Died and was reborn in Konoha. You know the drill. Tried to cultivate chakra as a joke and actually succeeded. How is this...lucky?...individual going to survive after making the biggest discovery in the Elemental Nations in centuries?
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Reluctant Cultivator in Konoha
- Thread starter Champjklccmk
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Prologue and Chapters 1 to 5
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Champjklccmk
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AN:
Sorry about the previous version. Fixed the spacing!
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.
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.
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:
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:
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):
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):
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
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:
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):
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
~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.
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.
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.
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.
- 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)
- 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.
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.
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Side Story 1
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Champjklccmk
Making the rounds.
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AN:
I'm posting chapters every day until we finish the first arc of this story. So, be sure to keep an eye out!
"Honestly, I can't believe it's taken Konoha this long to start focusing on better chakra control exercises!"
The outburst was just one of several that have been coming out of Shiozaki Kenta's mouth since they met for their first collaboration. He, Shirakawa Reina, and Murakami Sayo are currently in a lab setup away from prying eyes and absolutely smothered with privacy measures to ensure complete concealment.
"As we already told you Shiozaki-san, there have been very few opportunities to focus on such a niche field. There have been too many wars, which cost the lives of too many talented ninjas."
The tired explanation was also one of several that Reina and Sayo had already given.
"And as I've already told you, please call me Kenta. We're going to be working together a lot from now on, and it would feel weird being treated so formally by two grown adults all the time. You would be doing me a favor, Reina-san. That goes for you too, Sayo-san."
Reina's fellow medic-nin looked up from the scrolls she'd been studying when her name came up.
"I don't mind," she shrugged and went back to reading. "As long as you call me Sayo, in exchange."
"Deal," Shiozaki-san grinned before looking to Reina.
This put her in a bit of a bind. On the one hand, she would like to maintain some barrier of professionalism between them. On the other, at the rate this was going, she would be the only one to do so. This could create friction in a dynamic that started out quite promising.
Sighing, she said, "Very well, Kenta-kun."
"Excellent!" he exclaimed, beaming. "But coming back to the point, though, I'm not complaining just for the sake of complaining. Just imagine how much we could have already accomplished if Konoha did this sooner. The medical field alone would be flooded with innovations up the wazoo!"
Up the what?
"And then there are the various quality of life improvements that chakra makes possible. Instant first-aid seals, psycho and physio-therapy, lightning-style generators, untraceable long-distance communication, immersive entertainment options like illusion theatres, biomechanical prosthesis that would be indistinguishable from the real thing, all of it possible and more!"
Frustration and dismay seemed to mingle in equal measure as the young boy ranted, but Reina was too preoccupied to really care.
"I'm sorry, what was that you just said?"
Kenta looked up with a puzzled look.
"Huh?"
"The thing you just said, what was it?"
"Instant first-aid seals?"
"No, the other one."
"Lightning-style generators?"
"No, the other, other one."
"For goodness' sake, Reina! He said a lot of things, which one is tripping you up?" Sayo cut in before the discussion could devolve into a ludicrous cycle.
Sighing in irritation, Reina complied, "About the prosthetics. Are you talking about replacing lost limbs with ones made from artificial materials?"
A look of genuine confusion washed over the boy's face, as if the rug was pulled from right under him.
"...Yes? This isn't a new thing, is it?" Then his expression took on an exasperated hue. "Surely, limb-replacement options have been around before I came along? The Elemental Nations couldn't possibly be this backward?"
Reina was rendered rather speechless by the abject disappointment Kenta was sending her way. Fortunately, Sayo was there to answer his question.
"At this point, artificial limb replacements are still mostly theoretical, Kenta-kun. I've heard Suna is making great strides in the field, but how far they've come, we don't know."
That does beg the question of how it can be done, though. As a highly-trained med-nin of Konoha, Reina was among the privileged few to have access to the notes left behind by Senju Tsunade. Before she knew it, her mind was in a haze of possibilities and dreams.
She then abruptly stood up and left the room, shouting "I'll be right back!" while going out the door.
The two left behind looked at each other in confusion.
"What was that about?" Kenta asked.
"Who knows?" Sayo shrugged and continued reading. "Reina's always been something of an airhead."
In another secret place containing sensitive village secrets, Shirakawa Reina was arguing with the guards about proper procedure, filling out paperwork in triplicate, and getting lectured about barging through the door like a hooligan.
"Father, I have been invited to have dinner at Shiozaki-san's house. May I go?"
It was dinnertime at the Hyuga clan compound and Hinata was currently sitting down with her father and little sister, Hanabi. Upon asking her question, Hiashi's chopsticks paused mid-rise and he gave his daughter an inquiring look.
"Who else will be present at this dinner?"
"Shiozaki-san, Uzamaki-san, Uchiha-san, and Shiozaki-san's parents."
"May I come?"
"I'll ask Hanabi-chan."
"I see, thank you, onee-san."
A pause and the sound of chewing commenced.
"You spend a lot of time around those boys, right, onee-san?"
"Yes, I do."
"Which one of them will you marry?"
The sounds of choking came from two distinct sources before Hiashi slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes rattle.
"None of them! None of those miscreants are going to –" One hasty throat clearing and the recollection of quiet dignity later. "That is to say, your sister's marriage prospects are a serious matter, Hanabi. It will require extensive analysis and investigations, as well as prolonged consideration. Extensively prolonged consideration. Possibly long after she turns eighteen."
That was the longest either girl had heard their father talk about anything non-clan related in one go. For her part, Hinata couldn't help feeling warm. Both at the thought of marriage and for her father's paternal reaction, try as he might to hide it.
While their relationship has improved over the years, mostly owing to Hinata's commitment to getting stronger, she would never have expected him to be so protective.
"I see."
A pause.
"Then, may I marry one of them?"
Another round of choking sounds occurred. This time necessitating intervention on Hinata's part while Hiashi was quickly turning blue.
Hanabi simply frowned in bewilderment. Surely marriage to one of the three would mean her onee-sama would be around more often? Why would her father be against that?
Adults are strange, she concluded.
Haruno Sakura was not having a good day. In fact, she had not been having many good days for several months now.
Her position as the top kunoichi of the year had been well and truly usurped by Hinata. Naruto-baka was getting harder to ignore. Worst of all, Sasuke-kun was becoming more difficult to approach due to his sudden and inexplicable closeness with those two.
She couldn't understand what was happening. It's like her whole world had been turned upside-down.
Now, here she was in her room, where she was definitely not sulking. Instead, she was trying to come up with more ways to get Sasuke-kun to notice her. But, try as she might, she couldn't think of anything.
She let her hair grow impractically long because she heard Sasuke-kun liked girls with longer hair. She broke off her friendship with Ino-pig because she was a rival to his affections. Sakura even went on a strict diet to maintain her figure.
What more could she do?
Just then, a knock on her bedroom door sounded before her dad's genial face appeared. On seeing his daughter lying down and looking despondent, the man smiled and proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed.
"What's the matter with my little petal?" he asked gently.
"Dad! Don't call me that!" she whined, though in truth, the term of endearment had always made her feel happy.
"I'm sorry, Sakura-chan. But you haven't answered my question. Do you want to talk about what's got your pretty face looking so sullen?"
For a moment, Sakura considered lying or making something up. She had never talked to her dad about boys, before. That had always been mom.
But lately, all of her advice were things that Sakura was already doing. So, maybe she could benefit from a male's perspective this time?
"It's about Sasuke…"
And away she went to explain everything that's gone wrong recently. Her dad just sat there patiently, listening as she released her woes on willing ears. When she was done, he was quiet for a few heartbeats.
"Have you ever thought about simply befriending him first?" he asked.
"What?" Sakura was genuinely struggling to process what he just said.
Huffing in amusement, he moved to scoop her up and cradled the girl against his chest. Stroking her hair, he explained his point in a loving voice.
"Sweetheart, I have no delusions about you marrying someday. Whoever you end up with should consider themselves lucky to have landed a pretty, smart, and caring girl like you. But that time is still so far off."
Adjusting his arms so she could see his eyes, brimming with kindness and warmth, he continued.
"If Sasuke is who you truly want, then you need to get to know him first. And the best way to do that is to be his friend. You mentioned that he's gotten close with another girl in your class. Who was it?"
"Hinata, she's a princess of the Hyuga clan or something."
If her dad noticed the bitterness in her tone, he chose to ignore it.
"What can you tell me about her?"
Sakura thought for a moment before answering.
"Pretty, shy… she's acts like a lady, I guess?"
"Is that all?"
"She's strong too, the strongest in our class," she grudgingly admitted. "Even Sasuke loses to her."
This time, her dad's smile became knowing.
"Then there's your answer, petal." At her look of incomprehension, he elaborated. "You told me that this boy you like became close to Hinata after she beat him, yes?"
She nodded hesitantly, not really sure where her dad was going with this.
"Then don't you think the reason for that is obvious?"
Sakura's eyes widened in understanding. Of course!
Smiling brightly, she gave her father the biggest hug she could manage. Laughing, he returned it enthusiastically.
Hours later, right before falling asleep, a new spark of determination started burning in Haruno Sakura's chest. No other girl had ever been able to get close to Sasuke until Hinata. And it only happened after he lost to her the first time.
It all made sense now.
Sasuke likes women who can beat him up. I'll have to get stronger so he doesn't look at anyone else.
With this final thought, she drifted off to dreams of a happy marriage.
Meanwhile, the patriarch of the Haruno household slept with a satisfied smile, knowing that he had given his precious daughter such good advice.
The doldrum hush in the office felt thick enough to ladle, yet the village's shadowed sentinel, Konoha's venerable leader, did not so much as twitch. For twenty glacial minutes, aged eyes had stalked those three flimsy pages with the ferocity of a war hound patrolling a single, stubborn footprint.
Strained ocular orbs crept line-by-line, retreated to the margin, then advanced again, interrogating every swirl of ink as though the kanji might finally admit some treasonous subtext under prolonged duress.
Holding his breath, the deliverer of the ill-fated documents timed the silence. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, ten heartbeats. Outside, the clang of shop shutters closing marked the end of a perfectly ordinary day that refused to penetrate the storm of focus within.
On the desk, nothing moved except a single sheet that fluttered when the village head exhaled, as though exhausted on his behalf. And still he remained locked in orbit.
Page one to two, two to three, then back to one. The Hokage seemed to be battling disbelief so intense it threatened to burn a hole clean through the papers and right down to the Hokage Monument itself.
All of this to say that Iruka was getting somewhat concerned at his leader's prolonged silence.
Then again, he couldn't really blame him. While hopes were high, even he had nearly fallen out of his chair upon seeing the condensed report from the academy's teaching and support staff.
Finally, the Hokage rose from his extended submersion into written texts to pin the chunin with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Is this accurate?" he asked, voice absolutely dripping with incredulity.
"The report went through multiple academy departments to check for discrepancies or errors, Hokage-sama. Everything in those documents passed muster."
The response was laced with sympathy on Iruka's part. Had he not seen the results first-hand, he would be highly suspicious, as well. At his reply, the documents were finally dropped on the table and the Hokage leaned back into his chair in a slump.
Several heartbeats of silence followed this before the old ninja spoke once more.
"It seems the multi-vector chakra control approach has exceeded expectations, then."
Iruka could only nod at that. Months of work went into refining and further developing the methods that Shiozaki Kenta had been teaching select classmates. Upon its introduction, there were certain thresholds that were meant to indicate the successful implementation of the new techniques.
However, no one could have anticipated the students blowing past those predictions, least of all the originator.
"Give me your personal observations, Iruka."
"Yes, Hokage-sama," the younger man obliged. "As expected, the students struggled the most with the guided chakra cycling, structural posture alignment, and sensory feedback looping. Most of the civilians and even a few of the clan kids simply did not have the foundations to effectively apply them at first.
"However, they responded better to the breath regulation drills, usage rate awareness, recovery enhancement techniques, and waste mitigation aspects of the new exercises. In the advanced chakra control class, we are seeing smooth adaptation to micro muscle pulse training, along with the first level of physical chakra enhancement courses."
"I see. Any indications of negative reactions?"
"None that we have been able to detect, Lord Third. By and large, the R&D team have succeeded in what they set out to do."
Verbally referring to the small group of three who were responsible for this new development this way was yet another layer in a complex web of protections woven by Konoha. But with every passing day, even these measures are starting to seem inadequate given the value of the asset.
"And to think we have yet to truly plumb the depths of this discovery," the Hokage mused to himself. "Speaking of which, how have your own efforts been progressing, Iruka?"
The chunin perked up at this. "Quite well, Hokage-sama. I've yet to truly reach the first threshold." Meaning he hadn't been able to compress his chakra to form the first layer. "But I'm close. I can feel it."
In response, Hiruzen gave a good-natured chuckle. "That's good to hear. You are making more progress than I, I'm afraid. My responsibilities have left me with very little time to practice."
What the Hokage left out was the difficulty of compressing the chakra of someone with his capacity.
"And what of the special cases?"
The label given to the trio under Kenta's direct guidance.
"Head and shoulders over their peers," Iruka smiled wryly, "as expected. Though, it's worth noting that, rather than resenting them, most of the other students seemed to have become inspired. Haruno Sakura, for instance, has started showing more diligence in taijutsu. In response, Yamanaka Ino and others have also started putting in more effort."
The Hokage could only laugh at this, both in mirth and in excitement. This generation will surpass all those that came before. He could feel it in his old bones.
Sip.
