The forest clearing lay quiet beneath the moon.
Pale light filtered through the branches overhead, touching the grass, the worn stones, and the small pond at the clearing's center. Three figures occupied the space, each absorbed in a task of his own.
Near the edge of the trees, the Stoic Clone worked beneath the dim glow of a lantern. Faint metallic sounds carried through the night as he engraved a fresh batch of kunai and shuriken with Kinetic Battery Seals. His movements were methodical and exact, each line of the layered formulas measured against the last.
A short distance away, the Whimsical Clone sat in a deeply undignified position atop an invisible distortion in the air. His mouth hung slightly open, his eyes unfocused and rolled upward, and his arms rested loosely at his sides.
His body remained in the clearing.
His consciousness was elsewhere—within the Soul Space.
At the pond, Shorai sat cross-legged on the ground.
His eyes were closed.
For hours, he did not move.
At first, his thoughts had resisted him.
A mission report. Sasuke's condition. Lee's surgery. Tsunade's warning. The incomplete weapon seals. Ino's birthday. The coming weeks. Ice Release. Orochimaru. Akatsuki.
Each thought tried to pull him somewhere else.
Shorai acknowledged them as they came.
Then, rather than following them, he imagined each one being drawn into a single point between his brows. They spiraled inward, compressed into a small, controlled vortex, and dispersed before they could form another chain of analysis.
He breathed in slowly.
He breathed out slowly.
The blood moving through his veins became clear to him. The lingering static beneath his skin. The warmth radiating from his body. The cool autumn wind brushing past his face and arms.
Lightning wanted to run.
Wind wanted to move.
But water did not hurry.
Water flowed where it needed to flow. It waited where it needed to wait. It carried force without always displaying it.
Shorai remained there, breathing, listening, and allowing his chakra to settle.
The exercise continued until time became vague.
Eventually, his thoughts thinned.
Then they stopped.
Shorai opened his eyes.
His expression remained calm, though a faint crease rested between his brows. Only his eyes moved as he observed the clearing around him.
There were no plans.
No calculations.
No internal arguments.
Only awareness of the present moment.
Moonlight on the pond.
The rustle of leaves.
The distant metallic scrape of Stoic's engraving tool.
The quiet rhythm of his own heartbeat.
Shorai slowly reached inward, touching his chakra pathways.
They responded.
The flow moved through him steadily.
Then it slowed.
Not stopping. Never truly still.
But settling into a state where movement and stillness no longer contradicted one another.
A pulse rose from his core.
Pure chakra, untouched by Lightning, Wind, or Water nature transformation, flowed through his pathways before returning to its source.
'It is time.'
Shorai turned his head and noticed the Whimsical Clone still sitting in his embarrassing trance-like pose.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
Puff!
The clone vanished.
In the next instant, a torrent of accumulated experience rushed back into Shorai's mind.
His body tensed.
Invisible impressions—hours of Soul Space training, failed attempts, corrected chakra patterns, Water Release exercises, and shifting mental states—flooded into his consciousness at once.
Heat rose behind his eyes.
Pain pulsed through his synapses.
Drowsiness followed immediately, heavy and insistent.
Shorai did not move.
He stared at the pond's smooth surface.
His breathing remained slow.
The transfer continued.
His eyelids threatened to fall.
Shorai focused on the point between his brows and forced his mind to remain present. Not by accelerating it. Not by drowning the exhaustion in Lightning chakra.
By remaining still.
A thin, steady chakra flow moved through his pathways, cooling the heat gathering in his mind and easing the strain in his overworked synapses.
The flood of experience gradually settled.
The pond remained before him.
For a moment, Shorai felt his chakra as something different.
Not a weapon.
Not fuel.
Not a resource to be calculated, compressed, or forced through his pathways.
It moved like water.
It returned like water.
It was not separate from him, yet it did not belong to him in the way a tool belonged to its owner.
Shorai stared into the dark surface.
The water trembled once.
A ripple spread outward.
'I am like a drop in a pond.'
The thought arrived quietly.
The pond seemed larger.
Its surface widened in his perception, no longer contained by muddy banks or the forest clearing.
'I am a pond that forms a sea.'
The image deepened.
A small body of water feeding another. Streams joining rivers. Rivers flowing into seas.
'I am a sea that becomes the ocean.'
His breath caught.
