Previously, Akira had been laser-focused on refining the raw martial prowess of his samurai—discipline, precision, and skill honed through relentless training. But until now, he had overlooked the immense potential of external enhancements—specifically, the forgotten art of augmenting strength through the legendary Gurel Stones.
He nearly laughed at his own oversight. How had he forgotten the origin of his own fearsome strength—his hundred human puppets, all empowered through those very stones? If the stones could bestow such formidable abilities upon lifeless constructs, what heights could they help his elite samurai reach?
The possibilities made his heart race endlessly.
Yes—he could infuse the samurai with the power of ninjutsu through Gurel Stones. And more than just that, the stones granted unmatched vitality and regenerative power, perfectly complementing the close-quarters combat style the samurai specialized in.
Kimura, standing before him with eyes brimming with desperation and hope, didn't yet realize how close he was to becoming something extraordinary. He stared up at Akira, waiting, begging with unspoken words for a chance.
Akira opened his mouth slowly. "Actually... it's not that there aren't other methods. Since you've said that no matter what kind of—"
He suddenly paused.
He had been about to tell Kimura that a treasure existed, one that if implanted into his body would instantly grant him immense power. But a chill ran through Akira's spine as he remembered who Kimura truly was—a loyal subordinate of the Daimyo of the Land of Rice Fields. For now, the Daimyo and Akira walked the same path, both working for mutual benefit. But alliances were fragile things, easily broken.
What if the day came when they stood opposed?
Would the samurai, now obedient and reverent, turn their blades against him with the same fervor?
It would be reckless to give them such gifts permanently. If he embedded Gurel Stones directly into their bodies, he would lose control of them.
No, a better path existed.
He would craft a specialized ninja tool—an external device that could channel the energy of the Gurel Stones. More importantly, he would integrate a summoning seal into the weapon itself, ensuring he could reclaim them at any time. Power would be granted, but it would still belong to him.
Kimura leaned in as Akira hesitated, his voice trembling with anticipation. "Please, Lord Akira, what is the method? I must try it—no matter the risk. I'm not afraid."
Akira shook his head slightly. "It's not that the method is dangerous. I simply remembered something… ancient knowledge, long buried. A legendary weapon, they say, once gave ordinary men the power of elite ninja. The method of creating it has been lost to time."
Kimura's shoulders sank in disappointment.
"But," Akira continued, his tone shifting with purpose, "I once obtained fragments of the knowledge needed to recreate that weapon. At the time, I dismissed it—what use was such a tool to someone like me? But now… it's different. If I study this properly, restore it, and mass-produce it, I can elevate my Sound Ninja Village to unprecedented heights."
Hope returned to Kimura's face like a fire reignited. "Lord Akira! Please allow me to be the first to wield it. Let me test its strength!"
Akira smiled with rare warmth. "You will. I had you in mind from the start. You are the strongest among the samurai under my command. I'll begin my research immediately. In the meantime, stop wasting time on ninjutsu—your true strength lies in taijutsu and swordsmanship. Focus on that."
Kimura bowed deeply, accepting the order with newfound purpose.
Back in the solitude of the Sound Shadow's office, Akira began sketching the design of the weapon. He knew that the Gurel Empire once possessed sophisticated techniques to forge such weapons. The secrets were likely entombed within the Gurel Book—secrets lost to him.
Fortunately, he didn't need that book. Sasori of the Red Sand's knowledge, absorbed into Akira's own mind, provided more than enough insight. Sasori had designed every weapon used by his puppets, and his craftsmanship bordered on the divine.
The key now was to build a weapon that could not only harness the Gurel Stone's power, but amplify it.
But embedding a Gurel Stone into a simple katana? Ridiculous. The weapons forged by the craftsmen of the Land of Rice Fields were pitiful—crude, brittle things. They could never endure such power.
No, he needed more refined craftsmanship.
That's when he remembered Seimei, the legendary founder of the Takumi Ninja Village. Seimei had created four ninja tools so potent they could turn even weak shinobi into terrifying opponents. The Four Celestial Symbols ninja who wielded those tools had held their own against elite teams from both Konoha and Suna.
