A soft rustle of leaves whispered through the open window, combining with the steady rhythmic beat of my breathing—calm, steady, intent. Light from morning crept into the room, casting shadows across the wooden floor.
I stood with bare feet, straightening my back, hands relaxed at my sides. Each foot muscle was tight—not through tension, but through control. My body had altered.
Three years.
Three years of rigor, early rising, icy cold baths, and constant drills—each breath I took, I could feel the payoff. I was ready at last.
"It's time."
A slow smile pulled at the edges of my lips. I hadn't waited to use the nano, but to push the boundaries of what my body could do on its own. To find out what unimproved talent, honed through sheer grit, could truly accomplish. I had never used ninjutsu once—not one jutsu. Not yet. But I'd learned them. Each scroll Father handed me, each line, each seal, each diagram—memorized. I could visualize them even when my eyes were shut.
Years on, I had become more than a pupil. I was a tactician. An analyst. Taijutsu wasn't movement to me any longer—it was communication. I learned footwork like rhymes. Practiced muscle tension as others practiced geography. I observed how joints moved, and how balance transferred before an attack. I even researched medical texts to study how bodies healed—and how they could shatter.
It was isolating at times. Monotonous. But never pointless.
"Take a break, and come visit," Aunt Yoshino would always tell me, drawing me into a hug that reeked of herbs and steaming rice.
And I did. Weekends were reserved for family. For quiet chats with Shikaku-uncle. For board games and rooftop discussions with Itachi.
When Uncle Inoichi found out that I was training with Uncle Shikaku and Father, he joined in. He began to teach me the Yamanaka clan's mental techniques—how to focus mental energy, how to read intentions, and how thoughts built power. His teachings altered what I perceived of chakra. Not only as power—but as language, memory, and faith.
I spent hours on the training fields, observing ninja drive themselves. I taped them. Analyzed them. Deconstructed their techniques like a jigsaw. Sometimes, when I was observing others—breaking down their movements, their timing, their flaws—I felt like Isagi Yoichi. Like I was rewriting myself, again and again, with every new piece of information.
Watching. Adapting. Rebuilding. I didn't want to be a copy of someone else. I wanted to take the best pieces from everyone I studied and shape them into something entirely my own. That was my edge. That was how I'd become the best version of me.
From that, I began to form something of my own—a taijutsu style that seemed. Right. Smooth. Balanced. But I was not yet ready to unveil it. Not until I'd seen the legends themselves fight.
Might Guy—unyielding, straight-line strength.
Minato—graceful, quick, nearly untouchable.
Orochimaru—Flexible, cunning, unpredictable.
After learning their styles, I knew I could create something better by merging their strengths. Something distinctly my own.
Training under Father was more than I ever thought possible. I did the fundamentals, then the advanced, of the Shadow Style. I transitioned into nature change—Yin chakra—and drove it into real combat application. New ideas for jutsu came to me daily. Some crazy. Some genius. But I put them on the back burner. Their turn would eventually come.
My development—spiritually, and physically—exceeded expectations. Itachi and Inoichi-uncle both observed. My body matched my mind. At the age of four, I was 120 centimeters tall. Three foot nine. Chubby cheeks. Black hair. Honey-colored eyes that saw everything. Aunt Yoshino said I was handsome. Aunt Inoki said so too. I didn't pay much attention—but alongside Itachi, I never felt insignificant.
Itachi and I had become close. Best friends. At some point, I'd helped him change his ways of thinking.
"We don't get strong for power," I said to him once. "We get strong so we can protect the people we love. Then. We protect the village."
He'd stared at me for a moment before nodding, softly. That was how he was.
He was a prodigy. But even he never outdid me in our practice exercises or our beloved game of stone-throwing. As he was inventing techniques, I was transforming—combining the best characteristics from each ninja I learned about into a body that could thrive to change.
My chakra levels became chunin level. I felt it beating through my skin—constant, potent. My control and sensory ability had improved equally. I sensed that I was finally poised at the cusp of something better.
And that's when I heard it once more.
The voice.
Nano.
"Host," it declared, peaceful and flat, "your body and nerves have matured enough for the transmission of intermediate chakra knowledge. Physical and chakra fine-tuning is now available."
I came to a stop. Then smiled. My heart raced—but not out of fear. Out of something better.
Following Nano's words, I sat down on the floor of my room, cross-legged. My pulse was even, my concentration cutting.
"Nano," I stated aloud, "transmit the information. After transmission completion, show available optimization choices."
"Affirmative."
A second passed, and then it hit me.
A torrent of knowledge—thick, complex, daunting. My mind was ablaze with detail: chakra theory, nature energy, kekkei genkai how they individually contribute to the harmony of life, and how chakra circulated not only in humans but also in animals. Ideas that had only been shadowy in scrolls now blossomed with crystal clarity. I beheld the paths of chakra via the tenketsu, the refined differences between elemental affinities, and the mechanics of shape and nature transformation.