For an instant, he felt a vast, quiet expanse within himself—not power in the ordinary sense, not pressure or force, but an endless rhythm of movement returning to stillness.
The smallest drop mattered.
The greatest ocean was made of drops.
The sensation stretched outward, beyond the pond, beyond the forest, beyond the village lights hidden far in the distance.
A strange warmth touched the center of his forehead.
Shorai jerked.
The state shattered.
His eyes widened.
The vastness vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
He sat motionless, trying to grasp the vestiges of the experience before they slipped away.
Something important had been there.
Not merely a mental state.
Not merely Water Release.
Not even the familiar precision of Soul Space training.
It had felt like a principle.
A quiet law beneath the transformation itself.
Shorai exhaled slowly, his turquoise eyes returning to the pond.
"That feeling…" he murmured. "It was more than elemental control."
He looked at his open palm.
"A principle. An understanding of the flow beneath it."
He reached forward and placed his hand against the water's surface.
Cool moisture touched his skin.
Shorai slowly lifted his hand.
Water rose with it.
At first, it clung naturally to his palm. Then the mass stretched upward, lengthening into a narrow column that retained the shape of his hand even as he stood.
His chakra moved in a slow, steady rhythm.
No rushing.
No violent acceleration.
No sharp, Lightning-driven corrections.
The column detached from the pond.
Instead of falling, it remained suspended.
It separated into two streams and curled around Shorai's body. Water flowed past his arms, around his waist, and along his legs in broad, controlled arcs.
Then more water rose from the pond.
It joined the streams circling him, gradually adding mass until thick currents revolved around his body.
Shorai clenched his hands.
The water accelerated.
He relaxed his fingers.
The motion slowed.
A faint smile appeared on his face.
He brought his palms together.
The streams tightened, joined, and rose around him in a broad, revolving vortex.
Water spun upward, surrounding him in a twisting column.
Shorai narrowed his eyes.
For one brief moment, the old instinct returned.
A breakthrough had to become something usable.
Something stronger.
Something that could be turned into a weapon.
A familiar technique name came to mind.
His chakra surged.
"Water Release—Water Shockwave!"
The vortex tightened.
Then it burst outward.
Woosh!
The spinning mass of water rushed forward in a violent wave. It tore through a line of nearby trees, ripping branches aside and carving a wet path through the undergrowth.
Bah!
The technique lost cohesion.
Water crashed back to the earth in heavy sheets, soaking the grass and leaving the clearing strangely quiet.
Shorai stood still.
His breathing had changed.
The deep calm he had found beside the pond was gone.
In its place came exhaustion.
His pathways throbbed from the sudden output. His mind felt heavy again, strained by the clone transfer and by the amount of water he had shaped at once.
'Essence into improvisation…'
He frowned.
The phrase did not feel like a compliment.
He had glimpsed stillness, then immediately tried to force it into a destructive technique.
Very much like himself.
"What are you doing?"
Stoic's voice came from the trees.
Shorai looked over as the clone approached, several freshly engraved kunai held in one hand.
"Couldn't wait?" Stoic asked flatly. "You found a stable state for less than a minute and immediately used it to tear apart half the clearing."
Shorai's lips curved faintly.
"Thank you."
Stoic stopped.
His cold stare sharpened.
"For what?"
"For reminding me that I still have your experience to consider," Shorai said. "For a moment, I forgot you were here."
"While you were playing with water," Stoic replied, holding up the weapons, "I completed nearly half the weapon seals. We now have thirteen kunai and thirteen shuriken prepared for Blinding Flight. A few more batches, and we will have full holsters—thirty of each."
He scanned the original's body with a clinical look.
"You need to rest. If you dispel me now, the accumulated experience will likely knock you unconscious for at least a day. Possibly longer."
"I already feel it," Shorai admitted. "The day will probably become a series of naps between receiving both of your training results."
"You could return to the replica version," Stoic said, a small smile touching his lips. "It does not carry the same fivefold transfer efficiency."
"And slow our progress?" Shorai shook his head. "No. The drawback is severe, but manageable."
"Manageable," Stoic repeated without emotion.
"We have a limited amount of time," Shorai continued. "The Complete variant gives us the effective output of ten ordinary clones. Returning to the Replica version would reduce that to roughly two. That would be inefficient, considering what I need to accomplish."
"And besides," Shorai added, recalling the limitation, "the replica cannot enter the Soul Space."