"You've made yourself really hard to find, hime."
Sip.
"We're not asking you to come back. Just to take a quick look at the scroll."
Sip.
"I know it won't change the past, but we're hoping it would lead to a better future."
Thump. Clang.
"Tsunade-sama?"
Shizune came over to check on Senju Tsunade, watching the thrown sake cup fall still after being thrown at the wall with concern. But the sannin ignored her in favor of the documents she'd been given.
She couldn't deny that it was somewhat nostalgic to meet with her former teammate again. However, the subject of his unexpected visit was severely unwelcome. After a quick look at the message he passed on and its content before leaving, though, it was nearly impossible to pull away.
Just a few pages. The details were short, concise, and almost bone dry.
Yet, they contained information that Tsunade would have used to save hundreds, if not thousands in the Great Wars. Why did this have to come about now? Why only after it was too late to make a difference?
Why couldn't this have been around for… for them?
The acidic thoughts and anguish pushed her to indulge more in the unhealthy habit of alcohol consumption. But even though the taste was never the biggest draw for her, the bitterness finally got too much.
In lieu of giving her follower a verbal answer, she passed her the documents, instead. Shizune was well-versed enough in medical matters to understand what it meant.
Content to simply brood in silence while the younger girl devoured the information, Tsunade couldn't help but ruminate at Jiraiya's abrupt departure. No wonder he didn't feel the need to stick around. He knew what her reactions would likely be, and that comfort of any kind would be the last thing she'd want.
"This is impossible."
The last Senju was brought out of her thoughts as Shizune expressed her disbelief. Looking over, she saw the young woman staring at the pages with wariness.
"Apparently, it's not." Tsunade huffed.
"But Tsunade-sama, these results have to be a mistake! Chakra control shouldn't lead to some of the developments listed here."
"And why's that?"
"Because… because it's just chakra control! What does that have to do with –" she checks the papers again "– viable prosthetics, portable energy, or battlefield treatments that don't require medic-nin?"
Tsunade found herself sighing in disappointment, both at herself and her student. It reflected her neglect at teaching more niche concepts and Shizune's lack of imagination. Then again, perhaps she was still in shock?
"Do remember what my Creation Rebirth is all about, Shizune."
"What?" she frowned before understanding dawned on her. "Seals… it's about seals, isn't it? But then, how would–unless they–but that would need absolute chakra control, which…"
She trailed off, eyes wide in comprehension.
"Exactly. Chakra control, or rather, chakra mastery is the foundation." Tsunade reached for another cup and poured herself some sake. "From there, the possibilities can branch off into different fields. However, there's one thing you're missing."
A look of concentration took over, which stretched for a few seconds. Then a flicker of discernment.
"Chakra capacity would be a bottleneck," she breathed. "No matter how good their control, these innovations would be quite demanding on that front. Focusing on any of them would leave Konoha's ninjas useless for anything else."
Tsunade nodded in satisfaction at the young woman's deduction.
"So, what does this mean?" the slug sannin prodded her student.
"It means," she said, speaking slowly, "that they found a way around the problem. Either that or the village is suddenly filled with chakra monsters. Something I rather doubt."
"Quite the irritating bit of mystery, isn't it?"
If pushed, Tsunade would have to confess a burning curiosity as to how this was done. Her teacher wouldn't lie just to get her to come back. At least, not in such a clumsy manner. So, this left her with the uncomfortable choice of accepting that everything included in his message was the truth.
"Um, Tsunade-sama?" Shizune spoke up hesitantly. "What does this mean for us? Are we going back?"
There was a hint of hopefulness in her tone that twinged Tsunade's guilt. She's been dragging her follower around since girlhood. Most of the time, she would console herself by teaching Shizune as much as she could – if she wasn't drinking herself into a stupor, that is.
This then put Tsunade in a conundrum.
Changes were happening in Konoha. Changes that she herself advocated for.
But were they enough to tempt her into returning?
"I don't know, Shizune," she sighed in despondency. "I just don't know."
In the bowels of the Hokage Tower, within a room intended for important discussions pertaining to Konoha's future and its various interests, there was chaos. Loud voices overlapping, speakers trying to drown dissenting opinions through volume, and paperwork was scattered on the large table and the floor.
Speaking of which, it was these seemingly innocuous pieces of constructs of tree fibre and ink that was causing the current disorder.
At the center of this maelstrom of cacophony was the Hokage, calmly puffing away at his pipe. Likewise, Hyuga Hiashi was sipping his tea, projecting an abject lack of concern. In this way, the two towering figures shared a commonality that briefly manifested in sympathetic nods toward each other.
"That's not the point, though, is it?! Why weren't we consulted about this?"
"You just want to suppress the proliferation of the new methods and maintain clan advantage over civilians!"
"How safe are these new techniques, anyway?"
"The Hokage wouldn't have implemented them if they were dangerous!"
"That's not the point!"
On and on it went. About an hour now, by Hiashi's reckoning. Not that bad, considering how these meetings usually go. So, he was content to simply let the rabble rousers get it out of their systems.
After another thirty minutes or so, the Hokage finally decided to step in. Flaring his presence to get the attendees' attention, the wizened man placed his pipe on its ceramic holder before addressing the room.
"I understand that you have concerns. However, I will remind everyone here that the Academy is under the auspices of my office. As such, any and all educational reforms and implementations fall under my ultimate jurisdiction."
A hush fell over the meeting chamber's occupants, though, many looked ready to respond. This was ever the lot of a village with a leader who allowed certain liberties among his people.
"Now, I will address the issues brought up in this meeting one at a time," the Hokage continued. "First, the new chakra control methods introduced have been proven safe through a multitude of tests and over several months. The students themselves are under heavy watch to detect any adverse reactions. In addition, their health is being monitored by experts involved in the creation of these new exercises.
"Second, the clans were not informed so as to establish a true baseline and avoid potential contamination of the data being gathered. At this moment, the Academy is a testbed in preparation for wider adoption of the new methods. Interference by anyone who does not have the prerequisite information and training could result in skewed results."
He cast a baleful glare among the various clan and civilian leaders.
"I don't need to remind you of the consequences should this be the case."
For his part, Hiashi is not at all troubled by these developments. He has seen first-hand exactly what awaits the new generation of Konoha's shinobi. Even with the escalating pressures from the elders, the Hyuga clan head has remained firm in denying them access to Hinata. There is nothing in this world that could force him to jeopardize his daughter's future in such a way.
Though, Hiashi did find it intriguing that the members of the Konoha Council have remained uncharacteristically silent throughout these proceedings. Rather than easing his concerns, he found their change in behavior off-putting.
"Third, the introduction of these exercises is intended to produce higher-quality graduates. As ever, the goal is to ensure the highest degree of safety for any who will enter our shinobi forces. You all know how difficult it is to secure Jonin-sensei for all the students who pass their Academy exams. Building up their base capabilities in this manner would then give the graduates more options for upward mobility, even without a dedicated Chunin, Special-Jonin, or full Jonin to guide them."
True enough. Hinata had already demonstrated the benefits of taking chakra control to the extreme in defeating Neji multiple times. Now, it was simply a matter of establishing directions for other students, or indeed, other ninjas, in which to take what they've learned.
"Now, are there any questions?" the Hokage offered.
Naturally, it was the Jonin commander and head of clan Nara who raised his hand first.
"Where are these new techniques coming from, Hokage-sama?" Shikaku asked.
Ah, dammit.
Hiashi knew that the question was bound to come up, but he didn't know how the Hokage would address it.
"That," Lord Third began, "is classified, for the moment."
Well, that was straightforward of him. The meeting room's occupants had varying degrees of shock on their faces, as well. Though, none had the combination of consternation and incredulity as Nara Shikaku.
For the first time, Hiashi became truly cognizant of the privileged position he was in. If even the Jonin Commander couldn't be told the truth, he would have to double his efforts in plugging any holes under his jurisdiction as Hyuga clan head.
"Understood, Hokage-sama."
The older man simply nodded in acknowledgement. From there, the discussion turned to preparations regarding these new developments. At some point, the arguments started up again, pertaining to one specific detail or another.
Hiashi participated as well, doing his best to secure the best outcome. Not only for his clan, but more importantly, for his daughters.
Shiozaki Kenta.
More and more the boy inches closer to deep waters. How much should Hiashi assist in keeping the sharks at bay?
Espionage is a simple fact of life for the Elemental Nations.
From the scurilous informants of the Daimyo's court to the cells of elite agents that every Hidden Village employs. Secrets are a currency that are ever changing hands, bought in coin or blood. The more valuable the materials exchanged, the higher the price… and the higher the danger.
Some secrets are more valuable than others, of course, and those of Konoha are prized above all the rest.
So you can imagine, dear readers, what lengths purveyors and purchasers of such guarded facts and figures would go to obtain juicy morsels from such a prime cut of meat. New lengths to capture, rebuff, or mislead ne'er-do-wells centered on the village's main center of learning?
"Why, don't mind if I do!" these opportunistic parasites would crow with relish.
As for the rival intelligence divisions from across the continent, themselves? Well, even the smallest scraps of clues and hints would be worth their weight in gold, wouldn't they?
But again, dear readers, how would they go about snagging threads from a tapestry that seemed well-woven?
Through tiny nibbles and harmless peregrination, of course!
Not even a bastion of military excellence such as Konoha can afford to turn away good trade and wealthy patrons, after all. And who is to say which of them has what business nor their wheres or whys?
Certainly not the intrepid guards at the gates!
A faked document here, a fabricated merchant route there, et voila!
Ahh! Isn't the absence of instant surveillance and communication wonderful?
This isn't to say that Konoha is any less vigilant, however. No, no, no~!
Indeed, the watchful eyes on the walls still see much, and their ears hear more. But neither sight nor sound equates to understanding, dear reader. Not without the proper context. What's more, the shinobi making up these honorable orders of spy hunters are simply human, in the end.
And humans? Why, they are so very flawed in the end, aren't they?
To wit, some crumbs do escape and some aphids carrying droplets of data do scurry beneath their notice.
As such, bit by bit, piece by piece, kindling is fed into cinders of suspicion among those with too little trust in their neighbors.
Such a dreary way to live, wouldn't you agree, dear readers?
What will come of this, you may wonder.
The answer, as ever, lay in human nature.
What one has, another must covet.
So fans the flames of war.
Drumbeats sound in the distance.
And the cause of it all?
Revelling at the success of plans well-made.
Unknowing of the conflict brewing on the horizon.
Here's the breakdown of this chakra control method for anyone interested:
Breath Regulation Drills – Steady, rhythmic breathing for better chakra and bodily control. Also helps with focus and centering.
Intentional Chakra Cycling – Guiding chakra through its full circuit on command, switching speeds and directions to build fine motor control over the network.
Usage Rate Awareness – Constant mental tally of just how chakra is being spent for actions that require it (i.e. Jutsu, enhancements, expulsion, etc.).
Recovery Enhancement Techniques – Breathing exercise for quicker chakra recovery, both while at rest or while moving.
Waste Mitigation – Exact control of chakra usage for jutsu activation or other intended purposes, getting as close to the minimum without causing destabilization.
Structural Posture Alignment – Preventing chakra flow interruptions due to improper postures and aiding in smoother breathing.
Adaptive Combat Stances – Shifting footwork and centre-of-gravity to keep balance even while cycling heavy chakra loads, as well as maintaining momentum without losing focus.
Repetitive Kata Imprinting – Drilling the same micro-adjustments (breath, posture, stance) until they fire off subconsciously, similar to muscle memory.
Micro Muscle Pulse Training – Tiny tighten-and-release cycles in fingers, toes, and jaw that teach precision pressure control at the smallest scale.
Sensory Feedback Looping – Pairing each surge with heartbeat or breath sounds to create an internal metronome, sharpening awareness of flow rhythm.
Okay, here are the five stages of physical enhancement:
You can read up to Chapter 24 over at Patreon and even Ko-fi!
I'm posting chapters every day until we finish the first arc of this story. So, be sure to keep an eye out!
Unintended Ripples
"Honestly, I can't believe it's taken Konoha this long to start focusing on better chakra control exercises!"
The outburst was just one of several that have been coming out of Shiozaki Kenta's mouth since they met for their first collaboration. He, Shirakawa Reina, and Murakami Sayo are currently in a lab setup away from prying eyes and absolutely smothered with privacy measures to ensure complete concealment.
"As we already told you Shiozaki-san, there have been very few opportunities to focus on such a niche field. There have been too many wars, which cost the lives of too many talented ninjas."
The tired explanation was also one of several that Reina and Sayo had already given.
"And as I've already told you, please call me Kenta. We're going to be working together a lot from now on, and it would feel weird being treated so formally by two grown adults all the time. You would be doing me a favor, Reina-san. That goes for you too, Sayo-san."
Reina's fellow medic-nin looked up from the scrolls she'd been studying when her name came up.
"I don't mind," she shrugged and went back to reading. "As long as you call me Sayo, in exchange."
"Deal," Shiozaki-san grinned before looking to Reina.
This put her in a bit of a bind. On the one hand, she would like to maintain some barrier of professionalism between them. On the other, at the rate this was going, she would be the only one to do so. This could create friction in a dynamic that started out quite promising.
Sighing, she said, "Very well, Kenta-kun."
"Excellent!" he exclaimed, beaming. "But coming back to the point, though, I'm not complaining just for the sake of complaining. Just imagine how much we could have already accomplished if Konoha did this sooner. The medical field alone would be flooded with innovations up the wazoo!"
