After a few false starts, I finally got a stable result. The needles glow a faint blue, generating a chakra signature so low that even I strain to feel it. Doing this allowed me to extend the runtime by 25% for negligible cost.

Unfortunately, it also caused the wire to hum like a chorus of cicadas that's audible within two metres. It might not be Chidori loud, but it's not exactly stealthy, either. I made a note to investigate a muffling seal.

2. Seal‑Etch Lite™

A few introductory fūinjutsu scrolls spoke of containment glyphs the size of a thumbnail. Following some careful research, I eventually managed to find a way to etch seals onto some shurikens. The seals themselves don't really do anything other than store a minuscule amount of chakra. But that was fine with me.

The only thing I needed them to do was act as a switch that would automatically coat them in my chakra. I'm not exaggerating when I say that anyone with even a decent amount of the energy would find this roundabout approach completely useless. This might explain it isn't all that popular among shinobi.

Again, they prefer flashy Jutsu, remember?

Chakra-enhanced weaponry have been around for ages, as well, to say nothing of chakra-conductive metal. All I really did was make the process instantaneous and marginally more cost-efficient.

If nothing else, the results speak for themselves: Three targets shorn in half, along with three lines almost a meter deep at the shallowest. The feeling of vindication was almost worth the frantic cover-up that followed.

Almost.

Production is a pain in the neck, though, so I won't have a stack of these shuriken anytime soon. They are now a scarce resource for me to guard like a dragon guards its hoard of gold.

3. Affinity Audit with Chakra Cost and Verdict

Fire is ×4. Verdict: too costly.

Wind is roughly ×1.6. Verdict: promising and affordable.

Lightning is ×2. Verdict: effective but loud, unsuitable for stealth.

Earth is ×3. Verdict: slow and counter to speed doctrine.

Water is ×2.5. Verdict: situational at best.

Multiple painstaking tests conducted carefully and under the notice of my parents were needed to gather that data. In the end, wind won. Though it completely defied my expectations.

Getting an element‑test paper was surprisingly simple. I just asked my parents to get me some and they did, no questions asked.

I should have found that suspicious, but at the time, my mind was elsewhere.

Specifically, my mind was trying not to explode upon discovering my nature affinity: Fire.

Wut…?

Fire? The element that cost me the most amount of chakra to use?

…How?

Wind would have made sense. Hell, lightning would have made sense!

But, fire? Is this a joke? Did the paper malfunction? Nope, I tried it again and it turned into ash.

So, yeah. The element that costs the most for me to use would effectively be the easiest for me to learn. Even if I find a fire jutsu meant for combat, I wouldn't be able to use it without absolutely exhausting myself.

…

I'll have to figure this out later because my brain is turning to mush. After hitting this wall, I turned my attention to less stressful pursuits. Like spending time with noisy, pushy, and unruly little rascals.

My god, what's happened to me?

To be perfectly truthful, my fellow academy students aren't actually all that annoying. Once I accepted that I'm dealing with children, they're easy enough to handle. Just prepare a lot of shiny things to distract them with.

The civilian study circle even rebrands me "Note Sensei."

Not the most flattering name, but that's exactly why I like it. "The Professor" might come with a lot of heavy connotations, but who would pay attention to little 'ol "Note Sensei"?

I also continued my little arrangement with Choji. The chubby boy seems to believe that I'm playing a game with him and I wasn't about to disabuse him of that notion. This paid off in an unexpected way when I noticed that my weight was down one kilo. It seems my new lifestyle has been burning calories faster than I can replace them.

After talking to Choji about it, he opted to sell me protein bars at a friend rate. Not only does this help me save money, but it also prevents my parents from worrying unnecessarily.

During lunch, I spend time with Hinata on the academy rooftop. We mostly exchange theories covering a wide range of interests. I asked whether tenketsu can voluntarily narrow to filter chakra. The question clearly caught her off guard, but instead of answering right away, she grew pensive.

In the end, I didn't get a definitive response, not that I was expecting one.

My day ended with the hex wire snapping mid‑swing, slicing my knuckle as a result. Cursing to myself, I hurried to treat the wound with a first-aid kit I brought. Luckily, I was in the isolated training ground instead of at home.

Being grounded once more was not on my bingo card today.

Once the cut had been disinfected and covered, I thought about the implications of this development. First of all, a catastrophic failure mid‑mission is just unacceptable. Second, I'm going to need a source of a stronger alloy.

I decided to leave the question of where for some other time. Getting home in time for dinner was the priority.

Ahh, the life of a ninja-in-training really is full of excitement.

The next morning hit like a shuriken to the sinuses: grey sky, drizzle, and the knowledge that Instructor Kayo's quarterly sensor sweep is scheduled for second period. The memo says "routine chakra wellness assessment."

Translation: scan the kids for strange signatures and make sure nobody's incubating a bijū in their appendix.

I arrive early, posture slumped, clutching my stomach as though indigestion is staging a coup. Iruka raises a brow and I murmur something about questionable squid strips. Sympathy unlocked, he waves me to the back corner near the open window.

Kayo enters and begins her silent sweep. One by one she "pings" each student. A gentle pulse, a quick nod, then move on. I shifted into my breathing exercise, lowering my chakra's surface tension.

When my turn comes, her gaze pauses for a half‑second longer than others, causing my internal siren to start wailing. I add a small wince, placing a hand to my gut for emphasis. She makes a note on her clipboard while murmuring that it was likely a "mild flux, probable illness" and moves on.

After she was gone, I breathed a sigh of relief but didn't relax completely.

I wasn't an idiot. Had I been a regular civilian student with exactly the amount of knowledge that someone from my background would have, that little performance would have worked.

But now I knew for sure.

They already know.

I wasn't certain how much information they've already gathered or for how long I had been under surveillance. Maybe I've had eyes on me from the start and I just didn't notice.

Aside from the huge blow to my ego, this development also left me confused. Why hadn't I been taken away yet? What's the purpose of allowing me so much freedom despite acting so suspicious?

Did I know even less about how this world worked than I initially assumed?

Well, I'm not completely fucked, yet. I'll have to take steps to make sure that I don't get to that point. If not for myself, then for those I've grown to love in this life.

Interlude 1

Hinata POV

Life has certainly turned around for Hyūga Hinata. While she had, by no means, become a brash young lady, she was no longer the painfully shy waif she had been two years ago. These days, she walked with more poise and confidence, fully cognizant of her abilities and place in life.

And the catalyst for these changes? Why, he was currently being pestered by Uzumaki Naruto to train with him once more after class concluded.

Shiozaki Kenta is an odd boy. Hinata has known this for nearly three years.

Their first meeting wasn't something that she liked to recall. It was the first time her eyes were opened to who she was and what she was capable of. The sensation of her palms impacting his body with more force than she intended to impart still echoed in her memories.

Learning afterwards how much damage she inflicted still haunts her to this day.

When she went to apologize after he was released from the academy clinic, Hinata was fully prepared for scorn. To her surprise, Kenta merely smiled in a way that conveyed understanding.

He didn't hate her. There was no fear in those eyes. Only acceptance.

This forgiveness somehow caused Hinata more disquiet. A disquiet that followed her all the way to the Hyūga clan compound.

Like always, the heiress attempted to suppress her inner turmoil when she met with her father for a private dinner. However, based on Hyūga Hiashi's probing questions, it was clear that hiding the day's events was pointless.

Upon reaching the topic of the ill-fated sparring with Kenta, Hinata paused for several heartbeats. The hesitation caught the Hyūga patriarch's attention and waited patiently for his daughter to speak. When she finally did, it seemed to take a considerable amount of effort on her part.

"Father, may I ask you something?"

The uncertainty in her voice caused Hiashi's normally stern eyes to soften.

"What is it, Hinata?"

Tiny fists clenched silken cloth as the little girl grappled with a conundrum that she found difficult to put into words.

Without meeting her father's eyes, Hinata proceeded to relay what happened in Taijutsu class. She shared her feelings when the bout ended, when she apologized and was forgiven by Kenta, and what it all meant.

After several moments of silence, Hiasha asked, "Why does this trouble you, Hinata? Pain will always be a part of being a ninja of Konoha. Someday, you may be required to do much worse to an enemy who will have no compunctions of taking your life. I have never kept this a secret from you."

Nodding, Hinata said, "I know, father."

"Then what is it about your bout that disturbs you so?"

Once more, Hinata floundered in finding the right words to explain the cause of her turmoil. When she finally did, Hiashi's eyes flashed with comprehension.

"I don't want to hurt anyone without meaning to," she said in a small voice. "I don't want to lose control when I fight."

For some inexplicable reason, this pronouncement caused her father to show a rare smile of approval. It was brief, but it was there.

"Then the solution is simple," he said, regarding her with intensity and focus that he had seemingly long since lost. "Become strong and gain mastery over your abilities. Only then can you freely choose when to cause harm and to whom."

Looking back, Hinata now understands that her father was simply using the occasion as a means of motivating her to train harder. Seeing an opportunity to light a fire in his recalcitrant heiress, the clan head did not even hesitate.

And it worked.

These days, Hinata was on par with her cousin, Neji in combat. However, she only ever showed her true capabilities within clan grounds. At the academy, her performance is significantly more restrained to avoid causing unnecessary injuries.

She has been especially careful when paired with Kenta. Though, Hinata suspected that he no longer required as much consideration as he once did.

By all accounts, his unprecedented performance in the match against Kiba three months ago was a matter of luck. He never managed another easy win since then, even when sparring with other civilians.

Not for a lack of trying, though. In fact, to someone with her background and experience, the seemingly unremarkable boy was actually putting in a considerable amount of effort in downplaying his abilities. And she wasn't the only one to notice, either.

Every time Kenta stepped into the ring, Uchiha Sasuke would watch him like a hawk. The same went for Aburame Shino. Even Nara Shikamaru would track the boy's movements from time to time, though, he was careful to keep his observations unobtrusive.

Iruka-sensei himself was watchful, but he never said a word. So, Hinata took her cues from his silence and so did the others.

Even so, Hinata could not completely suppress her curiosity. In their first two years of studying at the academy, Shiozaki Kenta displayed no dazzling skills for combat. He excelled in academics and had incredible chakra control, but that was the limit of his outstanding qualities as a ninja-in-learning.

This was not to say that he had no other admirable traits, however.

Helpful, diligent, patient, and supportive. Kenta was all of those and more. He never yelled. Never shouted. Answered questions respectfully and was always willing to assist his fellow civilian classmates when they asked.

He was even willing to indulge Naruto from time to time, a boy who everyone else considered a disruptive element, at best.

Despite seemingly being polar opposites in personality and disposition, the two boys have built a camaraderie seemingly out of nowhere. Not that Hinata could say any different. Her relationship with Kenta had developed in a similar vein, though, with one key difference.

Whereas the blond ball of endless energy has essentially found a playmate, she instead found a source of intellectual stimulation. Their time together was spent in endless discussions about the nature of chakra, the different applications of existing techniques, and even clan politics.

And to think it all started with a question about those endearing flash cards he shared with his fellow civilian students.

Just today, their lunch period involved a fascinating deep-dive into nature affinities. Kenta proposed that chakra capacity plays no role in determining which element a ninja is most compatible with. Instead, he believes that it merely affects how easily they can use said element.

In a rather strange turn of the discussion, the case of rare shinobi who couldn't perform Ninjutsu or Genjutsu was brought up.

Citing the two examples of a departed genin named Might Duy and a student one year ahead of them, Rock Lee, Kenta hypothesized that theirs was a matter of genetic defects. An absence of certain biological markers that caused chakra insensitivity or instability.

Hinata was captivated by his passionate analysis of the subject that few ever talk about. In the end, they both only finished half their packed lunch before the bell rang. Upon realizing this, Kenta was apologetic while wearing a rueful smile that she had grown quite familiar with.

Now, here she was. Watching as one of the few friends she had walked alongside a figure whom the whole of Konoha seemed hellbent on turning into a pariah. The wind carrying their laughter and chatter warmed her heart.

If Kenta could change her path for the better, perhaps he can do the same for another.

Iruka POV
The academy was silent save for the faint creak of timber settling in the rafters. Umino Iruka sat alone in classroom 2‑B, hair tousled in a way only long days could cause with a single paper lantern throwing soft amber over rows of empty desks. Before him lay the thick brown ledger he reserved for students who were marked for closer observation. Tonight every margin, every hastily pencilled reminder, led back to one name: Shiozaki Kenta.

An ordinary name for an ordinary boy. Or, at least, that's how he started.

Shiozaki arrived small, round‑faced, and hair trimmed so straight Iruka guessed his mother owned a carpenter's square. His first test scores were solid, his taijutsu was clumsy, and his demeanour was polite to the point of fading into background chatter. Nothing about him seemed ninja material.

Iruka's staff notes from that term read like a recipe for the logistics corps, not the battlefield: solid academics, middling combat, no behavioural flags. This was proven pretty much from the get-go with his first Taijutsu class.

The memory still scraped raw, owing mostly to how jarring it was.

In the practise ring, autumn was settling in and the chill air was frosting the students' breaths. Hinata bowed shyly, Kenta bounced on nervous feet, and Iruka expected a gentle demonstration. Three heartbeats later Hinata's palm kissed five of his tenketsu in a blur that drew gasps of alarm from the young spectators. Kenta hit the ground with a crunch that carried to the far benches.

Seven microfractures, the med‑nin said. Far too much for a first‑day spar. Kenta wobbled but smiled, insisting he was fine. The kid was putting on a brave face, he'd thought at the time. Iruka filed the incident under monitor and quietly promised himself to watch the boy.

Just like that, two years slipped by. Kenta's written scores climbed while his taijutsu inched. He ran laps after class, offered to reorganise supply cupboards, and even tutored other civilian kids in kunai aerodynamics. He never complained or drew attention. Iruka admired the grit and pencilled a note about recommending him for clerk work.

Unfortunately, it seemed Shiozaki had other plans.

That day started like any other. Kenta did seem pale, but his condition improved as the day progressed. Then came the match where he was paired with the clan heir Inuzuka Kiba. Many believed that it was a foregone conclusion. To his shame, Iruka felt the same.

At the whistle Kiba lunged in his usual reckless manner. In response, Kenta pivoted, dropped, and hurled him in a textbook shoulder‑throw.

The move wasn't anything earthshaking. It was about as simple as a technique could get. Yet, it still reduced the field to a deafening silence.

Iruka saw the way Kenta's eyes widened. His body frozen mid‑follow‑through. When Iruka asked if he was alright, the boy whispered, "I don't wanna die, sensei."

Not punished, die. A fear too sharp for playground politics.

A timely disruption prevented Iruka from addressing the ominous statement then and there. By the time order was restored, he'd missed his chance. Shiozaki had clammed up and the chunin knew that it would have been pointless to push.

By the end of that week, Iruka was pulling sparring logs and colour‑coding them on staff corkboards after hours. Kenta never won like that again. But he never again took a beating, either. His victory ratio settled at a forgettable forty‑three percent. A perfect camouflage, or so the student seemed to believe.

Iruka enlisted a sensor to scan the boy, who then reported no major anomalies. His chakra capacity was still roughly the same as recorded by previous scans. It felt cleaner, supposedly, but that could be due to any number of things.

Even so, if Kenta really was hiding his strength, it had nothing to do with raw reserves.

Following protocols, all of his observations were recorded and handed over to the Hokage. Nothing of what he said in his report was a lie. At least, not directly. But he couldn't exactly tell his superior about a gut feeling that even he doesn't completely understand.

It would be like raising an alarm about an oncoming storm even though there wasn't a cloud in the sky.

So, Iruka chose to be silent. There was no need to cause a fuss that could put a target on his student's back. The Hokage had already designated Shiozaki as worth observing from afar, anyway. If anything is found, only then would they act.

When class started again, though, the scarred teacher had another reason to take note of Kenta.

Palm‑sized flash‑cards started spreading through the civilian rows. Students then started quoting concepts a year ahead of when they were typically taught: efficiency, minimisation, and chakra budget. When asked about them, Kenta flushed and muttered that they were "just a hobby."

A hobby that let low‑chakra children punch above their weight.

Iruka blinked at that. Then blinked again. If the kid was trying to hide his capabilities, he was doing an embarrassingly bad job of it.

This was how the next three months went. The official transcripts list Kenta as comfortably average. Iruka's private records tell a different story. At this point, there was no denying that there was something special about the boy. The question is why?

Fear of clan politics? Of predators who devour talent? Or something darker lodged in childhood memories that Iruka couldn't even imagine?

He ties the ledger shut and slips it into his satchel. Tomorrow he will ask Shiozaki Kenta to stay after class. It was time he gave a teacher's quiet promise that masks are safer to remove when someone stands guard.

Besides, the numerous half-baked, not to mention failed, attempts at evading attention were becoming quite painful to watch.

Outside, katydids hum beneath the distant clack of patrol sandals. The lantern flames gutter and shadows creep back. And Umino Iruka, steward of far too many futures, hopes one frightened boy chooses to trade silence for trust before the memorial stones claim another name.

Sarutobi Hiruzen – A Glimpse of the Future

Dawn's first light crept over the Hokage Tower, pooling in thin gold ribbons across the office floorboards. Sarutobi Hiruzen stood by the broad eastern window, pipe cradled between careful fingers, the tobacco inside long since forgotten. At his age one learned to savour stillness the way younger men chased action; to him, these quiet, watchful mornings were the lungs through which Konoha itself seemed to breathe.

Outside, roofs glimmered with dew and promise. The village he had shepherded for decades looked…not new, precisely, but tilting toward newness: training fields doubled in size and bristling with fresh wooden targets, chakra‑lit street‑lamps that bathe more of the village streets in light, and a modest research wing, all pale stone and glass, blooming beside the hospital like an unexpected flower.

All of it, every incremental shift in skyline and heartbeat, traced back to that 'discovery' two years prior.

He let his gaze wander higher, to the ring of mountains crowned by the sculpted faces of leaders past. If those stern stone visages had voices, what would they say of the gamble he had made? He imagined Hashirama's booming laugh, Tobirama's flinty silence, Minato's gentle optimism, and felt, briefly, like a young academy teacher again, bracing beneath the weight of legends.

The memory drifted unbidden: shadowed council chambers, candles guttering in half‑empty sconces, and clan heads arguing until stylised courtesy peeled away to reveal raw nerves. Trust built slowly and progress advanced at a crawl.

Mission casualty charts now trended downward in neat if stubborn increments. One of the most obvious boons that came with the leap of faith, no doubt.

As for Hiruzen himself? Being one of the first recipients of such wondrous knowledge certainly brought mountains of benefits. Not least of which is his recovered vitality.

There were less visible fruits, too. A prosthetics workshop tucked behind the research annex had fitted three chūnin last winter with jointed iron limbs that moved almost as smoothly as living muscle.

Hiruzen's shoulders ached of immaterial burdens as he turned from the window. Age, yes, but also the unseen weight of shepherding such change. Tradition was an iron kettle that required careful handling, lest it leads to catastrophic cracks and warps.

The Will of Fire, he reminded himself, was not the kindling or the flame, but the space where the two met. Change must burn bright enough to illuminate, but never so hot as to consume.

A discreet triple rap sounded at the door, heralding arrivals that he had long since noticed through enhanced senses. Very few things escaped the Hokage's grasp, these days.

Hiruzen straightened, tugged the brim of his hat into place, and called for entry.

Two masked ANBU glided in first. Wolf and Rabbit, both freshly promoted if the stiffness of their posture was any indication. Between them strode Team Seven, newly returned from what mission dispatch simply labelled "C‑Rank (escalated)."

Kakashi Hatake led the quartet, both eyes uncovered, with the implanted Sharingan now fully under his control. His habitual slouch had straightened into something approaching parade rest. Even his hair looked marginally tamer, as though the gravity of recent days pulled more than just his shoulders upright.

At Kakashi's left walked Uchiha Sasuke. The boy's expression remained guarded, but the brittle edge Hiruzen remembered had tempered into something steelier, more deliberate. A fleeting glance toward his teammates spoke of cautious camaraderie, hard‑won and still tender. Most noticeable of all were his clan's famed eyes. The red orbs framed by three tomoe putting paid to any doubts of his extreme potential.

Beside him all but bounced Uzumaki Naruto, orange jacket frayed at the cuffs, whiskered cheeks smudged with dust, chakra signature dense enough to prickle Hiruzen's senses from across the room. Yet even Naruto's exuberance carried a new weight, like a festival lantern reinforced with iron ribs.

Last came Haruno Sakura, stride balanced on the balls of her feet, a medic kit strapped tight against her hip, and pink hair cut short at her neck. Ink smudges stained two fingertips. She offered a brief, respectful bow that still managed to radiate quiet pride.

Hiruzen felt a small swell behind his sternum: part relief, part wonder. They were stronger, yes, but also older in the eyes, as though a single mission had peeled away illusions the academy never could.

Children step through one doorway, he thought, and soldiers walk out the other side.

The transformation always hurt to witness, yet he took solace in seeing that none of the four had lost the spark that made them uniquely dangerous to Konoha's enemies, and invaluable to its future.

He eased into his chair, tamped fresh tobacco without lighting it, and folded weathered hands atop the desk. A smile, muted by decades of diplomacy, tugged at his mouth.

"Welcome home," he began, voice carrying the rasp of too many battlefield commands and late‑night policy debates. "Kakashi, give me your report on what happened in Wave Country."

The pipe's bowl gleamed under morning light; the window behind him framed a village poised between past and tomorrow. As Kakashi opened his mouth to speak, Hiruzen felt certain only of this: whatever came next, be it triumph, tragedy, or some mingling of both, Konoha would face it head on.

Chapter 4
There's a strange kind of relief in realising that everything you worked so hard to prevent could never have been contained from the start. Not much relief, just a sliver. But I'll take what I can get. And really, if I had to get confirmation of my worst fears, it was almost a comfort that it came from a relatively kind source.