Not through their own skill, but through sheer, weaponized power.
True, they were eventually defeated by the brilliant tactics of Shikamaru and his team. But the raw force those ninja tools produced left an impression on Akira that time had not eroded.
A Gurel Stone, properly weaponized and combined with the design principles behind Seimei's ninja tools, could give any user the strength of a Jonin—or more.
Akira whispered to himself, eyes gleaming with ambition. "It seems I must pay a visit to Takumi Village."
He chuckled darkly. "Of course, I'm not stealing. I'm a scientist. Scientists don't steal—they study. I'll simply be borrowing some advanced experience."
But the world was filled with petty, possessive minds. Not everyone appreciated scientific enlightenment. He would have to conduct his 'research' in secret.
And Akira, the Sound Shadow, could not be caught sneaking around a foreign village.
Nor could Mo Nan, the man he once was.
No—this called for Sasori of the Red Sand. Or perhaps even Uchiha Kawa. Both names carried shadows, and both were perfect for quiet, untraceable missions.
Then Akira remembered: Sasori had once placed a spy in Takumi Village. With hundreds of puppets to maintain, Sasori had frequently relied on Takumi craftsmen for delicate parts and custom tools. To protect his identity and cut costs, he had embedded one of his own in the village.
Perfect.
With someone already on the inside, there would be no need for a full infiltration.
So Akira sent the order. The Sasori puppet, currently residing in the Land of Rivers, immediately began its eastward journey.
The Takumi Ninja Village was nestled in the Land of Artisans, a small island nation in the sea to the east of the Land of Fire.
When the puppet arrived at the coast, it paused. Flying across the open ocean might draw attention—and this mission required absolute subtlety.
So Akira did what any cunning rogue ninja would.
He rented a small, unassuming boat.
And under a setting sun, the vessel pushed off from the shore, bearing with it the beginning of a new era—a silent voyage toward a weapon that could reshape the balance of power in the shinobi world.
The primary source of income for most ninja villages lies in the commission rewards they receive upon the successful completion of various missions. Assassinations, bodyguard duties, espionage—these tasks provide the monetary lifeblood that sustains the hidden villages.
Yet among these villages, one stands apart in quiet defiance: the Takumi Ninja Village.
Before the establishment of the five great ninja nations, back during the chaotic Warring States period, the Land of Craftsmen was already renowned far and wide for its exceptional forging techniques. This land, steeped in tradition and meticulous precision, fostered a national culture of rigorous perfectionism. It was not just an art—it was their identity.
Influenced by this cultural ethos, the shinobi of the Takumi Ninja Village were not celebrated for flashy jutsu or overwhelming chakra, but for their discipline, exactitude, and unmatched skill in crafting tools of war. Every shuriken, every kunai, every sword they forged was honed to near-perfection.
For example, in the chaos of battle, one might not care if their kunai weighed a few grams more or less. But the difference between death and survival can sometimes rest on the edge of precision. A standard batch of ten kunai from any other village might have minor weight discrepancies. But those forged in the Land of Craftsmen? Virtually identical—balanced, exact, dependable.
As the Warring States period gave way to the era of organized ninja villages, the Takumi followed suit and formed their own ninja village. Unlike the Hidden Leaf or the Hidden Sand, Takumi's ninjas were never known for brute strength or high-level jutsu. But they earned their place in the shinobi world by producing the finest ninja tools.
Still, a small nation's reach is limited. The Takumi ninjas struggled to compete against the war-hardened giants. Missions were scarce, income unstable, and morale low. They teetered on the brink of irrelevance.
Then came a pivotal moment.
During a minor mission, Takumi ninjas found themselves clashing with shinobi from a major village. In the close quarters of melee combat, something astonishing happened—the Takumi blades sliced clean through the opposing weapons, leaving seasoned warriors wide-eyed in disbelief.
The word spread. The world took notice.