Up the what?
"And then there are the various quality of life improvements that chakra makes possible. Instant first-aid seals, psycho and physio-therapy, lightning-style generators, untraceable long-distance communication, immersive entertainment options like illusion theatres, biomechanical prosthesis that would be indistinguishable from the real thing, all of it possible and more!"
Frustration and dismay seemed to mingle in equal measure as the young boy ranted, but Reina was too preoccupied to really care.
"I'm sorry, what was that you just said?"
Kenta looked up with a puzzled look.
"Huh?"
"The thing you just said, what was it?"
"Instant first-aid seals?"
"No, the other one."
"Lightning-style generators?"
"No, the other, other one."
"For goodness' sake, Reina! He said a lot of things, which one is tripping you up?" Sayo cut in before the discussion could devolve into a ludicrous cycle.
Sighing in irritation, Reina complied, "About the prosthetics. Are you talking about replacing lost limbs with ones made from artificial materials?"
A look of genuine confusion washed over the boy's face, as if the rug was pulled from right under him.
"...Yes? This isn't a new thing, is it?" Then his expression took on an exasperated hue. "Surely, limb-replacement options have been around before I came along? The Elemental Nations couldn't possibly be this backward?"
Reina was rendered rather speechless by the abject disappointment Kenta was sending her way. Fortunately, Sayo was there to answer his question.
"At this point, artificial limb replacements are still mostly theoretical, Kenta-kun. I've heard Suna is making great strides in the field, but how far they've come, we don't know."
That does beg the question of how it can be done, though. As a highly-trained med-nin of Konoha, Reina was among the privileged few to have access to the notes left behind by Senju Tsunade. Before she knew it, her mind was in a haze of possibilities and dreams.
She then abruptly stood up and left the room, shouting "I'll be right back!" while going out the door.
The two left behind looked at each other in confusion.
"What was that about?" Kenta asked.
"Who knows?" Sayo shrugged and continued reading. "Reina's always been something of an airhead."
In another secret place containing sensitive village secrets, Shirakawa Reina was arguing with the guards about proper procedure, filling out paperwork in triplicate, and getting lectured about barging through the door like a hooligan.
Hinata's Marriage Prospects
"Father, I have been invited to have dinner at Shiozaki-san's house. May I go?"
It was dinnertime at the Hyuga clan compound and Hinata was currently sitting down with her father and little sister, Hanabi. Upon asking her question, Hiashi's chopsticks paused mid-rise and he gave his daughter an inquiring look.
"Who else will be present at this dinner?"
"Shiozaki-san, Uzamaki-san, Uchiha-san, and Shiozaki-san's parents."
"May I come?"
"I'll ask Hanabi-chan."
"I see, thank you, onee-san."
A pause and the sound of chewing commenced.
"You spend a lot of time around those boys, right, onee-san?"
"Yes, I do."
"Which one of them will you marry?"
The sounds of choking came from two distinct sources before Hiashi slammed his hand on the table, making the dishes rattle.
"None of them! None of those miscreants are going to –" One hasty throat clearing and the recollection of quiet dignity later. "That is to say, your sister's marriage prospects are a serious matter, Hanabi. It will require extensive analysis and investigations, as well as prolonged consideration. Extensively prolonged consideration. Possibly long after she turns eighteen."
That was the longest either girl had heard their father talk about anything non-clan related in one go. For her part, Hinata couldn't help feeling warm. Both at the thought of marriage and for her father's paternal reaction, try as he might to hide it.
While their relationship has improved over the years, mostly owing to Hinata's commitment to getting stronger, she would never have expected him to be so protective.
"I see."
A pause.
"Then, may I marry one of them?"
Another round of choking sounds occurred. This time necessitating intervention on Hinata's part while Hiashi was quickly turning blue.
Hanabi simply frowned in bewilderment. Surely marriage to one of the three would mean her onee-sama would be around more often? Why would her father be against that?
Adults are strange, she concluded.
Sakura's Surprising Realization
Haruno Sakura was not having a good day. In fact, she had not been having many good days for several months now.
Her position as the top kunoichi of the year had been well and truly usurped by Hinata. Naruto-baka was getting harder to ignore. Worst of all, Sasuke-kun was becoming more difficult to approach due to his sudden and inexplicable closeness with those two.
She couldn't understand what was happening. It's like her whole world had been turned upside-down.
Now, here she was in her room, where she was definitely not sulking. Instead, she was trying to come up with more ways to get Sasuke-kun to notice her. But, try as she might, she couldn't think of anything.
She let her hair grow impractically long because she heard Sasuke-kun liked girls with longer hair. She broke off her friendship with Ino-pig because she was a rival to his affections. Sakura even went on a strict diet to maintain her figure.
What more could she do?
Just then, a knock on her bedroom door sounded before her dad's genial face appeared. On seeing his daughter lying down and looking despondent, the man smiled and proceeded to sit on the edge of the bed.
"What's the matter with my little petal?" he asked gently.
"Dad! Don't call me that!" she whined, though in truth, the term of endearment had always made her feel happy.
"I'm sorry, Sakura-chan. But you haven't answered my question. Do you want to talk about what's got your pretty face looking so sullen?"
For a moment, Sakura considered lying or making something up. She had never talked to her dad about boys, before. That had always been mom.
But lately, all of her advice were things that Sakura was already doing. So, maybe she could benefit from a male's perspective this time?
"It's about Sasuke…"
And away she went to explain everything that's gone wrong recently. Her dad just sat there patiently, listening as she released her woes on willing ears. When she was done, he was quiet for a few heartbeats.
"Have you ever thought about simply befriending him first?" he asked.
"What?" Sakura was genuinely struggling to process what he just said.
Huffing in amusement, he moved to scoop her up and cradled the girl against his chest. Stroking her hair, he explained his point in a loving voice.
"Sweetheart, I have no delusions about you marrying someday. Whoever you end up with should consider themselves lucky to have landed a pretty, smart, and caring girl like you. But that time is still so far off."
Adjusting his arms so she could see his eyes, brimming with kindness and warmth, he continued.
"If Sasuke is who you truly want, then you need to get to know him first. And the best way to do that is to be his friend. You mentioned that he's gotten close with another girl in your class. Who was it?"
"Hinata, she's a princess of the Hyuga clan or something."
If her dad noticed the bitterness in her tone, he chose to ignore it.
"What can you tell me about her?"
Sakura thought for a moment before answering.
"Pretty, shy… she's acts like a lady, I guess?"
"Is that all?"
"She's strong too, the strongest in our class," she grudgingly admitted. "Even Sasuke loses to her."
This time, her dad's smile became knowing.
"Then there's your answer, petal." At her look of incomprehension, he elaborated. "You told me that this boy you like became close to Hinata after she beat him, yes?"
She nodded hesitantly, not really sure where her dad was going with this.
"Then don't you think the reason for that is obvious?"
Sakura's eyes widened in understanding. Of course!
Smiling brightly, she gave her father the biggest hug she could manage. Laughing, he returned it enthusiastically.
Hours later, right before falling asleep, a new spark of determination started burning in Haruno Sakura's chest. No other girl had ever been able to get close to Sasuke until Hinata. And it only happened after he lost to her the first time.
It all made sense now.
Sasuke likes women who can beat him up. I'll have to get stronger so he doesn't look at anyone else.
With this final thought, she drifted off to dreams of a happy marriage.
Meanwhile, the patriarch of the Haruno household slept with a satisfied smile, knowing that he had given his precious daughter such good advice.
Exceeding Expectations
The doldrum hush in the office felt thick enough to ladle, yet the village's shadowed sentinel, Konoha's venerable leader, did not so much as twitch. For twenty glacial minutes, aged eyes had stalked those three flimsy pages with the ferocity of a war hound patrolling a single, stubborn footprint.
Strained ocular orbs crept line-by-line, retreated to the margin, then advanced again, interrogating every swirl of ink as though the kanji might finally admit some treasonous subtext under prolonged duress.
Holding his breath, the deliverer of the ill-fated documents timed the silence. One heartbeat, two heartbeats, ten heartbeats. Outside, the clang of shop shutters closing marked the end of a perfectly ordinary day that refused to penetrate the storm of focus within.
On the desk, nothing moved except a single sheet that fluttered when the village head exhaled, as though exhausted on his behalf. And still he remained locked in orbit.
Page one to two, two to three, then back to one. The Hokage seemed to be battling disbelief so intense it threatened to burn a hole clean through the papers and right down to the Hokage Monument itself.
All of this to say that Iruka was getting somewhat concerned at his leader's prolonged silence.
Then again, he couldn't really blame him. While hopes were high, even he had nearly fallen out of his chair upon seeing the condensed report from the academy's teaching and support staff.
Finally, the Hokage rose from his extended submersion into written texts to pin the chunin with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Is this accurate?" he asked, voice absolutely dripping with incredulity.
"The report went through multiple academy departments to check for discrepancies or errors, Hokage-sama. Everything in those documents passed muster."
The response was laced with sympathy on Iruka's part. Had he not seen the results first-hand, he would be highly suspicious, as well. At his reply, the documents were finally dropped on the table and the Hokage leaned back into his chair in a slump.
Several heartbeats of silence followed this before the old ninja spoke once more.
"It seems the multi-vector chakra control approach has exceeded expectations, then."
Iruka could only nod at that. Months of work went into refining and further developing the methods that Shiozaki Kenta had been teaching select classmates. Upon its introduction, there were certain thresholds that were meant to indicate the successful implementation of the new techniques.
However, no one could have anticipated the students blowing past those predictions, least of all the originator.
"Give me your personal observations, Iruka."
"Yes, Hokage-sama," the younger man obliged. "As expected, the students struggled the most with the guided chakra cycling, structural posture alignment, and sensory feedback looping. Most of the civilians and even a few of the clan kids simply did not have the foundations to effectively apply them at first.
"However, they responded better to the breath regulation drills, usage rate awareness, recovery enhancement techniques, and waste mitigation aspects of the new exercises. In the advanced chakra control class, we are seeing smooth adaptation to micro muscle pulse training, along with the first level of physical chakra enhancement courses."
"I see. Any indications of negative reactions?"
"None that we have been able to detect, Lord Third. By and large, the R&D team have succeeded in what they set out to do."
Verbally referring to the small group of three who were responsible for this new development this way was yet another layer in a complex web of protections woven by Konoha. But with every passing day, even these measures are starting to seem inadequate given the value of the asset.
"And to think we have yet to truly plumb the depths of this discovery," the Hokage mused to himself. "Speaking of which, how have your own efforts been progressing, Iruka?"
The chunin perked up at this. "Quite well, Hokage-sama. I've yet to truly reach the first threshold." Meaning he hadn't been able to compress his chakra to form the first layer. "But I'm close. I can feel it."
In response, Hiruzen gave a good-natured chuckle. "That's good to hear. You are making more progress than I, I'm afraid. My responsibilities have left me with very little time to practice."
What the Hokage left out was the difficulty of compressing the chakra of someone with his capacity.
"And what of the special cases?"
The label given to the trio under Kenta's direct guidance.
"Head and shoulders over their peers," Iruka smiled wryly, "as expected. Though, it's worth noting that, rather than resenting them, most of the other students seemed to have become inspired. Haruno Sakura, for instance, has started showing more diligence in taijutsu. In response, Yamanaka Ino and others have also started putting in more effort."
The Hokage could only laugh at this, both in mirth and in excitement. This generation will surpass all those that came before. He could feel it in his old bones.
Tsunade's Conundrum
Sip.
"You've made yourself really hard to find, hime."
Sip.
"We're not asking you to come back. Just to take a quick look at the scroll."
Sip.
"I know it won't change the past, but we're hoping it would lead to a better future."
Thump. Clang.
"Tsunade-sama?"
Shizune came over to check on Senju Tsunade, watching the thrown sake cup fall still after being thrown at the wall with concern. But the sannin ignored her in favor of the documents she'd been given.
She couldn't deny that it was somewhat nostalgic to meet with her former teammate again. However, the subject of his unexpected visit was severely unwelcome. After a quick look at the message he passed on and its content before leaving, though, it was nearly impossible to pull away.
Just a few pages. The details were short, concise, and almost bone dry.
Yet, they contained information that Tsunade would have used to save hundreds, if not thousands in the Great Wars. Why did this have to come about now? Why only after it was too late to make a difference?
Why couldn't this have been around for… for them?
The acidic thoughts and anguish pushed her to indulge more in the unhealthy habit of alcohol consumption. But even though the taste was never the biggest draw for her, the bitterness finally got too much.
In lieu of giving her follower a verbal answer, she passed her the documents, instead. Shizune was well-versed enough in medical matters to understand what it meant.
Content to simply brood in silence while the younger girl devoured the information, Tsunade couldn't help but ruminate at Jiraiya's abrupt departure. No wonder he didn't feel the need to stick around. He knew what her reactions would likely be, and that comfort of any kind would be the last thing she'd want.
"This is impossible."
The last Senju was brought out of her thoughts as Shizune expressed her disbelief. Looking over, she saw the young woman staring at the pages with wariness.
"Apparently, it's not." Tsunade huffed.
"But Tsunade-sama, these results have to be a mistake! Chakra control shouldn't lead to some of the developments listed here."
"And why's that?"
"Because… because it's just chakra control! What does that have to do with –" she checks the papers again "– viable prosthetics, portable energy, or battlefield treatments that don't require medic-nin?"