Still sucked, though.

I already knew Iruka had his suspicions. After the Kiba incident, trying to hide anything from him, or any of the teachers, really, was a fool's errand. But finding out that all my careful efforts to downplay my abilities only made me more noticeable?

That hurt. Not gonna lie.

Looking back, I have to wonder if I suffered a head injury at some point. Did I really expect Iruka, a loyal Konoha chunin, not to report anything suspicious to the Hokage? God, I'm a dumbass.

So here I am again, sitting on the roof of my house, watching the lights of Konoha blink out one by one like dying fireflies. Wondering if ANBU were already en route to haul me off for a friendly chat at T&I.

Iruka insisted that wouldn't happen when he came by after I had dinner with my parents. Some part of me believed him. He was a good man who genuinely cared for his students. Honest, too, for a ninja.

He didn't waste time with preamble when he confronted me, either. Just had me stay behind after class, looked me dead in the eye, and asked, "Why do you keep holding yourself back when sparring?"

I wasn't surprised by the question. Only that he finally said it out loud, after pretending that everything was fine for so long. I'd gotten complacent during those three quiet months. Fooled myself into thinking I had time to come up with a plan. But the walls had been closing in from the start. I just hadn't noticed.

His next question, though. That one short-circuited my brain.

"What are you afraid of, Kenta?"

So… he knew that, too.

I'd hoped, naively, that I'd at least managed to keep that part hidden. But I guess my defenses were made of wet paper the entire time. Still, instinct made me try one last time.

"Why do you think I'm afraid, sensei?"

Iruka's expression turned into a mix of fondness and exasperation.

"Because fear is the only thing that explains why someone like you would go out of their way to hide what they can do."

His voice was gentle, but every word hit like a hammer, and he wasn't done.

"You've done everything short of sabotaging your own education to camouflage your true abilities. Not many chunin know as much about chakra theory as you seem to. And instead of capitalizing on it, you chose to uplift your fellow civilians. Yet, you take every opportunity to downplay your contributions or deflect attention when given praise."

Iruka's voice never carried a hint of accusation while he spoke, but I felt like a cornered rabbit anyway.

"I'm not the only one who's noticed, either," he continued with a wry smile. "The other teachers caught on after the flash cards. Even some of your classmates can see your deliberate underperformance. That's partly why I've decided to talk to you now. You're doing yourself and everyone else a disservice by refusing to truly participate."

And that's when I knew the jig was up, and I realised how badly I'd misjudged everything. I never gave a convincing reason for sandbagging, and the people I thought I was fooling? They were already in the know.

"Does…does the Hokage know?" I couldn't help but ask.

Iruka pursed his lips and frowned before saying, "I brought your case to his attention a week after your first victory against Kiba."

So, the village has known since the start. Just one revelation followed another in rapid fire.

I underestimated them. All of them. These weren't background characters in a story anymore. They were real people. What did I actually know about them?

Had all those years of fear and paranoia narrowed my vision so much that I couldn't see anything else? How much had I missed while obsessively trying to survive?

I didn't even notice I was shaking until Iruka placed a hand on my shoulder. When I looked up, I saw real concern in his eyes. Not suspicion or judgment.

Sincerity.

And I felt shame.

Iruka was one of the few people in the original material you could honestly call kind. Even in fanfiction, he's almost always portrayed as a decent, compassionate man. And yet, I treated him like a threat. Like he was some all-seeing, all-knowing Eye of Sauron I needed to avoid at all costs.

And still…

"I'm sorry, sensei. But I'm not ready to talk about it. Not yet."

Iruka frowned, confused more than annoyed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't talk about it here." I met his gaze, willing him to understand what I couldn't say out loud.

It didn't take long. His eyes widened just slightly, the pieces clicking into place.

"What do you need?"

"A place where no eyes or ears can reach from the outside."

There weren't many places in the village that fit that description. He knew it. So did I.

Iruka gave a solemn nod. "I'll make the arrangements. Tomorrow, if possible."

As it turns out, it was possible. My stomach twisted at the thought.

There was no master plan here. I'd been deluding myself. I'd never had a chance of keeping my secrets hidden – not from people trained to uncover them. I had no real experience, because we hadn't been taught those things yet.

I wasn't a spy.

Just a scared kid trying to pretend he had control over a game where the rulebook was written in gibberish.

Some of my secrets had already slipped through my fingers. Others would follow.

But despite how bleak everything looked, I still had one option left. One last chance to flip the board before I was crushed beneath it.

I couldn't play it safe anymore.

If I wanted to survive with my mind, my freedom, and maybe even my life intact, then I'd have to go all in.

Take the risk.

Refuge in audacity.

As Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen was used to unusual developments.

War councils that ran until dawn, summons from the daimyo at absurd hours, reports of blood‑red moons or collapsing summoning contracts, the job shaped a man into expecting his next cup of tea to be interrupted by one crisis or another. Yet even with a lifetime of such seasoning, the old shinobi felt a prick of genuine curiosity when Iruka walked into his office well before sunrise with a white‑knuckled boy glued to his side.

Hiruzen registered details the way a hawk marks movement in the tall grass: the faint tremor in Kenta's fingertips, the sheen of sweat that dulled the boy's hairline despite the morning chill, the deliberate slowness with which he drew breath, as though each inhale was measured for poisons. The child's brown eyes, too large for his still‑soft face, flicked everywhere at once before pinning themselves to a neutral spot on the carpet.

That's a hunted gaze, the Hokage thought.

Even so, beneath the fear lay a tensile thread of resolve, pulled taut rather than frayed. A delicate, dangerous balance. A single misstep, from Kenta or from himself, could turn fear into flight, or worse, into a cornered strike.

"Lord Hokage," Iruka said, bowing deeply.

He steadied his hand on Kenta's shoulder but did not push him. The boy would have to step forward of his own accord.

"Yes, yes. Please, both of you, come in."

Hiruzen's voice was warmth folded over steel. A generation of students had heard comfort there, and a generation of enemies had heard their doom. He gestured to the two chairs set opposite his desk.

Kenta hesitated one heartbeat, then crossed the floor like a man walking a bridge made of paper. He perched on the chair's edge, spine straight and stiff.

Recalling all of the recorded observations regarding the boy, he was expecting nerves and deference. Perhaps a sullen surprise at how his efforts at obfuscation ultimately proved ineffective.

He hadn't anticipated a pre-adolescent seemingly bracing for war.

Formal greetings dispensed, Hiruzen offered tea. Kenta's fingers shook as he accepted the cup, but he did not spill a drop. Another point in his favor. He felt fear, yet maintained control. Very interesting.

With the tea served, Hiruzen leaned back into his chair and brought his full attention on his early morning visitors.

"Well, you wanted this meeting. Is there something you wish to discuss?"

"Lord Hokage," Kenta began, voice raw, "before I say anything of substance, I need your assurance that this conversation will remain unobserved by anyone."

"Even by my ANBU?" the Hokage asked, though he already anticipated the answer.

Kenta swallowed. "Especially by your ANBU, sir. And by your senior advisors." A pause. "I–I realise this is an… impertinent demand."

Iruka's brow furrowed, but he held his tongue.

Inside, the Hokage weighed the possibilities. He could refuse, assert authority, and watch the boy fracture. He could grant the request, gamble on what secrets a terrified child had thought worth such precautions. The Will of Fire whispered that power used without trust was ash waiting to scatter.

Very slowly, Hiruzen set down his pipe.

"You have the benefit of my patience, Kenta," he said. "And my curiosity. What method of assurance do you require?"

"Something," the boy said, "that seals sight and sound both. Permanently woven, not merely temporary, at least for as long as we speak. If such a thing is possible."

"It is," Hiruzen replied.

The Hokage's palm met the inlaid kanji panel on his desk; scarlet script blossomed across walls and floor like petals chasing the sun. A soft chime reverberated, then silence. Thick, weighty, a hush that swallowed the world beyond the wooden door.

Kenta's shoulders sagged, though only slightly. He had gambled and won the first coin of trust.

The boy clasped his hands in his lap, a child's gesture at odds with the steel of his resolve. Hiruzen's heart, battle‑scarred as it was, twinged.

"I… appreciate this, Lord Hokage," Kenta said. "Truly. I've spent months afraid that I'd be dragged from my bed in the night. Thrown in a dark cell. A-abducted." The word came out a whisper, thick with unspent tears. "I don't want that."

Iruka flinched. Hiruzen watched the teacher's hand twitch in helpless sympathy.

"And why," the Hokage asked gently, "would anyone wish to… abduct you?"

"Because I discovered something," Kenta replied. "Something dangerous. Not a weapon, exactly, but a means that I'm almost certain hasn't been found yet. If the wrong hands shape it, the Elemental Nations might drown in blood. In the right hands, we might lift ourselves into an era our grandparents never dared hope for."

"Bold words," Hiruzen said. "But you will forgive an old man if he remains cautious."

Kenta nodded once. "That's why I came. I'm willing to prove my worth. To give you and only you a chance to evaluate the results firsthand. But first, I must know my conditions are acceptable."

"State them," Hiruzen said.

Kenta inhaled, gathering courage like a diver filling lungs before the plunge.

"First, everything I share remains between us. If you must record, do so in your own hand and keep it under your seal alone."

A flicker of professional alarm crossed Iruka's face. Hiruzen schooled his into placid neutrality.

"Go on."

"Second, only I decide who learns from me. I will choose each student personally, and I retain the right to refuse anyone." Kenta's fingers whitened around the teacup. "I-I understand how audacious that sounds."

"It sounds like you value caution," Hiruzen said. "Continue."

"Third, you must test the results yourself. Through observation or, if you wish, direct participation. You alone judge whether what I have has any value."

Hiruzen let the words settle. Three requests, all about control and trust. None about profit or position. A good sign or a clever ruse. He looked into Kenta's eyes and saw not the calculation of the overly ambitious. They were filled, instead, with dread suppressed by an iron will.

"Very well," the Hokage said at last. "These terms are severe. But perhaps severity is warranted. I will consider them, but only after I understand the stakes."

Kenta set his cup aside. Both hands now free, he placed them palms down on his knees. When he spoke, it was of a most unexpected subject.

"The Uchiha massacre happened in one night," he began softly. "Every single member dead. Man, woman, and child. Shinobi and civilian both." His voice quivered but did not break. "Yet there were no alarms triggered in neighbouring districts. Public records indicated no large‑scale explosion tags detonated, and there were no evacuations, either."

Hiruzen's lungs constricted. Scenes he would rather consign to fire returned: blood pooling in pristine corridors, the sickly sweet scent of decay under midnight frost.

"A clan that had as many active shinobi as the Uchiha could not have been attacked without someone setting off a racket loud enough to shake the village awake," Kenta continued. "I know what ninja can do, Lord Hokage. Such a battle would have spilled into the rest of Konoha if it happened organically," the boy's eyes narrowed, as if recalling a memory. "Except this wasn't the case. The Uchiha was Konoha's police force, as well. Yet, every single one was eliminated without raising a fuss. Then the scene was locked down tighter than a vault." He looked up, eyes wet yet steady. "That level of suppression requires more than one man with a blade, Lord Hokage."

There was no accusation in Kenta's tone. He merely stated a fact. A researcher's findings. Still, guilt pricked him like a senbon thrown from the shadows.

"Your point?" Hiruzen asked, voice gentle.

"My point is this: If a secret that large can be hushed inside Konoha, anything can. Including me." His throat bobbed. "And people do terrible things to pry open promises they don't understand."

Kenta pressed on. "Consider Uzumaki Naruto," he said. Iruka sucked in a breath, but Kenta plunged forward. "His burden is classified. Yet villagers glare at him wherever he goes, and children are warned away as if the boy carries a plague."

Iruka's voice cracked. "Kenta–"

"It's the truth," the boy said, voice harsh with pain. "As far as I have been able to find out, there was no announcement about his status, not from you or anyone else. Yet, somehow, everyone knows." He turned to Hiruzen. "My attempts at secrecy were paper-thin, but Naruto's circumstances might as well be protected by smoke and wishes. If even a highly‑classified secret like that bleeds out, what hope do I have if word spreads about me before safeguards are put in place?"

The Hokage bowed his head for a moment.

"None of this should have reached your ears," he murmured.

Kenta laughed, a brittle sound. "Yet it did. And if I noticed, others will. Others with zero compunctions about dragging a knife through my throat."

Silence swelled, thick and cloying. Hiruzen felt the weight of decades pressing between his shoulder blades. Here sat a trembling boy, bright enough to map holes in official history, brave enough, or desperate enough, to demand terms from the seat of power.

The Will of Fire was the stubborn conviction that the future could be shepherded, not shackled. But to entrust a dangerous discovery to a nine‑year‑old? That was a wager even the most reckless daimyo might balk at.

Still…the old man recalled the first time he saw Minato bring the Rasengan into being, blue glow lighting up a field. He has already seen what someone of Kenta's potential can do if given the chance.

Even so, he had to ask. Had to be sure. A gamble like this required a prize worth staking the safety of the village.

"You offer no specifics on this discovery?"

Kenta's clenched jaws and furrowed brows betrayed intense concentration. Not out of frustration, it would seem. Rather, as a byproduct of a mind going over options, choosing and discarding as it went.

Finally huffing a breath of resignation, the deceptively unremarkable boy then proceeded to drop an exploding tag of massive proportions.

"It can potentially revive the First Hokage's Mokuton."

Hiruzen felt his eyes widen and his mouth drop by a fraction before he could stop himself. An extraordinary lapse in control for an old soldier and politician like him.

This meeting's surprises seemed endless.

Iruka was not faring any better. He gaped at the boy in open astonishment. Whatever they discussed that necessitated this meeting, this topic was apparently not brought up.

"That is an astonishing claim," the Hokage said after collecting himself. "One that needs elaboration."

Closing his eyes, Kenta took his time to respond, undoubtedly out of a desire to avoid causing any misunderstandings.

"What I've uncovered appears to challenge the very foundations of chakra theory as we currently understand it. I've combed through countless scrolls, academic texts, history books, anything I could get my hands on, and I'm confident this knowledge hasn't been documented before. Somehow, despite how fundamental it is, it's gone unnoticed or unrecognised until now. Based on the tests I've run so far, this phenomenon has the potential to affect every known aspect of chakra: jutsu formulation, physical enhancements, kekkei genkai, elemental affinities, even the way chakra interacts with the body and the environment. This could redefine everything."

This time, the silence stretched on for nearly a full minute, heavy, thoughtful, and tense. By all rights, such claims should have sounded completely absurd, the sort of grandstanding nonsense expected from a child with an overactive imagination. And yet, Hiruzen couldn't bring himself to dismiss them so easily.

He thought back to the development that had sparked this entire situation, in the first place: Kenta's sudden and suspicious spike in combat proficiency, which the boy had consistently downplayed, and now revealed to have been done out of fear.

Was this groundbreaking discovery the source of that leap in ability? Had he been concealing this the entire time, not out of arrogance, but self-preservation? If so, then how much of what Kenta had just said was truly exaggerated? And more troubling still, how much of it wasn't?

Hiruzen found himself sighing while contemplating the implications of this conundrum.

"And how would this 'potentially' revive the bloodline abilities of Lord Hashirama?" he finally asked, stressing the keyword that both parties mutually agreed on.

"By essentially making chakra more potent," was the immediate answer.

Taking a moment to weigh the implications, the Hokage found himself unable to dismiss the boy's claim outright. As far as established doctrine went, many traits related to chakra were believed to be innate and fixed from birth. A shinobi could be born with greater chakra reserves, or develop them gradually through rigorous training, experience, and age. But chakra potency?

Hiruzen sifted through decades of accumulated knowledge in his mind, an internal library of scrolls, field reports, and academic papers. He carefully avoided reacting to the memory of Orochimaru's contributions among them, knowing better than to let old wounds cloud his judgment.

And yet, despite all that accumulated knowledge, he could not recall a single study, no matter how fringe, that definitively explored or proved the idea of altering chakra's intrinsic potency.

There had always been speculation, of course. Theories on chakra density, behaviour under stress, interactions with nature energy, and obscure clan-specific manifestations. But they were all just that: speculative frameworks, lacking empirical validation.

And now, here sat a boy, not even a teenager, calmly asserting that he'd discovered what generations of researchers, war veterans, and prodigies had failed to see. A child claiming ownership of an answer that had evaded even those who had dedicated their entire lives to understanding chakra.

That alone was enough to give Hiruzen pause.

"How did you come across this discovery?" Hiruzen asked at last, altering his approach in the hopes of drawing out more detail from this most unexpected source.

"By complete accident," Kenta replied, utterly unbothered by the shift in questioning.

The Hokage raised an eyebrow at the casual answer, scepticism clearly etched across his features. In response, Kenta sighed and continued, as if anticipating the doubt.

"I was trying to increase my chakra reserves. You've seen my academy records. There should be a note in there about how pitifully low they were."

That much was true. The records confirmed his statement. Still, Hiruzen found himself paying less attention to the numbers and more to the faint tremor of frustration creeping into the boy's voice. There was a rawness there, something deeply personal.

Kenta's circumstances, while unfortunate, were far from unique.

Many children from civilian backgrounds entered the academy with subpar chakra reserves. In contrast, those born into clans with long, distinguished bloodlines often enjoyed a natural head start. Larger reserves, stronger elemental affinities, even hereditary techniques. It was an unfairness baked into the very structure of their society.

In rebelling against his own limitations, Kenta mirrored the quiet desperation of countless others who had come before him, but few had ever voiced it so directly.

"Nothing I tried worked," he muttered bitterly. "Not enough to actually make a difference."

At that point, Iruka spoke up, tone gentle but firm. "Kenta, chakra capacity naturally increases as you age. You only needed time. Your body would have caught up eventually. There was no need to push yourself so hard."

Kenta snapped.

"You weren't the one getting your ass handed to you every fucking day by kids who won the damn genetic lottery!"

The outburst shattered the calm he had maintained throughout the conversation. His voice rose with each word, no longer tempered by restraint.

"You saw what I did to Kiba, didn't you? I've always had it in me to do that. To all of them! But I couldn't. Not because I didn't train hard enough, not because I was lazy, but because I didn't win the birthright draw! That's the only reason they were able to humiliate me. Day after day. Year after year."

His hands were clenched into fists now, his breath coming fast and uneven.

"Do you have any idea what that feels like? Watching kids who barely put in the effort pull ahead of you anyway? Always faster. Always stronger. Not because they earned it, but because they were born with it!"

His voice cracked, but he pushed through, teeth grit in barely restrained anger.

"Even Shikamaru, fucking Shikamaru, could run circles around me, and that's only if he could be bothered to show up and take it seriously. So yeah, maybe I didn't want to wait around hoping puberty would magically fix everything. Maybe I wanted to level the playing field now."

By the time the final words left him, Kenta was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with the weight of years of buried resentment finally finding a voice. His composure, so carefully constructed until now, had cracked wide open. And in that moment, Hiruzen understood.

This was about the kind of pain that came from being told, implicitly and systemically, that no matter how hard you tried, you would always be lesser.

Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place to address this sensitive issue.

"So, you only stumbled upon this discovery after exhausting all other viable options?" Hiruzen asked, gently guiding the conversation back on track.

Kenta took a steadying breath, visibly working to rein in his earlier outburst. He gave a single, terse nod.

"Yes," he said quietly. "It just… occurred to me. And since nothing else had worked, I figured I had nothing to lose. So I went for it."

Iruka looked visibly alarmed. His eyes widened with disbelief as he leaned forward, his tone rising.

"Kenta, that was reckless! You can't go around experimenting with untested methods! Not at your age, and especially not when it involves your chakra system! Do you have any idea what could've happened?"

"I know!" Kenta shot back, frustration bubbling again. "I know it was stupid. But I was out of options, and it worked! What else was I supposed to do?"

Iruka didn't budge. "It was still dangerous!"

Kenta's voice sharpened. "Then tell me what I should have done!"

"Come to me! Come to us! You have teachers, mentors, people who care about your progress. You could've asked for help. That's why we're here!"

The conversation teetered on the edge of another explosion, emotions flaring too hot, too fast. Before it could unravel any further, Hiruzen raised his voice.

"That's enough. Both of you."

The words struck like a stone into a pond, stilling the rising waves. Iruka backed off immediately, jaw tight with concern. Kenta's shoulders sagged, the fight draining from him as he lowered his gaze.

Hiruzen let the silence settle, then turned his attention fully to Kenta, his expression unreadable, but his voice layered with the undeniable authority of his station.

"What's done is done. There's no sense arguing over a choice already made. But let me be perfectly clear." His tone sharpened slightly as he fixed the boy with a steady, uncompromising stare. "You are never to conduct a high-risk experiment like that on your own again. Is that understood?"

Kenta swallowed hard and nodded quickly, the earlier fire in his voice gone, replaced by a sobering awareness of the gravity in the Hokage's words.

Satisfied, Hiruzen leaned back, his fingers steepled as he returned to silent consideration. He mentally catalogued everything that had been said in the last hour.

Kenta had not only made an unprecedented discovery, but had done so under the pressure of social disparity and personal inadequacy. The methodology may have been reckless, but the results couldn't be ignored.

What the boy was proposing, what he had already achieved, could very well alter the village's understanding of chakra manipulation. The benefits, if real, were staggering. But the risks? Equally so.

It was a gamble. One that demanded a leap of trust.

And yet… the potential payoff was too valuable to dismiss.

He drew one long breath, as if filling lungs with wisdom plucked from ghosts.

"I accept your three conditions," he said.

Iruka snapped his gaze to the Hokage, shock plain. Kenta froze, disbelief flickering on his young features.

"With a few conditions of my own," Hiruzen continued. "First, I will keep your secret, but I alone decide if future circumstances force disclosure for the village's survival. Second, you will choose whom to teach, but I require at least one initial student so I may observe." He looked to Iruka. "A man you already trust."

