Kiyohara's eyes lit up at once. In that instant, it felt as if a veil had been ripped away from his thoughts and everything finally snapped into place. A jonin-level helper who could step in at the critical moment… if that kind of trump card truly existed, then surviving the brutal years ahead might no longer be an impossible fantasy.
"Then let's not waste time," he said immediately.
He hurried back into the house and, under the rogue ninja Kiyohara's questioning gaze, dug out a blank scroll and a pen. The older version of himself stared at him like he was watching a fool prepare to do something even more foolish.
"What are you doing?" the rogue ninja asked. "Planning to start studying now and turn yourself into some kind of genius overnight?"
"No. That would be far too troublesome," Kiyohara replied with complete seriousness. "I only got one ninjutsu from you. Even if you teach me hand in hand, there are only so many techniques I can cram into my head in a short time. But if you write them down, I can keep studying them later."
His logic was brutally simple. If future versions of himself could appear one after another, then every one of them could leave behind scrolls, techniques, observations, and combat experience. Over time, those fragments would pile up into an absurd archive that belonged to him alone.
Harvesting other people was called harvesting leeks. But if he was cutting into his own future selves to squeeze out every last bit of value… could that still be called harvesting leeks? It felt more like cheating on an exam by copying the answer sheet from his own brain.
For the first time, a trace of astonishment appeared on the rogue ninja Kiyohara's weathered face. Was his younger self really this shameless?
After thinking it over, though, he still picked up the pen and began to write. In the end, it was still himself. There was nothing wrong with helping his own past along.
The sound of pen scratching over paper soon filled the room. One technique after another, one note after another, bits of knowledge that would have taken years to gather in an ordinary life were copied down with ruthless efficiency. Kiyohara watched with bright eyes, committing even that process to memory. This wasn't just a scroll. It was proof that the impossible advantage in his hands was real.
By the time the rogue ninja finally set the pen down, Kiyohara carefully rolled the scroll up and stored it away like treasure. He understood better than ever that he had to survive. Only by surviving could he keep receiving these wills, these fragments, these future answers.
***
Later, outside, he ran into Kurenai. She was still barely in her teens, wearing a crisp ninja outfit, but worry already lingered between her brows. The war hanging over the village had turned even children into people who looked over their shoulders.
"I really hope this war ends soon," she said quietly.
This endless conflict hung over everyone like a black cloud. Being a ninja already meant living with one foot in the grave. Adding war on top of that only made the edge sharper.
"It can't go on much longer," Kiyohara said.
At its core, every war was organized violence. Nations used force, money, and lives to pursue political and economic goals, and the shinobi world was no exception. This war had only broken out because the wounds of the previous one had finally scarred over, and every village had convinced itself it was strong enough to seize more.
But this time, every one of them would pay for it. Konoha would bleed until even children were pushed toward the battlefield. Kumogakure would lose the Third Raikage. Kirigakure would lose the Three-Tails along with Rin Nohara. Iwagakure and Sunagakure would suffer from the same shortage of manpower, left with too few promising young shinobi to fill the gaps.
If even the five great villages would be wounded that badly, then the smaller countries would fare even worse. The Land of Rain was already rotting under the pressure of constant conflict.
"What do you mean by 'not much longer'?" Kurenai pressed. "A few years?"
"Probably," Kiyohara said. "Once they've fought until there aren't enough people left, the war will stop on its own."
It sounded cruel, but it was the truth. Wars did not end because people suddenly grew kind. They ended because everyone involved became too exhausted, too broken, or too empty to keep going.
Kurenai's expression shifted. "Then… does that mean all our comrades die before it ends?"
"I think it's better if we worry about surviving it ourselves first," Kiyohara said, shaking his head.
"But Lord Minato is going too, isn't he?" she said. Like so many people in the village, she trusted Namikaze Minato's name almost blindly. If Minato was there, then surely victory was too.
"Anyone can die in war, so don't get careless, Kurenai," Kiyohara warned.
She fell silent at that. In the current world, reassurance was cheap, but survival was expensive.
***
After returning home, Kiyohara began to test the gains from his first merge. The changes were subtle at first, then impossible to ignore. His perception had sharpened. His grasp of ninjutsu had become more intuitive. Techniques that once looked cloudy now felt as though they were laid out right in front of him.
So this was what stacking talent felt like. He loved it.
Standing in the courtyard, he formed the hand seals for Horse and Dragon before finally bringing his hands together. Wind-style chakra gathered into his palm, compressed again and again until the pressure sharpened into something dangerous.
Whoosh!
A half-transparent gust exploded from his hand and slammed into the old tree stump in the yard, carving a deep groove into the wood.
"Haa…" Kiyohara bent slightly and started panting.
There was no helping it. Even the rogue ninja Kiyohara hadn't possessed some monstrous reserve of chakra. If elite jonin like Kakashi were used as the standard, then a man who had only just reached ordinary jonin level would naturally still fall short.
And the current Kiyohara was still just a low-ranking ninja. Even though the merge had increased his physical and spiritual energy, raising his chakra along with them, he still felt frustratingly empty after only a short round of practice.
"A ninja's battle is a battle of chakra," he muttered, stroking his chin.
Before he could grant the rogue ninja Kiyohara's second dying wish, he would need to be extremely careful about how he used every last drop of chakra he had. Becoming stronger too quickly was wonderful. Running dry in the middle of battle would still get him killed.
The next day, while he was still training, Kiyohara received a summons from Namikaze Minato.
By the time he arrived, Obito, Kakashi, Rin Nohara, and the others were already there, waiting.