Tsunade found herself sighing in disappointment, both at herself and her student. It reflected her neglect at teaching more niche concepts and Shizune's lack of imagination. Then again, perhaps she was still in shock?
"Do remember what my Creation Rebirth is all about, Shizune."
"What?" she frowned before understanding dawned on her. "Seals… it's about seals, isn't it? But then, how would–unless they–but that would need absolute chakra control, which…"
She trailed off, eyes wide in comprehension.
"Exactly. Chakra control, or rather, chakra mastery is the foundation." Tsunade reached for another cup and poured herself some sake. "From there, the possibilities can branch off into different fields. However, there's one thing you're missing."
A look of concentration took over, which stretched for a few seconds. Then a flicker of discernment.
"Chakra capacity would be a bottleneck," she breathed. "No matter how good their control, these innovations would be quite demanding on that front. Focusing on any of them would leave Konoha's ninjas useless for anything else."
Tsunade nodded in satisfaction at the young woman's deduction.
"So, what does this mean?" the slug sannin prodded her student.
"It means," she said, speaking slowly, "that they found a way around the problem. Either that or the village is suddenly filled with chakra monsters. Something I rather doubt."
"Quite the irritating bit of mystery, isn't it?"
If pushed, Tsunade would have to confess a burning curiosity as to how this was done. Her teacher wouldn't lie just to get her to come back. At least, not in such a clumsy manner. So, this left her with the uncomfortable choice of accepting that everything included in his message was the truth.
"Um, Tsunade-sama?" Shizune spoke up hesitantly. "What does this mean for us? Are we going back?"
There was a hint of hopefulness in her tone that twinged Tsunade's guilt. She's been dragging her follower around since girlhood. Most of the time, she would console herself by teaching Shizune as much as she could – if she wasn't drinking herself into a stupor, that is.
This then put Tsunade in a conundrum.
Changes were happening in Konoha. Changes that she herself advocated for.
But were they enough to tempt her into returning?
"I don't know, Shizune," she sighed in despondency. "I just don't know."
Chaos Council
In the bowels of the Hokage Tower, within a room intended for important discussions pertaining to Konoha's future and its various interests, there was chaos. Loud voices overlapping, speakers trying to drown dissenting opinions through volume, and paperwork was scattered on the large table and the floor.
Speaking of which, it was these seemingly innocuous pieces of constructs of tree fibre and ink that was causing the current disorder.
At the center of this maelstrom of cacophony was the Hokage, calmly puffing away at his pipe. Likewise, Hyuga Hiashi was sipping his tea, projecting an abject lack of concern. In this way, the two towering figures shared a commonality that briefly manifested in sympathetic nods toward each other.
"That's not the point, though, is it?! Why weren't we consulted about this?"
"You just want to suppress the proliferation of the new methods and maintain clan advantage over civilians!"
"How safe are these new techniques, anyway?"
"The Hokage wouldn't have implemented them if they were dangerous!"
"That's not the point!"
On and on it went. About an hour now, by Hiashi's reckoning. Not that bad, considering how these meetings usually go. So, he was content to simply let the rabble rousers get it out of their systems.
After another thirty minutes or so, the Hokage finally decided to step in. Flaring his presence to get the attendees' attention, the wizened man placed his pipe on its ceramic holder before addressing the room.
"I understand that you have concerns. However, I will remind everyone here that the Academy is under the auspices of my office. As such, any and all educational reforms and implementations fall under my ultimate jurisdiction."
A hush fell over the meeting chamber's occupants, though, many looked ready to respond. This was ever the lot of a village with a leader who allowed certain liberties among his people.
"Now, I will address the issues brought up in this meeting one at a time," the Hokage continued. "First, the new chakra control methods introduced have been proven safe through a multitude of tests and over several months. The students themselves are under heavy watch to detect any adverse reactions. In addition, their health is being monitored by experts involved in the creation of these new exercises.
"Second, the clans were not informed so as to establish a true baseline and avoid potential contamination of the data being gathered. At this moment, the Academy is a testbed in preparation for wider adoption of the new methods. Interference by anyone who does not have the prerequisite information and training could result in skewed results."
He cast a baleful glare among the various clan and civilian leaders.
"I don't need to remind you of the consequences should this be the case."
For his part, Hiashi is not at all troubled by these developments. He has seen first-hand exactly what awaits the new generation of Konoha's shinobi. Even with the escalating pressures from the elders, the Hyuga clan head has remained firm in denying them access to Hinata. There is nothing in this world that could force him to jeopardize his daughter's future in such a way.
Though, Hiashi did find it intriguing that the members of the Konoha Council have remained uncharacteristically silent throughout these proceedings. Rather than easing his concerns, he found their change in behavior off-putting.
"Third, the introduction of these exercises is intended to produce higher-quality graduates. As ever, the goal is to ensure the highest degree of safety for any who will enter our shinobi forces. You all know how difficult it is to secure Jonin-sensei for all the students who pass their Academy exams. Building up their base capabilities in this manner would then give the graduates more options for upward mobility, even without a dedicated Chunin, Special-Jonin, or full Jonin to guide them."
True enough. Hinata had already demonstrated the benefits of taking chakra control to the extreme in defeating Neji multiple times. Now, it was simply a matter of establishing directions for other students, or indeed, other ninjas, in which to take what they've learned.
"Now, are there any questions?" the Hokage offered.
Naturally, it was the Jonin commander and head of clan Nara who raised his hand first.
"Where are these new techniques coming from, Hokage-sama?" Shikaku asked.
Ah, dammit.
Hiashi knew that the question was bound to come up, but he didn't know how the Hokage would address it.
"That," Lord Third began, "is classified, for the moment."
Well, that was straightforward of him. The meeting room's occupants had varying degrees of shock on their faces, as well. Though, none had the combination of consternation and incredulity as Nara Shikaku.
For the first time, Hiashi became truly cognizant of the privileged position he was in. If even the Jonin Commander couldn't be told the truth, he would have to double his efforts in plugging any holes under his jurisdiction as Hyuga clan head.
"Understood, Hokage-sama."
The older man simply nodded in acknowledgement. From there, the discussion turned to preparations regarding these new developments. At some point, the arguments started up again, pertaining to one specific detail or another.
Hiashi participated as well, doing his best to secure the best outcome. Not only for his clan, but more importantly, for his daughters.
Shiozaki Kenta.
More and more the boy inches closer to deep waters. How much should Hiashi assist in keeping the sharks at bay?
Spy Games
Espionage is a simple fact of life for the Elemental Nations.
From the scurilous informants of the Daimyo's court to the cells of elite agents that every Hidden Village employs. Secrets are a currency that are ever changing hands, bought in coin or blood. The more valuable the materials exchanged, the higher the price… and the higher the danger.
Some secrets are more valuable than others, of course, and those of Konoha are prized above all the rest.
So you can imagine, dear readers, what lengths purveyors and purchasers of such guarded facts and figures would go to obtain juicy morsels from such a prime cut of meat. New lengths to capture, rebuff, or mislead ne'er-do-wells centered on the village's main center of learning?
"Why, don't mind if I do!" these opportunistic parasites would crow with relish.
As for the rival intelligence divisions from across the continent, themselves? Well, even the smallest scraps of clues and hints would be worth their weight in gold, wouldn't they?
But again, dear readers, how would they go about snagging threads from a tapestry that seemed well-woven?
Through tiny nibbles and harmless peregrination, of course!
Not even a bastion of military excellence such as Konoha can afford to turn away good trade and wealthy patrons, after all. And who is to say which of them has what business nor their wheres or whys?
Certainly not the intrepid guards at the gates!
A faked document here, a fabricated merchant route there, et voila!
Ahh! Isn't the absence of instant surveillance and communication wonderful?
This isn't to say that Konoha is any less vigilant, however. No, no, no~!
Indeed, the watchful eyes on the walls still see much, and their ears hear more. But neither sight nor sound equates to understanding, dear reader. Not without the proper context. What's more, the shinobi making up these honorable orders of spy hunters are simply human, in the end.
And humans? Why, they are so very flawed in the end, aren't they?
To wit, some crumbs do escape and some aphids carrying droplets of data do scurry beneath their notice.
As such, bit by bit, piece by piece, kindling is fed into cinders of suspicion among those with too little trust in their neighbors.
Such a dreary way to live, wouldn't you agree, dear readers?
What will come of this, you may wonder.
The answer, as ever, lay in human nature.
What one has, another must covet.
So fans the flames of war.
Drumbeats sound in the distance.
And the cause of it all?
Revelling at the success of plans well-made.
Unknowing of the conflict brewing on the horizon.
Informational
Multi Vector Chakra Control Explained
Here's the breakdown of this chakra control method for anyone interested:
Breath Regulation Drills – Steady, rhythmic breathing for better chakra and bodily control. Also helps with focus and centering.
Intentional Chakra Cycling – Guiding chakra through its full circuit on command, switching speeds and directions to build fine motor control over the network.
Usage Rate Awareness – Constant mental tally of just how chakra is being spent for actions that require it (i.e. Jutsu, enhancements, expulsion, etc.).
Recovery Enhancement Techniques – Breathing exercise for quicker chakra recovery, both while at rest or while moving.
Waste Mitigation – Exact control of chakra usage for jutsu activation or other intended purposes, getting as close to the minimum without causing destabilization.
Structural Posture Alignment – Preventing chakra flow interruptions due to improper postures and aiding in smoother breathing.
Adaptive Combat Stances – Shifting footwork and centre-of-gravity to keep balance even while cycling heavy chakra loads, as well as maintaining momentum without losing focus.
Repetitive Kata Imprinting – Drilling the same micro-adjustments (breath, posture, stance) until they fire off subconsciously, similar to muscle memory.
Micro Muscle Pulse Training – Tiny tighten-and-release cycles in fingers, toes, and jaw that teach precision pressure control at the smallest scale.
Sensory Feedback Looping – Pairing each surge with heartbeat or breath sounds to create an internal metronome, sharpening awareness of flow rhythm.
Progression of Chakra-Based Physical Enhancement
Okay, here are the five stages of physical enhancement:
- Muscle Group Priming (Future requirement for academy graduation) - Chakra floods only the major muscle groups: legs, back, shoulders, and arms. Grants short, explosive bursts of strength and speed. It could also be sustained, depending on the level of chakra control mastery. Control is coarse in the early stages. It could lead to strains or "chakra burn" in the muscle fibres.
- Tendon & Joint Threading (Chuunin) - The chakra flow expands into the tendons, ligaments, and stabiliser muscles around every joint, tightening reflex arcs and letting the body pivot harder without tearing itself apart.
- Vital Core Infusion (Special Jonin - Jonin) - The chakra is infused into key organs (heart, lungs, diaphragm, liver) and minor muscles. Breath-hold time lengthens, toxins clear faster, and Stage 1 power can be sustained for longer periods.
- Whole Network Synchronisation (theoretical) - All tenketsu will pulse in cadence, sheathing nerves, blood vessels, and even the skin in a uniform current. The user gains near-instinctive reactions and a chakra "buffer" that softens blunt trauma.
- Prototype: Fractional-Gate Weave (theoretical) - A bleeding-edge concept in which each of the Eight Gates is micro-pulsed a few percent open in rapid sequence, saturating the entire body while avoiding the catastrophic backlash of full Gate release. Basically watered-down Gate Release.
You can read up to Chapter 24 over at Patreon and even Ko-fi!
Interlude 3
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AN:
I done messed up, fellas!
This was supposed to go before Side Story 1! Oh, the shame!
Seriously, though. Sorry for the mix-up. Can't actually change them up, unfortunately.
Still, hope you enjoy this chapter anyway.
---
The sun filtered through the clouds like lazy shimmers of light, bathing the training ground in a warm glow. The trees rustled gently in the breeze, and the grass bent with every breath of wind, like it was listening in.
"Are you sure this is working?" Naruto asked, frowning as he tried once again to control his breathing. His stomach rose and fell too fast. "Feels like I'm just breathing a lot."
Kenta didn't look up. He was seated cross-legged in the centre of the clearing, his posture straight and eyes closed in serene focus. "You're breathing with a goal in mind. There's a difference," he replied calmly.
Naruto scratched his head. "Still feels like I'm just sitting here not doing anything."
"That's because you're not doing it right yet. Keep at it, Naruto, you're doing well."
Naruto scowled, puffing his cheeks. Kenta always said that in the most matter-of-fact way, like it wasn't supposed to be frustrating at all.
"Tch. Whatever."
The exercise was deceptively simple compared to the one he had been doing until now. Breathe in for a count of four, hold for two, exhale for four, and keep it going.
But that was just the start.
While doing that, Naruto also had to push his chakra slowly through its pathways for a single circuit. Up the spine, down the arms, and back into his sternum. If he let his mind wander or pushed too hard, the whole cycle would collapse and he would have to start all over again.
And it collapsed… it collapsed a lot.
Suffice it to say, the amount of concentration this new exercise demanded taxed Naruto's mind. At least the previous breathing techniques didn't require constant focus that numbed his brain.
He tried again, closing his eyes and breathing slower. It was just breathing. He had already done something similar before, so he could do this too. He would do this. After all, he promised.
Still…
Naruto opened his eyes by a fraction and saw Hinata sitting across from him. Her eyes were closed and her posture was relaxed. Her breathing was slow and even. The faintest shimmer of chakra rolled off the skin of her arms and hands too, something that Kenta said Naruto would know how to do, as well…
…Eventually.
Of course she was good at this, Naruto thought.