Iruka's eyes widened. "Me?"

"You," Hiruzen confirmed. "You who saw potential rather than a threat. And finally, you wish me to judge results personally? I accept. But I will also assign a medical team of my choosing to monitor side effects, and we will take appropriate steps to ensure absolute secrecy."

Kenta sat very still. Tears trembled at his lashes, not fallen. Hope perched on the rim of his survival instinct like an uncertain bird.

"Do you find these terms satisfactory?" Hiruzen asked.

Kenta nodded, once, twice, then again, faster. He scrubbed his eyes. "Yes. Yes, Lord Hokage."

"Then we have an agreement."

Hiruzen folded his hands.

"You will also, effective immediately, cease underperforming in taijutsu. The academy records will adjust gradually. No sudden leaps startling curious watchers. But you will learn to fight honestly, lest your own discovery outrun your body."

The boy's lips twitched. "That's fair."

Iruka exhaled so hard his shoulders sagged. Relief diffused through the air like bitter herbs steeping into sweetness.

"And now," Hiruzen said, "we seal this pact with action. Tomorrow evening you will demonstrate this… new path, shall we say, in a controlled session. Iruka will be present as a student and I as an observer. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

The old man rose. Age creaked through his knees, but the spark in his gaze belied creak or ache. He dispelled the privacy seal. Sounds seeped in, paper shuffling in the outer offices and distant laughter of early patrol shift changes.

Hiruzen came around the desk, placed a gentle hand upon Kenta's trembling shoulder. The boy did not flinch, though a shiver raced through him.

"You are not alone in this," the Hokage said softly. "Konoha protects her own. Let us prove that to each other."

Kenta's reply was a whisper. "I will hold you to that, sir."

Long after Iruka guided Kenta from the office, Hiruzen remained standing at the window, pipe unlit, fingers tapping against the stem. Sunrise had fully broken. Roofs flashed molten gold.

Was this wisdom or weakness, giving a child such autonomy?

Dan–

His mind skipped away from the name. The shadow that always lurked at the edge of policy would not hear of this. Not yet. Perhaps never, if Hiruzen could help it.

He exhaled a humourless chuckle. "Hashirama," he muttered to the carved faces on the mountain, "you always did trust children to change the world."

And tomorrow, Hiruzen would watch his gamble begin.

I didn't sleep that night. Not because of nightmares, though I've had those often enough, but because my thoughts wouldn't stop running. Even after walking out of the Hokage's office alive, I couldn't settle.

The Hokage had agreed. More than that, he'd listened. And somehow, I had walked away with everything I asked for. That should've felt like a victory. But all I could feel was the pit still sitting in my stomach, cold and heavy.

Just yesterday, it felt like everything was falling apart. I got a stay of execution, but there's no telling how long that would last.

I have no illusion about the permanence of the granted reprieve. Right now, I was standing on the edge of a cliff. One of my own making, no less.

Going to the Hokage was a case of choosing the best of a bad lot. Any other option would have left me vulnerable to any of the numerous dangers that exist in this world. So, regardless of my initial plans of keeping the only advantage I had over potential enemies, that path is forever closed to me.

This grim reality setting in is the cause of my current onset of insomnia. Questions, doubts, and fears just keep swirling inside my head. Chief among them is undoubtedly my biggest gamble.

Bringing back the Mokuton? Anyone else making that claim would have either been laughed out of the Hokage tower or locked in a jail cell.

That's why I took the approach that I did. Revealing some of what I knew about the Uchiha massacre and Naruto's furry problem, while couched in more believable terms, was a huge risk. A risk that could have easily backfired, but one I needed to take.

Not only did it provide a plausible (and very real) reason for my fear, but it also forced the Hokage to take me more seriously.

Can I actually deliver? Funnily enough, I actually think I can. And it was all thanks to my relentless pursuit of meticulous record-keeping.

See, after a mind-numbing series of tests, I discovered that my ease of using elemental jutsu isn't all that common. My initial misunderstanding was due to a lack of context that would have been available to me by either learning under a Jonin or becoming a chunin.

Also, I saw five-year-old Uchihas flinging fireballs in the anime snippets that I sporadically saw while doomscrolling. So, excuse me if that skewed my perspective.

The point is, if I hadn't discovered cultivation, it would've taken me years of training to use any element outside my primary affinity, thanks to both my civilian origins and my initially limited chakra reserves. While my low capacity is still a major hurdle, cultivation has given me enough control and density to perform elemental jutsu with a fair degree of proficiency.

So what does this have to do with Mokuton? It all comes down to math:

(Chakra Density + Chakra Capacity + Chakra Control via Cultivation) × (Suiton Affinity + Doton Affinity) = Mokuton Potential

Or

(D + C + Ctrl) × (W + E) = M

Where:

D = Chakra Density

C = Chakra Capacity

Ctrl = Chakra Control (boosted by Cultivation)

W = Water affinity

E = Earth affinity

M = Mokuton (Wood Release) output or potential

Now, does this guarantee that practicing cultivation can actually lead to someone using Mokuton? Absolutely not. However, I'm banking on the possibility that it might not matter in a few years.

After all, whoever I end up teaching has a lot to gain. Exponential chakra efficiency that's only limited by effort and time? Elemental jutsu training reduced to weeks or months instead of decades? Not to mention the chakra enhancement that's essentially a watered-down version of Senju Tsunade's signature achievement.

If used correctly, applications stemming from my version of cultivation could be limitless in number.

But there's the rub.

What if I was wrong?

What if this thing I found, this method that saved me, cracked someone else open from the inside out?

What if it isn't actually as valuable as I hope it would be?

What then?

I lay on my bed and stared up at the ceiling. The room was quiet. Too quiet. No footsteps outside. No dripping faucet. Just the sound of my breath and the faint buzz of chakra threading through my system like an old friend refusing to leave my company.

I got up, turned on my desk lamp, and sat down at my work station. From a hidden compartment recessed inside the wall, I retrieved a notebook that held everything. Everything real, at least. Not my classwork or copied ninjutsu scrolls, but the true work.

What did I actually know about cultivation?

From my old world's fictional stories, it was always dramatic: inner worlds, golden cores, enlightenment under waterfalls, lots of nonsense about ginseng this or pills that. But I had no fancy realms inside me, no spiritual beast whispering cosmic truths. All I had was chakra and an idea. Cycle it, compress it, then push it back through my network, tighter and more refined than before. Rinse and repeat.

That's all I had done. Over and over.

What I lacked in insight, I made up for in obsession.

I flipped back a few pages to where I had tracked my own progress. Based not on assumptions or theory, but on what I could test, measure, and repeat:

Self-Cycle Metrics (Month 3)

Baseline chakra recovery: increased by approximately 12%. Measured through repeated chakra depletion drills followed by rest intervals; recovery time between sessions has shortened, allowing for quicker repetition of basic exercises.

Control: minimal change (already high before cultivation); practiced surface walking using only toes, then fingers, gradually reducing contact area to test control. Still maintaining precision and adhesion.

Fatigue threshold: expanded by about 20%; recorded through controlled workouts: 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, kata drills, and three sets of bodyweight circuits. Measured time to full exhaustion and compared week-over-week.

Internal cycling speed: now able to complete a full-body cycle in under 40 seconds, down from nearly 90 seconds during early trials.

Compression tolerance: currently maintaining 13 layered compressions. Early compressions took around five hours total. Now, new layers require up to twenty hours, broken up over several sessions as chakra volume expands.

One thing was clear: it didn't work like in the stories. I wasn't gaining higher understanding or following a Dao…

…Could I follow a Dao here? Is it possible? As far as I understood it, a Dao was a path that chi practitioners dedicated their lives to. Unfortunately, the concept had become so diluted in the numerous iterations of the xianxia genre that its true significance had always escaped me. I certainly wasn't going to learn about it here.

Future project, maybe?

But I'm veering way off course now. Where was I?

Ah, right.

What I was doing felt more like folding layers, over and over again. Every time my chakra reserves expanded, I compressed them again. Folded them tighter. Smoothed the edges. Pressed everything inward until it felt denser, more responsive. Getting to this point, though, was taking progressively more time than before.

The more my chakra capacity grew, the longer it took to actually compress the energy into another layer. It was like the reverse of a lobster's molting issue where the more they do it, the harder it gets. Eventually, it becomes impossible to molt at all.

And that made me wonder: what happens when someone with massive reserves tries this? Would they feel resistance sooner? Would the sheer scale of their chakra make compression more difficult or even impossible?

I didn't know. But I'd find out, eventually.

I turned to a new page and titled it: Teaching Considerations.

What could I safely pass on? What did I really understand? Not much. But I knew what I'd done. I could teach that.

Breathing synchronisation with chakra flow.

Focus on internal mapping: where chakra moved, where it caught.

Compression cue: tighten without clogging.

Timing: don't rush the pulse.

I tapped my pencil against the page.

Iruka didn't need to understand everything. He just needed to try it.

I scribbled out a training schedule. Light first session, maybe two to three hours. I'll have to keep low expectations. What else?

Record any sensation and emotional reaction through every stage of the lesson. You never know what could be relevant down the line. The Hokage would be present, so I couldn't afford panic or overreach on the subject's part.

Not that I thought Iruka would panic.

He was calm, measured, steady in a way I could never be. And he cared, really cared. That alone made him dangerous in the best possible way.

Still, part of me wished I was teaching a stranger. It would be easier, less terrifying, to risk someone I didn't know.

But this was the path I've chosen, and I'll have to live with it.

The training room was quiet, cloaked in the same kind of silence that fell over a battlefield moments before combat. Not tense, exactly, just still. Waiting. The air smelled faintly of polished wood and old ink, like the library after a storm. It was larger than Iruka expected, tucked deep beneath the Hokage Tower in a reinforced sublevel that hadn't been used in years.

At least, not for anything official.

There were seals etched into the walls, faintly glowing with chakra suppression and sound insulation. Enough to contain a disaster, or at least muffle one. In the far corner stood the Third Hokage himself, arms folded within his robes, his gaze calm and unreadable.

Iruka swallowed as he stepped forward into the centre of the room, Kenta at his side.

The boy looked different today. Not physically, but in the way he carried himself. Focused. Steady. Whatever nervousness he'd shown outside the Hokage's office was gone, buried under layers of discipline and a kind of weary determination that didn't belong on someone so young.

Kenta exhaled slowly, then turned to face him. "You ready, Sensei?"

Iruka nodded. "I trust you."

That earned a faint smile. "Alright. Sit cross-legged with your hands over your knees and palms up."

Iruka followed the instructions without hesitation. The floor was cool under him. He folded his legs, settled his breathing, and waited.

Kenta knelt opposite him in a similar position, a notebook and pencil in hand.

"I'm going to walk you through the start. Don't force anything. If you feel something's wrong, you stop. Immediately."

"Understood."

"Good. First, breathe. Deep through the nose. Slow through the mouth. We're not meditating, exactly, but you need to focus inward. Not on thoughts. On movement. On sensation. It might be better if you closed your eyes for this too."

Iruka obeyed. The breaths came slowly. Deliberately. He let his awareness settle into his chest, then his stomach, then further, into the faint current of chakra that pulsed beneath it all.

"Feel your chakra," Kenta said softly. "Let it move the way it wants to. Don't push it yet."

Iruka reached. It wasn't hard. He was a trained shinobi, after all.

"Now start cycling it. Gently. Don't force the pace. Just loop it through your system, up your spine, across your shoulders, down your arms, into your hands. Then reverse."

He followed. It was like tracing a kata through his own body. The path was familiar, but slower. More deliberate.

"Have you started?" Kenta asked.

The question confused Iruka for a moment until he remembered that the boy wasn't a sensor-nin. He wouldn't be able to actually track Iruka's progress.

"Yes."

"Excellent. Please provide descriptions of what you're feeling as we go along. I'm hoping we can use the data to improve future lessons."

The teacher-turned-student nodded.

"Good," Kenta murmured. "Now, start compressing your chakra without stopping the cycle."

Iruka frowned, but didn't open his eyes. "How?"

"Think of your chakra like water flowing through a series of pipes," Kenta instructed, voice calm but firm. "Now imagine pressing in on that water from all directions with nothing but your will. You're guiding the flow, squeezing it evenly as it moves. Keep cycling it while you do. Don't let the motion stop, even as you compress."

He visualised it. Drew his chakra inward as it cycled. Held it a little tighter at each pass. Less spread, more tension.

The sensation shifted, and he felt an almost gentle pressure. Like trying to squeeze water.

Iruka dutifully described as much.

"There," Kenta said quietly. "That's the start."

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Iruka kept breathing, kept cycling and compressing, and it was exhausting. Not physically, though. The whole thing simply required a degree of single-minded focus he rarely bothered with, a fine-tuned mental grip that left his head buzzing. Sweat beaded at his temples. His back ached from holding the posture.

Kenta didn't speak unless needed. When he did, it was only to nudge: "Hold it longer," or "Let it loosen a bit," or "Try another pass before you exhale."

Another hour passed.

By the third hour, Iruka began to feel it. Something changed.

It was small, small enough that it would have escaped his notice if he wasn't fully focusing inward. If he wasn't told what to look for. His chakra felt different.

Denser.

He exhaled slowly and opened his eyes.

Kenta was watching him closely. "Well?"

Iruka hesitated, then nodded. "Something shifted. Not much. But it's there."

Kenta let out a breath of relief. "That's good. That's very good."

Lord Hiruzen stepped forward at last. His presence had been quiet, almost ghostly.

"Remarkable," he said softly. "To see such results with no foreign chakra techniques, bloodline considerations, or complex seal matrices involved. I have never in my life seen such a thing."

Kenta nodded. "That's all I had."

The Hokage looked between them. "How long have you been doing this?"

Kenta shrugged. "For a little over three months now, going on four. The process didn't really change all that much. I just made adjustments as needed."

Iruka shook out his arms. His muscles were sore from stillness. "How did you know what adjustments to make?"

"Mostly going with what felt right. I started measuring and recording my progress right at the beginning too, so I wasn't completely groping in the dark."

Lord Hiruzen stroked his beard. "It flies in the face of everything our Academy teaches about chakra use. Yet here it is."

Kenta said nothing.

Iruka glanced at him, then added, "This might change everything."

The Hokage didn't answer right away. He studied Kenta again, closely this time.

Then he said, quietly, "I wonder how we missed it. All these years. Our scholars, the many brilliant minds that Konoha has produced since its founding. I find it hard to believe that none of them had even conceived of such a thing."

Kenta frowned. "Maybe they were looking in the wrong direction? From what I've been able to gather, ninja tend to focus on the flashier aspects of chakra. Bigger jutsu, more dangerous weapons, faster ways to kill the enemy. This isn't that. This is just work. Slow and ugly and boring."

Lord Hokage chuckled. "As most worthwhile things are."

Iruka stood fully. "What now?"

"Now?" Konoha's leader raised a bemused eyebrow before turning to the youngest in the room. "That would depend on what our resident expert plans to do next."

"I want to keep going," Kenta said without preamble. "With more trials but slowly. Iruka-sensei first, for a few more sessions. Then, we'll see."

Hiruzen nodded. "I'll give you the room when you need it. But no written records. Nothing that can be stolen or copied."

"Agreed."

"And if I wish to participate in the next session?"

Kenta blinked. "You'd really try it?"

"I've lived long enough to know that learning never stops. And if you're right…"

He let the sentence hang.

Kenta gave a small nod. "I'll guide you. If you want."

Hiruzen offered a warm smile. "Good. Then we proceed. Carefully."

Iruka looked down at his hands. The chakra felt different in them. He couldn't explain it, but it responded faster. Truer.

Not much right now.

But it was the seed from which would sprout something of earth-shaking proportions.

Hiruzen Sarutobi remained behind after Kenta and Iruka had left. The quiet returned, blanketing the training chamber in that same stillness it had before the session began.

He took a slow walk around the perimeter, fingers trailing lightly across the old sealwork etched into the stone. Chakra suppression, sound insulation, physical reinforcement, and all the little things needed for delicate workings that required absolute privacy. The design hadn't changed since the war. Back then, this room had hosted interrogation sessions and dangerous jutsu trials. Now, it held the memory of something far more dangerous:

Hope.

Hiruzen exhaled smoke from his pipe and stood still at the center.

He'd seen powerful things before. Jutsu that levelled forests, sealing techniques that froze demons mid-roar. But there was something insidious about this. Something that worked not by force, but by accumulation.

Discipline. Repetition. A grain of rice at a time, until it outweighed a mountain.

That was the true danger of Kenta's discovery: accessibility. It required only time and the right mindset.

He tapped ash into a long-cold brazier and thought back.

Why hadn't any of the sages discovered this? Or the monks at Fire Temple? Or the archives of Uzushio before they fell? Even among the most devoted ascetics, chakra was used as a tool, not reshaped as a living discipline.

The likeliest answer, in the end, was the simplest.

Because no one had thought to treat chakra as a resource to cultivate. At least, not in the same way that Kenta does. They enhanced it with quantity and quality, in mind. Directed it for this end or that. But to compress and cycle it for hours upon hours, perhaps even days, weeks, or years?

Only Kenta.

A boy who has been living in fear of discovery for the past few months.

He'd seen it in Kenta's eyes today. That flickering terror, held in check, but ultimately weaponised. The boy carried too much awareness for someone so young. He was playing a game with stakes he didn't trust anyone else to understand.

And yet he had chosen to share it. Out of seeing no other options, perhaps, but the fact remains.

That alone warranted attention.

"Three months," Hiruzen muttered, "to surpass his peers. Many of them heirs from Konoha's most prestigious clans."

What would a year look like?

Two?

He tapped his fingers against the head of his pipe. Tomorrow, he would test it himself, just as Kenta described.

He wanted to know. To feel it.

Because if this worked, if it scaled, then the shinobi world was about to change. Not through conquest or peace treaties as had been done before, and which often proved fragile. No, it will be a quiet, unseen progress that will wash away the earth from beneath the world's foundations.

And the only person who truly understood its pace was still a student.

He left the chamber then, with slow, deliberate steps.

Outside, the village lights twinkled like stars scattered at his feet.

Walking back home after my first time teaching cultivation to someone else, my mind was buzzing. By every reasonable metric, it was a resounding success. It proved to the Hokage and Iruka that I wasn't blowing hot air. More importantly, the session yielded some fantastic data.

The most valuable, at least, to me, was the confirmation of a theory that I really hoped would pan out. Anyone with more chakra than civilians would have a harder time cultivating. Oh sure, the payout would be enormous if they achieved a breakthrough.

But this would depend entirely on their patience, discipline, and dedication.

I've been able to compress my chakra thirteen times in the span of three months. And that was by cultivating for several hours in the morning after I wake up and in the evening before I go to sleep.

Each layer made using chakra for anything easier, and I'm nowhere near my limit.

When I resigned myself to the possibility of sharing my secrets, I was worried that I'd be losing my one advantage over everyone else. Today's session confirms that this wasn't the case at all. Iruka will likely continue cultivating once he gets the hang of it. The Hokage, likewise. But neither of them is going to get as much out of it as I would.

After all, they have responsibilities that will take up their time. Neither would be able to allocate the number of hours required to successfully form layers with their chakra for a while.

Maybe I'm wrong about that, just like how I've been wrong about a lot of things. But I don't think so. This time, I'm using hard data to form this conclusion, not assumptions. The Hokage cultivating faster than me would be like the sun revolving around the earth. He simply has too much chakra.

At least, that's my theory. Tomorrow, I would learn more.

And so what if I have to teach other kids to do what I do? How many will actually have what it takes to get anywhere with cultivation? Iruka spent three hours just to feel a slight shift in his chakra, and I was observing him the whole time.

He didn't find it easy at all. His chakra capacity isn't even that large.

There's also the fact that I'll be choosing who will be receiving these lessons in the future. Me, no one else. Right at the top of the criteria for receiving this privilege would be a certain degree of loyalty towards yours truly. I'll make damn sure of that.

Now, all I have to worry about is Danzo and his band of killer sociopaths. Having the Hokage's attention puts me closer to the war hawk's sphere of influence, but it also shields me from secret abductions.

Of course, he could always leak my existence to Orochimaru or the other hidden villages. But there's only so much I can prepare for without driving myself insane. Right now, I have no choice but to trust in Hiruzen's discretion.

With that said, I think it's time to enact some of the plans I've had to delay due to my need for anonymity. Once I'm done, I'll be one of the most dangerous motherfuckers in the Elemental Nations.

For the first time since finding myself in this world, I'm actually excited for the future.

Interlude 2

Sasuke POV

Uchiha Sasuke was not usually prone to idle thought.

Focus was everything to him. Every breath was counted, every movement measured, and every drop of effort was controlled. All in preparation to achieve a single, all-consuming objective: kill Uchiha Itachi.

The murderer. The betrayer. His brother.

That singular source of clarity was what kept him grounded amidst the noise of the village, the mediocrity of his classmates, and the suffocating banality of daily training sessions.

He did not tolerate distractions.

Which made the fact that his eyes were once again drifting toward Shiozaki Kenta all the more aggravating for the perpetually stoic boy.

For the first two years of the academy, Sasuke wouldn't have been able to recall the civilian's name to save his life. He was forgettable and quiet. Bookish, but not in the smug Hyūga way. He was just… there. Shiozaki was competent in theory, besting even him in many aspects of academics, but average in Taijutsu. He never stood out in a way that's relevant to being a ninja. Until the day he did.

The matchup had been skewed from the start and everyone knew it. Inuzuka might have been a brawler who relied too much on instinct and toothy aggression, but previous matches featuring these two had always ended the same way.

Shiozaki gets overwhelmed no matter how perfect his form or how well he understood the technicalities of fighting.

