A week came and went. Shorai kept refining his wind and lightning elemental transformations. Progress was steady, but something still felt missing. Noticing this, he resorted to using the Reality Stone, practicing a bit within the knowledge-warped state.
'If I can't keep the knowledge, at least I can keep the body's lingering reaction. By remembering the intention, I can connect the dots... ' he thought as he activated the stone and focused on how the elements felt and worked in unison. He began by slowing the process, then gradually sped it up step by step to feel every stage of their combination.
He repeated the process for hours, until finally deactivating the stone and analyzing what was left behind. The strange sensations lingered. He raised his palms and traced them with chakra, applying wind transformation. Afterwards, he tried lightning. The process felt smoother, faster, more familiar.
"Well, well, well... this definitely helps. It seems prolonged exposure to a particular experience can form a habit. All I need is to remember the intention to keep it helpful," he voiced his thoughts, delighted by this pleasant discovery.
His training paused as the grand day arrived. One day prior, he visited Aya and took his mask and special clothes she had prepared for him. She beamed with delight and mischievousness, clapping her hands eagerly as she watched him leave.
Back in his room, Shorai carefully examined the clothes Aya had prepared. The ensemble was reminiscent of a warrior from legend—sleek, dark, and commanding, much like the attire of a certain legendary swordsman he had admired from tales.
The outfit was layered yet minimalist, designed with precision and purpose:
• Inner wear: a high-neck buttoned vest beneath a kimono-style layered top, tailored to fit snugly yet allow freedom of movement.
• Pants: Slim and sharply tailored, tucked neatly into polished knee-high leather boots, secured with a thin sash-like belt that hinted at traditional samurai aesthetics.
• Coat: The centerpiece—a long, high-collared coat cut in a kimono style, reaching from mid-calf to ankle. Its deep navy fabric was rich and textured, adorned with subtle dragon patterns woven in silver thread and delicate streaks of lightning that shimmered with every movement. The coat was left open, flowing like a storm's cloak.
The overall effect was one of quiet authority and refined power—dark and formal, yet sleek and modern. It was a perfect reflection of the storm within him, a visual echo of the elemental forces he sought to master.
On the following day, Shorai took his time putting it on, each layer settling into place like a second skin. When he finally faced the mirror, he was struck speechless. The reflection staring back was both familiar and transformed.
I... am... a storm... that is approoooachiiiing... he blurted out, the words slipping into a playful song before he quickly smoothed his hair back with a flair.
A laugh escaped him—half disbelief, half exhilaration. "One for one! Damn!" he muttered, recalling the last of the twentieth design he had given Ren.
He resembled a shadow of the serious white-haired warrior he admired, though lacking the legendary katana. Finally tearing his gaze away, he reached for the mask—a thin, silver kitsune-patterned mask with blue lines tracing its contours.
Donning it, he used Henge to conceal the entire attire for now, then stepped out to meet Ino.
Walking through the village, he noticed the change. Festive décor stretched all the way to the special event entrance—lanterns swaying gently in the spring breeze, the scent of incense mingling with blooming flowers, and the distant murmur of excited voices.
He arrived at the flower store where Ino awaited in her special lavender kimono-style long dress, decorated with clouds and lotuses. She was talking with her parents, both dressed in similar but distinct wardrobes.
Noticing Shorai's arrival, Ino turned and waved at him.
He greeted them and, looking at Inoichi, asked if he could take her away. For a moment, it sounded strange; Shorai didn't realize the implied meaning beneath his words. He blinked, watching Ino blush, her mother's eyes widen with a smile, and her father raise his brow. Shorai, with a light smile, added maybe they could all go together, trying to ease the strange silence as if a lingering misunderstanding hovered in the air.
But Ino immediately said they would go first and hastily said goodbye to her parents, leaving them with different expressions as they watched her stroll away, glancing at Shorai, who quickly bowed and joined her.
He watched her blush and frustrated expression as they walked in silence.
"Ino, you look charming in that dress. When did you get it?" he tried to start a conversation.
"T-thank you. You noticed. Two days ago, someone brought it from Heavenly Lotus. And for free..." She beamed a wide smile.
"Oh? Interesting... I got mine yesterday..." he murmured.
"Yours? You look like everyday wear... well, it does stand out... but I thought you would wear something else," Ino said, puzzled by his comment and wondering if there was more. Her eyes narrowed, observing.
"He-he, you'll see..." he said with a soft chuckle, heading toward the distant glow of the festival lights.
Ino kept trying to get details, but he postponed, telling her to be patient.
The festival took place in Konoha's large park, its vibrant energy spilling into the village streets. The special entrance was marked by ornate banners and lanterns, guiding guests to small rooms rented and prepared for the occasion. Shorai and Ino approached the entrance, where attendants in simple robes checked tickets and directed visitors inside.