"Serve yourself."
Stoic turned and began walking back toward the lantern.
Then he paused.
"Next time, commit to the stillness you are seeking."
Shorai watched him.
Stoic glanced back over one shoulder.
"Do not imitate something as complex and chakra-demanding as Tobirama's Water Release immediately after glimpsing your own path. You produced a lesser result by exhausting most of your capacity after hours of transferred experience."
His expression did not change.
"I am impressed that your body is still holding up."
Then he added, "How whimsical of you."
The word sounded almost insulting coming from him.
Shorai released a quiet breath through his nose.
"It is even more exhausting," he muttered, "to argue with part of my own personality in real time."
He deactivated the Reality Stone, opened a storage scroll, and pulled out a compact camping bed.
Sleep was not optional.
It was required.
—
Morning came.
Then morning became afternoon.
Shorai woke several times, only to be struck by another wave of exhaustion as the Whimsical Clone's training continued settling into his mind.
Each time, fragments of experience surfaced.
The sensation of water moving without resistance.
The repeated failure of forcing stillness.
The gradual correction of chakra pathways.
The faint, elusive feeling of the principle he had almost grasped beside the pond.
When Shorai finally rose properly, the worst of the mental pressure had passed.
He stood in the clearing and stretched carefully.
His body still felt heavy.
But his mind was clearer.
New understanding remained in his chakra pathways.
A different structure had begun to take root beneath the old one.
For years, Shorai's chakra had been shaped by sharpness, acceleration, rapid analysis, and forceful correction. Lightning had taught his mind to race. Wind had taught his body to move. Swift Release had made those instincts part of his nature.
Water asked for something else.
It asked him to yield without becoming weak.
To move without rushing.
To remain still without becoming stagnant.
His Water Release no longer felt like an opposing element he had to force into obedience. It felt like a separate rhythm—one he needed to understand before attempting to make it coexist with Lightning and Wind.
'Two weeks,' Shorai thought.
'Just two weeks.'
At his current pace, he believed he could complete the necessary mental and chakra-flow foundation.
His body was recovering.
His pathways were adapting.
To another shinobi, the pace would have seemed absurd.
Even Shorai recognized that.
The ability to train through Soul Space simulations, then return to physical practice with refined models and transferred experience, had shortened a process that could have taken years. For most shinobi, it might have required decades of disciplined elemental study—if they could ever reach the same point at all.
Yet Shorai could not afford to think of it as fast.
Not while the clock continued to move.
He needed patience.
Once the base was stable enough, he could attempt something dangerous—something fundamentally opposite to his Swift Release.
He could attempt to make Ice Release real.
Not a temporary imitation created through the Reality Stone.
Not an artificial construction dependent on an outside power.
His own inherited Hyōton.
It was a hidden blessing that Tsunade had given her newly formed security unit time to prepare.
Shorai intended to use every moment of it.
He needed as much uninterrupted time as he could get.
'Being an ANBU is interesting,' Shorai reflected. 'It is useful. It teaches me things no ordinary training could.'
His expression softened into a helpless smile.
'But it also brings missions, obligations, and responsibilities imposed by the village.'
That was the cost of becoming part of Konoha's strength.
And it stood in direct opposition to the freedom his larger goals demanded.
'I need every free hour I can get before duty claims it for something else.'
—
A week passed.
Shorai trained in the mornings and late at night, dividing his time between Water Release, controlled meditation, seal work, and recovery.
Stoic continued refining the Kinetic Battery weapon seals. Once the last batch was finished, he moved on to layered Fuinjutsu study, reviewing barrier formulas, seal interactions, and the kind of complex containment structures that could not be mastered through simple repetition.
Whimsical remained focused on Soul Space simulations. His task was less direct: searching for the point where calm Water nature transformation could coexist with Shorai's deeply ingrained Lightning reflexes.
Between all of that, Shorai kept his promise to Ino.
He made time.
Her birthday arrived beneath clear autumn skies.
They spent most of the day together.
By evening, they sat at their familiar table on the second floor of the barbecue restaurant beside the window. Outside, the village had begun to glow beneath the warm colors of sunset.
Ino sat across from him in a pale-blue outfit that resembled her kunoichi clothes, though its cut was more elegant and noticeably more revealing. Her hair was neatly tied back with her familiar butterfly pin.
She had been speaking almost continuously since they arrived.