He hasn't really had much to do with Hinata while in the academy, but she wasn't exactly a stranger. She just didn't stand out much. They talked before, but mostly in passing. That didn't stop Naruto from noticing how she was always near the top of the class, though.
As for Kenta, he still remained a mystery. His talk with Old Man Hokage did prompt the blonde to talk more openly with his friend. But his answers often gave Naruto a headache. In the end, Kenta just told him that he had something called an 'old soul', whatever that meant.
What Naruto did understand, though, was his fellow civilian's improvements in taijutsu. When they first started school, he was average. Then, over the last few weeks, he got a lot better.
These days, Kenta only really loses to Hinata and Sasuke. Other times, it would be a close call or a draw.
Speaking of, this whole thing started because of those two. Earlier that day, they were paired in taijutsu class and Naruto still chuckled at the memory. The smug bastard flat on his back in the middle of the sparring ring, staring up at the sky like he didn't understand what just happened.
In comparison, Hinata was barely even winded.
The whole thing was awesome.
He remembered rushing up to Hinata after the class and shouting, "That was amazing! How'd you do it?"
She stared at him in surprise for a moment before glancing around, then whispering, "Kenta's been helping me."
That was all it took.
He'd found Kenta next and demanded answers.
"Teach me too!"
Kenta raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I wanna be awesome like you guys! And I'm sick of losing to that bastard!"
Kenta narrowed his eyes at Naruto, who started to fear that he might say no. In the end, though, the nod came, and the blonde couldn't be happier.
"But only if you promise not to give up, no matter what," his friend said, raising a finger to make his point.
"I never give up!" Naruto declared, thumping his chest.
And just like that, they began.
A few days later, Naruto and Kenta squared off in the training field with Hinata off to the side, observing. The spar was slow-paced, more of a dance than a fight. Kenta didn't press too hard. His strikes were measured, almost lazy.
Naruto focused on his breathing.
Inhale four.
Step back.
Exhale four.
Deflect.
Hold two.
Duck.
His movements were jerky at first. Every time he lost the rhythm, he stumbled, and Kenta would tap him lightly on the shoulder or flick his forehead. Never hard, just enough to tell him he'd slipped.
"Again," Kenta said.
Naruto wiped his brow and nodded.
They repeated the spar. Then again and again.
Later, when they took a break, Naruto flopped onto the ground and groaned. "I think my arms are gonna fall off."
Kenta smirked. "Not yet. You're improving, though."
Naruto grinned in delight.
"Yeah. For some reason, I'm learning faster this way."
Nodding, Kenta said, "That's because you're a kinesthetic learner."
That earned a raised eyebrow. "A what?"
"It means you learn better by doing instead of sitting and listening."
"...You think so?"
Kenta then smirked down at him. "I know so."
Despite the irritating way his friend said it, Naruto was still glad at the observation. He was even starting to feel his pride ballooning in his chest before it was quickly punctured.
"But don't skip the basics. That's how people get hurt."
Naruto nodded, swallowing his objection. It was annoying, but he knew Kenta was right.
The next few days blurred together in a steady rhythm. It took a while before they could move on from the breathing part while sparring. But Naruto eventually got good enough at it that Kenta started adding the chakra cycling.
It was really slow, though, and Kenta would always know when he started speeding up because Hinata was a snitch. Still, he got a little better every day.
When Kenta wasn't around, Naruto trained with Hinata and the experience couldn't be more different. Their spars were quieter and more deliberate. Hinata moved faster than she did during taijutsu class. She also hit harder than he expected.
Apparently, it was good to face different partners who fought in different ways. Something about not getting comfortable with facing the same fighting style over and over? Whatever. It at least kept things interesting.
Outside of that, Naruto worked on the jutsu they were learning at the academy. The previous breathing techniques helped a lot, but the new ones were even better. His Henge was practically perfect now, never mind the Kawarimi.
Even his clone technique wasn't a complete disaster anymore. Though, they could be better. Missing an eye or a nose wasn't exactly passing material.
He still sucked at tests, though.
Two months had passed, and the time was well-spent.
Naruto's breathing was sharper now, more controlled. He could feel the difference, even if he didn't understand everything about it. Kenta tried to explain it once, but he felt his eyes glaze over halfway through.
He still had a long way to go, but that's not a problem anymore. Not when he had a clear way forward.
During this time, Hinata started talking a lot more, especially when all three of them were together. She would smile a lot too, and even laughed at his jokes sometimes. Naruto decided she was actually pretty cool.
Kenta was still weird, though. Friendly and helpful, but definitely weird. There were times when he wasn't around and would turn up hours later. When Naruto asked where he kept disappearing to, Kenta gave the same answer every time.
"I'll tell you someday."
Naruto would groan, whine, and pout, but he never budged.
Fine. Whatever.
Kenta was still one of the best teachers Naruto had ever had. Only Iruka-sensei could compare.
They started meeting more often, not just for training but for lunch or snacks. Kenta always had some strange dried fruit or bean paste thing that Naruto hated at first. But then he secretly started to like.
Hinata sometimes brought her own homemade snacks. Naruto would brag about his ramen skills, and Kenta would just roll his eyes.
The training continued and Naruto could now perform a slow kata while keeping his breathing and chakra cycle steady. He still couldn't do it perfectly, but his stumbles were fewer and farther between. When Kenta told him he was ready to begin cycling chakra faster while moving, Naruto felt proud.
Really proud. The kind where he didn't have to pretend.
He sparred with Hinata more often, too. She didn't hold back, which he appreciated. She didn't treat him like he was stupid or a waste of her time. They were both trying to get stronger, and they respected each other's efforts.
During one spar, Naruto asked, "Hey, do you think Kenta's human?"
Hinata blinked, confused. "What?"
"I mean, he's always doing all this stuff. Breathing, meditating, disappearing, teaching. Like, all the time."
Hinata giggled. "He's human, Naruto-kun. Just very dedicated."
Naruto scratched his head. "Yeah, I guess."
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the now-familiar training ground that no one else ever seems to use. Seriously, nearly three months they've been coming here and Naruto has only ever seen the three of them around.
What gives?
Across from him stood one of his two regular training partners, standing in her clan's signature fighting stance.
"Ready?" Hinata asked, eyes sharp.
"You bet!" Naruto cracked his knuckles.
They clashed.
This time, Naruto didn't need to think. The breathing came naturally. The chakra flowed on command. He wasn't perfect, but he wasn't tripping over his own feet anymore.
They moved in a blur of motion, exchanging blows. Naruto ducked an oncoming palm, sidestepped to get a clear shot at an undefended side, and retaliated with an elbow.
Faster than his eyes could track, Hinata deflected the blow, spun, and repositioned before launching another series of swift strikes.
For his part, Naruto focused on keeping his breathing and chakra cycling stable while evading and countering.
Neither of them gained the upper hand, but they grinned the whole time.
This was pretty much the norm for the last three weeks, ever since they were given the all-clear to take their practice bouts up a notch. Both were learning control, but for very different reasons.
When they finally stopped, both panting, a familiar voice rang out.
"Well, well. Look at you two go."
Naruto turned, eyes widening.
Kenta was walking toward them, like he'd done many times before. However, there was a difference this time.
He always arrived alone. But now, someone else was with him.
Naruto pointed, face scrunching up in outrage. "What's he doing here?!"
Uchiha Sasuke had arrived, wearing that smug smirk of smugness.
Hinata sighed in resignation.
Kenta was rolling on the ground, laughing.
The last two months have been strange for Uchiha Sasuke.
A few things were shifting at the Academy, many of which were obvious, but some required sharper eyes to even notice. More adult shinobi were coming and going, for example, with no one really commenting on their presence except for rumors among the students.
They never stuck around disturbed classes or got involved in any of the school activities. This made their seemingly random appearances even more noteworthy.
Speaking of classes, there were changes there too. More emphasis on chakra theory, control, and basic principles like efficiency. Grounding the need for true mastery over one of the most fundamental tools to a ninja's arsenal. Something that was already covered in previous years but without nearly the same degree of palpable intensity.
Most jarring of all, however, was the dobe's unbelievable speed of improvement.
Naruto had always been the brash, annoying, and overbearing loudmouth of the class. Known for failing pretty much everything he did except when setting up a prank. Though Sasuke will admit, if only in the privacy of his own mind, that some of what the idiot pulled were actually pretty funny.
These days, that's not the case anymore.
As far as Sasuke had been able to piece together, everything could be traced back to his first loss against Hyuga Hinata. Back then, he couldn't understand how it happened.
In the past, whenever they faced each other in their infrequent matchups, he always maintained a comfortable lead. Then, out of nowhere, she just got faster and moved like the wind. How?!
She even managed to win without causing him any significant injury. And in the two months since then, she hasn't lost a single time against anyone.
At about the same time this was happening, the dobe rapidly got better too. In both taijutsu and ninjutsu.
He wasn't demolishing anyone like the Hyuga girl was, but his movements got sharper and more precise. No longer flailing like an idiot, his attacks actually became more threatening.
Sasuke still won every bout against him during sparring, but those victories got harder and harder.
These changes extended to his performance in class, as well. Naruto had already been showing marked improvements with the Henge and Kawarimi, but his clones often left a lot to be desired. As of last week, the first two were practically the same as Sasuke's own. Now, only Bunshin Jutsu seemed to be giving him trouble.
Contrary to what the pink-haired banshee and her cohorts keep spouting, though, Sasuke wasn't bothered by this development.
On some level, he felt relief.
It had always been irritating to hear the dobe keep barking without being able to back it up. Always going on and on about becoming Hokage someday without putting in the work to make it happen.
Too bad he's still loud, though.
Besides, Sasuke was still better. And it's going to stay that way, if he had anything to say about it.
More importantly, he knew that most of the credit for Naruto's changes could be attributed to someone else.
Shiozaki Kenta.
He could still remember that momentary eye contact after he drew with Akimichi. The glance hardly lasted a second, but the message was unmistakable.
Naturally, Sasuke elected to completely ignore the unspoken invitation.
Instead, he chose to observe him from a distance. The civilian-born student's rise on the taijutsu rankings had certainly been impressive. His spars against Naruto and the Hyuga heiress are some of the most interesting, though.
They didn't even try to hide their familiarity with each other's fighting styles. Whenever it was his turn to face off against him, though, Sasuke kept walking away irritated despite his constant victories. He was still holding back, somehow.
Sure, he was doing it less and less, but the signs of his true strength were there. It created a puzzling pattern, as well.
Easily winning against Naruto, naturally losing against the Hyuga, yet pretending to be less skilled than Sasuke? What exactly was he trying to achieve by doing this?
Not to butter him up, that's for certain. He never seemed the type to do that.
Worst of all, when he brought this up with Iruka-sensei or any of the other teachers, they would only say that Kenta was trying his best. It was a lie so blatant, Sasuke could feel his eyes twitch every time it was repeated.
But he couldn't exactly call them out on it. What would that achieve?
At this point, he had to admit the truth. He'd hit a wall.
Something strange was going on. Sasuke could feel it in his gut, but all avenues of learning the truth save for approaching Shiozaki were being actively blocked.
His certainty only solidified when a new chakra control exercise was introduced to the Academy last week. Why? Because it was so unbelievably simple that anyone could do it with hardly any issues. Clan-raised or civilian-born, it didn't matter.
It was basically just a breathing technique paired with simple chakra movement practice. Rhythmic, purposeful, and effective. The only real obstacle was the amount of focus it required, but if the Nara slacker could do it, so could everyone else.
Sasuke's chakra control had been decent, but it got much better after only a few days. The simplicity of the approach unnerved him. Compared to the new method, the leaf-sticking exercise was like using a sharpened rock in place of a kunai.
As for how he knew that Shiozaki was involved, it's because Sasuke had already seen the exercise in practice. Long before it was added to the academy curriculum, at that.
Over the course of his investigation into the other boy, he had followed him to an isolated training field with Naruto and Hyuga Hinata more than once. Whenever he did, they appeared to be meditating or sparring really slowly. At the time, he dismissed it as quirkiness. But now? Now, it was the final piece.
Everything pointed to Shiozaki, and it was time to get some answers.
Sasuke waited at a narrow pathway, which his classmate usually took after the trio had parted ways. It hardly ever saw foot traffic, which made it perfect for his planned conversation. Right on time, his target sauntered toward him, looking like he hardly had a care in the world.
To his surprise, the boy only smiled after spotting him blocking the way forward.
"Ah, Sasuke!" he greeted in an infuriatingly upbeat manner. "Need something?"
Sasuke stared, hands in his pockets, momentarily confused at being confronted by such a sunny disposition. He quickly got over it, though.
"I want answers," he said.
Kenta hummed in thought, cupping his chin with one hand while the other went to his waist. The very epitome of nonchalant consideration.
"Are you sure?" he asked after a second.
"I am."
"Really sure~?"
The singsong way he spoke was starting to get on Sasuke's nerves. So much so that his response was spat out between gritted teeth.
"Yes."
As soon as the answer left his mouth, Shiozaki's entire demeanour changed. His eyes sharpened, which was then accompanied by a slow, forward tilt of his head.
"Then are you willing to pay the price for those answers?"
Sasuke stiffened, suddenly anxious about what he would have to give up in this bargain. But then memories of that night flickered in his mind. The blood pooling on the tatami, the silence of the compound, and the once-trusted red eyes burning into his soul.
His answer was already made for him long ago.
"I would give anything to get stronger."
Shiozaki's blinding smile at Sasuke's answer nearly caused him whiplash.
