Riku had no idea that Uchiha Itachi's imagination had already run wild about him. If he ever found out that Itachi had sentenced his future to death in his mind, he would probably laugh until his stomach hurt.
Honestly, with his experience panel system, no one—perhaps not even Riku himself—could see where his limits truly lay.
But of course, such secrets weren't meant for anyone else to know.
That afternoon, Riku quietly made his way to the small forest behind the Ninja Academy. The gentle rustle of leaves and the faint scent of earth filled the air as he began forming hand seals from memory—each gesture deliberate and awkward at first, his fingers stiff and hesitant.
Yet, with each repetition, his movements grew smoother, his chakra flow more stable. Soon, his hands blurred through the final sequence with confidence.
Then, with a sharp bang and a puff of white smoke—another Riku appeared beside him.
The Shadow Clone Jutsu had succeeded.
Riku stared at the clone before him, a strange and almost eerie sensation washing over him. The clone looked back with the exact same expression, the same spark in its eyes. Their thoughts were connected—reflections of one another—two minds sharing one consciousness.
After a brief moment of mutual observation, Riku confirmed that the clone possessed nearly identical abilities to his own. The realization filled him with excitement.
"Perfect," he said with a grin. "From now on, you'll follow the training plan I laid out. Begin immediately."
"Understood, Main Body!" the clone replied with an identical grin before darting off into the forest.
Although the clone possessed intelligence equal to Riku's, its will was still subordinate to the original. And since it held nearly half of Riku's chakra, it wouldn't dissipate easily—it could probably endure high-intensity training for the entire day.
Now, Riku only had to wait until evening. Once he dispelled the clone, he'd find out if the experience points it earned during training would transfer to him.
If his hypothesis proved correct, this Jutsu would become his most valuable asset—his golden key to rapid growth.
The day passed in eager anticipation. The moment the final bell rang at the Academy, Riku bolted straight home without even bothering to pack his things. He rushed into his room, closed the door, and immediately released the Shadow Clone Technique.
In an instant, a vast flood of memories surged into his mind. The torrent of information was so intense that it nearly caused his brain to crash.
If any ordinary ninja—or even a skilled Jonin—attempted this, their mind might've snapped from the overload. Their consciousness could collapse, leaving them a drooling idiot for life.
Fortunately, Riku's body and soul were not ordinary. The Hashirama cells fused within him had enhanced his vitality and spiritual endurance. On top of that, his Level 7 Byakugan made his Yin Release chakra exceptionally pure, fortifying his mental strength even further.
The combination of these two factors gave him a mind as tough as tempered steel. The dizziness subsided quickly, replaced by clarity and focus.
Then, in front of his eyes, the familiar translucent system panel appeared—lines of glowing text flashing rapidly across it:
[Taijutsu: Iron Fist – Basic Experience +201]
[Taijutsu: Hyuga Gentle Fist – Experience +103]
[Free Experience +154]
And the notifications kept scrolling. Each skill had gained roughly one to two hundred experience points, and his pool of free experience had increased by over a hundred and fifty.
That was the clone's full day of training.
Riku felt both thrilled and uneasy.
The good news was undeniable—the Shadow Clone Jutsu truly was a divine gift. It could train in his place while he rested, allowing him to gain experience without lifting a finger.
But the bad news… was its efficiency.
The results were clearly inferior to his own direct training. If he had spent the same day personally practicing, each skill would've increased by at least two to three hundred experience points. As for free experience, his clone's results were downright pitiful—barely one-fifth of what he could usually earn.
Riku frowned at the panel, frustration flickering across his face.
"Hmm… only half as efficient, huh?" he muttered. "That's not ideal."
Still, after a moment of thought, he exhaled and laughed softly. "Well, it's not like I can complain. It's just a clone, after all. Being able to gain experience while doing nothing? That's already cheating."
If one Shadow Clone produced these results, perhaps several would multiply his growth.
However, he quickly dismissed the idea. After experiencing today's memory feedback, he knew his mental endurance had limits. The surge of information from even one clone had nearly overwhelmed him.