Orders for Takumi-made ninja tools began flooding in from across the continent. The leader of the Takumi Ninja Village, keenly observant, made a fateful decision: why continue sending their people into battlefields when they could dominate from behind the scenes? Thus, Takumi transitioned from a combat-focused ninja village to a production powerhouse, specializing in arms supply for the entire shinobi world.
The decision was genius.
In the years that followed, three great ninja wars shook the world. But Takumi? It stood untouched. Why? Because all five great nations relied on them. Who would dare strike the very hands that forged their weapons?
Akira admired this brilliance. A monopoly on the arms trade, backed by generations of cultural discipline and craftsmanship—it was beautiful, in its own cold, calculating way.
When Akira arrived in the Takumi Ninja Village, he kept a low profile. Disguised and cloaked, he rented a modest inn and laid the groundwork for his infiltration. By nightfall, he activated the latent Brain Manipulation Sand Technique he'd previously embedded in a sleeper agent—Kaga.
Kaga, a quiet figure who had toiled away for years in the forges, instantly recovered his hidden memories. Following the pre-set instructions, he met with Akira and knelt, reverent and eager.
"Sasori-sama, it has been a long time. Have you returned for another custom weapon commission?"
Akira, adopting Sasori's emotionless, calculating tone, replied, "Not this time. I'm developing a new puppet technique. I need to study Takumi's forging processes. You've been here long enough—what have you learned?"
Kaga's eyes wavered. "I've tried, but my talents in forging pale in comparison to theirs. I've only scratched the surface. I fear I cannot help you much, my lord."
"That's fine. I didn't expect much. Has Takumi received any unusual commissions recently?"
"Yes," Kaga responded quickly. "A request from a lesser-known village—Otogakure. They ordered a batch of samurai sword blades… but only the blades, no hilts. Strange, isn't it?"
Akira gave no reaction, though he was internally satisfied. That commission was his own.
Knowing he couldn't trust even his own spies fully, Akira had placed the order anonymously through Otogakure. The weapons of the Land of Rice Fields were woefully subpar, incapable of bearing the power of the Gurel Stones. That's why he turned to Takumi—to ensure quality. But he would never trust them with the full design. The intricate embedding of the Gurel Stones would be his secret.
"Kaga," Akira continued, "Can you insert yourself into the team working on this commission?"
"Certainly. I likely would have been selected regardless, but I'll make sure of it. Is there something specific you want me to do?"
Akira's voice dropped lower. "I'll transfer a portion of my consciousness to your body. A Yin Illusion Body. Through your eyes, I'll observe everything."
By the next day, Kaga was embedded in the forge team. Through a specially prepared shadow clone and the Yin Illusion Body technique, Akira's consciousness slipped into Kaga, and soon, he was standing—through borrowed eyes—in the inner sanctum of the Takumi forges.
What he saw stunned even him.
Security was airtight. Every corridor was guarded. Every craftsman's work monitored. The techniques—layered metal folding, chakra-tempering, spirit-engraving—were leagues beyond what the five great nations possessed.
Akira could have destroyed the village in minutes. His Susanoo alone could level the place. But brute force would never yield true knowledge. Only subtlety and observation would.
Over several days, Akira watched intently, his Sharingan spinning with focused hunger. Techniques lost to history, passed down in whispers, were now his to claim.
He compared what he saw to the techniques of Sunagakure, which Sasori had studied long ago. Though the Land of Wind had abundant mineral resources and decent forges, they still fell short. Takumi's craftsmanship was in a league of its own—likely thirty years ahead of the rest of the world.
As the final blade of his Otogakure commission was completed, Akira severed his connection with Kaga and smiled.
He had what he came for.
Though he had yet one more goal to accomplish in Takumi, he now carried the soul of their technique within him.
He, too, would forge weapons—blades that could channel Gurel Stone energy, tools that would reshape the battlefield.
And he would do it not as a mere craftsman, but as a visionary.
Akira, the hidden forgemaster of Otogakure, was ready to shape the future of war.