"Good!" he said cheerfully, clapping once to emphasize his point. "Then tonight, you're having dinner at my house."
Sasuke blinked, sure that he must have misheard.
"What?"
"You said 'anything', right?" The sly tone nearly made Sasuke throw a punch out of reflex. "This is the price."
The Uchiha heir could only stare in befuddlement. What was happening, right now? Unfortunately, in his stunned state, Shiozaki already walked past him.
"Come along now, Sasuke. We don't want to keep my folks waiting."
The Shiozaki home was modest. Tucked into one of the civilian sectors of the village, the house itself was tidy. It felt lived in, with inhabitants that truly claimed the space as their own.
After walking through the door, his classmate called a greeting, and his parents answered. Upon their introduction, Masaru and Kaname welcomed Sasuke with warmth that bordered on unnerving.
Dinner itself stood out due to how abnormally normal it went. He was asked about his experience at school, his hobbies, the things he liked, and that was about it. They didn't poke or prod him. Nor did they ask invasive questions or make patronising comments.
Just polite, friendly interest.
Sasuke became more and more aware of how... alien it all felt.
After dinner, Shiozaki led him upstairs to his room. For some strange reason, he felt the need to offer his help in cleaning up. An offer that the adults waved away. The whole thing made Sasuke feel unbalanced.
This feeling was made even worse when they finally made it to a room that absolutely defied his expectations. It was more of an office than a bedroom. Scrolls, chakra diagrams, and workshop tools were neatly piled on desks, shelves, and corner tables. There were no posters or clutter.
It reminded Sasuke of the workrooms he'd come across back at the Uchiha compound. This only served to confirm his suspicion that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary boy.
Shiozaki sat on the bed while indicating for Sasuke to take the chair by the largest desk. Once seated, he regarded this strange anomaly that was supposed to be his age, whose small smile almost seemed patiently expectant.
"Do you have something to do with the changes at the Academy?" Sasuke asked, not seeing a point to beating around the bush.
"I can't answer that," Shiozaki said.
"Can't or won't?"
"Can't."
Sasuke should have expected that. If he was right, then Shiozaki was involved with the administration at the highest levels. Being ordered to stay silent would then make sense.
"Are you the reason for the dobe's improvements?"
"You already know the answer to that."
Sasuke scowled because he did. The trio wasn't exactly hiding their activities. Anyone who bothered to could have learned the same things he did. Before he could speak any further, though, the other boy beat him to it.
"That's not really what you wanted to ask, though, is it?" The amusement in those brown eyes was starting to make Sasuke's blood boil. "What do you really want to know?"
Sasuke was silent for a moment, debating whether this was worth pursuing or not. For all he knew, this was all just a waste of time. There were no guarantees that Shiozaki, of all people, could get him what he wanted.
With that said, he could tie the dobe and the Hyuga heir's massive boost in combat abilities directly to him. Could Sasuke really afford to let this chance go out of pride? Was it worth more than his desire for vengeance and his dream of restoring his clan?
"How did you get strong so fast?" He spoke in a quiet but clear voice. "And can I do it too?"
Shiozaki's eyes gleamed in triumph.
"That, Sasuke, is the right question."
Three months later, Sasuke concluded that Shiozaki was as good as his word.
In such a short period of time, compared to the years spent pushing himself in training, he was finally making great strides. The most surprising aspect of this development was the simplicity of everything involved.
He had expected secret techniques of some kind. Perhaps a forbidden method of gaining strength.
But this simply was not the case.
Everything they had been doing involved the application of principles already being taught at the academy. The only difference is Shiozaki's approach. Or, rather, his insistence on taking control and precision to the extremes.
As a result, Sasuke had seen the Hyuga heiress and the dobe leave small craters on the ground, pulverize logs into dust, and break tree trunks in two while sparring.
With breathing, timing, and chakra control, every strike became destructive.
Of course, there was more to it than that. The whole point to using chakra this way had to do with enhancement. Specifically, enhancing their bodies using chakra. Power, speed, endurance, and toughness. All of these can be bolstered with the precise use of the energy.
Sasuke himself had more than doubled his speed since he started. He could dodge faster, strike cleaner, and sustain attacks longer.
Unfortunately, just as he was making progress, the same went for Naruto. This was only to be expected, though. The dobe had a full two months' head start on him, and according to Shiozaki, the gains tend to stack over time.
In their practice bouts, Sasuke now had to put in real effort to put down the obstinate blonde. The Uchiha's signature taijutsu style was hardly giving him an edge anymore.
But it was the girl who surprised Sasuke the most, as she had become an immovable wall. At the academy, he thought that he had her measure. She proved him wrong when they sparred at the isolated training field for the first time.
Suffice it to say, his insistence that she show him her true strength resulted in an embarrassing beatdown. This was made worse by her being so apologetic while taking him apart with ease.
The other two idiots nearly laughing themselves sick was just the icing on the cake of humiliation.
These days, sparring with her required both him and Naruto working together, just to keep up. The awe he felt when seeing her fight was only surpassed by finally witnessing Shiozaki cut loose.
It didn't happen often. In fact, that was also a first for the other two.
But getting a first-hand look at what was essentially a whirlwind made of fists and feet left quite the impression. Especially as it also overwhelmed someone he couldn't even touch. Sasuke wasn't pigheaded enough to deny that it was a humbling experience.
When he asked Shiozaki why he kept restraining himself in every taijutsu class, the answer had left him reeling.
"Because I'm not experienced enough to avoid causing lasting injury. Hinata's the only one our age who can safely keep up with me. Anyone else might get turned into a red smear."
Sasuke had a hard time sleeping that night, wondering how he could reach the same heights of power.
Since then, it was only the three of them who trained at close to full strength. Shiozaki only joined to guide and correct any mistakes he saw. He adjusted their posture for optimum air circulation, nudged stances that allowed chakra to flow better, and demonstrated movements with the care of someone building something fragile.
They weren't the only ones benefiting from these new methods, either. At the academy, the same lessons were being taught, though with a broader mandate.
Following the month-long school break that occurred a week after Sasuke was brought into the group, new programs and classes were added. Two months in, practically every student in their class could perform every academy jutsu almost flawlessly.
The introduction of advanced chakra classes only added to the accelerating rise in success among their generation. Students who showed the most promise in chakra control could join in, where they would then be taught rudimentary chakra enhancements.
The same chakra enhancements that he and his three training partners have been using for weeks.
Naturally, Sasuke was chosen, along with several others. As a result, going to the academy no longer felt like such a waste of his time.
Of course, all of these activities didn't stop him from practicing at home. By this point, his Grand Fireball jutsu only needed a quarter of the chakra compared to before. This then quadrupled the number of times he could use it in a fight.
Aside from that, he could now also control several aspects of the technique. He could make it bigger, faster, and hotter as needed. The Grand Fireball could even be detonated at any time, thus giving him more options in combat.
Sasuke was now deadlier than he had ever been, and it was all thanks to a weirdo with strangely accommodating parents.
The Shiozaki household had become a familiar place these last few months. Masaru and Kaname had made it a habit to host him, along with the dobe and the strongest kuniochi-in-training.
He agreed to go because they never pried.
He agreed to go because it was difficult to say no to Kaname.
Most importantly, he agreed to go because they simply included him with no expectations.
When they were all together, it could get noisy, boisterous, and, strangely enough, comforting. Despite his life becoming appreciably better, though, Sasuke never lost sight of the real mission.
Each day brought him closer to revenge and to restoring his clan.
Shiozaki might be a boy who smiled too much and never answered the important questions. But through him, Sasuke's goals no longer seemed so out of reach.
And for that, he was prepared to let him have his secrets.
---
You can read up to Chapter 24 over at Patreon and even Ko-fi!
I done messed up, fellas!
This was supposed to go before Side Story 1! Oh, the shame!
Seriously, though. Sorry for the mix-up. Can't actually change them up, unfortunately.
Still, hope you enjoy this chapter anyway.
---
Naruto POV
The sun filtered through the clouds like lazy shimmers of light, bathing the training ground in a warm glow. The trees rustled gently in the breeze, and the grass bent with every breath of wind, like it was listening in.
"Are you sure this is working?" Naruto asked, frowning as he tried once again to control his breathing. His stomach rose and fell too fast. "Feels like I'm just breathing a lot."
Kenta didn't look up. He was seated cross-legged in the centre of the clearing, his posture straight and eyes closed in serene focus. "You're breathing with a goal in mind. There's a difference," he replied calmly.
Naruto scratched his head. "Still feels like I'm just sitting here not doing anything."
"That's because you're not doing it right yet. Keep at it, Naruto, you're doing well."
Naruto scowled, puffing his cheeks. Kenta always said that in the most matter-of-fact way, like it wasn't supposed to be frustrating at all.
"Tch. Whatever."
The exercise was deceptively simple compared to the one he had been doing until now. Breathe in for a count of four, hold for two, exhale for four, and keep it going.
But that was just the start.
While doing that, Naruto also had to push his chakra slowly through its pathways for a single circuit. Up the spine, down the arms, and back into his sternum. If he let his mind wander or pushed too hard, the whole cycle would collapse and he would have to start all over again.
And it collapsed… it collapsed a lot.
Suffice it to say, the amount of concentration this new exercise demanded taxed Naruto's mind. At least the previous breathing techniques didn't require constant focus that numbed his brain.
He tried again, closing his eyes and breathing slower. It was just breathing. He had already done something similar before, so he could do this too. He would do this. After all, he promised.
Still…
Naruto opened his eyes by a fraction and saw Hinata sitting across from him. Her eyes were closed and her posture was relaxed. Her breathing was slow and even. The faintest shimmer of chakra rolled off the skin of her arms and hands too, something that Kenta said Naruto would know how to do, as well…
…Eventually.
Of course she was good at this, Naruto thought.
He hasn't really had much to do with Hinata while in the academy, but she wasn't exactly a stranger. She just didn't stand out much. They talked before, but mostly in passing. That didn't stop Naruto from noticing how she was always near the top of the class, though.
As for Kenta, he still remained a mystery. His talk with Old Man Hokage did prompt the blonde to talk more openly with his friend. But his answers often gave Naruto a headache. In the end, Kenta just told him that he had something called an 'old soul', whatever that meant.
What Naruto did understand, though, was his fellow civilian's improvements in taijutsu. When they first started school, he was average. Then, over the last few weeks, he got a lot better.
These days, Kenta only really loses to Hinata and Sasuke. Other times, it would be a close call or a draw.
Speaking of, this whole thing started because of those two. Earlier that day, they were paired in taijutsu class and Naruto still chuckled at the memory. The smug bastard flat on his back in the middle of the sparring ring, staring up at the sky like he didn't understand what just happened.
In comparison, Hinata was barely even winded.
The whole thing was awesome.
He remembered rushing up to Hinata after the class and shouting, "That was amazing! How'd you do it?"
She stared at him in surprise for a moment before glancing around, then whispering, "Kenta's been helping me."
That was all it took.
He'd found Kenta next and demanded answers.
"Teach me too!"
Kenta raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because I wanna be awesome like you guys! And I'm sick of losing to that bastard!"
Kenta narrowed his eyes at Naruto, who started to fear that he might say no. In the end, though, the nod came, and the blonde couldn't be happier.
"But only if you promise not to give up, no matter what," his friend said, raising a finger to make his point.
"I never give up!" Naruto declared, thumping his chest.
And just like that, they began.
A few days later, Naruto and Kenta squared off in the training field with Hinata off to the side, observing. The spar was slow-paced, more of a dance than a fight. Kenta didn't press too hard. His strikes were measured, almost lazy.
Naruto focused on his breathing.
Inhale four.
Step back.
Exhale four.
Deflect.
Hold two.
Duck.
His movements were jerky at first. Every time he lost the rhythm, he stumbled, and Kenta would tap him lightly on the shoulder or flick his forehead. Never hard, just enough to tell him he'd slipped.
"Again," Kenta said.
Naruto wiped his brow and nodded.
They repeated the spar. Then again and again.
Later, when they took a break, Naruto flopped onto the ground and groaned. "I think my arms are gonna fall off."
Kenta smirked. "Not yet. You're improving, though."
Naruto grinned in delight.
"Yeah. For some reason, I'm learning faster this way."
Nodding, Kenta said, "That's because you're a kinesthetic learner."
That earned a raised eyebrow. "A what?"
"It means you learn better by doing instead of sitting and listening."
"...You think so?"
Kenta then smirked down at him. "I know so."
Despite the irritating way his friend said it, Naruto was still glad at the observation. He was even starting to feel his pride ballooning in his chest before it was quickly punctured.
"But don't skip the basics. That's how people get hurt."
Naruto nodded, swallowing his objection. It was annoying, but he knew Kenta was right.
The next few days blurred together in a steady rhythm. It took a while before they could move on from the breathing part while sparring. But Naruto eventually got good enough at it that Kenta started adding the chakra cycling.
It was really slow, though, and Kenta would always know when he started speeding up because Hinata was a snitch. Still, he got a little better every day.
When Kenta wasn't around, Naruto trained with Hinata and the experience couldn't be more different. Their spars were quieter and more deliberate. Hinata moved faster than she did during taijutsu class. She also hit harder than he expected.
Apparently, it was good to face different partners who fought in different ways. Something about not getting comfortable with facing the same fighting style over and over? Whatever. It at least kept things interesting.