After estimating carefully, he concluded that he could safely maintain two clones training simultaneously. Any more, and his mind might not withstand the strain of absorbing their memories.
With that, his plan became clear: two clones training daily, while his main body attended the Academy. That would bring his total efficiency to roughly half of his normal output—an excellent compromise between safety and growth.
Satisfied with his reasoning, Riku relaxed. He had found a rhythm.
The days that followed settled into a calm, steady pattern. For half a month, Riku spent his mornings and afternoons attending the Ninja Academy, blending in as a normal student, while his Shadow Clones trained tirelessly in secret.
At night, he would dispel them and absorb the results—his mind swirling with their collective memories of combat drills, chakra control, and Taijutsu refinement.
Each evening brought a new wave of progress. His stats and skills rose steadily; his power, quietly and invisibly, was growing at an astonishing rate.
At one point, he briefly considered reversing the arrangement—sending a clone to attend school while his real body trained in secret. It was a tempting thought.
But the image of the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, flashed in his mind—an old man infamous for his "observation habits."
"Yeah, no thanks," Riku muttered to himself, chuckling wryly. "That old man likes to peek far too much. If he ever found out about my little system, I'd be in serious trouble."
Until he became completely untouchable—invincible even within Konoha—Riku had no intention of drawing attention to himself. Keeping a low profile was key to survival.
Meanwhile, Konoha itself seemed to slip back into its peaceful rhythm. The ripples Riku had once caused across the village were beginning to fade.
The various ninja clans that had been on high alert due to his earlier actions slowly relaxed. Even the Hyuga Clan, who had been especially cautious, began to withdraw many of their branch family combat forces, leaving only a few elite members to guard the main household.
That small sense of tension that had once shrouded the village was dissipating. It was as if Riku's quiet half-month had lulled everyone back into complacency.
One notable exception was Hyuga Tetsu—the man who had lost an arm during the earlier conflict. On the night he returned, Riku, keeping his promise to Hyuga Piao, personally helped Tetsu loosen the Caged Bird Seal's constraints.
It wasn't a complete removal, but the breakthrough alone was enough to bring tears to the man's eyes. According to Riku's estimate, Tetsu would need another three to four years before the seal could be fully erased.
But for Tetsu, that didn't matter. Even a partial liberation was a miracle. Overcome with emotion, he dropped to his knees, pressing his forehead to the ground in a deep dogeza, his gratitude pouring out wordlessly.
Riku merely waved it off, pretending it was nothing. Yet, deep down, he couldn't help but feel a faint sense of satisfaction. It was good to have allies who were truly loyal—and freeing the oppressed branch members of the Hyuga Clan aligned well with his own long-term goals.
Still, he refrained from offering the same help to other branch family members. It was too early for that kind of movement. For now, quiet preparation was the smartest approach.
Even so, Riku knew that someday soon, the three of them—Tetsu, Piao, and himself—would all stand as free men, their destinies no longer bound by cursed seals or family hierarchies.
Through Hyuga Tetsu, Riku also learned that his earlier attack hadn't killed Hyuga Sōtai after all. The man had barely survived and, after several days of medical treatment, recovered enough to walk again.
But despite his recovery, Sōtai never returned to the Academy. He remained hidden inside the Hyuga Main Family's mansion, refusing to show his face.
Word spread quietly—Sōtai had developed a deep psychological trauma. The once-arrogant prodigy was now terrified, his will shattered.
From that perspective, Riku's revenge had succeeded completely. The threat had been neutralized, his dominance established.
And with that, peace—true, undisturbed peace—finally settled over Konoha once more.
For Riku, the calm was welcome. He knew better than anyone that beneath tranquility often lay the seeds of the next storm. But until that day arrived, he would continue to grow in the shadows, quietly sharpening his strength, preparing for the moment when hiding would no longer be necessary.
For now, his path was simple: study by day, train by clone, and harvest the rewards by night.
The world could keep its calm; Riku would use it to build his storm.
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