After parting ways with the Aida brothers at the street corner, Shiraishi continued alone along a narrow path through the village, his mind fully occupied with what had just appeared inside the glasses.
His body had indeed changed—but not in any earth-shaking way.
There was no explosive surge of power, no dramatic transformation. Instead, his chakra pathways felt smoother, more unobstructed, allowing chakra to circulate and mobilize faster than before. Beyond that, everything still required careful observation and testing.
The glasses had been draining his chakra for years, suppressing his chakra refinement speed and leaving him firmly in the "average" category.
Now, it seemed clear.
That chakra had never been wasted—it was fuel.
Fuel required to activate the glasses.
As for the card called High-Speed Movement…
The skill frame itself was intricate and almost mesmerizing, filled with patterns and symbols he had never seen before. Everything about it felt foreign, yet strangely systematic.
According to the description, once mastered, it could explosively increase one's speed in an instant. But how to learn it was something Shiraishi would have to figure out himself. There were hints—fragmented prompts—but no complete instructions.
The short demonstration he had just seen relied on diagrams of chakra points throughout the human body. Unfortunately, this was an area Shiraishi had never studied in depth, leaving him more confused than enlightened.
Still, there was a deeper concern.
The existence of these glasses themselves felt suspicious.
If such an item were truly real, it should have been famous throughout the shinobi world long ago. Setting everything else aside, that impossibly detailed world map alone far surpassed any known record or textbook.
Yet history contained no mention of a ninja tool like this.
And judging by the chakra-devouring nature of the glasses—and the fragmented memories left behind—it was clear that they had previous users.
Users who, judging by those remnants, did not meet good ends.
The scenes that surfaced in his mind showed worlds that felt subtly wrong, unfamiliar, disjointed. If this was not genjutsu, then the glasses themselves were a problem of immense magnitude.
But…
What was there to scheme against him for?
He was just a nobody.
For now, cooperation seemed the most rational choice. As for the future—who would end up controlling whom—that would depend on how fate unfolded.
Though Shiraishi had never liked the word fate.
According to the map, several cards existed within Sunagakure itself—but every one of them was located deep inside the village's core power institutions.
And those special-symbol cards…
In what form did they even exist?
A sudden memory surfaced.
Some time ago, when Shiraishi had gone to the underground market to purchase textbooks, a small auction had been taking place. One of the items up for sale had been a mysterious card engraved with strange runic markings.
These cards had begun appearing at some unknown point in recent months. Their material was unbelievably hard—virtually indestructible. Some ninja claimed they contained unusual chakra fluctuations, yet no one had discovered how to use them.
Even so, indestructibility alone made them priceless.
All five great villages—and countless smaller ones—were quietly collecting them.
About a month earlier, elders from the Aida family had participated in a bandit-suppression mission. One of the spoils had been exactly such a specially marked card.
As for the cards within Sunagakure itself, Shiraishi had no ability to touch them for now.
Nearly a thousand cards existed across the world. Roughly half were concentrated within the Five Great Nations, while the rest were scattered throughout harsh deserts, impoverished lands, and dangerous territories.
Once his direction was clear, Shiraishi shifted his focus to the cards located elsewhere within the Land of Wind—most of them deep in the desert.
His greatest advantage was the map.
Though maintaining it required a constant supply of chakra, Shiraishi quickly selected a target location.
He sketched a rough, hand-drawn copy for reference.
By the time he finished, sweat was dripping from his forehead. The climate of the Land of Wind was as brutal as ever, and with his chakra reserves running low, even basic endurance became harder to maintain.
Just as Shiraishi stood there, panting slightly—
A gentle voice spoke behind him.
"Little Shiraishi, training hard again? That's admirable—but overdoing it will only hurt your body."
"…Yashamaru-sensei."
The blond-haired Yashamaru had just returned from a mission. Seeing Shiraishi in a weakened state, he placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, gently sending chakra into his body.
Warmth spread instantly, easing Shiraishi's fatigue.
"Thank you, Sensei."