And to be fair to the civilian-born student, he actually does know what he's doing. He simply didn't have the speed or power to support this knowledge. But then Kiba hit the ground after being on the receiving end of a perfectly executed shoulder throw.

There was no complicated technique involved. It was simple as a technique could get.

But it didn't change the result that left Akamaru howling and Iruka-sensei blinking in confusion. Sasuke had frozen in his seat, taken completely off guard before scowling fiercely. He didn't like surprises. He especially didn't like being surprised by people he'd mentally filed under non-threat.

As if that wasn't enough of a shock, the boy then nearly bisected a target with a shuriken the day after. Something even he couldn't do despite training for years. That his clan was famed for their expertise in thrown weapons only worsened the aggravation.

Since then, Konoha's last remaining loyal Uchiha had taken to observing Shiozaki just a little bit closer. Unfortunately, this new resolution also turned out to be a major source of annoyance over the past three months.

Ever since showing up the mutt that one time, his deceptively ordinary classmate seemingly doubled-down on perpetuating this deception.

He slipped during drills that Sasuke had witnessed him performing flawlessly since their first year. He missed targets that he could have hit blindfolded. Worst of all, Shiozaki had apparently decided that it was a fantastic idea to take a dive every time he faced off against him and the other clan heirs.

Just about the only partners that he would still put in any effort against were Naruto and the other civilians, but in the reverse.

In those cases, downplaying his skills was coming across as Shiozaki trying to teach his opponents. And it was working! The civilians were actually improving in practically every aspect of the academy. It wasn't a huge jump in ability, but it was still happening.

None of the teachers were commenting on it. His peers from the other clans kept quiet too and Sasuke knew for a fact that some of them had already noticed. The Hyūga girl was even spending a lot of time talking to the current target of his ire on a regular basis.

The one time he overheard their discussions, it involved chakra networks, math, and… groceries? Comprehensible if taken in the right context, but it was oddly expressed, to say the least.

In the end, though, Sasuke concluded that Shiozaki was putting on an act. And not a very good one.

His eyes constantly tracked movements for threats while smaller, subtler details went ignored. The tension in his stance signalled a constant readiness to either fight or flee, but from what? Or whom?

Then there was the controlled breathing that belonged to someone deliberately suppressing their full capabilities. When facing off against someone, his breath would hitch, but not to counter or deflect. It was to brace.

It wasn't just his body that betrayed the duplicity, either, but also the timing of his 'mistakes'. The mechanical stiffness in his missteps was always accompanied by telegraphed actions a fraction of a second too early or too late. Always. Always.

This bears repeating because anyone with even a modicum of the common sense that the Kami gave shinobi would know that patterns give away intent. Shiozaki might as well have marked his forehead with "I'm lying to you" and gotten it over with.

After months of observing him, Sasuke was close to simply branding his classmate as an idiot savant. Then today's match against Akimichi Chōji happened and the dark-haired boy was forced to re-evaluate his target, once more.

It was infuriating!

Again, it was during Taijutsu class. Again, Shiozaki was paired against another clan kid. Again, he expected the civilian to lose on purpose.

But when Iruka-sensei called for the match to start, the change was unmistakable, forcing Sasuke and the other students to sit up straighter. Moving faster than ever before, Shiozaki intercepted Akimichi's strikes with fluid grace. He was focusing on evasion, for the most part, but no one missed the sudden boost in fighting capabilities.

Naturally, Akimichi was caught by surprise, but was able to adapt quickly enough. Or so it seemed. Sasuke wasn't fooled, though.

Shiozaki intentionally gave his opponent time to adjust.

From an outsider's perspective, this choice would have come off as strange, but not to the Uchiha. It was clear to him that even now, the bastard was still holding back. Oh, he was putting up an admirable performance of seemingly struggling to keep up with Akimichi, but it was there for anyone with eyes to see.

Glancing to the side, Sasuke confirmed his hypothesis with the looks of concentration on the other clan kids. Casting his eyes on their teacher, though, Sasuke was confused at the absence of surprise. As if this development was expected.

In the end, the fight concluded in a draw, with both combatants huffing in exhaustion. Akimichi's spent condition was genuine. Shiozaki's was not. What's more surprising was the look of satisfaction on his face.

He didn't win, but victory didn't seem to be his goal for this spar.

Sasuke narrowed his eyes and turned his gaze toward Iruka, once more. The chuunin looked completely unbothered. There was no twitch of the brow or a searching glance at the anomaly for an explanation. If anything, he looked... amused.

They know. That was Sasuke's first thought.

Iruka, for sure, perhaps the other teachers too. How far does this deception go?

Is the whole Academy involved?

The council?

The Hokage?!

That wouldn't make sense! Regardless of any talents or rare abilities that Shiozaki may posses, there's no point in investing so much time and effort to keep it a secret. He was training to be a ninja of Konoha, after all. What would be the point of hiding his true potential to the extent of practically stunting his growth?

Surely the Hokage wouldn't put up with such self-destructive behavior?

Even ignoring all of the disturbing implications, it still left the question of what was going on. Shiozaki could have ended his spar against Akimichi with ease. Sasuke was certain of it.

How did he get this strong? How much stronger has he gotten? How did it happen so quickly? Why did he decide to reveal some of his capabilities now?

These thoughts were swirling in the Uchiha's head while scrutinizing the civilian when the subject of his attention turned to meet his gaze. It was only for a fraction of a second. Barely enough time to get anything useful out of the encounter for anyone else.

Not for Uchiha Sasuke, though.

He saw a raised eyebrow, a slightly upraised corner of the lips, and the mirth behind brown eyes.

All of it combined produced a single question.

Interested?

Annoyed, though he was. Aggravated, irritated, and pissed off, though he was. Konoha's last loyal Uchiha couldn't deny the truth, even to himself.

He was interested. He was very interested.

Naruto POV
~One day before the Kenta/Choji Taijutsu spar~

Uzumaki Naruto hasn't had the best go at life, so far, and today was no different. Stomping his way through the dirt path behind the Academy, he ruminates on the unfair scolding he was just subjected to. Granted, he did paint a smiley face on the Hokage Monument, but come on!

It was hilarious!

Unfortunately, no one laughed along with him. No one ever laughed along with him. They just glared and told him off or pretended they didn't see him at all. Same old story.

It wasn't fair. People only knew him for his pranks. For being loud. For getting chased by ninja all over the village so he can get yelled at. But, how else was he supposed to get anyone to notice him?

He kicked a rock down the path and watched it bounce off a training post.

"Iruka-sensei's the only one who even tries to understand me," Naruto muttered. "And Old Man Hokage. That's it."

He sighed dramatically and threw himself into the grass beside the post, arms behind his head. "Everyone else either ignores me or acts like I've got snot on my face or something."

But lately… lately it wasn't just Iruka and the Hokage.

There was Kenta, too.

Naruto squinted up at the clouds and thought about the weird kid with the serious face and is always really good in class.

Kenta didn't laugh at Naruto's jokes, but he didn't groan or roll his eyes either. He didn't yell when Naruto got too loud or fidgety. He didn't push Naruto away when he sat beside him at lunch.

He listened.

And when Naruto asked stuff, like why his Transformation Jutsu kept ending with him having a pig tail or a missing nose, Kenta explained it. Not like Iruka-sensei, with rules and diagrams and a pointer stick that he could never understand. He went slow when Naruto asked, never once complaining when he didn't get the lesson right away.

Kenta would even use examples that made sense. Like when the broth was too salty or when the ramen noodle was overcooked.

There were those breathing things Kenta talked about too. What were those, again? Right. "Focus exercises," he called them.

Naruto thought they were boring at first: sitting still and breathing a certain way, feeling the air move through his belly and his chest, counting to four and back down again.

But he tried it.

Kenta had said, "Try this before practice. Just five minutes."

It didn't take that long. Just two minutes longer than waiting for instant ramen. So Naruto listened.

And weirdly… it helped.

His jutsu didn't fizzle out as much. His chakra didn't feel like it was sloshing around like a broken water balloon. His Henge had gotten better. Still not perfect, but better.

And Kenta noticed. He said "Good job" and Naruto knew he meant it.

Hardly anyone had ever said that to him. No one his age, anyway. Iruka-sensei and the Old Man would often praise him when he did something right, but it wasn't the same.

The blond then sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Kenta's my friend," he said aloud. "And not just because he lets me sit with him at lunch."

Yeah, that felt right.

There was something different about Kenta, though. Naruto couldn't say what. Not like he was cooler or stronger or anything like that. Just… different.

He didn't act like a kid, not all the time. He wasn't stuck-up or anything, just kind of... twitchy. Like he was always watching, thinking. Naruto didn't get it, but he felt it, like an itch in his brain.

It's been months since he started getting these weird vibes, but he never brought it up. What if Kenta got mad? What if he stops talking to him?

Naruto didn't know what to do. So, he did what he always does when he needed answers.

The door to the Hokage Tower banged open with the force of a small stampede.

"I'm here, Old Man!" Naruto shouted. "I got a question!"

One of the ANBU stationed by the wall twitched. The other didn't even flinch.

Hiruzen Sarutobi looked up from a scroll as Naruto burst into the room like a thrown kunai.

"Good morning, Naruto," the Hokage said with a patient smile. "What can I do for you?"

Naruto didn't stop moving until he stood right in front of the desk, hands planted on his hips.

"It's about Kenta."

Hiruzen raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

"Kenta! He's my new friend."

"Ah, I see. What about him?"

"Well, he's weird," Naruto said. "Not in a bad way! Just, he's different. He helps me. He's nice. And smart. But not in a boring way. And he knows all these things about chakra and breathing and stuff, and he never makes fun of me."

The Hokage leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "That's good to hear. Kenta sounds like… quite an interesting student."

"Yeah, and like, we train sometimes. Not for real fights or anything, just when he's not busy. And he always explains stuff. And he doesn't get annoyed when I mess up. Not even once!"

Hiruzen nodded. "It sounds like you've made a good friend."

Naruto grinned wide. "Yeah! I mean, I guess. I dunno. It's not like we hang out all the time, but he lets me tag along sometimes. And he doesn't chase me off when I do."

There was a pause. Naruto scratched his cheek.

"But there's still something weird about him," he added. "I can't figure it out. He's not like the other kids. He's quiet, but not shy. And sometimes he says stuff that sounds way too grown-up. Like when he told me that 'rushing strength without foundation is like building a tower on sand.' What does that even mean?!"

The Hokage chuckled, eyes twinkling.

"Perhaps you should ask him," Hiruzen said.

Naruto blinked. "Huh?"

"If Kenta seems different, and it bothers you, or just makes you curious, then the best way to understand him is to talk to him. Ask him what he means. Ask him why he says the things he says."

Naruto tilted his head. "You think he'll tell me?"

"You said he's your friend, didn't you?"

"…Yeah."

"Then I think he will."

The boy nodded, slowly at first, then with growing enthusiasm. "Alright! I'll ask him next time. I'm gonna figure out what makes him so weird!"

Hiruzen smiled, soft and proud. "I'm glad you've made a friend, Naruto."

Naruto beamed. "Me too!"

They chatted for a little while longer about nothing. Naruto asked if he could plant flowers on the Hokage Monument ("Only if you promise not to paint them again"), and the Hokage asked if he was eating enough ("Cup ramen doesn't count as all four food groups").

By the time Naruto left, the old man was still smiling.

For all the weight he carried, seeing Naruto with even one more person in his corner made it feel just a little lighter. The fact that it was Shiozaki Kenta only makes this development all the more interesting… and potentially dangerous.

Danzo POV

Shimura Danzo's office was not a place designed for comfort. It was a bunker, a nerve center of shadows and secrets. And thus, it was brutally utilitarian, reflecting its occupant's uncompromising pragmatism.

The air was stale and the quiet had weight. Carefully designed to exude a suffocating pressure that unsettled even seasoned Root operatives who were trained to kill all emotions. The walls were thick stone reinforced with sealwork comparable only to the Hokage Tower in ensuring absolute privacy.

No scrolls lined the walls in an attempt to project a scholarly bent. No trophies nor honours hung in display as points of pride or accomplishments. This room was not meant for admiration.

It was meant for silence, for scrutiny, and for ensuring unreserved obedience.

Konoha's shadow stood with his back straight, one arm tucked inside his robe as always. The other gripped a thin folder between weathered fingers. Age had not dulled him. If anything, it had refined him. Pared him down to the bear minimum of what he needed to fulfill his function and discarded everything else.

Where others grew soft with time, Danzo had calcified. His gaze was sharper and patience thinner.

Before him, a Root operative knelt in perfect stillness, forehead almost brushing the floor. Waiting like a naked blade, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

Danzo broke the silence with a question so soft it might have been mistaken for thought.

"This is all?"

"Yes, Danzo-sama."

He did not sigh. Shimura Danzo did not waste breath on sighs. Instead, he flicked the folder open, his single uncovered eye scanning the topmost page.

What greeted him was insultingly vague.

Dates, times, participants, and such were there, on the page. But there was nothing of substance. The information was delivered in dull monotone. All nuances removed and not a hint of indirect disclosure could be found.

Such sterile documentation was unnatural and necessary for only one purpose. To deny him intelligence.

The meeting had occurred three days ago, in the early hours of dawn. Hiruzen had activated a privacy seal of the highest calibre. One that not even he could breach. It prevented sound, vision, chakra, and spatial distortion techniques from penetrating.

In the end, Root gained nothing but dead silence and interference.

An excessive degree of precaution for his old friend.

Danzo's gaze lingered on a line of redacted text. Even the ink smudges looked deliberate.

"Old fool," he murmured. "Still capable of covering his tracks."

He closed the folder and reached for another. This one was thicker and older, but all too ordinary. On it was a civilian registry stamp and a black tag: SHIOZAKI, KENTA.

Shiozaki Kenta, age nine. Born to Masaru and Kaname. Civilian parents with no military service and no political affiliations. Their shop sold ink, parchment, dry goods, and a variety of general supplies. Maintains respectable reputations within the communty.

But ultimately irrelevant for Danzo's needs.

Kenta's Academy performance was neat, clean, and almost entirely unremarkable. Above average in chakra control, but below average in taijutsu. Demonstrated clear grasp of theoretical principles but consistently failed to perform during public demonstrations for his first two years. Multiple instructors noted his reserved yet helpful nature.

And then there were the flags.

Three instructors had independently written variations of the same phrase in their weekly reports: Deliberately holding back.

Danzo's eye narrowed.

Why would a civilian child hold back?

He continued reading, following a section that nudged something in the back of his mind.

Recent months showed erratic, though statistically significant, improvements in stamina and coordination.

It was not enough to raise alarms, but it was enough to draw attention, if one knew where to look.

The next page was a surveillance summary. Not one conducted by Root, but records from Konoha's regular patrols, instead.

Shiozaki was frequently seen training alone in an unused corner of one of the smaller shinobi fields. Nothing groundbreaking, at first glance. Merely physical drills and meditation for hours at a time.

It shows commendable commitment, if nothing else. Yet, Danzo sensed that there was more. An instinct that was only reinforced when the same isolated field showed signs of significant disturbance. Unfortunately, the cause was never directly observed.

An oversight that twinged Danzo's irritation.

Flipping another page, it showed Shiozaki's known companions: Hyuga Hinata and Uzumaki Naruto.

Danzo tapped a knuckle on the page, producing a sound like slow, patient drumbeats.

The Hyuga heiress and the Nine-Tails' vessel. How do these two pieces fit this puzzle?

He turned to the operative still kneeling like a statue. "Any direct observation?"

The reply came without hesitation. "No, Danzo-sama. Our surveillance was compromised. The subject is now too well-guarded."

Danzo's brow twitched. "How?"

"Four concealed counter-surveillance ANBU. Possibly more. We nearly lost two assets in the last attempt."

He closed the folder with a snap.

"It seems the Hokage is no longer as reserved in showing his hand," Danzo said, almost conversational. "Yet, this approach only serves to enlarge the target on the subject's back."

His thoughts churned beneath the surface, calculating angles, motives, and potential gains. Why would Hiruzen deploy such protections for a civilian boy with no bloodline and no legacy?

Danzo stared at the folders for a long time. The operative remained still, waiting, as was custom.

"Leave," Danzo said.

The Root ninja was gone before the word finished echoing.

Alone again, Danzo took a final look at the boy's name on the folder.

Shiozaki Kenta.

Whatever secrets he was hiding, Hiruzen is helping him conceal it. Quite actively, as well, it would seem.

And Shimura Danzo had never tolerated secrets kept from him.

He turned and left the office, his footsteps never making a sound even as he passed the threshold.

It was time he spoke to Hiruzen, face to face.

The Hokage's office was a world apart from Danzo's subterranean den. Warm sunlight filtered through high windows, catching on the lacquered wood of scroll cases and the faint gleam of ink on paper. Every surface bore the quiet dignity of an era that believed in the nobility of leadership.

Where the old shadow's world was built for control, Hiruzen's exuded presence.

Sitting across from the desk, Danzo's posture was rigid and his lone eye gave nothing away. One might mistake his silence for respect, but this could not be further from the truth.

Opposite him, Sarutobi Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, pipe in hand, wearing robes slightly rumpled in a seemingly careless manner. His former teammate had always known the value of misleading appearances.

"Danzo," Hiruzen greeted, exhaling a thin ribbon of smoke. "It's been some time since you requested a personal audience."

"Matters occasionally warrant a direct touch," Danzo replied. "The season brings many changes."

Hiruzen smiled faintly. "It does. Growth always comes in strange spurts. Sometimes from unexpected corners."

Danzo tilted his head. "Corners deserve light, lest mold take root."

They were speaking in riddles, but both men heard the message behind every phrase. Danzo was pressing for information while Hiruzen denied his quest.

"I trust your office continues to… monitor the sprouts?" Danzo asked, voice deliberately vague.

"Of course," Hiruzen said, "though I've found that some things grow better when left unmeasured. Interference, after all, can warp the result."

"Sometimes it reveals flaws early," Danzo countered. "Before they spread."

"Or causes them," Hiruzen murmured, taking a puff of his pipe.

Danzo's eye lingered on the scrolls behind Hiruzen's desk. He did not allow himself to fidget, but he radiated stillness the way a sword did before it cut.

"I've heard curious things from the Academy," he said. "Strange patterns of behaviour. Unexpected shifts in conduct. Some instructors have grown… attentive."

Hiruzen's smile didn't waver. "Our educators are diligent and I have always encouraged curiosity."

Danzo made a quiet sound. "Curiosity is healthy… when guided early."

"Guidance is best when it doesn't crush instinct."

"A loose rein can lead to ruin."

"And a heavy hand can break the colt."

Silence hung between them, not heavy but taut. Hiruzen tapped the side of his pipe against the ceramic ash bowl. The clink echoed faintly.

Danzo leaned forward. "You've always believed in allowing potential to unfold naturally. But nature can be… capricious."

"I've also believed," Hiruzen said calmly, "that some things should be allowed to find their own form. Interference too early may obscure what they could become."

Danzo's fingers twitched beneath his robe. "What if it becomes dangerous?"

"Then I deal with it," Hiruzen said. "As I always have."

There it was, the steel beneath the smoke. Danzo saw it and noted the shift.

"I am not here to question your judgment," Danzo said mildly. "Only to ensure that all matters concerning our village's… future… remain transparent."

Hiruzen gave a chuckle, though it held no amusement. "And yet you built your foundation on opacity, cloaking your deeds in veils of necessity and sacrifice."

Danzo inclined his head. "I deal in what others refuse to see. Hopes and beliefs cannot secure us against danger, from without and from within."

"Both are necessary," Hiruzen said. "But sometimes belief is what carries us through when all else fails."

Their eyes met, each challenging the other's convictions. Posturing played no role in this interaction. Just the long, cold study of two men who had known each other too long and trusted each other too little.

"I'll be watching," Danzo said finally.

"I'd expect nothing less," Hiruzen replied.

Danzo rose without bowing, a gesture that the Hokage had become all too familiar with. The door was opened by the guard stationed outside.

As Danzo exited, satisfaction filled his mind. The specifics still eluded him, but its existence has been confirmed. Now, it was simply a matter of finding a flaw in the formidable shell that surrounds the boy.

One will appear eventually.

Danzo only needed to wait.

Chapter 5
It was the second day of operation Empower Trained Killers with Bullshit Chinese Magic. It was also my second time in the underground room that I had absolutely no idea existed before it was shown to me.

Then again, a lot of Konoha wasn't featured in any of the source materials.

There could be an Umbrella-style Hive facility buried miles beneath the village, for all I knew.

Yeah, I'm not gonna go there. Flesh-eating zombie ninjas are a different level of Nope.

At the moment, I was sitting on the cold stone floor with my legs crossed, trying to ignore how the dim lanterns made everything feel too still. Iruka leaned against the wall a few steps away with his arms folded, staying quiet but alert.

He had finished his own chakra cycling and compression earlier. Right now, we were both waiting on the only other presence in the room.

The Hokage was opposite me, sitting with his spine straight and a cushion keeping him comfortable. A precaution that I honestly should have thought of. Based on the twinkle in his eyes after noticing my glare at the offending piece of furniture, he found my consternation hilarious.

Smug bastard.

It did come in handy, though, since he had been going for nearly nine hours now. Nine freakin' hours!

The old dude really is a monster. Even I could only last five before the strain got to me. These days, I have to break up my sessions to a few each time.

Meanwhile, we have the defacto dictator of Konoha looking serene. As if there was nowhere else he would rather be.

The unfairness of it all burns! It burns, I tells ya!

Internal griping aside, this really puts the future into perspective. The Hokage had gotten the hang of everything an hour in, largely due to having already seen it done once. From there, it was just a matter of making minor adjustments.

Since then, it's been hours since anyone has said a word. I was keeping quiet because I needed to observe exactly what was happening.