The flower shop.
Difficult customers.
Her parents.
Asuma's recovery.
Choji's appetite.
Shikamaru's complaints.
Sakura's increasingly troublesome visits to the hospital.
Shorai listened.
He responded when it mattered.
He asked questions when she slowed down.
He did not interrupt her to offer a solution to every problem.
There were moments when people wanted advice and asked for it. He understood that.
But there were also moments when advice was not what someone needed.
From his previous life, Shorai understood that emotional needs were not always expressed in the same way. More than once, he had seen people mistake a request to be heard for a request to be corrected.
Ino was capable. She did not need him to solve her life for her, especially when she had not asked him to.
Doing so would cross a line.
Shorai looked into her eyes, remembering a familiar lesson from his previous life.
Sometimes, what a person needed was not an answer.
They needed someone they trusted to stay present while they spoke. Someone who would understand why something had frustrated or hurt them. Someone who would hear them without brushing their feelings aside, minimizing them, or turning every concern into a debate.
"You're such a good listener, Shorai-kun," Ino said suddenly, smiling brightly. "That's another thing I love about you."
Shorai smiled warmly.
"Thank you, Ino."
He paused.
"I think it is something a man should strive to be for someone he cares about. And loves."
Ino's cheeks turned pink.
Shorai continued in a calmer tone.
"It helps when a fine lady notices the effort and appreciates it, though."
Her smile turned mischievous.
"Oh? Is that part of what you call women's needs?"
Shorai noticed the teasing glint in her eyes. His familiar half-smile appeared.
"Part of it."
Ino leaned forward, interested.
"The closeness part?"
"Yes," Shorai replied. "That part comes from paying attention to someone you care about. Everyone wants to be understood."
Ino's expression softened.
Shorai glanced through the window for a moment before looking back at her.
"People make mistakes when they leave important things unspoken. They assume. They avoid uncomfortable subjects. They pretend something does not matter until it becomes resentment."
"You mean like… when someone is unhappy but does not say why?" Ino asked.
"Yes."
He rested his forearms on the table.
"Then they begin imagining things. The other person does the same. Trust weakens, not necessarily because either person has done something wrong, but because neither one understands where the boundaries are."
Ino's eyes widened slightly.
"The consensus," she murmured.
"Consensus," Shorai confirmed.
"What makes you happy. What makes me happy. What we are comfortable with. What we are not."
Ino played with the edge of her sleeve.
"So, like you listening to me talk for hours?"
Shorai smiled.
"My willing choice toward you."
Ino raised an eyebrow.
"That still sounds a little like that unromantic 'service for service' thing you said before."
"It does," Shorai admitted. "But the meaning is not cold."
He looked directly into her eyes.
"When I say that you matter to me, I mean your feelings matter to me. That is why I choose to give you time, attention, and honesty."
His tone remained calm.
"In return, I do not want to be treated as if my own feelings, needs, and time do not matter. A relationship is a two-way street, Ino."
Her cheeks deepened in color.
"What might you like in return?" she asked softly.
Shorai glanced sideways, though his expression remained composed.
"For now? Understanding and honesty. The same consideration you expect from me."
He paused briefly.
"Other things can come later."
"In-intimacy?" Ino asked, nearly choking on the word.
"Yes," Shorai replied evenly. "More than your embraces, eventually. Let us put it that way."
Ino averted her eyes, her face turning so red that Shorai almost expected steam to rise from her hair.
Silence fell between them.
Then, after several seconds, Ino finally spoke again.
"Erm… Shorai-kun?"
"Hm?"
"You think love and jealousy are not connected?"
"No," Shorai answered simply.
Ino blinked.
"Why not?"
"Because love is not ownership," he said. "I view jealousy as something born from uncertainty, fear, or a lack of trust."
He spoke without harshness.
"If I needed to constantly check where you were, limit who you spoke to, or control what you did, then there would be no trust between us. And without trust, I would not call it love."
Ino grew quiet.
Shorai continued.
"Two people who genuinely want the same thing can build something stable. They speak when something bothers them. They make their boundaries clear. They listen when the other person has a concern."
He leaned back slightly.
"That does not mean either person will never feel insecure. People are people, and fear is part of our nature. But insecurity does not have to become jealousy—not when both sides are honest and neither leaves the other in the dark."
Shorai smiled gently.
"Ino, I have a few principles I follow. One is especially important when it comes to the people I care about."