It was a tempest within my mind—but one I could endure.
The agony was there, but not quite enough to scream. Through the last few years, I'd developed tolerance. Uncle Inoichi's mental discipline strengthened my mind. My mind didn't shatter under the heavy load of the information—it became flexible.
As the information receded, I remained still, eyes shut, gathering my wits and sorting the information.
I developed a Mind Library at age three out of desperation. The information in my head had begun to accumulate rapidly—too rapidly. I invented something to compensate. I based it on Occlumency in Harry Potter—a mental library. All information was in a book, stored on shelves I could reach when I needed it. It kept me safe then, and it keeps me safe now.
One at a time, I categorized the new knowledge into that mental repository. Chakra types: sections. Elemental natures: subsections. Kekkei genkai, chakra control techniques, theory of transformation, and medical usage: branches. When it was complete, I glanced up—not in the physical sense, but in my mental landscape—at Nano's display.
A new list had materialized.
Available Optimization Paths (Physical):
Cognitive & Memory Enhancement (in use)
Agility (in use)
Dexterity (in use)
Strength
Endurance
Flexibility
Reaction Speed (in use)
Stealth Optimization
Developmental Limitation: The body of the host can accommodate six physical optimizations simultaneously.
I already had four active ones: Cognitive, Agility, Dexterity, and Reaction Speed. That left me with two slots available.
I sat with it. Thought it through.
Endurance.
That one was a no-brainer. Even then, it was one of my largest bottlenecks. Without endurance, I couldn't push through lengthy training sessions. In actual combat—particularly for genin and early-chunin levels—endurance might be the difference between life and death. A showy jutsu was useless if I fainted halfway through a mission.
Flexibility.
The second option came easily. I wasn't a Uzumaki or a Senju—I didn't possess brute force as a chakra monster. My physique was fragile, still developing. In their place, I required flexibility, precision, and mobility. Flexibility would make my peculiar taijutsu style stronger, and my body a variable weapon.
I chose them both.
A heat spread through my body—not unlike chakra flow during meditation, but deeper. More substantial. More. biological. I could feel the changes in real time: the fire in my lungs dying down, the tension in my muscles relaxing. I could actually feel my body getting better, cell by cell. It wasn't just change—it was evolution.
And then the next prompt.
Chakra Optimization Paths:
Chakra Sensory Development (in use)
Chakra Rapid Development (in use)
Chakra Control Improvement
Ninjutsu Enhancement
Chakra Shape Transformation
Chakra Nature Transformation
Limitation of Development: The host's chakra system can accommodate four optimizations simultaneously.
I had two openings available.
I didn't hesitate.
Ninjutsu Enhancement. I needed it. I wanted it. I could already imagine myself standing tall, fire at my back, the battlefield quiet—and then I'd yell, just like Madara: "I hate weakness."
Because let's be honest—Madara didn't just apply ninjutsu, he flexed with it. The man dropped one fire jutsu and sent an entire platoon of ninjas running for cover like ants who just had their anthill kicked and someone pulled out a flamethrower.
The second option—is Chakra Nature Transformation. I was already experienced in shadow jutsu and mental transfer jutsu, both of which are deeply related to elemental types of chakra. If I wished to take those to a higher level—and ultimately move into other transformations—this was the next logical step.
As for Chakra Control? I'd already got that down. I'd learned tree walking, and water walking, and perfected it with sensory training under Uncle Inoichi's guidance. It wasn't my weak link any longer.
Having both chakra optimizations chosen, I closed my eyes and let the changes sink in.
This was the start of a new phase. My body, my mind, my chakra—all were coming together.
And I wasn't finished yet.
Once the optimizations were done, I got up, brushed myself off, and took up the scroll with the three fundamental academy jutsu. I'd read them, naturally—but this was different. My eyes glided over the words, my mind walking through every step: the hand signs, the flow of chakra, the theory behind the techniques. I didn't just read. I learned.
A minute later, I was prepared.
I stepped up to the mirror, breathed, and raised my hands.
Dog – Boar – Ram.
Poof!
Smoke exploded around me. When it dissipated, I was gazing into the mirror—at my father. His height, his hair, even the subtle wrinkles around his eyes. Exactly copied. I blinked.
It worked.
I'd executed the Transformation Jutsu on the first attempt.
It made sense. Theory in itself isn't sufficient—but with my superior cognitive processing and control over the chakras, it was nearly second nature. But "nearly" isn't sufficient. Transformation Jutsu isn't about shape—it's about tempo. If you can't perform it fast enough, it doesn't work in a true battle. The end goal isn't merely mastery. It's militarization.
So I repeated it. And again. And again—ten times total. By the tenth, I was able to intertwine the signs in under a second.
Dog – Boar – Ram. Poof.
I assumed the stance of Uncle Shikaku—hands in pockets, shoulders slumped, that cool strategic gaze in his eyes.