Iruka is staying silent presumably out of respect. Or maybe he's seething for lasting only three measly hours and now he feels like a soy boy scrub.

It's one of the two.

Some part of me feels like I should be worried. Then another part of me tells that first part of me to shut the hell up. My first student was right there, leaning against the wall and looking completely unexploded. The Hokage's not about to make a mistake now that he's reached this stage.

As if to prove my more boorish aspect right, Sarutobi Hiruzen finally stirred.

His shoulders shifted slightly and released a soft exhale, signaling the loosening of tension. When his eyes opened, it took a second or two for them to focus and regard his surroundings.

"How are you feeling, Lord Hokage?" Iruka asked, stepping closer.

In lieu of responding immediately, Hiruzen flexed his fingers a few times. He also rolled his neck and rotated his shoulders. Iruka and I knew the cause, of course. Sitting still for hours on end can make one mighty stiff (not that way, you perv!).

Once done loosening up, the Hokage stood with slow, practiced ease and the difference was immediate. After meeting my future superior in person, it was obvious that he wasn't a doddering old man. He held himself with gravitas and confidence.

However, the man before me seemed more at ease. Almost… revitalized.

Crap, did he break through or something?

"I feel quite well, Iruka," he said, his voice calm but carried a hint of wonder. "The difference is as you reported. Miniscule, almost difficult to detect. But knowing what to look for has made it easier to gather my chakra and guide it as I wish."

Huh. So, he didn't form a layer. That's a relief.

I let out a breath I hadn't realised I was holding and almost winced. Those lessons about masking emotions can't come fast enough.

Iruka turned to me with a look of unhindered pride. Don't look at me like that, dammit!

"You were right," the Hokage said, gazing at me with a warm smile. "This method of yours produces tangible results."

My response was a wry grin.

"They may not be dramatic, but progress is reliable enough."

"It's certainly repeatable," the Hokage added.

"Three for three, now," I concurred, though, I couldn't help a frown from forming.

Ever since discovering cultivation, I mapped out the possible consequences of such a stupidly simple method of getting stronger. Suffice it to say, way too many of them touched on Doomsday scenarios.

"What's wrong?" Irukua asked.

I hesitated before sighing. It's not as if either of my companions were blind to the dangers of what I'll be introducing to this world.

"It's too easy," I explained. "This method basically erases a lot of the barriers that people have to attaining greater strength. You don't even need to be a ninja, exactly. As long as you can use chakra and have a lot of time on your hands, there's nothing stopping you from becoming a major threat."

Neither of the grown men spoke for a moment, but their silence said enough. Both have already considered this.

"We have already taken the necessary steps to ensure secrecy, Kenta," the Hokage said, breaking the silence. "I agreed to your own demands to that end."

"I know Lord Hokage and I'm incredibly grateful," I began, "but we all know it's not enough. No matter how closely we keep this to our chest, the truth will eventually get out. Whether it's ten, twenty, or a hundred years from now, it doesn't matter. Unless we smother this approach in the crib right now, it will slip from our grasp."

From the way both Iruka and the Hokage nodded, I wasn't telling them anything new. We live in a world where espionage is a way of life. Heck, in canon, Mizuki almost got his hands on the Forbidden Scroll courtesy of a naive Naruto.

"What do you propose, Kenta?"

Seeing Iruka cast the old man an incredulous look, it seems I wasn't the only one surprised by the question. With that said, there have been a few things percolating inside my brain to address exactly this problem. To start with…

"We need to give our ninja an edge," I said slowly, rummaging from my pile of ideas and trying to organize them. "It's one thing to know the general principles behind my method, but you both already know how different it is in practice."

I gave the two men a meaningful look, referring to how much effort they had to put in for minimal gains.

"If we can prepare future generations to more easily take advantage of this new process, we will always be ahead of the curve over those who would only ever have incomplete information. Control is always going to be the biggest stumbling block to cycling and compressing chakra. A lot of techniques have been lost to time thanks to this problem."

Tsunade's strength alone is a testament to the benefits of extreme chakra control. So, why wasn't the Elemental Nations drowning in ninja that could crush mountains with their fist? Because it's not that simple.

"I propose we introduce more exercises in the academy that would improve chakra efficiency and manipulation. I've already started experimenting with simpler applications. Breathing techniques, chakra cycling drills. Nothing dangerous. Just adaptations of the core concepts."

The Hokage's eyes narrowed slightly. "Who have you tested these on?"

"No one officially," I said hastily, realizing my mistake. "Just some of my classmates. Kids who need help with chakra control. I've kept it small, honest!"

Iruka stepped closer, arms dropping to his sides. "And it's working?"

I nodded, perhaps a little too fast. "They're improving. Recovering a little faster than normal and they're not wasting as much chakra as before, either. It's not cultivation, not really. But they're safe."

The Hokage turned away briefly, folding his hands behind his back. "You believe these techniques could be shared without revealing the source?"

"That's the goal," I said. "Not everyone needs to cultivate. But everyone could benefit from a better foundation. If we do this carefully, we might develop a training method anyone can use."

He nodded slowly. "The med-nin who are coming to examine Iruka and myself. They are both bound by secrecy."

"Okay?" I wasn't sure why he was telling me this again.

"Perhaps," he continued, "we could involve them in the refinement process."

Oh. Oooooh!

"You want me to work with them to further develop viable techniques for chakra control?"

"Yes. Strictly off the record, of course."

"No records," I agreed instantly. "Nothing written, nothing traceable. And we'll only do it here or another secluded location, too."

The Hokage gave a short, dry laugh. "You've been thinking this through."

I didn't respond because, of course I had. It was the only way I could sleep at night.

He glanced back toward me. "Very well. We proceed under the following conditions. All reports will be verbal and controlled. I am to be kept up-to-date on any relevant developments. Should the techniques prove safe, both to perform and to share, we move on to the next steps. Whatever those end up being. If the results reach the final stage, we start choosing students to teach. You select the candidates, but I will oversee the final process."

After taking a moment to digest everything he said, I nodded. "Agreed."

His terms were fair. I was already getting a lot of leeway, much more than I could have reasonably expected. My short list was already on-hand, anyway, and I couldn't think of a reason why the Hokage would reject the names I've chosen.

He seemed satisfied with the current arrangement too, so there's not much more I can do about that. Now, we just need to wait for our mystical health experts to arrive.

About half an hour later, we moved to a side room of the training hall. The two med-nin were already present, checking their instruments and muttering quietly to each other. Introduced as Shirakawa Reina and Murakami Sayo, they were both chunin and had a lot of experience putting ninja back together.

Their movements were crisp and efficient, only sparing me a glance before getting on with the examination.
Iruka sat on the edge of a raised platform while Reina performed another chakra scan. Sayo stood nearby, trying to memorize everything since she couldn't jot anything down.

Hiruzen sat again, just as calm and steady as earlier, watching the process with clinical detachment.

"Vital signs normal," Reina murmured. "Chakra pathways stable. No signs of stress or degradation."

Sayo moved to Hiruzen's side next. "Initial readings consistent. Slight shift in circulation pattern density. No abnormal flux."

Iruka exhaled slowly. "So we're good?"

Reina gave a small nod. "You're healthy, as far as we can tell. Better than average, actually."

Sayo looked toward the Hiruzen. "Lord Hokage?"

He gave a short nod. "Good work, both of you. Now, it's time to discuss something else"

Motioning towards me, he said, "Kenta here has a proposition he would like you to consider."

The abrupt start of the discussion irked me a little, but I decided to let it go. Developing and refining new techniques is going to take a while, so it's best to get started as soon as possible.

Clearing my throat, I turned to the two med-nin and said, "I have chakra control exercises that have already shown good results. I would like your help in making them more accessible and easier to practice."

They turned to each other in surprise before simultaneously sending an inquiring look at the Hokage. He, in turn, smiled in affirmation.

"You already have some data?" I had to give Reina props. She didn't sound nearly as skeptical as I expected her to.

And as it so happens, I did. Sharing the information I could remember, I added, "I have a more complete record, but it wouldn't be safe to share them, at this time."

That did it. After hashing out a few additional details, they agreed to work with me.

Clapping my hands once, I affected a particularly demented grin, "Fantastic! Now then, let's talk about Senju Tsunade."

Hours later, the Hokage's office was bathed in the orange glow of the setting sun, which filtered through the glass windows. The effect cast a fiery illumination on a desk strewn with scrolls and reports. Hiruzen Sarutobi sat in his usual place, settling in comfortably in a chair that felt simultaneously familiar and not.

While the change wasn't especially apparent from any reasonable standpoint, it wasn't trifling, either. It was one thing for one of his trusted subordinates to report palpable results after trying a hitherto untested method. It was quite another for him to feel those results right down to his bones.

And that was no exaggeration.

Hiruzen didn't bring it up earlier that day for fear of contaminating the data that the three collaborators would eventually gather. However, he suspected that Kenta was severely underestimating just how extensive the effects of this discovery truly are.

Decades of fighting and training has allowed the Hokage to become familiar with his body in ways that younger folks won't readily understand. As such, the difference in its state and function immediately became apparent by simple comparison.

The nine hours spent sitting still wasn't limited to simply cycling and compressing chakra. If that was Hiruzen's only goal, three would have been enough. The same as Iruka.

No, the extended session was due to his need to examine how the practice was affecting his body. And to his astonishment, it was essentially supercharging everything that chakra already does.

Strengthening his entire skeletal structure, aiding in muscle recovery and delaying the onset of fatigue, Hiruzen could even detect minute changes that were too small for his senses to understand.

And this was on top of its effects on his chakra. Increased efficiency, control, and potency? Those were all there… and perhaps much more.

But again, he chose to stay silent on the matter. 'The Professor' he may be, but this was not his area of expertise, not truly. So, he will allow those who have more experience or talents in conducting research and scientific inquiry to confirm what he already knows.

Right now, he has an academy student with a brilliant mind to speak to. Across from him sat Kenta, hands folded in his lap. His posture was respectful, but his gaze was unwavering.

"That was quite the interesting conversation," was the Hokage's opening statement.

Smiling almost bashfully, the boy nodded in response. "Yeah, it sort of got away from us."

An understatement, if ever there was one. Hiruzen has been privy to a number of intellectual discussions over the years, but rarely have they been so harmoniously spirited and… optimistic. It never ceases to surprise him how often academic dialogues tend to devolve into barbed exchanges and one-upmanship.

To go so long without vehement objections is virtually unheard of.

Then again, Kenta had already done much of the groundwork and the results have been incontrovertible. Even the brief test conducted by the med-nin under his direction was enough to prove the worth of his methods.

"So," Hiruzen began, steepling his fingers, "you said you wished to speak further about our prodigal princess?"

Tsunade was the reason why the two were meeting once more. As before, the privacy seal ensured no one else will be privy to anything brought up in the office.

Kenta nodded. "Yes. I'd like to speak about getting in contact with her."

At the Hokage's wordless prompting, he continued.

"I believe she could be invaluable," Kenta said. "Her knowledge of chakra control and medical ninjutsu is unmatched. If there's anyone who might understand the foundational concepts I'm working with, or even help expand on them, it's her."

Hiruzen exhaled through his nose, already guessing where this was going. "She's been away from the village for a long time. Her reasons for leaving are, unfortunately, not easily resolved."

"I know," Kenta said quietly. "But this could be different. I'm not asking her to return, just to offer her perspective and insight. Even if she chooses to stay away, her knowledge could still be used to guide us."

"You're assuming she'll even be willing to help."

"I think there's a chance, especially if she sees the potential of what we're trying to bring about."

Hiruzen leaned back in his chair, giving the request due consideration.

"And how do you propose we reach her?"

Kenta's voice was firm. "Through secure, in-person delivery. Messenger hawks can be intercepted and any other form of communication could be traced. If we send someone trusted and under your authority, we can present the idea without risking exposure."

Hiruzen nodded slowly. The boy's caution, while frustrating at times, had proven its worth. "There are no guarantees that she will agree to anything."

"Then we lose nothing but time," Kenta said. "But if she listens, if she helps, it could change everything. And… maybe it will give her a reason to finally return."

For a moment, the thought lingered in the old man's mind, bringing up bittersweet memories. Tsunade had always been difficult to predict, but she was a loyal kunoichi beneath her pain. If anything could stir her back into motion, it would be the chance to save lives more effectively.

"I'll consider it," Hiruzen said at last. "And I will begin preparations for discreet outreach."

Kenta nodded, accepting that this was as much as he was likely to get from this meeting.

Their conversation then turned toward logistics. Specifically, they discussed how to phrase the message, who could be trusted to deliver it, and how to manage secrecy without raising suspicion.

It wasn't a plan yet, but it was a beginning. A quiet beginning, carried on a thread of trust.

Just as Hiruzen was about to turn back to his paperwork, Kenta reached into the inner pocket of his vest and withdrew a folded slip of paper. He held it out without a word.

Hiruzen took it, unfolding the note carefully. His brows lifted as he read the names.

"This is your shortlist?"

Kenta nodded. "The students I want to start training. Not for the actual method, just the exercises derived from it."

Hiruzen studied the list again, then looked back at Kenta, his gaze sharp. "Why these individuals?"

"They have the most potential," Kenta said simply. "Not necessarily the strongest now, but the ones who could gain the most from refined chakra work. Their baseline control, capacity, drive, and adaptability make them ideal for this kind of training."

The Hokage's expression shifted, equal parts curiosity and contemplation. He set the paper down and tapped a finger on its corner.

"You understand what kind of scrutiny this may invite."

"I do," Kenta said. "That's why I'm telling you first."

Hiruzen chuckled, the sound low and gravelly. "You really are a troublesome boy, Shiozaki Kenta."

Kenta didn't deny it and Hiruzen didn't expect him to.

He folded the list and placed it in a sealed drawer of his desk.

"Very well," he said. "Let's see what comes of this."

After taijutsu class, I filed out with the others, doing my best to look vaguely winded without drawing attention to myself. My spar with Choji had ended in a draw, just as Iruka and I discussed. This detail needed to be ironed out since I didn't know what gradual improvement looked like from a ninja's perspective.

It turns out, I was majorly stupid for restraining myself as much as I did in past matchups. Students suddenly becoming stronger or more competent apparently happened all the time. Both civilians AND clan kids.

Any taijutsu improvements on my part would have gotten the teachers' notice, but I wouldn't have been carted to T&I because of it. Short of actual murder, anything that happens in the academy fell under the purview of the school's administrators and staff.

After some subtle probing (that definitely didn't fool Iruka), I also learned that civilian students don't just get disappeared without causing an uproar. Some orphans do get lost in the system, but he chalked that up to the imperfections of village bureaucracy.

So, yeah. Even if the increased scrutiny by the teachers and my classmates would've been less-than-ideal, my jump in combat ability would not have merited worse consequences.

This revelation only made my annoyance at wasting three months of worrying more pronounced.

On the other hand, he didn't mention Root. So, it's a toss-up, at this point.

But why is it relevant to bring this up now? Because I essentially screwed myself over.

What should have been a simple matter of school records reflecting my improvements had become a much bigger issue after my visit to the Hokage's office. In my paranoia, I built a bear trap around my own foot and now, I have to carefully pry it open.

The result? Having to go through the arduous effort of maintaining the appearance of cumulative progress.

Too much, too fast, and someone would start asking questions.

Fortunately for me, Choji had been a cooperative opponent. The kid had always been good-natured and too focused on snacks to care that our match hadn't resolved decisively. After the seal of reconciliation, he was back to munching on the dried squids I got him this morning.

As for me, my limbs were aching, which was another consequence I handn't anticipated. Pulling my punches before was basically just a matter of finding the right timing to lose. Now, I had to actually stop my attacks from connecting, which involved forcing my muscles in directions they weren't used to.

It's only for a little while, I tried to console myself, after a month or two, I can finally let loose.

As I slung my bag over one shoulder and started toward the stairwell that led to the Academy rooftop, I noticed a figure by the classroom door.

Mizuki.

He was chatting with one of the instructors, smiling and acting friendly, but I didn't miss his eyes following me. Like the other teachers, it was subtle, but not enough. Not for someone who knew where his true loyalties lay.

I caught the way his gaze lingered, calculating and measuring. It wasn't the first time I'd noticed him watching me since the last practical exam, either.

Funny thing about Mizuki, I'd always assumed he was a regular teacher. But in truth, he only ever showed up during formal assessments. Like a proctor more than a sensei. The rest of the time, he floated in and out. Always in the background, always peripheral, but never completely out of sight.

Now, though, he was paying close attention and that was… not ideal. Yet another one of my mistakes coming home to roost.

Orochimaru isn't likely to take a personal interest in me, yet. I haven't shown anything that would tempt him in any fashion. I was starting to wear the cloak of a gifted student, yes, but I hadn't shown anything extraordinary.

Even if I did, he would have to invade Konoha to abduct me. There weren't any convenient chunin exams taking place any time soon. So, sneaking into the village right now would be nigh impossible for the Snake Sannin.

At least, that's what I hoped.

In the end, there's nothing to be done about it, so I kept walking and pretending not to notice the spy in our midst.

The hallway buzzed behind me. Naruto's voice echoed down the corridor, hollering about how next time he'd totally win. Somewhere, a couple of civilian students whispered about me, the awe in their words unmistakable.

I ignored them. There were other things on my mind.

Like Sasuke.

Our brief eye contact was a risk, I would readily admit that. A huge one. His pursuit of power eventually led him to abandoning Konoha in canon, but to lay all the blame on him would be a mistake.

To start with, he was just shown how outclassed he still was through his premature reunion with Itachi. Kakashi also needed to shoulder some of the fault in the Uchiha's decision to leave. He knew Sasuke's burning desire for vengeance. Yet, he never took it seriously enough to train his genin in the way they deserved. Then there was the hickey courtesy of Pedomaru that was demonstrably messing with his head.

Or was it simply narrative convenience that events turned out the way they did?

In any case, none of the catalysts to him becoming a missing nin are in play just yet. So, I had time to try and nudge events in a way that would end in my favor.

And that's really what it came down to, wasn't it?

I wasn't taking steps to keep the kid in Konoha out of some misguided attempt at fixing his problems. Rather, it was a matter of simple practicality.

None of my current allies were aware of how dangerous Danzo really was. With the implanted cells of Hashirama, the numerous Sharingans on his freaky arm, and Shisui's eye, the old war hawk would have matched Hiruzen at his peak.

To that end, I needed a Sharingan user in my corner that stood a chance at actually countering him. Kakashi could have worked, but he doesn't have the right body to truly take advantage of his borrowed ocular powers.

Sasuke was the only one I knew of who could both potentially beat Danzo at his own game and is within easy reach. He also came with the added bonus of being susceptible to certain levers of manipulation. Today's wordless contact was me planting a seed of curiosity. Unless I completely fuck it up, which is a possibility that I'm not taking off the table, I would have a powerful piece to use against Root's head honcho.

With any luck, he'd come to me of his own accord.

But that's for future me to worry about. I had already reached the rooftop and found Hinata seated near the far edge, her lunch unwrapped. She looked peaceful gazing at the sky like that. A far cry from the girl I remembered in the source materials.

I admit, the change worried me in the beginning. But seeing her like this, I couldn't bring myself to regret whatever influence I might've had on her life.

"Hey," I said as I approached.

She looked up and gave me a soft nod. "Hi, Kenta."

I sat down beside her, stretching out my legs and letting the quiet settle between us for a moment. It was comfortable and familiar. I took out my lunch, though my appetite was minimal. The spar had stirred more than just my body. It had also churned the undercurrent of everything I was hiding.

"You went all out today," she said after a moment. "Against Choji."

I chuckled. "He hits like a rampaging bull. I couldn't afford not to."

She smiled faintly, then grew more thoughtful. "You're not hiding anymore."

I glanced at her before chuckling. "No, I guess not."

"The reason… is it no longer a problem?"

"For now," I said. "It's handled, but I still have to be careful."

She nodded, accepting that without prying.

It was moments like these that truly made me glad I hadn't pushed her away. Her wordless acceptance and understanding had become a great source of comfort. No wonder Naruto fell in love with her.

We ate in silence for a while. I glanced at the girl sitting beside me from time to time, watching the way she chewed, the way she breathed: slow, steady, and centered. I could see the faint traces of meditation techniques I'd shown her starting to take root.

She would be important for the future I was trying to bring to life. Disciplined, introspective, brave, and so heartbreakingly earnest.

I had been second-guessing my plans for a long time. But here and now, her quiet presence and air of steady resolve had extinguished any lingering doubts in my mind.

"Hinata… how well can you keep a secret?"

Hinata sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, her palms resting lightly on her knees, fingers curled loosely inward. The moonlight filtered in through the rice-paper windows, casting pale shadows on the tatami mats beneath her. Her eyes were closed, not in sleep but in deep concentration.

Each breath she took was deliberate. Inhale slowly, fill the lungs, exhale through the nose with measured precision.

She had done this sequence a hundred times tonight alone.

It was a breathing technique. A simple one, on the surface. Yet it was more challenging than anything she had been taught. It demanded complete focus on practically all aspects.

Kenta's words from earlier echoed in her mind.

"If you can reduce your chakra usage by a factor of three, I'll teach you everything."

At the time, she hadn't fully understood. But now, sitting in the silence of her room with only her chakra to accompany her, she was beginning to grasp the magnitude of what he meant.

She activated her Byakugan, the veins at her temples rising. In the latticework of her own chakra network, she could see the effects of the breathing drills. Her chakra pulsed, not in its usual erratic rhythm, but with the beginnings of a slow, measured tide.

She had never seen it behave like this before.

Every breath coordinated with the narrowing and expansion of her coils. As she drew air in, her chakra contracted slightly, and with every exhale, it expanded in a more refined wave. It responding almost like a limb.

And that fascinated her.

She gently released her dōjutsu and sat still, hands shifting to form a half-seal of focus. She recalled Kenta's instructions.