Ino watched him closely.
"Do not do to another person what you would not accept being done to yourself."
Her eyes searched his.
"You once told me that you would not hurt me if I did not hurt you…"
Shorai's smile faded, leaving his expression calm and sincere.
"Self-control," he said. "And awareness of how our choices affect another person. That is what separates an impulse from a decision."
Ino's eyes widened slightly. Then her brows furrowed in thought.
At last, a warm smile slowly formed on her face.
"Interesting," she murmured. "I see."
For a moment, Ino remained quiet, considering his words.
Then, as though she had suddenly remembered every small frustration she had wanted to share throughout the week, she brightened again.
"So," she said, pointing slightly with her chopsticks, "what I wanted to say was—Sakura spent so much time at the hospital that she started annoying the staff."
Shorai nodded, amused.
"Really?"
"Really," Ino said, grinning. "They banned her from visiting for more than a week."
Shorai smirked.
"That is impressive dedication."
"Right? Even I was surprised."
They both laughed.
The conversation continued easily after that.
Hours passed.
Eventually, the restaurant had grown quieter, and the village lights outside had fully replaced the fading sunset.
Ino sighed as they stepped outside.
"It was such a good day," she said, sounding disappointed that it had ended.
Then she moved forward and embraced him.
"How unfortunate that it went by so quickly."
Shorai returned the hug.
"Time moves quickly in good company."
He paused.
"Especially with someone very special to me."
Ino jolted slightly in his arms.
She pulled back enough to look up at him.
"The one you have feelings for?" she asked.
Shorai blinked.
"Yes. The one I keep thinking about."
"You always have something nice and romantic prepared to say, Shorai-kun," Ino said, her cheeks warm. "I love that side of you too. But it will not top that phrase."
"Huh?" Shorai asked. "Which phrase?"
Ino looked thoughtful.
"During the Chūnin Exam registration. You said something about a desert and rain."
Shorai's smile softened.
"Like a desert misses the rain, Ino."
"That one!" Ino exclaimed. "I love it."
She smiled mischievously.
"Your positive list keeps growing, Shorai-kun."
"I am happy to hear that."
"It certainly does."
They stood quietly for a moment, looking at one another.
Then Ino sighed dramatically.
"Can you be less perfect, please?"
Shorai looked genuinely confused.
"A small thing like being attentive or considerate is perfect in your eyes?"
"Those small things are what count," Ino replied immediately. "You are the only boy in our generation—maybe in the whole world—who seems like a…"
She hesitated and looked sideways.
"Like a… like a prince."
Shorai rubbed his hands gently along her arms.
"Alright. Alright. Wake up, Princess Yamanaka."
Ino's eyes widened.
"Or your parents may scold this prince for keeping you out too late."
"Hi-hi!" Ino giggled.
They embraced once more.
"Goodnight, Shorai-kun."
"Goodnight, Ino."
Then they parted.
—
The next day, Shorai headed to the hospital at the time he and Tsunade had scheduled.
Tsunade had agreed to examine a restricted copy of his Perfect Body Revival technique.
Between training and the time he had promised to reserve for Ino, Shorai had spent several days preparing it.
The scroll he carried was real.
It included the core medical theory: Yin-based internal blueprinting, controlled Yang activation, cellular monitoring, error-state containment, and the necessity of restoring damaged tissue without triggering uncontrolled cellular division.
It was not the complete truth.
The most precise portions—the exact internal diagram tailored to his body, the Reality Stone-assisted refinements, and the full depth of the technique's automated restoration process—remained hidden.
Those parts were too dangerous.
Too personal.
And too difficult to explain without revealing everything he could not reveal.
Instead, Shorai had prepared a restricted clinical model. It was safe enough for Tsunade to evaluate and potentially adapt, but incomplete enough that no one could reproduce the full method from the scroll alone.
Tsunade accepted the scroll without comment.
Her eyes moved steadily across the formulas.
Then she looked up at Shorai.
"This is different from the one you showed me," she said. "Simplified?"
"Yes."
"It is incomplete."
"Yes."
Tsunade's expression remained sharp.
"But not useless."
"No," Shorai said. "Everything written there is real. It is simply not the entire technique."
For several seconds, Tsunade said nothing.
Then she closed the scroll.
"Good," she said at last. "At least you are learning the difference between secrecy and deception."