Outside of that, Naruto worked on the jutsu they were learning at the academy. The previous breathing techniques helped a lot, but the new ones were even better. His Henge was practically perfect now, never mind the Kawarimi.
Even his clone technique wasn't a complete disaster anymore. Though, they could be better. Missing an eye or a nose wasn't exactly passing material.
He still sucked at tests, though.
Two months had passed, and the time was well-spent.
Naruto's breathing was sharper now, more controlled. He could feel the difference, even if he didn't understand everything about it. Kenta tried to explain it once, but he felt his eyes glaze over halfway through.
He still had a long way to go, but that's not a problem anymore. Not when he had a clear way forward.
During this time, Hinata started talking a lot more, especially when all three of them were together. She would smile a lot too, and even laughed at his jokes sometimes. Naruto decided she was actually pretty cool.
Kenta was still weird, though. Friendly and helpful, but definitely weird. There were times when he wasn't around and would turn up hours later. When Naruto asked where he kept disappearing to, Kenta gave the same answer every time.
"I'll tell you someday."
Naruto would groan, whine, and pout, but he never budged.
Fine. Whatever.
Kenta was still one of the best teachers Naruto had ever had. Only Iruka-sensei could compare.
They started meeting more often, not just for training but for lunch or snacks. Kenta always had some strange dried fruit or bean paste thing that Naruto hated at first. But then he secretly started to like.
Hinata sometimes brought her own homemade snacks. Naruto would brag about his ramen skills, and Kenta would just roll his eyes.
The training continued and Naruto could now perform a slow kata while keeping his breathing and chakra cycle steady. He still couldn't do it perfectly, but his stumbles were fewer and farther between. When Kenta told him he was ready to begin cycling chakra faster while moving, Naruto felt proud.
Really proud. The kind where he didn't have to pretend.
He sparred with Hinata more often, too. She didn't hold back, which he appreciated. She didn't treat him like he was stupid or a waste of her time. They were both trying to get stronger, and they respected each other's efforts.
During one spar, Naruto asked, "Hey, do you think Kenta's human?"
Hinata blinked, confused. "What?"
"I mean, he's always doing all this stuff. Breathing, meditating, disappearing, teaching. Like, all the time."
Hinata giggled. "He's human, Naruto-kun. Just very dedicated."
Naruto scratched his head. "Yeah, I guess."
The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the now-familiar training ground that no one else ever seems to use. Seriously, nearly three months they've been coming here and Naruto has only ever seen the three of them around.
What gives?
Across from him stood one of his two regular training partners, standing in her clan's signature fighting stance.
"Ready?" Hinata asked, eyes sharp.
"You bet!" Naruto cracked his knuckles.
They clashed.
This time, Naruto didn't need to think. The breathing came naturally. The chakra flowed on command. He wasn't perfect, but he wasn't tripping over his own feet anymore.
They moved in a blur of motion, exchanging blows. Naruto ducked an oncoming palm, sidestepped to get a clear shot at an undefended side, and retaliated with an elbow.
Faster than his eyes could track, Hinata deflected the blow, spun, and repositioned before launching another series of swift strikes.
For his part, Naruto focused on keeping his breathing and chakra cycling stable while evading and countering.
Neither of them gained the upper hand, but they grinned the whole time.
This was pretty much the norm for the last three weeks, ever since they were given the all-clear to take their practice bouts up a notch. Both were learning control, but for very different reasons.
When they finally stopped, both panting, a familiar voice rang out.
"Well, well. Look at you two go."
Naruto turned, eyes widening.
Kenta was walking toward them, like he'd done many times before. However, there was a difference this time.
He always arrived alone. But now, someone else was with him.
Naruto pointed, face scrunching up in outrage. "What's he doing here?!"
Uchiha Sasuke had arrived, wearing that smug smirk of smugness.
Hinata sighed in resignation.
Kenta was rolling on the ground, laughing.
Sasuke POV
The last two months have been strange for Uchiha Sasuke.
A few things were shifting at the Academy, many of which were obvious, but some required sharper eyes to even notice. More adult shinobi were coming and going, for example, with no one really commenting on their presence except for rumors among the students.
They never stuck around disturbed classes or got involved in any of the school activities. This made their seemingly random appearances even more noteworthy.
Speaking of classes, there were changes there too. More emphasis on chakra theory, control, and basic principles like efficiency. Grounding the need for true mastery over one of the most fundamental tools to a ninja's arsenal. Something that was already covered in previous years but without nearly the same degree of palpable intensity.
Most jarring of all, however, was the dobe's unbelievable speed of improvement.
Naruto had always been the brash, annoying, and overbearing loudmouth of the class. Known for failing pretty much everything he did except when setting up a prank. Though Sasuke will admit, if only in the privacy of his own mind, that some of what the idiot pulled were actually pretty funny.
These days, that's not the case anymore.
As far as Sasuke had been able to piece together, everything could be traced back to his first loss against Hyuga Hinata. Back then, he couldn't understand how it happened.
In the past, whenever they faced each other in their infrequent matchups, he always maintained a comfortable lead. Then, out of nowhere, she just got faster and moved like the wind. How?!
She even managed to win without causing him any significant injury. And in the two months since then, she hasn't lost a single time against anyone.
At about the same time this was happening, the dobe rapidly got better too. In both taijutsu and ninjutsu.
He wasn't demolishing anyone like the Hyuga girl was, but his movements got sharper and more precise. No longer flailing like an idiot, his attacks actually became more threatening.
Sasuke still won every bout against him during sparring, but those victories got harder and harder.
These changes extended to his performance in class, as well. Naruto had already been showing marked improvements with the Henge and Kawarimi, but his clones often left a lot to be desired. As of last week, the first two were practically the same as Sasuke's own. Now, only Bunshin Jutsu seemed to be giving him trouble.
Contrary to what the pink-haired banshee and her cohorts keep spouting, though, Sasuke wasn't bothered by this development.
On some level, he felt relief.
It had always been irritating to hear the dobe keep barking without being able to back it up. Always going on and on about becoming Hokage someday without putting in the work to make it happen.
Too bad he's still loud, though.
Besides, Sasuke was still better. And it's going to stay that way, if he had anything to say about it.
More importantly, he knew that most of the credit for Naruto's changes could be attributed to someone else.
Shiozaki Kenta.
He could still remember that momentary eye contact after he drew with Akimichi. The glance hardly lasted a second, but the message was unmistakable.
Naturally, Sasuke elected to completely ignore the unspoken invitation.
Instead, he chose to observe him from a distance. The civilian-born student's rise on the taijutsu rankings had certainly been impressive. His spars against Naruto and the Hyuga heiress are some of the most interesting, though.
They didn't even try to hide their familiarity with each other's fighting styles. Whenever it was his turn to face off against him, though, Sasuke kept walking away irritated despite his constant victories. He was still holding back, somehow.
Sure, he was doing it less and less, but the signs of his true strength were there. It created a puzzling pattern, as well.
Easily winning against Naruto, naturally losing against the Hyuga, yet pretending to be less skilled than Sasuke? What exactly was he trying to achieve by doing this?
Not to butter him up, that's for certain. He never seemed the type to do that.
Worst of all, when he brought this up with Iruka-sensei or any of the other teachers, they would only say that Kenta was trying his best. It was a lie so blatant, Sasuke could feel his eyes twitch every time it was repeated.
But he couldn't exactly call them out on it. What would that achieve?
At this point, he had to admit the truth. He'd hit a wall.
Something strange was going on. Sasuke could feel it in his gut, but all avenues of learning the truth save for approaching Shiozaki were being actively blocked.
His certainty only solidified when a new chakra control exercise was introduced to the Academy last week. Why? Because it was so unbelievably simple that anyone could do it with hardly any issues. Clan-raised or civilian-born, it didn't matter.
It was basically just a breathing technique paired with simple chakra movement practice. Rhythmic, purposeful, and effective. The only real obstacle was the amount of focus it required, but if the Nara slacker could do it, so could everyone else.
Sasuke's chakra control had been decent, but it got much better after only a few days. The simplicity of the approach unnerved him. Compared to the new method, the leaf-sticking exercise was like using a sharpened rock in place of a kunai.
As for how he knew that Shiozaki was involved, it's because Sasuke had already seen the exercise in practice. Long before it was added to the academy curriculum, at that.
Over the course of his investigation into the other boy, he had followed him to an isolated training field with Naruto and Hyuga Hinata more than once. Whenever he did, they appeared to be meditating or sparring really slowly. At the time, he dismissed it as quirkiness. But now? Now, it was the final piece.
Everything pointed to Shiozaki, and it was time to get some answers.
Sasuke waited at a narrow pathway, which his classmate usually took after the trio had parted ways. It hardly ever saw foot traffic, which made it perfect for his planned conversation. Right on time, his target sauntered toward him, looking like he hardly had a care in the world.
To his surprise, the boy only smiled after spotting him blocking the way forward.
"Ah, Sasuke!" he greeted in an infuriatingly upbeat manner. "Need something?"
Sasuke stared, hands in his pockets, momentarily confused at being confronted by such a sunny disposition. He quickly got over it, though.
"I want answers," he said.
Kenta hummed in thought, cupping his chin with one hand while the other went to his waist. The very epitome of nonchalant consideration.
"Are you sure?" he asked after a second.
"I am."
"Really sure~?"
The singsong way he spoke was starting to get on Sasuke's nerves. So much so that his response was spat out between gritted teeth.
"Yes."
As soon as the answer left his mouth, Shiozaki's entire demeanour changed. His eyes sharpened, which was then accompanied by a slow, forward tilt of his head.
"Then are you willing to pay the price for those answers?"
Sasuke stiffened, suddenly anxious about what he would have to give up in this bargain. But then memories of that night flickered in his mind. The blood pooling on the tatami, the silence of the compound, and the once-trusted red eyes burning into his soul.
His answer was already made for him long ago.
"I would give anything to get stronger."
Shiozaki's blinding smile at Sasuke's answer nearly caused him whiplash.
"Good!" he said cheerfully, clapping once to emphasize his point. "Then tonight, you're having dinner at my house."
Sasuke blinked, sure that he must have misheard.
"What?"
"You said 'anything', right?" The sly tone nearly made Sasuke throw a punch out of reflex. "This is the price."
The Uchiha heir could only stare in befuddlement. What was happening, right now? Unfortunately, in his stunned state, Shiozaki already walked past him.
"Come along now, Sasuke. We don't want to keep my folks waiting."
The Shiozaki home was modest. Tucked into one of the civilian sectors of the village, the house itself was tidy. It felt lived in, with inhabitants that truly claimed the space as their own.
After walking through the door, his classmate called a greeting, and his parents answered. Upon their introduction, Masaru and Kaname welcomed Sasuke with warmth that bordered on unnerving.
Dinner itself stood out due to how abnormally normal it went. He was asked about his experience at school, his hobbies, the things he liked, and that was about it. They didn't poke or prod him. Nor did they ask invasive questions or make patronising comments.
Just polite, friendly interest.
Sasuke became more and more aware of how... alien it all felt.
After dinner, Shiozaki led him upstairs to his room. For some strange reason, he felt the need to offer his help in cleaning up. An offer that the adults waved away. The whole thing made Sasuke feel unbalanced.
This feeling was made even worse when they finally made it to a room that absolutely defied his expectations. It was more of an office than a bedroom. Scrolls, chakra diagrams, and workshop tools were neatly piled on desks, shelves, and corner tables. There were no posters or clutter.
It reminded Sasuke of the workrooms he'd come across back at the Uchiha compound. This only served to confirm his suspicion that he wasn't dealing with an ordinary boy.
Shiozaki sat on the bed while indicating for Sasuke to take the chair by the largest desk. Once seated, he regarded this strange anomaly that was supposed to be his age, whose small smile almost seemed patiently expectant.
"Do you have something to do with the changes at the Academy?" Sasuke asked, not seeing a point to beating around the bush.
"I can't answer that," Shiozaki said.
"Can't or won't?"
"Can't."
Sasuke should have expected that. If he was right, then Shiozaki was involved with the administration at the highest levels. Being ordered to stay silent would then make sense.
"Are you the reason for the dobe's improvements?"
"You already know the answer to that."
Sasuke scowled because he did. The trio wasn't exactly hiding their activities. Anyone who bothered to could have learned the same things he did. Before he could speak any further, though, the other boy beat him to it.
"That's not really what you wanted to ask, though, is it?" The amusement in those brown eyes was starting to make Sasuke's blood boil. "What do you really want to know?"
Sasuke was silent for a moment, debating whether this was worth pursuing or not. For all he knew, this was all just a waste of time. There were no guarantees that Shiozaki, of all people, could get him what he wanted.
With that said, he could tie the dobe and the Hyuga heir's massive boost in combat abilities directly to him. Could Sasuke really afford to let this chance go out of pride? Was it worth more than his desire for vengeance and his dream of restoring his clan?
"How did you get strong so fast?" He spoke in a quiet but clear voice. "And can I do it too?"
Shiozaki's eyes gleamed in triumph.
"That, Sasuke, is the right question."
Three months later, Sasuke concluded that Shiozaki was as good as his word.
In such a short period of time, compared to the years spent pushing himself in training, he was finally making great strides. The most surprising aspect of this development was the simplicity of everything involved.
He had expected secret techniques of some kind. Perhaps a forbidden method of gaining strength.
But this simply was not the case.
Everything they had been doing involved the application of principles already being taught at the academy. The only difference is Shiozaki's approach. Or, rather, his insistence on taking control and precision to the extremes.