"Visualise your chakra like a stream, not a flood. It must move where you guide it, not where it wills."

The exercises were deceptively simple. Breathe. Observe. Direct. But through repetition, she was learning something that no amount of traditional training had ever taught her. Mastery was about control.

Hinata used to struggle with that.

In the Hyūga clan, control was everything. In posture, speech, and emotion. Before meeting Kenta, she had often failed to meet their impossible expectations. This was no longer the case and now… now she was being offered something different.

Kenta didn't ask her to meet anyone else's standard. He gave her a challenge based on her own ability.

Hinata rose to her feet and walked slowly to the small desk by her window. There, laid out neatly, was the scroll Kenta had given her. They contained notes, exercises, and diagrams that she had never seen anywhere else.

His handwriting was clean and practical. She traced one line with her finger.

"Precision builds power, but control shapes potential."

She knew he was right. Already, in the past few hours, her chakra expenditure during basic exercises had lessened. She had tested it earlier, activating her Byakugan during target tracking. The strain had been measurably lower. It wasn't anything grand, but the change came about faster than it should have.

The stark contrast to everything she had ever been taught about chakra was almost disquieting.

She set the scroll aside and sat again, this time focusing on her internal sensations. She visualised her chakra as clear water running through the channels of her body. It responded to her thoughts. She pressed inward with her will, lightly and carefully, trying to coax it into denser lines.

The process was agonisingly slow.

But there was progress.

She shifted the flow toward her right hand, keeping the pressure even. Her fingers tingled, and a thin sheen of chakra began to glow faintly along the skin of her palm. She held it for three heartbeats before releasing it.

Not perfect. But it was better than yesterday.

Hinata lowered her hands into her lap, a soft breath escaping her lips.

"Just a little more," she murmured to herself.

Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Kenta again. There was something different about him. Everyone felt it, even if they didn't say so. The way he held himself. The calmness behind his eyes. He was her age, but when he spoke, it felt like someone far older had borrowed his voice.

Nevermind his many defeats in taijutsu class. She already knew the lacklustre performance was merely for show. Besides, it would appear that he is done pretending.

Their discussions never veered into anything personal. He always had fascinating things to say or an observation that intrigued her. With this, however, Kenta laid out something that Hinata didn't even know she was craving.

He was giving her an invitation, an opportunity to understand the world as he does. She didn't want to let him down.

But more than that, she wanted to earn her place. She didn't want to be a shadow trailing behind him. She wanted to stand beside him. To contribute something real and meaningful.

Hinata stood again and faced the centre of her room. She formed the half-seal, activating her Byakugan. Her gaze fell upon her own chakra network and she began the exercises again.

Breathe in. Tighten the current.

Exhale. Guide the flow.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Hours passed in quiet repetition. Sweat gathered on her brow. Her arms trembled from effort.

But she didn't stop.

She couldn't. Not yet.

She paused only when the first rays of dawn brushed the shoji panels with gold.

Her breathing was steady. Her chakra pulsed with smoother rhythm. It was beginning to obey her.

Hinata lowered herself to her knees, hands clenched tightly in her lap.

"I'll do it," she whispered to the quiet morning. "I'll grow even stronger. Not for Father. Not for the clan. Not even for Kenta."

She drew in one last breath, deep and full of resolve.

"I'll grow stronger for me. So I can walk beside him and see how far I can soar."

The underground training chamber had become something of a second home. I've spent so much time here in the past week that my parents had begun to worry I was working myself to the bone. Convincing them both that I wasn't pushing myself too hard had been difficult, but I'd ultimately done so by using my own safety as incentive.

It basically came down to bleeding and sweating now instead of later, when I'm in a serious fight.

The room's cool air, silent walls, and reinforced flooring offered the perfect environment for my experiments. The Hokage had been generous and strategic in providing the space.

Standing at the centre of the circular arena, my gaze swept slowly over the setup. Twelve straw dummies ringed around me, placed equidistantly in a wide circle. Their forms were humanoid in shape but thickly packed and held upright by steel rods to mimic the resistance of muscle and bone. Not the most sophisticated of arrangements, but I could hardly ask for ballistic gel in this place.

This would have to be enough for the final trial of my longest-running project.

I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes.

Breathing was the first step, like always. It's actually mindboggling how little importance was placed on proper air intake by ninjas before I came along. Even back in my old world, it was a huge part of practically all types of martial arts.

Wait… wasn't there a guy who used breathing techniques to fight in canon? Something to look up, when I have the time. I can't be distracted, right now.

Coming back to what I was currently doing, my nerves were settled and my body was set to peak performance. Future tests will involve variances when I'm tired or injured, but I don't need to worry about those at the moment.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Repeat.

This test represented months of work. Months of trial, failure, readjustment, and the occasional injury. The principle was simple: a weapon that could respond to chakra like an extension of one's own limb, precise enough for control, and powerful enough to penetrate all defences.

Holding out my right arm, I let the the modified shuriken fall from my sleeve. Two matched stars, connected by an intricate loop of my hex wire. They were basic in material and shape, which was intentional. Their only difference from store-bought shuriken was how they were connected and the chakra-activated seals etched onto them.

The construct was tied to my middle finger, granting control not just through physical tugs, but through chakra.

Had anyone from Earth seen what I was holding, it would have looked like a distressingly pointy yo-yo. I held it at half-length, suspended and still.

This was it.

I began to cycle my chakra in preparation for the next step, one I've refined through endless repetition. My chakra moved through my coils like fluid through pressurised valves. Layered, compressed, and guided. Fuel injection instead of carburetors, essentially.

After releasing a breath, I then directed my chakra into the hex wire, which immediately began to hum. A faint vibration sang through my fingers as the current passed through the weave.

When it reached the twin shuriken, they then began to spin.

At first, the motion was lazy, uneven. But narrowing my focus and tightening my control caused the rotation to stabilize. It began to blur, then vanish entirely behind a disk of motion. The hum grew louder, resonating through the floor.

My breathing slowed to a crawl. So far, everything was going well.

Time for the final step.

I moved my left foot forward and pivoted my waist.

Then, with a twist of my torso and a flick of my wrist, I launched the weapon in one swift rotation. The wire sang as it extended, carrying the spinning mass in a perfect arc.

I couldn't even begin to describe the sound it made as the spinning star slashed through the air in an astonishingly short amount of time. The closest I could compare it to was the combination of a jet engine and a power saw. The weapon sliced through the dummies in a single pass and I never felt resistance even once.

As I continued to spin slower, bleeding off the momentum, the wire snapped taut and retracted with a whisper.

I caught the shuriken between my fingers mid-spin to let the motion die.

The whole sequence of events barely lasted a single second and the results left me frozen in disbelief. I knew what I'd set out to accomplish. Seeing the dummies cut in half, steel rods included, was exactly what this technique was meant to do.

But the reality of my situation was finally setting in.

I'll have to do that to someone someday. It won't just be a lifeless facsimile of the human form. They'll be made of real skin, flesh, blood, and bones. And I honestly didn't know how to feel about using this technique on them when the time came.

Approaching one of the fallen dummies, I noted that the precision of the cut was eerie. There were no ragged edges or splinters. Just smooth, lethal lines.

I stared for a moment longer, letting the silence settle.

Then I grinned.

Regardless of what I'll eventually have to use it for, there's no denying that this was an achievement.

Months of theory, calibration, and failure all led to this. And its inherent deadliness aside, the feeling was glorious.

"It's finally ready," I whispered to myself. "My Midareboshi no Mai."

The Whirling Stars of Chaos.

The name had come to me halfway through the third redesign. It was dramatic, yes, but oh so accurate. In its final form, the weapon will look like a whirlwind of spinning blades. Dancing stars that will be nearly impossible to predict. It'll be chaos to anyone but me.

"Impressive," came a voice from behind.

I turned, heart skipping a beat before I caught myself.

The Hokage stood in the doorway, arms folded inside his robes. His expression was one of mild amusement mixed with open curiosity.

"How long have you been watching, Lord Hokage?" I asked.

"Long enough to wonder at your inattentiveness," Hiruzen replied, stepping into the room. "I wasn't exactly hiding."

The response made me chuckle, letting the tension bleed from my shoulders. I was so focused on the test, everything else went unnoticed

The old man's eyes swept over the cleanly severed remains. "The Whirling Stars of Chaos? Quite the formidable name for a formidable technique."

I gave what I hoped was a modest shrug, but didn't deny it. "It seemed fitting. From the initial idea to the final execution, it was always meant to shred Konoha's enemies to ribbons."

The Hokage hummed in thought while walking around the outer edge of the circle, inspecting the cuts. "How is it powered?"

"Pure chakra," Kenta said. "But not just flow. It's about resonance and spin. The wire conducts vibration and holds tension. The weapon's design enhances torque. They then reinforce each other through oscillation, thus allowing both to have a cutting edge."

A frown formed on his face at my explanation, which was to be expected, I suppose. Weapon design can be something of a mixed bag in this universe. From sensible things like swords and kunai to "Burn it with fire!" like Samehada.

"You engineered all this yourself?" he asked eventually.

I tilted my head in consideration. "I wouldn't go that far. The shuriken and wires already existed. I just had to repurpose them. I experimented with different bindings and the hex wire itself will need to be overhauled with better materials. The hardest part was learning to control the velocity with precision. Too slow, and it bounces off. Too fast, and the feedback destroys the weapon or injures the user."

Hiruzen paused beside one of the bisected targets. He ran his fingers along the cut edge. "This is… surgical."

"I adjusted the edge curvature to match the oscillation frequency," I explained. "At high spin, the weapon sharpens itself. Like a vibrating scalpel."

The old man's brow lifted. "That kind of control isn't common, even among Jōnin."

"I've had a lot of practice," I shrugged.

Hiruzen looked at me then, like, really looked. It was super unnerving.

What the hell was this old man thinking, now? I'll never really get a handle on him, will I?

"Tell me Kenta," he began after an uncomfortably long silence, "how easily could someone else use this technique?"

Ah, that's not good. I went this route because it was easily the best way for me to leverage my pitiful chakra reserves. Getting the most out of every drop while spending the least. If anyone else were to get their hands on its design, theory, and underlying principles, I'd be up shit creek without a paddle.

With that said…

"Close to nil, Lord Hokage." I don't even need to lie here. "To start with, this process involves sharpening one's chakra control to the detriment of everything else. You'd get much more out of your time if you focused on learning jutsu. Not to mention the most basic requirement involves forming several layers of compressed chakra, which immediately makes the idea a non-starter for most ninja."

Honestly, even if we take med-nin into consideration, the concepts between chakra scalpel and my Dancing Stars were on the opposite ends of the spectrum. The only way one could replicate this technique was to start at civilian baseline chakra capacity, train up via cultivation, understand advanced physics concepts that are still in the early stages here, know how to apply the seal for activation, and then combine all of those together without getting cut to pieces by their own wires.

I explained all of this to the Hokage, who continued to look contemplative. Finally, he nodded in a satisfied manner.

"Good. We don't want anyone else having access to such an efficient way of killing en masse."

Oh, so that's what he was worried about! Yeah, I can see it.

The Midareboshi no Mai that I'm envisioning basically involves turning me into a murder blender. Wading into a group of enemies and then reducing them to chunky salsa.

…

I, uh, I'll have to keep track of my mental health. That last image didn't make me nearly as queasy as it should have.

Such a fucking crybaby

Venyr4434 · Sunday at 6:11 AM

Just ignore the troll ^^^^

This user has been doing this everywhere. Hit the Ignore button on this bozo.

Darkatlas · Sunday at 6:40 AM

@literatureNero
At least have something constructive to say bruh

Champjklccmk · 2026-08-24T01:41:26+0100

Long-Awaited Reunion

So far, Tsunade's return to Konoha has been marked by… interesting events.

Her first day back was marred by the careless remark of an adolescent brat. And, while much of her time has been spent immersing herself in the wondrous medical innovations in the works, it also involved the tediousness of being inundated with village politics.

Today's affair is sadly fueled by both, instead of just the former.

Stepping through the hallway separating the rest of the building from the Hokage's office, the Senju approached the secretary's desk. Even for one of the Legendary Sannin, politeness is still expected.

Or, at least, it was supposed to be.

"YOU DID WHAT?!"

So jarring was it to hear the perennially composed Sandaime shouting at the top of his lungs that the girl manning the desk was understandably startled. For her part, Tsunade quickly cycled through a list of possible reasons why her teacher would be so riled up in the way that he was.

The singular item that remained left her both irritated and amused.

"I'll take it from here," she said reassuringly to the secretary.

Upon opening the door, Tsunade felt a sardonic smile form on her lips at the familiar sight of a white-haired idiot in the middle of getting scolded for something he did. Knowing him, it was either perverted or stupid. Perhaps even stupidly perverted.

".... you have any idea what you just cost us, you fool?!" The Hokage was so agitated that he was wildly gesticulating to emphasize his point. "Priceless! That artifact was priceless! I told you to be careful with it, and as soon as you get your filthy mits on one of Konoha's most valuable treasures, it breaks! How, Jiraiya? How could you be so careless?"

Well, maybe she was wrong. This sounded serious.

"Let me guess. You were trying to capture images of women in the bath, weren't you?!"

Scratch that. She was right.

Sighing, Tsunade quietly closed the door behind her, though she didn't make her presence known. At least, not yet.

"How was I supposed to know that it would start blaring out warnings like that?" Her former teammate tried to defend himself. "It kind of defeats the purpose if it starts broadcasting the user's position as soon as a bit of skin shows on the screen, doesn't it?"

"Because it was never intended for that purpose!" the Hokage yelled. "Consider its maker, for the love of the Sage! Do you think he would ever create something that perverts can use to violate women's privacy? Have you forgotten that I sent it to you without his leave?"

So, it's about another thing that the brat made. Tsunade had long noticed that his influence seemed to have permeated almost every level of Konoha's operations.

"But sensei –"

"No buts! We are not to speak of this again, do you hear me? Pray that he never finds out the specifics of what befell his device. For I'm telling you, Jiraiya. That boy can be terrifyingly inventive. I can scarcely imagine what he would come up with if he dedicated some time to punishing you for this indiscretion."

That's a bit of an exaggeration, though the Slug Princess won't deny that the brat was the driving force behind some frighteningly advanced concepts. Ones that even she had trouble bringing to life before she left.

From the way Jiraiya suddenly began to sweat and stammer, though, it would appear that there was something she was missing.

"He, uh, he wouldn't actually go that far, will he?"

Sarutobi Hiruzen's face darkened considerably. "The boy increased Konoha's fighting strength by several magnitudes, and did so mostly by accident. What do you think he'll be capable of if he actually dedicates himself to something?"

Jiraiya audibly gulped. That answers that. Also, Tsunade has gone ignored for long enough.

"So!" she said, striding further into the office. "Are we expecting this fool to hang naked and upside down in the village square by the end of the week?"

"Nothing so droll, Tsunade." The Hokage rolled his eyes.

"Hime!" The fool in question greeted her. "It's good to see you back in Konoha. How's it been?"

"Well enough," she answered. "Been getting back in the saddle, so to speak."

"Fantastic!"

"Oh, sit down, both of you." Their teacher gestured at the chairs in front of his desk. "We might as well hash a few things out. I'm expecting the near-future to be extraordinarily trying."

Doing as they were told, sitting down suddenly reminded Tsunade of simpler times. It was a bittersweet feeling.

"Now, let's start with you, Tsunade. What brings you here today?"

"Most of the field kits are ready for limited release," she said, referring to the sets of medical patches that were developed to treat injuries on-the-fly. "They are as safe as they are going to be, but we're getting pushback from some council members. Specifically, the civilian council."

"Jeeze, what're those old farts complaining about now?" Jiraiya grouched.

"Apparently, it would affect various industries that depend on supplies for pharmaceuticals if the kits are ever widely adopted," she explained, sarcasm dripping with every word. "No amount of reassurance that it would only be given to teams on critical missions for the moment is enough to assuage their concerns."

The Toad Sannin tsked in disdain. "Typical merchant bastards."

The Hokage, on the other hand, was much more circumspect. "On the one hand, I'm glad one of our most crucial projects has come so far. On the other, their objections have long been expected. Proceed with the release. I will handle the councils."

"Thank you, sensei." Tsunade couldn't have imagined saying those sincerely just a year ago, but here she was.

The old man simply smiled a gentle smile and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Your turn, Jiraiya. What's this about Akatsuki stirring the pot among our neighbors?"

At the prompting, all humor drained from the spymaster's face.

Tenten Triumphs

"You monsters! You absolute monsters!"

Tenten watched as the man writhed in the dirt, screaming in pain and squirming in agony. He made for a pitiful sight, and she would have felt bad for him if he also wasn't a notorious bandit preying on innocent village folk.

"Shut the hell up, would you?" she barked. "It's just a scratch. Keep yapping like you are, and I'll rip out your tongue!"

Her threat shut him up good. Though, considering that she held a sharp kusarigama near his mouth, it's not really all that surprising. The scythe's blade glinted in the sunlight, and the chain rattled menacingly.

"That's enough, Tenten," Guy-sensei called from his position. "Bind him and bring him over to join his colleagues."

"Yes, sensei!"

Doing as she was told, the weapon-mistress saw that her teammates were already standing over the captured prisoners. Men in various states of injury sat around a circle, their backs to their comrades, hands and feet bound.

Once she dropped off her own contribution to the pile, Tenten glanced toward the two individuals in the worst state. Their arms were definitely broken, though she suspected that only one ended up that way on purpose. Their Jonin-sensei only confirmed her deduction as he lectured their most energetic teammate.

"You will spend more time training your control once we return, Lee!" the man told his miniature copy. "The execution of that last kick was sloppy, lacking grace. We only ever inflict as much damage as we intend. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Guy-sensei!"

Turning away from the duo before they started hugging and crying again, Tenten turned towards Neji. The Hyuga kept a wary eye on their prisoners, particularly the one who had a prominent scar across his lips, nose, and jaw.

"Had any trouble?" she asked as she approached.

The boy favored Tenten a brief glance with those eerie white eyes. "Nothing of the sort. The information we have about this group simply mentions that this one is slippery. I'd rather not have to chase him down."

"Ah."

After nearly two years of working together, Tenten had gotten a good sense of the two boys on her team, along with their teacher. Neji had been much more aloof just six months prior, but he had begun to open up a bit more. Lee remained the overly-enthusiastic Taijutsu specialist that he had always been, his zeal reaching new heights after gaining some proficiency with the third stage of physical enhancement.

The so-called Vital Core Infusion and Bone Enhancement stage.

Of the three genin, only he has managed to get so far. Tenten and Neji were still at the Tendon and Joint Threading stage, which Guy-sensei assured them was impressive for their age. As was just proven by the earlier lecture, however, Lee sacrificed control and precision for power. Hence, the need for extra training.

As for their Jonin-sensei, he started off as something of a goofball, but had gotten gradually more serious as time went on. He still acted as silly as his bowl cut denotes, but not as much as he did before.

Then again, considering the type of mission they were currently on, it's not that surprising.

"Ready to move out, team?" Guy-sensei announced, projecting his voice loudly in all directions.

Tenten had to hold in a sigh. She still didn't know why they were chosen for this endeavor. Subtlety wasn't exactly their forte.

It was as they were trudging through the woods in standard escort formation, with their teacher at the front, the two boys on the sides, and her at the rear, that their trap was sprung. A hail of shuriken and kunai started raining down on them from both sides of the treeline. Normally, they would have simply dodged to avoid getting hit, but that wasn't part of the plan.

As soon as the telltale sound of thrown weapons whistled through the air, Tenten reached into the special pockets woven into her custom-tailored clothes. Chakra then flooded her system, enhancing her reflexes, reducing her reaction time, and firing up her tendons, ligaments, and stabiliser muscles.

The result is an even bigger storm of blades flying through the air, knocking the enemies' initial attack from the air, with a lot more shredding the surrounding trees. Exactly as intended, the unexpected counterattack surprised enough of the ambushing forces that she actually managed to hit quite a few of them.

Escape was impossible for those who managed to dodge because a trio of whirlwinds swept through them with impeccable timing. Those who weren't tossed around were swiftly dispatched with well-placed strikes in vital areas.

As for the prisoners who believed, no matter how momentarily, that they were saved – they quickly found ninja wires wrapped around their necks. The thin, razor-sharp cables were just tight enough to function as a warning. One good tug, and they would all be decapitated.

Naturally, the ends of the wires were held in Tenten's uncompromising grip. Her gaze held a single, unmistakable message: You move, you die.

By the time Lee, Neji, and Guy-sensei were done cleaning up the enemy shinobi, Tenten was standing unruffled in the same spot. With the fate of nearly a dozen men literally at the palm of her hand.

"Sublime work, Tenten!" her teacher praised with uncontained sincerity. "The fire of youth burns brightly within you!"

Her two teammates joined in on showering her with congratulations. Tenten could only blush in pleasure at the effusive gestures.

Still, it couldn't be denied.

Today was a triumph for Konoha's budding Maelstrom of Blades.

Medical Success & Girl Talk

Shirakawa Reina wasn't sure when it happened, but at some point during the last two years, she had become the head of Konoha's new Prosthesis Development Division – the department responsible for creating and testing artificial limbs for replacing extremities lost during battle or accidents. Murakami Sayo, her frequent partner over that period of time, now occupies a similar position at the Field Triage Center, which produces the kits meant to help keep shinobi alive in the field.

Both were directly under Senju Tsunade, herself, who has assumed the position of Konoha's Medical Innovations and Enhancement Office.

These days, the number of medic-nin has tripled, and they are no longer confined to just the hospital. Many fill double roles of healers and researchers, like the eight subordinates scurrying about the operating room they occupied.

Lying on the bed was a chunin who lost his right arm five years ago, during an ambush. And now, he is about to receive a mechanical replacement.