Yashamaru had once taught ninja tool deployment at the academy. He had always paid special attention to Shiraishi, a civilian student whose diligence and effort earned the respect of the entire class.
Over time, whenever Yashamaru returned from missions, he would stop by to check on him. Their relationship gradually grew closer.
For Shiraishi—who had lost his parents at a young age—the few sources of warmth in Sunagakure were limited to people like Yashamaru and Maki.
Yashamaru chuckled, glancing at the bento box in Shiraishi's hands.
"I was planning to treat you to a proper dinner, but it looks like you've already got food."
"Maki made it. I can save it for breakfast."
Shiraishi rarely ate breakfast anyway. Turning dinner into breakfast was hardly a problem—especially if it meant joining Yashamaru for a proper meal.
"Haha, alright then. Let's get barbecue tonight."
"…Sensei, you're injured."
Before leaving, Shiraishi noticed wounds on Yashamaru's hands, along with faint bloodstains on his clothes. The mission he'd just completed clearly hadn't been easy.
"Just border skirmishes," Yashamaru replied calmly. "They'll only get worse."
With the Third Kazekage missing, parts of Sunagakure's leadership were spiraling into near hysteria. The Land of Fire had become the convenient scapegoat, and border clashes between the two sides were growing increasingly frequent—and increasingly violent.
That night, Sunagakure's barbecue shops glowed brightly.
Returning shinobi crowded inside, sharing meals after missions. Compared to Konoha's abundance, barbecue in Sunagakure was closer to cheap fast food.
Two slices of grilled meat, some side dishes, and a staple food—this was the standard meal for most ninja.
A true barbecue set—three plates of meat, vegetables, and assorted sides—was considered a luxury, costing nearly a week of Shiraishi's living expenses.
"Let's get the barbecue set," Yashamaru suggested cheerfully.
"That's too greasy," Shiraishi replied seriously. "For a shinobi, excessive fat isn't ideal. A normal meal is nutritionally sufficient and better for physical training."
Yashamaru knew Shiraishi was trying to save money, but the words still felt oddly mature.
"You're twelve," he said, flicking Shiraishi's forehead lightly. "Stop acting like a middle-aged man."
"In other villages, kids my age are already chūnin…"
"That's because—"
Two regular meal sets were placed on the table. Shiraishi ate slowly and neatly, in stark contrast to Yashamaru's hearty appetite. Even the simplest meal tasted far better than soldier pills.
"Yashamaru-sensei," Shiraishi said suddenly, "I want a set of weighted training gear."
Since Yashamaru was here, Shiraishi skipped the ninja tool shop entirely and made his request directly.
Yashamaru agreed without hesitation. In truth, he'd planned to give Shiraishi physical training equipment anyway. After all, Shiraishi would soon be heading to the battlefield—strength was survival.
After dinner, Shiraishi watched Yashamaru walk away before returning alone to his modest residence.
Sunagakure's population was small, and housing was relatively generous. Behind his home lay a small training yard where Shiraishi usually practiced taijutsu.
Strapping on the weighted gear Yashamaru provided, Shiraishi began the most basic movements—repetition upon repetition.
The principles behind High-Speed Movement weren't complicated.
But activating it required a solid physical foundation.
So for now, Shiraishi focused on fundamentals.
As he trained, the skill interface displayed a subtle progress bar beneath High-Speed Movement, ticking upward with daily increments.
Once it was fully filled, the skill-derived technique would be considered truly mastered.
Yet beyond that slot lay numerous empty connections—proof that stronger, more advanced skills were linked to it.
When it came to taijutsu, Sunagakure wasn't particularly strong. Most shinobi relied on nin–taijutsu hybrids, while pure taijutsu specialists were rare, leaving little reference material behind.
Until now, Shiraishi had treated taijutsu merely as support for ninjutsu.
Though he had memorized the chakra circulation method for High-Speed Movement, the force he could currently draw upon was limited.
His stamina needed to catch up.
Otherwise, no matter how refined the technique—
His speed would never truly rise.