As a result, Sasuke had seen the Hyuga heiress and the dobe leave small craters on the ground, pulverize logs into dust, and break tree trunks in two while sparring.
With breathing, timing, and chakra control, every strike became destructive.
Of course, there was more to it than that. The whole point to using chakra this way had to do with enhancement. Specifically, enhancing their bodies using chakra. Power, speed, endurance, and toughness. All of these can be bolstered with the precise use of the energy.
Sasuke himself had more than doubled his speed since he started. He could dodge faster, strike cleaner, and sustain attacks longer.
Unfortunately, just as he was making progress, the same went for Naruto. This was only to be expected, though. The dobe had a full two months' head start on him, and according to Shiozaki, the gains tend to stack over time.
In their practice bouts, Sasuke now had to put in real effort to put down the obstinate blonde. The Uchiha's signature taijutsu style was hardly giving him an edge anymore.
But it was the girl who surprised Sasuke the most, as she had become an immovable wall. At the academy, he thought that he had her measure. She proved him wrong when they sparred at the isolated training field for the first time.
Suffice it to say, his insistence that she show him her true strength resulted in an embarrassing beatdown. This was made worse by her being so apologetic while taking him apart with ease.
The other two idiots nearly laughing themselves sick was just the icing on the cake of humiliation.
These days, sparring with her required both him and Naruto working together, just to keep up. The awe he felt when seeing her fight was only surpassed by finally witnessing Shiozaki cut loose.
It didn't happen often. In fact, that was also a first for the other two.
But getting a first-hand look at what was essentially a whirlwind made of fists and feet left quite the impression. Especially as it also overwhelmed someone he couldn't even touch. Sasuke wasn't pigheaded enough to deny that it was a humbling experience.
When he asked Shiozaki why he kept restraining himself in every taijutsu class, the answer had left him reeling.
"Because I'm not experienced enough to avoid causing lasting injury. Hinata's the only one our age who can safely keep up with me. Anyone else might get turned into a red smear."
Sasuke had a hard time sleeping that night, wondering how he could reach the same heights of power.
Since then, it was only the three of them who trained at close to full strength. Shiozaki only joined to guide and correct any mistakes he saw. He adjusted their posture for optimum air circulation, nudged stances that allowed chakra to flow better, and demonstrated movements with the care of someone building something fragile.
They weren't the only ones benefiting from these new methods, either. At the academy, the same lessons were being taught, though with a broader mandate.
Following the month-long school break that occurred a week after Sasuke was brought into the group, new programs and classes were added. Two months in, practically every student in their class could perform every academy jutsu almost flawlessly.
The introduction of advanced chakra classes only added to the accelerating rise in success among their generation. Students who showed the most promise in chakra control could join in, where they would then be taught rudimentary chakra enhancements.
The same chakra enhancements that he and his three training partners have been using for weeks.
Naturally, Sasuke was chosen, along with several others. As a result, going to the academy no longer felt like such a waste of his time.
Of course, all of these activities didn't stop him from practicing at home. By this point, his Grand Fireball jutsu only needed a quarter of the chakra compared to before. This then quadrupled the number of times he could use it in a fight.
Aside from that, he could now also control several aspects of the technique. He could make it bigger, faster, and hotter as needed. The Grand Fireball could even be detonated at any time, thus giving him more options in combat.
Sasuke was now deadlier than he had ever been, and it was all thanks to a weirdo with strangely accommodating parents.
The Shiozaki household had become a familiar place these last few months. Masaru and Kaname had made it a habit to host him, along with the dobe and the strongest kuniochi-in-training.
He agreed to go because they never pried.
He agreed to go because it was difficult to say no to Kaname.
Most importantly, he agreed to go because they simply included him with no expectations.
When they were all together, it could get noisy, boisterous, and, strangely enough, comforting. Despite his life becoming appreciably better, though, Sasuke never lost sight of the real mission.
Each day brought him closer to revenge and to restoring his clan.
Shiozaki might be a boy who smiled too much and never answered the important questions. But through him, Sasuke's goals no longer seemed so out of reach.
And for that, he was prepared to let him have his secrets.
---
You can read up to Chapter 24 over at Patreon and even Ko-fi!
Yenom137
Getting out there.
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Personally, it doesn't feel out of place. It reads fine to me as it is. You get the MCs point of view and somewhat objective viewpoints, and then you get into the subjective experience of those influenced by it, so it works fine.
Side Story 2
New
Champjklccmk
Making the rounds.
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Birth of Sasuke the Unbroken
"Have I wasted the past few months teaching a bunch of quitters who can't even stand up straight?"
Uchiha Sasuke felt like the air itself was pressing down on his shoulders, neck, and skull. Forehead nearly touching the ground, he found it difficult to even stay conscious. He was so tired that thinking was a nearly insurmountable chore.
Even so, his thoughts froze upon hearing Kenta's question.
"I'm sorry, Uchiha-san. But your family…"
It provoked memories he had tried to bury in the very pits of his mind.
"There's no need to worry, Hokage-sama. I will rebuild my clan and… I will bring the traitor to justice."
Sounds, sensations, and suppressed searing rage roared in his chest.
"Sasuke-kun, I'm sorry to hear about what happened……anything I can do just…….no matter what, I'm here for……."
Hours upon hours. Days upon days. Unable to look away. Unable to forget.
"If you want to kill me, despise me, hate me, and live a loathsome life."
Red…red, red, red, red, Red, RED!
Then, out of nowhere, like the ringing of a crystal bell.
"You're always welcome here, Sasuke-kun. Come back anytime. Anytime, at all."
Move.
"Howd'ya like that, you bastard! Ah, crap, ow!"
Move, damn it.
"My sister and I baked this at home, but we made too much. Would you like some, Sasuke-san? I already gave Kenta-kun and Naruto-kun theirs."
Push off the ground! Move!
"The only thing I expect from you, Sasuke, is to never quit halfway. You want strength? This is how you get it."
GET! UP!
…
…
…
Everything was so clear.
He could see motes of dust, floating in the air. Colors have never looked so rich and vivid. Trees, dirt, grass, everything was just so much… more.
Then there was Kenta. Someone he had once dismissed as no one important. Someone who had since become a mentor.
One of the few people he saw as more than a stranger.
The normally placid face was gone.
Replaced by a smile so wide, it made him look deranged.
Yet, the pride in those eyes shone like the sun.
It was then that he finally understood.
It was then that he finally saw the truth.
I am Uchiha Sasuke, the thought came unbidden. Last, true scion of a fallen clan. Son of a murdered family. Brother of he who betrayed his blood. From this day to my last day, I remain Unbroken. This is my vow. This is my Way.
Birth of Naruto the Dauntless
"Have I wasted the past few months teaching a bunch of quitters who can't even stand up straight?"
Naruto didn't know what was going on. One minute he was lying down, out of breath and bruised all over. The next, something was crushing his chest, punching the air out of his lungs.
There was a haze in his mind and vision was starting to dim.
But right now, none of that mattered more than what Kenta just said.
Quit?
"Chiaki! Stay away from that boy!"
Kill them all!
A quitter?
"Come back here, you little pest!"
You don't belong anywhere!
Him? A quitter?
"That brat is a menace! He would be better off gone."
No one cares about you!
When has he ever been a quitter?
"I'm gonna be Hokage in the future and then you'll all have to respect me! Believe it!"
Who would ever follow you?!
Did Kenta think he was a quitter?
He's just like everyone else!
Did Kenta think he was a quitter?
Did he doubt him like everyone else........?
.......Will he leave him too?
NO!
No, Kenta is NOT like everyone else!
He spent hours with Naruto, teaching him stuff that no one's ever bothered to.
Kenta didn't push him away when he was being loud or get angry when he was being annoying.
The goodie two-shoes might not join him in his pranks, but he's never insulted Naruto over them, either.
He was nice when everyone else was mean.
He listened when everyone else just wanted him gone.
He believed. Like Old Man Hokage. Like Iruka-sensei.
And Kenta knew, more than anyone, that Uzumaki Naruto DOES. NOT. QUIT!
So, Naruto fought to get up, raging against whatever invisible force was hell-bent on keeping him on the ground.
He needed to get up and show his friend that he was worth it.
That he mattered!
That he WILL be Hokage someday!
When Naruto was finally on his feet, he felt like he could take on the world.
And that's exactly what he declared to his friend with all the grit and determination he could muster.
"Don't get cocky, you bastard! Uzumaki Naruto never quits! Believe it!"
Birth of Hinata the Unyielding
"Have I wasted the past few months teaching a bunch of quitters who can't even stand up straight?"
Never in her life had Hinata felt such a presence as what Kenta exuded at that moment. She could feel her heart fighting to keep her conscious. The strength in her legs was pushed to the limits, the limbs protesting her decision to adamantly remain standing.
Her vision grew blurry, the Byakugan becoming a strain to maintain. Every gulp of air felt inadequate for her straining lungs.
Yet all of those struggles meant nothing in the end compared to the implications of Kenta-kun's question. No, demand.
Since the day she met him, Hinata's life had taken a turn.
"Not enough, daughter. Not nearly enough. You need more control and discipline."
Since the day she met him, so much has changed.
"Well done, Hinata-sama. With your skills and that of Neji's, the Hyuga's future is assured."
Since the day she met him, her eyes were opened to so many things.
"I swear on my life, Neji-niisan. I will free you from your cage."
Since the day she met him, she had finally gathered the courage to fight for the love and family she had left.
"Nee-sama? Do you think mama loved me?"
"She did, Hanabi. She loved you and I with all her heart. With every breath she drew, she would say it. And from now, I'll say it in her place."
There was still so much she needed to do. Still much she yearned to accomplish. If she yielded now, when the stakes were low, would she falter when it mattered most?
Would Kenta have truly wasted his time lifting them up?
Would she never be able to stand beside him?
The thought made her breath hitch. The mere possibility of failing now caused her stomach to churn.
Through Kenta, she has become more than a hollow shell.
Through Kenta, she has found a dream worth chasing.
Through Kenta, she has gained the tools to fight against fate itself.
So, no.
She will not yield.
Her muscles, pushed to the brink through battle and pressure, tightened.
She will not falter.
Her spine, forcibly bent by an unseen force of judgment, straightened.
She will not fail.
Her eyes, still flickering in their effort to see, beheld their target, who looked right back to meet her gaze.
In those unremarkable brown orbs was a promise made and sealed.
She passed the test. Now, the real work can truly begin.
Academy Update: Sakura VS Ino
The significantly expanded taijutsu ring currently featured two among the unlikeliest of candidates to ever need so much space when sparring. However, as with many things that stemmed from the new additions to the Academy curriculum, a few months made all the difference in requiring necessary adjustments.
Case in point, the body of a certain Yamanaka flying through the air for several feet before flipping over, and stopping herself just in time from skidding over the line.
This is noteworthy for several reasons.
For starters, getting tossed so far would have been an instant loss for the blonde with the old, smaller ring. In fact, this happened quite a few times until it was decided that a bigger space was needed. Otherwise, every match would end in a ring-out.
As for the feat of strength itself? The responsible party is one Haruno Sakura, who herself was sporting numerous gashes and bruises.
This bout has only been going on for two minutes and yet both parties have accumulated a truly impressive number of injuries in that timeframe. Something completely unthinkable only a year prior.
After the quick recovery, Ino darted toward her opponent, displaying much-improved speed compared to her past performances. She avoided a straight right punch heading right for her head by going low and dashing to the other girl's blind spot, before delivering a devastating chop.
Unfortunately for her, the blow was blocked by a simple lift of a leg. Right forearm, therefore, met right shin.
Such an exchange was nothing new, however.
Sakura had already seen Ino do this in a previous matchup, which resulted in the civilian's loss. Her straightforward approach of using her fists and legs was effectively thwarted by her frenemies' preference for counters, holds, and deceptions.
That the Yamanaka chose to deploy the same attack against the same opponent was her mistake. One that the pink-haired brawler capitalized on quickly by using her chakra-enhanced physique.
Planting both feet firmly on the ground, she squared her shoulders, twisted her waist, and threw a powerful downward punch that hit the blonde squarely in the jaw.
The impact was so strong, it produced a loud crack and caused Yamanaka Ino to spin clockwise like a top before landing in a heap, completely unconscious.
Far from celebrating, however, Sakura sank to one knee while cradling her rib. Several of which she felt crack from an earlier kick.
"...Winner, Sakura."
The resigned declaration was made by Umino Iruka. The teacher supervising the match and current sufferer of a throbbing migraine. A constant companion these days.
Don't get him wrong, though. He was glad to see the children under his watch growing in strength.
But did almost every match have to end with one or both participants in the clinic?
This was the third time today and likely won't be the last.
Well, at least the med-nin trainees are getting a lot of practice.
Iruka cast a baleful glare at the cause of all of this.
There, on the bench, sat Shiozaki Kenta.
Face covered by his hands, nearly doubled over, and shoulders shaking.
…
…
Iruka made a note to speak to the Hokage later.
It was time to take the boy's training up a notch if he found these situations so amusing.
---
You can read up to Chapter 24 over at Patreon and even Ko-fi!
noobody77
Versed in the lewd.
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- Dec 18, 2017
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Get on with the main story. The side story stuff is way too early and way too much. As a reader I don't care about any of these characters or the larger narrative yet. Seriously this is like something for ch15-20 not 1-5.
Ahzura Twilight
Versed in the lewd.
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Lmao but fair
I barely know our protagonist atp I'm more attached to sasuke