While far from the first to undergo the same treatment, the major stumbling block that delayed the operation is his inefficient use of chakra. Extreme precision was necessary for fine motor control over the delicate parts of the artificial limb. This is the same for every patient who underwent the procedure.

Before the development of Kenta's breathing exercises, such an operation would have been impossible. Now? It's only difficult and time-consuming.

Reina would never complain about that, though. The boy has been incredibly busy since graduating from the academy, what with running missions, helping with research, and of course, his cultivation.

Some days, she still had trouble believing that such a young mind could have come up with a concept so revolutionary. One that the Hokage regularly applied himself in an effort to achieve the same results as Umino Iruka and Kenta.

Naturally, she was curious as to what it could do for her. It took an admitted academy underperformer and turned him into a force of nature. The possibilities are almost impossible to imagine.

The final clicks of the mechanisms attaching the mechanical arm to the patient's shoulders brought Reina out of her musings on the observation deck. So far, the medical team working on the procedure has been doing quite well. She hasn't had to intervene in the last three operations.

"It's done, Reina-sama," one of the surgeons looked up from the operating floor and reported, much to her hidden embarrassment. She'll never get used to former colleagues showing her such respect.

"Very good," she said. "Any issues?"

"None, Reina-sama," another medic-nin, this one sitting in front of a computer, answered. "The bio-mechanical ligaments are in pristine condition. Artificial nerves are firing up at optimal levels. Lubricants are contained, no leakage."

"Excellent," Reina nodded. "Monitor for any signs of rejection. Let me know when the patient is awake."

With her piece said, she walked out the door of the observation deck and followed the familiar path to her superior's office. Upon arrival, she knocked on the heavy glass pane, where she then heard Tsunade-sama call her in.

Reina observed the Sannin busy stamping papers and reading documents behind a large desk. Her assistant, Shizune, was on a smaller table to the side, sorting out scrolls and folders.

Tsunade-sama raised her head when she entered, the focused look on her face replaced by an intrigued expression.

"Shirakawa, good. The operation was a success, I assume?" The woman always spoke in a clipped, professional voice when addressing subordinates.

"Yes, ma'am," Reina confirmed. "This will be the seventh patient to receive an artificial limb successfully. If all goes well, he should be able to move it as if it were the original in three months, at most."

"That's good to hear," she responded, nodding. "Though, I heard this one took longer than the rest?"

"It was mostly due to the prep work, Tsunade-sama," the black-haired, blue-eyed beauty explained. "Not everyone takes to the new breathing exercises at the same pace. He had more difficulty than others."

"Tsk!" Reina had to blink at the uncouth sound that came out of the medical legend's mouth. "It's always about that brat."

"Ma'am?"

"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing. Wait, you worked closely with Shiozaki Kenta, didn't you, Shirakawa?"

"Yes, ma'am, I did." Where was she going with this? In the corner of her eye, she saw Shizune perk up from her pile of papers.

"Tell me about him," she demanded.

Reina blinked for a few moments, making sure that she actually understood what she just heard. Concluding that she did, she was very careful in her response.

"What would you like to know?"

"Was he as much of a pervert with you as he was with me? You're certainly pretty, and your assets aren't anything to scoff at, either."

Mind going blank for several seconds; it took her a few heartbeats to find the words that wouldn't get her in trouble – a difficult task, considering how Senju Tsunade just referred to her breasts in such a casual manner.

"He has never exhibited deviant behaviors while working with me, ma'am," Reina gingerly answered. "In fact, I can honestly say that he has maintained professional boundaries, with the exception of how we addressed each other. I believe he found formality to be uncomfortable."

There! She answered truthfully without casting aspersions on the boy.

"So, it's just me he's comfortable ogling," Tsunade-sama concluded, to Reina's horror. Thankfully, someone came to the rescue.

"I believe it was more out of surprise than lewd intentions, Tsunade-sama," Shizune suggested from her table. "Your assets are… out of the norm."

The reasonable suggestion didn't seem to convince the Sannin. "So, my breasts are so big that they broke his brain and made him stupid, is that what you're saying?"

Neither Reina nor Shizune knew how to answer that question.

"Bah," she snorted. "Whatever. I'm more interested in how he's constantly coming up with ridiculous innovations. Do you know?" The question was directed at Reina.

"Um…" she started unsurely.

"Yes?" The older woman leaned forward in interest, ironically emphasizing her breasts even more.

"We are not entirely certain, Tsunade-sama. However, we believe that it's due to Kenta being so… strange."

"Strange how?" she asked, quirking an elegant brow.

"Well… he often blurts out things that don't really make sense. Or, if they do, only in hindsight. And when he rants, we've caught him making references that are almost… alien? It can be quite unnerving when it happens."

"Does the Hokage know about this?" the Senju asked sharply.

"Yes, we've given him reports about it."

"What did he say?"

"He said it's fine."

"What?!" Tsunade-sama sat up straight in surprise. "Why?!"

"...the Hokage believes that Kenta is simply… a very odd boy."

A silence fell in the office. One so complete that a gust of wind carrying a leaf passed by.

Hinata's Worries

Looking around at the devastation she and her team had wrought, Hyuga Hinata is currently experiencing the feeling of detachment from reality. This being the first time she has ever faced enemy shinobi, even if they were missing-nin from Kumohagakure, she finds herself confused.

For so long, she was under the impression that other hidden villages posed a great danger to Konoha. Yet, judging by their performance, this didn't seem to be the case. She didn't even contribute all that much to the fight.

In this battle, Shino had shone the brightest.

While Hinata and Ami beat down three enemy nin apiece with direct, brutal takedowns, the Aburame flooded the battlefield with his Kikaichu with blinding speed. As if that weren't enough to cause chaos among the opposing forces' ranks, the insects then drained them of their chakra faster than they could blink.

A single pass was enough to render most of their foes immobile, leaving only the strongest in any condition to fight. Even then, they proved no challenge to the Hyuga and her civilian-born teammate.

Precise jabs to their tenketsu rendered her targets unconscious, while Ami was content to slam her opponents to the hard, compact ground. Repeatedly.

The leader, upon seeing how quickly his subordinates got dispatched, disengaged from Kurenai-sensei and attempted to escape. 'Attempted' being the operative word, since he then began to run in circles, dodging imaginary attacks, and at one point, even launched a lightning jutsu at a tree for no apparent reason.

The female Jonin, on the other hand, just watched the man's increasingly frantic maneuvers that became more and more comical as time went on. After ten minutes of expending considerable energy in pointless evasions, he finally realized that he was caught in a Genjutsu.

Naturally, he tried to free himself of it, which then activated the trap.

Cycling his own chakra in order to break the illusion, their teacher latched on to his energy and directly targeted his nervous system. At least, that's what she told her students afterwards. The result is a drooling mess that is now ready for transport.

All of the enemy ninja are still alive. Merely incapacitated.

It was this that gave Hinata a mild case of cognitive dissonance as, by all metrics, her team was severely outnumbered. Should Kurenai-sensei's suspicions also prove true, then these weren't missing-nin at all. Rather, they were elite agents of Kumo.

So, why were they so easily dealt with?

The first thought that sprang to her mind was deception. Surely, they were only pretending to be captured? However, this made no sense given that their team was made up of three genin and one Jonin. From a tactical standpoint, they would be the absolute worst vector for a false defeat, regardless of their end goal.

Her spiral into progressively unlikely explanations was interrupted by a hand landing on her shoulder. Upon looking up, Hinata found herself looking into the kind, red eyes of her sensei.

"Are you all right, Hinata?" she asked.

"Yes, sensei," was her immediate reply. "I wasn't hurt."

The Jonin then tilted her head questioningly. "Then what's troubling you? The retrieval teams are on their way, and Shino has confirmed that there are no lingering enemies nearby."

Hinata wasn't sure how to phrase her thoughts properly in this context. Simply blurting out the truth would make her sound far too arrogant.

"It's all right," Kurenai-sensei assured her. "Whatever it is, just tell me. I promise to give you whatever answers I can."

Feeling a little less anxious, Hinata decided to simply ask.

"Ano, sensei," she began. "How would you classify these missing-nin? They must be genin, right? With the leader being a chunin or, perhaps, a Special Jonin?"

A smile of understanding dawned on the beautiful woman's face. "Some of them, yes. But the ones you and Ami finished off were chunin, by my estimation. My opponent was definitely Jonin."

The girl stared at her teacher in shock. She faced off against multiple chunin? Wait, Ami did the same! She was treating them like training dummies. How was this possible?

"Sometimes I forget how your generation lacks perspective on these matters," her Jonin-sensei said when she put the question to her out loud. "The truth is, Hinata, that you have grown far beyond what ordinary shinobi could aspire to. Ranks do not necessarily denote strength. Most of the time, it's about experience and accomplishments. They can come hand-in-hand, but it's never that simple."

By this point, Shino and Ami had come closer to hear their teacher's explanation. It was certainly enlightening.

"The ones we have here, for example," she continued, "are likely specialized in infiltration and gathering intelligence. Against a genin team from three years ago, they would have been more than enough to accomplish their mission."

"But that's not the case anymore?" Ami asked.

"No, not anymore." Kurenai-sensei shook her head. "Our shinobi forces, which include your class, are now just a smidge beyond what other hidden villages typically have."

"That's awesome!" the girl exulted.

"Not necessarily. Why?" Shino spoke up. "For it is likely that the other hidden villages have already noticed the increase in our strength. As history has shown, strength invites challenge. The foes we faced today are likely meant to test Konoha's resolve. Particularly as they targeted a team with two clan heirs."

"I'm afraid he's right," Kurenai-sensei confirmed in a bittersweet voice. "That is why I asked you to spare as many of them as you could – a request you more than admirably fulfilled. We need answers that they may have."

Any feelings of elation building in Hinata's chest were quickly snuffed out. While she reveled in her strength and that of her friends, it would seem that the world is content on exacting a price in return.

"Is a war coming, sensei?" she asked.

The woman gave each of her students a fiercely protective look. One that conveyed her resolve as both a teacher and a shinobi of Konoha.

"Whatever comes in the future, we will all face it together."

War Preparations

Once more, the large meeting room in the Hokage tower is occupied by members of Konoha's most influential figures. There's the Sandaime himself, of course. Clan heads, council members, and high-ranking shinobi were also in attendance. Unlike previous years, however, the two remaining loyal Sannin have also taken seats.

Tsunade and Jiraiya sat on the Hokage's sides, making it clear where their allegiance lay. As a result, a certain air of anxiety filled the meeting room.

Anxiety that is only fueled by their main topic of discussion.

"So, it has come to this," Koharu, a member of the village's Elder Council, declared. "Are you certain of the course you have chosen, Hokage-sama?"

"The path of shinobi has ever been a perilous one," the old man replied. "No choice would have yielded safety, not and still enjoy the benefits of what has been wrought. This road presents the least potential for death and destruction when compared to the alternative."

"Even if it means yielding the initiative?" Shimura Danzo questioned in a cold tone.

"And you'd rather have us do what?" came Tsunade's sharp rebuke. "Attack other hidden villages? Start a war we're nowhere near ready to prosecute?"

"Better than allowing snakes into our home!" The warhawk's answer carried steel he was more than ready to use.

"If I may, Hokage-sama," the Hyuga patriarch spoke. At Hiruzen's nod, he continued. "While I do not entirely agree with Shimura-dono's perspective, he does bring up a good point. Would our time not be better spent preparing for the inevitable conflict? Inviting foreign shinobi into Konoha seems counterintuitive given our SOP and ROE for the past three years."

The man's point was presented logically, but everyone present knew the true cause of his unease. Kumo's involvement was always going to be a point of contention, but particularly so for the clan of famed dojutsu users.

"Personally, I think Iwa's going to be the bigger pain in the ass," Inuzuka Tsume growled. "Did you really have to invite them, Hokage-sama?"

Hiruzen simply chuckled at the question. "Invitations have always been sent to all hidden villages, Tsume. Rejection has been Iwa's answer, until now."

"The reason why's pretty obvious, too." Nara Shikaku looked more worn out than ever. "I understand the plan's details as they have been given, Hokage-sama, but couldn't you have waited another year?"

"If we wait for much longer," Jiraiya decided to interject, "we would be dealing with invasion forces instead of scouts or skirmishing units. The other hidden villages are getting tired of losing agents. Iwa's close to mobilizing its shinobi, and Kumo's not far behind. We're lucky that Kiri's still wrapped up in its civil war, but even Suna's showing signs of aggression due to their Daimyo's stupidity."

"Troublesome."

On the heels of the Jonin Captain's familiar catchphrase, murmurs and grumblings rippled out. Unfortunately for the dissenters, there really wasn't a better choice available, short of simply sharing Konoha's most well-guarded secret. Something that no one was stupid enough to even suggest.

The Aburame clan head spoke up at this point. "Will we approach the Chunin exams as a legitimate endeavor, Hokage-sama?"

"We will." He nodded. "Should any of their genin representatives prove worthy of the rank, I see no reason to refuse them the opportunity to prove it."

"Like that's gonna happen," the Inuzuka matriarch snorted. "Kiba's team alone would probably wipe the floor with them."

"My daughter's team would do much the same," Hyuga Hiashi suddenly interjected, "and in far less time, at that."

"The new generation of Ino–Shika–Chō is shaping up to be the best one yet," Shikaku boasted.

Bizarrely enough, the proud declarations served to completely derail the meeting, with other attendees either crowing about this or that genin, or making their thoughts on the latest batch of academy graduates known to anyone who would listen.

This then served to cut the tension, making for a more relaxed atmosphere.

Reality still waited at the margins, but every step had already been taken to minimize the danger to Konoha. Worrying would serve no one, at this point, least of all the village's leadership.

Still, the upcoming chunin exam will have more riding on it than simulating warfare and allowing the genin of participating hidden villages to advance in rank. Should the Hokage's gamble fail, what follows will likely be the most devastating conflict the Elemental Nations have ever seen since the end of the Warring Clans period.

And to think, it's all thanks to the bumbling efforts of one clueless boy.

On the other side of the village, one Shiozaki Kenta sits in his room, working on yet another project that spawned from his brain worm that simply refuses to shut up. A sneeze from out of nowhere caused snot to cover his notebook, thus ruining several hours' worth of work.

Kabuto's Ultimate Struggle

Walking through the hallways of his assigned hospital, Yakushi Kabuto was careful to maintain an air of anonymity. Not that he hadn't been doing so in the many years since he began operating in Konoha. However, the last few years have necessitated extra caution in even the smallest of actions.

The Hidden Leaf has become a hive of secrecy and paranoia, to the point of absurdity.

Hardly anything escapes the eyes of hidden sentinels that populate its underbelly, many of whom have begun to track his movements, specifically. The scrutiny directed at him has even forced the infiltrator onto paths that severely curbed his mobility.

Yet, they were necessary to ensure that he couldn't simply be abducted by Danzo's overzealous Root agents. The most galling consequence of the surveillance is his inability to send any kind of message to his master. In fact, even the act of gathering intelligence has been barred to him, which would have been supremely impressive if he weren't the target of such inconvenience.

The only positive development in this entire affair, at least for a spy like him, is his eventual exposure to some of the newer secrets that Konoha is intent on keeping. And what secrets they were.

Anything involving health and medicine has always been a useful tool in the village's arsenal, even after Senju Tsunade's extended sabbatical. Recent innovations, however, have blown even her accomplishments and contributions out of the water.

Workable prosthetics, field medical kits that could disinfect and heal even fatal wounds, and the increase in the number of medic-nin have made Konoha's already formidable military even more effective. But the most ridiculous change would have to be the increased lethality of Leaf shinobi to an astonishing degree.

Kabuto could only watch as Jonin, Special Jonin, and most recently, Chunin have achieved strength far beyond their counterparts in other hidden villages. The most infuriating part is that he could only observe them occasionally, when his presence in the area could be justified.

Making matters worse is how being a genin, a decision that was necessary for his role as a spy, has completely backfired.

The methods that allowed previously weak shinobi to reach new heights are denied to him. He couldn't even make contact with other agents of Orochimaru. Some of them have already been dealt with, that much he was certain. Those that remained are under similar levels of surveillance as he was.

Mizuki would've been the perfect source of information, but last he heard, the man had quietly retired shortly after the previous batch of academy students had graduated. Kabuto may not know the specifics, but he was certain that the chunin wasn't peacefully fishing in a lake somewhere.

That left him in a dilemma.

He knew of the Snake Sannin's plans to invade Konoha. Unfortunately, he was prevented from receiving and sending word before the details could be ironed out. Kabuto was sure that his master wouldn't simply attack the Leaf without adequate intelligence. However, if he didn't cancel the invasion outright, nothing short of the four other hidden villages banding together would succeed.

From the rare occasions in which he was able to observe the Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen was no longer a doddering old man, either. The superficial signs of age were still there, but to anyone who knew what to look for, the God of Shinobi appeared to have regained much of his previous power.

How he managed this remains a mystery to Kabuto, but it bodes ill for anyone who has malicious intentions toward Konoha.

Regardless of his views on the matter, the spy couldn't afford to deny the reality of his situation. He was stuck, and unless something changed soon, he might end up blind if the attack on the Leaf proceeded without his knowledge.

He couldn't send a message with so many eyes on him. He couldn't gather information for the same reason. He couldn't go where he pleased without risking a confrontation with his minders. A confrontation he no longer felt confident in winning.

For the first time in a very long time, Kabuto felt helpless.

You can read up to Chapter 27 over at Patreon and Ko-fi!

Athain · 2026-08-24T11:07:32+0100

Champjklccmk said:
For the first time in a very long time, Kabuto felt helpless.

Ah, that's so sad, Kabuto-kun..

*Cackles manically*

Champjklccmk · 2026-08-25T05:41:31+0100

Naruto POV

Arriving at Tazuna-jiji's village was depressing. Everywhere Naruto looked, all he saw were dilapidated houses, rotting boats, starving people, and hopeless eyes. The boy didn't like how it reminded him of how his life used to be.

Things only got worse when they finally got to his home, which was basically just a wooden shack. His daughter, Tsunami-san, greeted them at the door with a relieved smile. Long black hair looking thin, and cheeks hollow. She looked tired and worn down, with eyes that seemed to have forgotten what hope felt like.

Their entrance revealed a small living space that also functioned as a dining area. Sitting at a table was a small boy wearing a dark-green jumper and a white hat with blue stripes. Inari, they introduced him, and much like his mother's, his eyes looked dead.

Dining with the small family was awkward because they looked like they couldn't spare the extra food, but did so anyway. It didn't really get better from there.

So, that night, Naruto sat on the roof of the small home, overlooking the tiny village under the light of the moon. It annoyed him how well the gloomy air surrounding the place felt just a bit too familiar, especially with the fog dimming the few sources of light that existed.

"Keeping watch, Naruto?" a voice suddenly spoke up from behind him, causing the boy to whirl around. Finding Kakashi standing there, he was only barely able to cover his mouth to stop the shout that wanted to escape.

"What are you doing here, Kakashi-sensei?" he asked in a low voice instead.

Before answering, the Jonin sat down beside the spot where Naruto was sitting, gesturing for the blonde to do the same. When he did, the older man simply gazed over the same vista that caught his student's eyes.

"Similar sights exist all over the Elemental Nations," he said, and Naruto wasn't so stupid as to miss what his teacher was talking about. "We do what we can to alleviate suffering, but at the end of the day, shinobi are mercenaries. We're not caretakers or defenders of the peace."

A few years ago, Naruto would have jumped up and argued loudly against what he was just told. Unfortunately, this wasn't the first time he heard such sentiments. Kakashi had just echoed what Kenta told him months before graduating from the academy.

"The job of shinobi is to take a contract, fulfil the contract, and come home," he had said. "For all our power, there has never been a ninja that could overcome human nature, Naruto. Not even the Sage could do that. And trying could do more harm than good."

Back then, Naruto had tried to argue. "That doesn't mean we should give up on trying to make the world better, though. When I become Hokage, I'll make it happen!"

The sadness in Kenta's smile will forever stay with him. "We don't do that with grand gestures. Change is slow. It happens over a long period of time and requires sustained effort that hardly anyone is capable of sticking with."

"Well, I'm different!" Naruto had said fiercely. "No matter how long it takes, I'll do more good than bad, and make this world a better place!"

"And I hope you succeed, Naruto."

Coming back to the present, the genin scowled at the misty landscape. "I know that, sensei. I won't do anything stupid."

The insufferable man only chuckled in response. "I never said you would. Though I've seen the same look in your eyes before, on others. Shinobi, through the years, come across places where the suffering is more real and profound. Then, they get the overwhelming urge to try to fix things. More often than not, they only leave more pain after they're gone."

"So, we shouldn't even try to help these people?" Naruto asked quietly.

"We're already doing that," he replied. "The mission parameters – which we're adhering to despite the fraudulent information, I'll remind you – include sticking around until the bridge is complete. By just doing the job, we're ensuring that they can have a better future. That's the best way to help them."

A part of Naruto wanted to argue that they should do more, but he couldn't think of what that would be. And Kenta had already drilled the consequences of being impulsive into his head so many times. He had no intention of possibly getting his teammates killed.

"Thanks for telling me that, sensei," he said, smiling up at the masked Jonin.

"It's my job," Kakashi replied and got up. "Get some rest, Naruto. We have a long day tomorrow."

"I will."

Alone on the roof, Naruto considers his situation and how it affects his nindo. Sticking with the mission lets him keep his word. Doing that will make this a better place. The people living here will have happier lives once the bridge is built.

There's nothing more he could do beyond that.

With his heart settled, the blonde crept back into the room he shared with Sasuke and fell asleep, unaware of the black eyes that briefly observed him upon conking out.