I smiled, then deactivated the jutsu.
But I wasn't finished.
"Nano," I spoke aloud to the quiet of my room, "give me techniques for executing ninjutsu with a single hand sign—and how to blend hand signs with either hand on its own."
"Affirmative," answered Nano.
"To use a ninjutsu with one hand sign is feasible," it went on, "but the practitioner must memorize the chakra routes completely, manually regulate the internal flow of chakra, and only set the first-hand sign to trigger or to shift chakra nature during mid-cast."
I nodded. It was understandable now why jutsu such as the Rasengan did not need hand signs—it wasn't a shortcut, it was muscle memory on a molecular level. If you understand the structure of a jutsu in and out, you don't need signs. You just do it.
"To perform hand signs with one hand," Nano continued, "you need to have superior hand speed, and concentrate on manually aiding chakra flow instead of using sign-caused flow."
That's what it all boiled down to—raw speed and internal control.
If I could learn one-handed signs and incorporate them into my fighting, I'd have a serious advantage—firing off jutsu in close combat while my opponent believed we were still in taijutsu range. Ideal ambush strategy.
I tried it. Hands raised. Slow at first. My fingers fumbled through the shapes, the chakra lagged behind. No cast. I tried again. Still no luck.
"Nano" I spoke out loud. "Help control the chakra flow. Calibrate my body's response to match the jutsu. Commit the pattern. When I cue you, activate the chakra path directly."
"Acknowledged," Nano responded.
It was a high-risk plan, but a sound one. An unexpected strategy—executed silently, during combat—could shift the momentum before the fighter even noticed I'd moved.
I trained harder. Focused on muscle memory and micro-adjustments. One by one, I worked through the remaining two academy jutsu—Clone Jutsu and Substitution Jutsu. Within an hour, I had them all.
Not just usable—but mastered.
I could even cast them without signs.
But I wouldn't show that. Not unless I had to. Because I knew the truth—being too talented too early? That brings attention. And attention brings trouble.
So at least for now, I'd keep it a secret.
Let the world believe I'm just another child prodigy, but I'm a monster no less than Sung Jin Woo.
Once I completed my training, I stood up from the ground and walked toward the kitchen. As ever, the smell of food wafted through the hot, comforting, earthy air. My father stood at the cooker, apron wrapped around his middle, eyes fixed on the pan in front of him.
At least, that's the way it appeared initially.
When I walked up closer, something felt odd. His body was tense. Shoulders squared. His steps weren't precise and drilled in like normal. He hadn't even caught on when I had entered. As if his thoughts were far from here.
I stepped closer to him behind his back and nudged his back with my finger.
He startled, bringing himself back from where his thoughts had wandered, and turned towards me.
"What did you happen to?" I inquired. "What were you so absorbed in thought over?"
For a second, he was silent. Then, in a soft voice, he finally answered.
"I've been called to the frontlines."
I froze.
My heart constricted. I couldn't speak, couldn't even decide what I should feel. Fear? Anger? Should I try to restrain him? Make him stay? Or stand behind him like a proper shinobi would?
"…Is it urgent?" I asked, head lowered, not wanting him to see my face.
He gave a deep breath and sat on one knee so that our eyes were even. His face was peaceful, yet there was pressure behind his.
"Yes," he said. "The war rages on like never before. The front lines are being worn too thin. As a jonin, I can't stay back anymore. Until now, I was being let off—for the most part, thanks to Shikaku. But even he can't keep the order back this time."
I nodded, still keeping my head down. My throat constricted. I wished to speak with some strength, some depth. But all I could do was:
"Dad… please take care of yourself. You're the only family I have left. If you ever find yourself facing an enemy you cannot defeat, then—for my sake—retreat. Just promise me—"
SLAP.
My cheek hurt. Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed up at him.
He wasn't angry, but not peaceful, either. His face was strained with feelings—anger, sorrow, pride, love—all combined.
"I will not leave you here in this world," he declared in a low but resolute voice. "I promised your mother. But I am a join, and I can't hide from my foes. If I withdraw while someone like myself might prevent some danger, what then? What if the man I allow to escape goes and kills another person—another one in as vulnerable a position as myself, if not more?"
His voice trembled momentarily.
"Suppose some person who believed in me died… because I was afraid?"
I said nothing.
"I can't guarantee to run," he said. "But I guarantee you this—I'll do everything I can to return to you. After all," he said, a small smile edging into his voice, "without me, who would you have left to quarrel with?"
He hugged me. I didn't resist.
We remained like that, silent, just clinging. Eventually, he got up, still holding my hand.
"I have three days before I depart," he told me. "During those three days, I'm going to teach you all I can. Taijutsu. Ninjutsu. Our Shadow Clan's methods. I know it's not a lot of time, but if it's you… I know you can do it."
He gazed at me, serious once more.
"Just remember. You're not cultivating power for revenge. You're doing it to protect."
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Chapter length-2789 words
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