Each guest was required to change into a set of prepared clothes and don a mask—a strict rule posted that masks were never to be removed during the festival. The air buzzed with anticipation and mystery, the anonymity lending an electric charge to the crowd.
Before they could step in, the originator of the event—Ren himself, standing with his usual confident smile, noticed their arrival.
"Good evening, Shorai-san! Oh? I see you have a date... Ho-ho! What a cute girl!" Ren's eyes sparkled knowingly. Then, with a teasing grin, he added, "But... wait, didn't Aya prepare something special for you? What's with those clothes? That won't do! You'll have to change."
"D-date..." Ino's cheeks flushed as she glanced nervously at Shorai.
"Ren, please, you're embarrassing Ino. Can't a couple... of good friends enjoy an event together?" Shorai said calmly, trying to defuse the teasing atmosphere. "As for the clothes... I have them on... it's just hidden..." He smirked and winked.
Their conversation, and especially the closeness between Shorai and Ino, quickly drew the attention of the surrounding guests—many wealthy Konoha residents who had come to mingle with Ren. Whispers spread as they questioned Shorai's connection to Ren and eyed the girl beside him, who looked unmistakably from the Yamanaka clan.
Ino scanned Shorai for clues, wondering what all this might mean, while Ren smiled knowingly and nodded. Then, turning to his helpers at the entrance, Ren exchanged a few words before gesturing for the two to enter.
As they stepped into the changing room, Shorai spotted Aya immediately. Her eyes widened in surprise and a flicker of disappointment crossed her face when she saw him in his usual clothes.
"S-Shorai-kun?! What about my clothes?" she exclaimed, stepping forward with a sharp gaze. She glanced at Ino and added, "At least she's wearing..."
Before she could finish, Shorai smiled and released his transformation of normal clothes.
Puff!
A swirl of smoke revealed a tall figure clad in a long, flowing coat. The dark navy fabric shimmered with silver dragon patterns and subtle streaks of lightning, catching the light with every movement. His slender face appeared, framed by white hair pulled back neatly, save for a small lock falling forward. His turquoise eyes gleamed behind a thin silver kitsune mask etched with blue lines.
The room fell silent, breaths collectively held as awe swept over the crowd.
Then, a delighted squeal burst from Aya and Ino in unison. Their eyes sparkled with disbelief and admiration, as if a character from a fairy tale had stepped into their midst.
"By the Hokage!" someone whispered.
"Haga-dono! Haga-dono!" murmurs spread reverently.
"Aya-san!" "Is this the new secret line?" voices buzzed as guests hurried to find managers, eager for details about the mysterious new attire.
Aya clapped her hands, eyes wide with admiration. "The cutie became so handsome! I might start calling you a prince!"
Ino blinked, still speechless.
Shorai cleared his throat, eager to escape the spotlight. "Aya-san... you're about to drool. Pull yourself together. And please, get Ino a mask."
"Mask?" Ino asked, puzzled.
"Ah! Right! Right!" Aya snapped back to reality. She glanced at Ino, then picked up what she thought was the most fitting mask for her.
Ino took the mask and found herself mesmerized by the design. The mask was delicately shaped with gentle curves that mimicked the elegant wings of a butterfly. Crafted from a lightweight, shimmering material, it caught the light with every subtle movement, casting soft reflections like fluttering wings in a breeze. The base color was a soft lavender, perfectly complementing her kimono, with intricate filigree patterns tracing the edges in silver and pale blue.
"Come on! Put it on, put it on!" Aya nudged her with excitement.
Shorai's calm, serious expression began to shift as he saw Ino's new image framed by the mask.
Tiny, almost imperceptible gemstone-like dots adorned the wing tips, sparkling faintly like morning dew. The mask framed her eyes gracefully, enhancing their natural sparkle without overshadowing her features. He stared in bewilderment, recalling the Ino from the story only he knew. This new look was both a symbol of her future inner transformation and a delicate promise of what was to come.
As the crowd buzzed with excitement, Shorai's enhanced sight caught a subtle movement in the shadows near the entrance. His eyes locked with a figure standing apart—a presence cloaked in mystery.
A light brown, slightly tousled hair peeked beneath a distinctive eagle-shaped ANBU mask. Through the mask, Shorai's enhanced vision caught the sharp, observant eyes reflecting calm but intense focus.
The ANBU... here? Shorai's heart quickened. The silent acknowledgment passed between them—a recognition that his presence and location were no longer secrets.
The festival's bright lights and joyous energy suddenly felt tinged with an undercurrent of tension.
Beneath the masks and celebrations, the storm was truly approaching.