Shorai remained quiet.
Tsunade stood.
"Come. We have patients to check on."
They walked through the hospital together.
Kakashi was preparing for discharge and looked considerably healthier than he had a week earlier. He greeted them with his usual lazy eye and an immediate complaint about the hospital food.
Tsunade ignored him.
Shorai did not.
"Your condition is improving," he said. "You should be grateful."
"I am," Kakashi replied. "I am grateful that I will soon be free from whatever that green soup was."
Tsunade gave him a hard look.
Kakashi wisely stopped speaking.
They continued to Sasuke's room.
Sasuke remained pale, but his condition had improved steadily over the past week. His breathing was stable. The trauma caused by Tsukuyomi had not vanished, but the worst of the mental and spiritual damage had begun to settle beneath Tsunade's treatment.
Under her watchful eye, Shorai assisted with Sasuke's recovery. His chakra moved carefully through Sasuke's pathways, supporting gradual restoration rather than forcing an awakening before his mind was ready.
"Slowly," Tsunade reminded him.
"I know," Shorai replied.
"Knowing and obeying are different things."
Shorai gave her a faint, respectful smile.
"Yes, Lady Hokage."
Finally, they visited Rock Lee.
Lee remained determined despite the state of his body.
The injuries he had suffered during the Chūnin Exams had not merely weakened him. They had nearly severed his future as a shinobi altogether.
Tsunade checked his condition once more, then repeated the same hard truth. The surgery remained difficult. Even with her skill, it was still a gamble.
Lee listened without lowering his gaze.
Shorai watched him quietly.
Tsunade's eyes moved briefly to the restricted scroll tucked beneath her arm.
When they left Lee's room, she did not speak for several moments.
Then they returned to the Hokage Tower.
Inside her office, Tsunade placed the scroll beside an open medical text.
"I already collected the data and medical theory I need for Lee's surgery," she said. "The method I have planned could improve his chances—but only by a small margin."
Shorai listened silently.
Tsunade tapped a finger against the book, then unrolled his scroll again.
"This, however…"
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the formulas.
"This gives me hope that the margin might become something more substantial."
"If it works," Shorai said.
Tsunade paused.
"To think," she said quietly, "that a boy like you could contribute something so significant to a field I spent my entire life pursuing."
She looked up at him.
"Shorai. The knowledge behind this technique—if it raises Lee's chance of recovery to eighty-five percent… or beyond…"
Her gaze became firm.
"A Hokage may be required to offer a reward."
Shorai was about to refuse, but Tsunade raised one hand.
"Do not," she said. "Do not pretend humility means you should reject proper recognition. Your contribution, and my position, both matter. You understand?"
"I understand," Shorai said with a slight nod. "Then I will wait for that day, Lady Fifth."
He paused.
"But I will not ask for promotion or riches."
Tsunade raised an eyebrow.
"Then what?"
"Perhaps only a jutsu."
"Hm." Her expression turned curious. "You could be recommended for Chūnin. You already know the Shadow Clone Technique, in addition to your own dangerous creations. What technique caught your attention?"
"Well…" Shorai said thoughtfully, "I would like to pursue the mastery of Fuinjutsu more deeply."
"That is already expected from someone in my direct-report squad," Tsunade replied. "Why make it a reward?"
"I have read much of Lord Second's work regarding time-space theory," Shorai said. "And Lord Fourth was renowned for similar techniques. I wondered whether he learned from the Second's research."
Tsunade watched him with a faint smile.
"You think it is simply a Fuinjutsu method?"
"The technique I mean is called Flying… something. God?" Shorai said with deliberate hesitation. "It is famous enough in Konoha's history."
"Close," Tsunade said. "It is called the Flying Thunder God Technique. My granduncle devised it."
"From what I have gathered, it functions similarly to a summoning contract—except it summons the user rather than another entity. To move oneself between two specified points, one must establish a stable spatial reference at both Point A and Point B."
He looked directly at her.
"That suggests an advanced Fuinjutsu foundation."
Tsunade leaned against one arm.
"An interesting deduction," she said. "Though it is much more complicated than that."
"Why would you need Flying Thunder God when you already possess Swift Release?" Tsunade asked. "I have read the reports. I know what you have been attempting with it."
"It is true that I do not strictly need that jutsu," Shorai replied. "Swift Release is suited to close- and mid-range combat. It gives me speed, reflexes, and mobility within an area."