Sasuke POV

He wasn't sure if Naruto had been aware of his eavesdropping the night before, but Sasuke wouldn't bet against their teacher being so inattentive. So, upon waking up and having their assignments set, the Uchiha took the chance to be alone with the Jonin in guarding the bridge.

Naruto and Sakura will be staying behind for the day, practicing the drills their teacher gave them.

Finding a quiet spot that allowed them a good view of the work site without getting in the way, the pair settled in. However, the silence didn't last long.

"You said you'd explain why you have a Sharingan when we have more privacy," Sasuke initiated. "There's no one around who can hear us."

"I suppose you're right," Kakashi sighed. "Not really much to tell, though." He paused, and the aspiring avenger didn't interrupt. He'd been patient since finding out about the man's ocular secret. He could wait a bit longer. "I lost an eye during the last war. Not long after, I also lost a teammate. He was an Uchiha, and had just unlocked his Sharingan shortly before dying. Crushed under a boulder, he asked me to take his remaining eye and use it to replace the one I lost. I did."

Despite how casually he sounded with his explanation, Sasuke was more familiar with loss than most. Kakashi was an elite shinobi of Konoha, but there were just some things that transcended spoken words or physical tells.

"What was his name?" Sasuke asked.

"...Obito," his teacher said, unable to fully suppress the hitch in his voice. "His name was Uchiha Obito."

"Uchiha Obito," the boy repeated, checking his memory to see if he knew the name. He didn't. Even so… "I'll remember," he promised.

Kakashi only nodded, and they went back to keeping a lookout. While doing so, Sasuke allowed himself a moment of introspection. Had his past self discovered the existence of a Sharingan in the possession of someone without Uchiha blood, the reaction would've been far less pleasant.

He was self-aware enough to admit that, if only in his own mind.

After building new bonds with the people in his life, Sasuke found that the discovery only caused a twinge of pain in his chest. With Kakashi sharing how he got the eye, it only served to reinforce that pain with pride and satisfaction.

Yet another Uchiha who transcended their clan's reputation. A member who cared enough about his teammate that his last thought upon death was helping them regain what they lost.

Could he do something like that? Sasuke would like to think so.

Kenta, Hinata, Naruto, and even Sakura. He didn't know why, but there was a certainty in the boy of their support and loyalty. Maybe it was the amount of time they spent together. Or the strength they've already displayed. It could also be the rapid growth that Sasuke continues to experience thanks to their presence.

It could be all of those or none of them.

As he continued to watch over the workers building a bridge for a better future, listening to the thumps of hammers, the scraping of shovels, and the pinging of metal, Konoha's last loyal Uchiha could only hope that he would be as selfless as Uchiha Obito.

Sakura POV

Standing in front of a lake on her own, Haruno Sakura didn't know what to do with herself. Well, she did. Kakashi-sensei did give her drills to work on, which she already finished. He and Sasuke were guarding Tazuna-san, and Naruto was off to speak to Inari after they argued at breakfast.

This left her to her own devices, which wasn't doing much for her mental health.

Ostensibly speaking, Sakura was doing quite well for her rank and age. While nowhere near as strong as the vaunted Hyuga princess, she was undeniably one of the strongest genin in existence. Her academic performance was the highest in the class (though she suspected that a certain someone was holding back). She was also doing quite well with her iryojutsu studies.

However, there was one area where she felt lacking compared to her teammates: Combat Jutsu.

Naruto and Sasuke displayed marvelous techniques during the ambush, yet all she could do was punch and kick. Granted, her medical skills helped bring everyone back to fighting fit in almost no time, but the feeling of inadequacy still gnawed at her belly.

She was close to reaching the second stage of physical enhancements, but so were the boys. In fact, they seemed further along than she was.

The fact of the matter was that there was nothing substantial she could do until they went back to Konoha. However, this didn't mean that she couldn't do anything at all. So, taking out her notebook, she began listing down her observations during the mission, her performance, and her goals.

In the meantime, while waiting for the bridge to finish, she would focus on sharpening her skills.

Becoming faster, more economical with her movements, and better with her timing would yield more results than worrying about her insufficient Jutsu arsenal. There's also the thought that came to mind due to her initial strike against Momochi Zabuza.

Hitting his large sword caused dramatic backlash that mangled her hand. She couldn't afford for that to happen again, especially if she was in the middle of combat. Unfortunately, increasing her regeneration would be a bad idea, as it would increase the chance for something to go horribly wrong on a cellular level.

The answer, then, is to impart an explosive amount of force that wouldn't necessarily depend on just flesh and bone.

The question of how she would achieve that consumed the kunoichi for the rest of the afternoon.

Third-Person POV

"How is that, Zabuza-sama?" a voice asked after applying some healing ointments.

"I'm fine," the man, who was covered in even more bandages than before, grunted. "You should be more worried about yourself."

A performative smile formed on the dainty face. "I am well, Zabuza-sama."

The obvious lie was met with a loud snort from the missin-nin. "You're fulla shit, Haku."

Indeed. Neither of them looked to be in particularly good shape. The Demon of the Hidden Mist was lying on a bed, acting like a mummified weasel. His caretaker was in arguably worse shape, with a swollen cheek, a nearly complete list of injuries that one could sustain on the battlefield, and huge bags under their eyes.

Their moods weren't helped by the recent departure of their employer, who expressed extreme dissatisfaction with their performance. A sentiment that they didn't necessarily share, given how powerful the target's escort ended up being. When they expressed this observation to Gato, however, his smug reply caught them off guard.

"Then it's lucky that I got you some backup on the way," he had sneered. "They'll keep the bodyguard busy while you do the job I paid you to do. Once they get here, I don't want you wasting any more time, do you hear me?"

His declaration left an ominous feeling in the air, one that even Zabuza couldn't completely shake. Additional factors rarely worked out well for any mission. Particularly one where the opposition is stronger than they should be.

"What do you think of our so-called reinforcement, Zabuza-sama?" Haku asked while sitting on the chair beside the bed.

"They're bad news," he said without preamble.

"How so?"

"The world's been strange for a while now, Haku." It would appear that getting injured has made the normally reticent man chattier than he ought to be. "I should've been Hatake Kakashi's equal, and you should've been able to handle those brats, no problem."

Haku knew that the comment wasn't meant as a criticism, but it didn't make its effects any less painful.

"And now, some new assholes appear, offerin' to help out, just like that? To Gato, of all people?" The injured man shook his head. "Nah, somethin' ain't right. I've always trusted my gut, and right now, it's tellin' me that they're bad news."

"Would they not be simply interested in money?" Haku asked.

Zabuza scoffed. "Lemme tell you somethin', kid. The world's big, but it ain't that big. Certain names mean somethin' to certain people. Ain't nobody goin' after Hatake Kakashi who don't got somethin' goin' on too. Whoever these fuckers are that Gato's saddlin' us with? I'd bet an arm they got bounties of their own. Big ones too."

"Should we not cut our losses, then?"

No reply came for several heartbeats. When it did, Zabuza sounded more serious than Haku had ever heard him.

"Not yet," he declared. "We'll keep our distance. Let 'em go after the Leaf fuckers, while we take care of our business. If everythin' goes well, we get our pay and go."

"Understood, Zabuza-sama."

Jiraiya POV

The toad Sannin was very busy these days. As Konoha's foremost expert on Seals and Sealing techniques, he had the privilege of examining the many wondrous innovations in the art that the village has been producing with ceaseless energy. It was quite an honorable position.

Or, it would be if he were anyone else. To Jiraiya, the intent behind the mountain of work was obvious. Punishment for breaking the kid's communication device, and to keep him out of trouble. That he really was checking if the Seals being made were safe could be considered a bonus.

Despite his new occupation eating up all the hours of his day, however, he didn't completely lift his finger off the Elemental Nations' pulse. Reports from agents who were painstakingly cultivated over the years still arrived at regular intervals.

One such report came in five minutes ago, which then caused him to rush toward the Hokage's office. He didn't bother with the door and simply went through the window from the outside. After making sure that there was no one else inside apart from the ANBU, of course.

"Sensei!" he said. "I just got a message from one of my contacts. We've got a problem."

The annoyed look on the Hokage's face upon his student's unceremonious entry vanished and was replaced by a more serious expression. Reaching for the creased slip of paper in Jiraiya's outstretched hand, he then read its content.

Two immortals, on the move. Targets among the Waves.

That was it. That was all it said. And yet, it was more than enough.

"Jiraiya, go." The Sannin was almost knocked off his feet by the pressure radiating from the old man. "Eliminate anyone who gets in your way. Boar, Pig, go with him."

Hearing such an order from the revitalized God of Shinobi, there was no hesitation. Three figures blurred from the Hokage Tower and over Konoha's walls.

Left behind was a Sarutobi Hiruzen who was more certain than ever of his decision to forever free his village from the spectres of war.

Kakashi POV

While he was peripherally aware of the concept, there was no denying the pride swelling within his chest as he watched his student on the ground, panting for breath, and unable to do more than twitch. Pink hair, slick with sweat, was plastered over the girl's forehead while she struggled for more air.

For all that Kakashi knew Sakura's strength and determination, experiencing how close she got to actually landing a solid hit on him was gratifying, indeed. And to think, they've only been at this for a few days.

This generation really is full of monsters, he thought.

"Had enough, Sakura-chan?" he teased.

Her answering growl was simultaneously adorable and scary. Kakashi will need to be careful with his ribbing. The kunoichi, much like many who came before her, has a short temper. Considering how hard she can hit now, it might not be wise to continue winding her up too much.

Grunting in effort, the girl pushed herself off the ground until she could stand up straight. Dirt and grass stains covered her clothes, but she didn't seem to care. Grit and determination shone through her green eyes, making her intentions clear.

Unfortunately, she'll have to be disappointed.

"You can still stand, good. I won't have to carry you back, after all."

"Sensei?" She tilted her head and frowned in confusion.

"Tazuna-san's crew should be done soon," Kakashi said. "It's time to go."

A conflicted look passed over her face before staring toward the sun setting over the horizon. She breathed out a resigned sigh before nodding. Together, the two started heading toward their temporary abode.

They arrived just in time to see Sasuke and Naruto trudging into sight with their client in tow.

"Sakura!" the blonde greeted enthusiastically. "Sensei! Whoa, had a rough day?" he asked, looking over the girl's ruffled appearance.

"We can talk about it after I've had a bath," she replied, entering the house.

As has been the case for the three days, Kakashi observed the minute changes his students were undergoing. Naruto was still full of energy, hardly ever tiring. Sasuke was as sharp as ever, noticing his teacher's analysis, but saying nothing about it.

The Uchiha was of particular concern to the Jonin after he decided to share the origin of his Sharingan. Well, an abridged version of it, at least. Considering how long he's been wallowing about past events, it's a wonder Kakashi had even spoken of the matter as much as he did. Perhaps he really was growing as a person again.

Dinner that night was a lively affair. Naruto argued with Inari, with Sasuke throwing in a few barbs of his own. Sakura was complaining about muscle soreness, which she couldn't do anything about without negating the benefits of her training.

Tazuna and Tsunami seemed to appreciate the children's racket, as well. A consequence of living far too long without hope or joy, Kakashi supposed.

He had to wonder how long this would last.

Zabuza and his accomplice were still out there. Them giving up so soon wasn't likely in the cards. After all, there were ways to get at their target without confronting his team. That's why they were taking turns guarding Tazuna at the bridge, and his family here at their home.

Kakashi also couldn't help feeling that something else was heading their way. It was the same during the last war, when ambushes and surprise attacks occurred. He'd learned to trust the feeling really quickly the first few times.

There's no sense worrying his students, though. Recent years have felt like a second chance. This time, he'll protect those precious to him.

The following morning, it was his and Sakura's turn to watch over the bridge-building site. Like always, it started with a simple but filling breakfast. When they got near their destination, however, Kakashi's skin tingled right before mist blanketed their surroundings at an unnatural speed.

He only had enough time to deflect several senbon thrown at Tazuna before a gigantic ball of compressed air shot toward them at an insane speed. Responding accordingly, he formed a single hand seal before stomping on the ground and raising an earth wall several meters thick.

Even then, the move only caused a delay, forcing Kakashi to grab Tazuna and Sakura by the waist before jumping away.

Before his feet made contact with the ground, though, a figure materialized out of thin air, sword already descending toward the old bridgebuilder. At the same time, a masked figure appeared on Sakura's side, kunai in hand.

Kakashi knew that he wouldn't be fast enough to save both Tazuna and his student. He also knew that he didn't need to.

Twisting out of his grip, Sakura lashed out with a kick while simultaneously deflecting the kunai with the back of her hand. As for her Jonin-sensei, Zabuza was basically made to choose between finishing his overhead chop or dodging the shuriken speeding toward his throat. He went with the latter, thus allowing Kakashi enough time to pull Tazuna out of the way.

Not willing to suffer more surprises, he uncovered his Sharingan, went straight to third-stage physical enhancement, and drove his heel straight into the missing-nin's sternum with considerable force. This launched him straight into the water, distracting his companion long enough for Sakura to land a solid punch.

Kakashi noted how the masked figure moved with the blow, however, thus reducing the damage and created distance. This then allowed them to dash toward the lake, but this wasn't his concern anymore.

No, that honor went to the pair of robed figures slowly walking toward them.

Black cloth with red clouds, Kakashi observed. Akatsuki has come to visit. There's no way this is just a coincidence.

Jiraiya had briefed Konoha's upper leadership about this group and its known members. Mercenaries who were quickly gaining infamy, fighting for ryo, and made up of S-Rank members. Based on their appearance, these two would be Hidan and Kakuzu, who were rumored to be unkillable.

Shit.

"Sakura, take Tazuna-san and regroup with Naruto and Sasuke," he ordered briskly.

"What about you, sensei?" she asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine," he reassured her. "Go now."

With fear still in her eyes, the girl obeyed and grabbed the old man in an over-the-shoulder carry before quickly escaping. Kakashi never took his eyes off the two approaching figures, though.

One was a towering figure with unnatural green eyes and red sclera, wearing a mask that obscured his lower face. The other had silver hair, with distinctive purple eyes. Around his neck was a curious amulet typically worn by worshippers of Jashin. And held over his shoulder with one hand was a massive triple-bladed scythe.

Even after regaining his lost edge and the advantages he had gained over the past three years, Kakashi knew that this was going to be a tough fight. Oddly enough, however, rather than preparing for combat, they seemed to be arguing.

"... missed! They were right there!" the scythe-wielding one loudly complained in a voice that was a disturbing mix of gleefully sadistic and whiny.

"Shut up!" the masked one barked. In contrast to his partner, this one spoke like rocks tumbling down a narrow gorge. "The attack hit. He just blocked it."

"Same difference! You had the advantage of surprise. That should've hit, which means you missed!"

"Your voice is grating on my nerves. If you don't close your mouth, I'll sew it shut."

"Why? Can't handle the truth?"

Kakashi had to review what Jiraiya told them about these two, and couldn't find any mention of them acting like an old married couple. It could be a ruse, of course, to lower their target's guard. But they were supposed to be straight combatants. Even if they were predisposed to using tricks, they probably wouldn't go for something so… lame.

"Whatever," the one fitting the description of Kakuzu growled before stopping about ten meters away from Kakashi. "Awfully kind of you to stick around after letting the squirt run off. That'll save us the hassle."

"Speak for yourself," snarked the likely Jashin worshipper. "I haven't done a ritual in days. That pink-haired twig would've done nicely as a sacrifice!"

Welp, that made things simple. No matter what happened here today, Kakashi would make sure this Hidan fellow dies.

"The fat fuck didn't do it for you?" was the sneering comeback.

"You uncultured swine! The value of the sacrifice depends on the quality of the blood. What the hell kind of ritual could I get for using that pig?! I might as well use sewage water!"

So, they already killed Gato. On the one hand, good. Serves him right. On the other, the shipping tycoon would've been much easier to deal with.

"Would you shut up already!" Kakuzu roared. "Once we're done here, you can do as many rituals as you want. Go ham on the whole damn town, for all I care!"

"Tch, whatever," Hidan rolled his eyes petulantly.

"Finally… Now, just to do this nice and proper," Kakuzu said, facing Kakashi. "You currently have a bounty of 35 million ryo, with a bonus of up to 20 million for any information about Konoha that we can extract. That means, you represent a hefty sack of money, and I'm here to collect."

The bounties didn't really surprise Kakashi; neither his nor the information about his village. However, he didn't believe for a moment that this was their only objective. Not when they could have come after him any other time, yet only did so when the Uchiha heir and the Jinchuruki of the Kyubi left Konoha's protective walls for the first time.

Jiraiya hinted that there may be more going on under the surface. Maybe this is actually an opportunity to learn more about the elusive group?

"That much, huh?" Kakashi stated, projecting a careless attitude. "I'm flattered, though, you don't expect me to believe that members of Akatsuki are only here for money, do you? You folks have been getting around lately."

"Huh," Hidan muttered. "This one's smarter than our usual targets. Well-informed, too."

"Doesn't matter," Kakuzu snarled. "Dead men have no need to know about our business. Besides, we're more than capable of killing multiple birds with just one stone."

"One of those stones wouldn't happen to be a certain demon container, would it?" Kakashi asked.

As expected, neither man fell for the bait, but that's telling all on its own. So, they were after Naruto, after all. Judging that he had squeezed all the info he could get from the conversation, the Jonin activated the trap he had been preparing all along.

From beneath the two, rock spears shot up, positioned so that they would both need to separate. Judging Kakuzu to be the more dangerous of the two, Kakashi rushed him, while sending two clones to harry Hidan.

An explosion rang out from the scythe-wielder's direction, signalling that he had struck the exploding copy, driving him back toward the bridge. Meanwhile, the real Kakashi engaged his masked opponent up close.

Based on his reaction time and twitchy movements, it would appear that the intel was right. This one was a ninjutsu specialist.

He wasn't a slouch, by any means, but Guy would have pummeled him into the ground. And Kakashi? Well, there's a reason why the Taijutsu specialist considered him his eternal rival. Following the first few exchanges, the Jonin had the man's measure. After yet another explosion, this one involving an intense, lingering conflagration, Kakuzu found himself slammed into the ground with maximum force.

Spawning another clone, Kakashi had it deliver several more blows while he horizontally pivoted to come up behind his own copy. In that split second, Chidori came to life and, with a twist of his body midair, one of Konoha's deadliest ninjas punched through his clone, causing it to pop, and into Kakuzu's heart.

In just five seconds flat, Kakashi had dispatched one of the most dangerous individuals in the Elemental Nations.

At least, that should've been the case.

Defying all common sense, however, Kakuzu grabbed Kakashi's wrist with one hand, while the other went for his throat. The Jonin managed to prevent the fingers from choking him by gripping the forearm, but this left him wide open for the three scythe blades that had just entered his vision.

Fortunately, he had enough room to lean to the side, thus avoiding decapitation. Kakashi then broke the arm in his grasp and pulled the hand still inside the body that should definitely have become a corpse.

Skipping away to gain some distance was necessary at that point, because by the time he managed to put ten meters between them, Kakuzu had gotten up. Pushing the impossibility of the situation to the back of his mind, for the moment, Kakashi focused on the more pressing fact of having to face both of them at the same time.

"What the hell, Kakuzu?!" The pale-haired sadist yelled. "You let yourself get ganked, just like that?"

"You're one to talk!" the talking corpse shot back. "He roasted you so bad, you're practically well done!"

Kakashi observed the same thing. Hidan was half-naked, wearing only pants now. His torso, arms, neck, and face were burned so badly that bone was visible in a few areas. Yet, even with so much damage, he moved like they didn't matter at all.

There may be something to their reputations for being undying.

"Ah, it's only fair, I suppose." Hidan grinned. "I got him back for it. Just keep him busy."

What?

The charred man then raised his scythe, ran his finger over one of the blades, and pulled it away to show a red smear. Kakashi then noticed a thin, barely noticeable cut on his neck, proving that he wasn't able to completely avoid the weapon, after all.

The mad, hysterical laughter that followed was enough to send shivers down Kakashi's spine.

You can read up to Chapter 27 over at Patreon and Ko-fi!

BlueCladOne · 2026-08-25T05:55:14+0100

I really like this.

Normally I find it annoying when "random powerful ninja show up to make the Wave mission dangerous again", but this isn't the standard version of that.

It actually feels a lot like early Naruto, too. Kakashi isn't in danger because he isn't skilled or powerful, but because he's surprised by an unexpected strange enemy. It doesn't feel cheap, it feels natural.

trashtaker · 2026-08-25T07:03:13+0100

If they already know they're immortal that meant that Kenta already made preparation to actually seal them or kill them.

Kakashi just has to hold back or pull a Kakashi and kill one of them until Jiraiya gets there

Athain · 2026-08-25T10:39:55+0100

Ah, the rain clouds have already begun to move...

Reluctant Cultivator in Konoha

Getting sticky.

Prologue

Chapter 1 - Time-skip no Jutsu!

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Interlude 1

Hinata POV​

Iruka POV​

Sarutobi Hiruzen – A Glimpse of the Future​

Chapter 4

Interlude 2

Sasuke POV​

Naruto POV​

Danzo POV​

Chapter 5

Well worn.

Perpetually in Trouble

Getting sticky.

Long-Awaited Reunion

Tenten Triumphs

Medical Success & Girl Talk

Hinata's Worries

War Preparations

Kabuto's Ultimate Struggle

Fanfic Addict

Getting sticky.

Naruto POV​

Sasuke POV​

Sakura POV​

Jiraiya POV​

Kakashi POV​

Actually here for plot, somehow.

The (un)lucky Patreon Saint of borrowed fortune

Fanfic Addict

Users who are viewing this thread

Hinata POV

Iruka POV

Sarutobi Hiruzen – A Glimpse of the Future

Sasuke POV

Naruto POV

Danzo POV

Naruto POV

Sasuke POV

Sakura POV

Jiraiya POV

Kakashi POV