He paused.
"But it is not true long-distance travel."
He continued calmly.
"What I have in mind is applying its principle in other ways."
A small smile touched Tsunade's lips.
"Oh? And what exactly is your mind brewing now?"
"That technique could help with distant travel," Shorai said. "And potentially with long-range combat applications."
Tsunade's eyes narrowed.
"I have found a way to apply Swift Release externally."
"You what?" Tsunade asked, her eyes widening. "How would you speed up—"
"Like this."
Shorai reached to his right-leg holster and withdrew a kunai.
He spun it once between his fingers.
Between the handle and the blade, a delicate seal pattern had been engraved directly into the metal.
"I can only send it outward for now," Shorai said, noticing Tsunade's surprised expression. "I need a way to bring myself to it instantly."
Tsunade studied the kunai.
"Is this what you used during the invasion?" she asked. "The weapon mentioned in reports—the one responsible for the strange, gaping wounds?"
Shorai nodded.
"How fast?" she asked. "How durable?"
"Very fast," Shorai said. "Blindly fast, in fact."
He looked at the kunai in his hand.
"As for durability, this particular weapon has been used repeatedly. It has not taken noticeable damage."
Tsunade took a slow breath.
"Explain how it works."
Shorai gave her a brief, technical explanation: the layered accumulation formula, the directional trigger, the Wind-based vacuum sheath, and the Lightning-assisted kinetic release that accelerated the weapon far beyond a conventional throw.
Tsunade listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she stared at him for several seconds.
Then she sighed.
"Should I even be surprised at this point?"
"Thank you very much, Lady Fifth," Shorai said, bowing slightly. "For the compliment."
"You just made another dangerous leap forward," Tsunade said, tapping one finger against her desk. "It is fortunate that you did not use this during our battle with Orochimaru."
Her expression turned serious.
"How many people know about it?"
"Besides you and Jiraiya?" Shorai considered. "During the invasion, everyone who saw its full effect is dead."
He paused.
"I used it against Zabuza's Water Clone. Kakashi knows some details. Tazuna, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura only saw the result. I did not explain the mechanism to them."
"Good," Tsunade said. "Keep it that way."
She looked at the kunai again.
"A weapon that can dispose of a target before they can react, using only a small amount of chakra, could change the balance of power quickly."
Her tone became absolute.
"This is top secret. Treat it as forbidden. Every time you use it outside training, you will submit an immediate report to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Lady Fifth."
Shorai returned the kunai to its holster.
"But Flying Thunder God carries similar strategic value," he added. "If several trustworthy shinobi could learn it, a squad of fast enough operatives could end a conflict before an enemy nation understood what had happened."
For a moment, his thoughts drifted toward the Second Hokage's era, the Uzumaki clan, and the possibility of old Fuinjutsu exchanges between allied clans.
Tsunade waved one hand.
"Enough wild dreams for today. The secrecy remains."
She looked back toward the open book and Shorai's scroll.
"I already had an idea after our discussion in the examination room," she said. "And what you brought today gave it more shape."
Her finger rested on the formulas concerning error-state containment.
"Something in your containment model. The way you separate restoration from uncontrolled growth."
Shorai's expression grew serious.
"What will help Lee, right?"
"As of today, I can only say that it might," Tsunade replied. "In a few days, I will know more."
She exhaled.
"These are still gambles. I have barely returned, and already lives are balanced on decisions that may not end with a good answer."
For a moment, the burden of the Hokage's hat showed in her eyes.
Then her expression sharpened again.
"No matter."
She gestured toward the door.
"Return to your training. We will meet at the scheduled time for the Uchiha boy's treatment. If his recovery continues smoothly, perhaps in a few days I will let you handle a session alone."
"I will not disappoint you," Shorai said, bowing lightly as if by reflex.
"I know," Tsunade replied, the corner of her lips twitching. "Enough formalities. Go."
Shorai left the office.
Outside, Konoha was alive with afternoon movement. Merchants called from the streets. Shinobi crossed rooftops in the distance. Somewhere beyond the buildings, Naruto was likely shouting about training, and Ino was probably helping at the flower shop.
Shorai looked toward the forest beyond Konoha's walls.
'Soon.'
'A new foundation.'
'And a new Kekkei Genkai to develop.'
He smiled and turned toward home.
Before the day ended, he returned to training.