Kiyohara’s eyes lit up, and he suddenly felt a sense of clarity.
Having a Jonin to help at a critical moment could very well save his life!
“Then let’s hurry and get to it.”
Kiyohara returned to the house and, under the puzzled gaze of the rogue ninja Kiyohara, fetched a blank scroll and a brush.
“What are you planning to do—suddenly buckle down and study now, hoping to see if you can have a valedictorian version of the future?”
The rogue ninja Kiyohara asked.
“No, that would be too much trouble.
I only got one ninjutsu from you, and one-on-one teaching means I can’t learn many others, but if I write them down, I can keep learning them forever.”
Kiyohara said with a serious face.
This way, whenever a future version of himself came, he could record all the ninjutsu that version knew.
Over time, he was bound to accumulate a massive library of ninjutsu.
How else could he maximize his gains?
Harvesting others—that’s called reaping chives.
But harvesting himself—could that really be called reaping chives?
It’s like taking an exam where everyone is cheating—only difference is, the answers you copy are the ones from your own mind.
“…”
The rogue ninja Kiyohara’s weathered, wind-beaten face revealed a trace of astonishment.
His past self seemed to be somewhat capitalistic.
After thinking it over, the rogue ninja Kiyohara still wrote it down.
After all, it was his past self—helping a little couldn’t hurt.
After the rogue ninja Kiyohara dictated another ninjutsu, he suddenly stopped moving.
“What’s wrong?”
Kiyohara thought the rogue ninja Kiyohara just needed more time to recall.
“Someone’s coming.”
Even as a spiritual body, he retained a Jonin’s sharp senses.
Without that, he wouldn’t have been able to survive steadily in the ninja world until middle age before dying.
Hearing this, Kiyohara set down the scroll he’d been recording and cleaned up the traces on the table.
“Kiyohara!”
Sure enough, after a moment, someone called out to Kiyohara from outside the door.
Kiyohara went to push open the door and saw a beautiful woman.
Those crimson pupils looked like a pair of red gemstones.
It was none other than Kurenai Yuhi.
“Kurenai.”
Kiyohara spoke.
Kurenai Yuhi was his teammate, and they had another teammate, Genma Shiranui.
The three of them belonged to the same squad.
“This is the military rations pill you asked me to buy.”
Kurenai Yuhi held out a small pouch to Kiyohara.
“Sorry for the trouble, Kurenai.”
Kiyohara accepted the pouch.
“How’s your other preparation coming along?”
Kurenai Yuhi asked.
In a few days, they were to go with members of Team Minato to carry out a classified mission.
It was so classified that even now they had no idea what the mission entailed—they only knew they were headed to Kannabi Bridge.
Were they going there to gather intel, or to launch an attack?
Only when the day arrived would the Jonin leading the team reveal the details.
“Almost ready.”
Kiyohara nodded.
There wasn’t much he needed to bring.
He just had to carry the rogue ninja Kiyohara’s urn with him—when the critical moment came, he’d rely on his future self to keep him alive.
“I really wish this war would come to an end.”
Kurenai, still in her teens, wore a crisp set of shinobi gear, with a hint of worry creasing her brow.
The unending war was like a dark cloud hanging over everyone’s hearts.
Being a shinobi was already a high-risk occupation, and when war broke out on top of that, it only added insult to injury.
“It won’t last much longer.”
Kiyohara said.
The essence of any war is collective violence, carried out through the use of force and weapons to achieve political, economic, or social ends.
The Great Ninja War was no exception—it was simply that the wounds of the Second Great Ninja War had healed, and the nations once again thought they stood a chance.
Except this time, every nation would end up a loser.
Konoha would lose a tremendous number of shinobi, to the point where children of only a few years old would be forced onto the battlefield.
Kumogakure would lose their pride, the Third Raikage.
Kirigakure’s Three-Tails would die along with Rin Nohara.
Iwagakure and Sunagakure alike would suffer from shinobi shortages and a hollowing-out of their strength.
If even the Five Great Nations were in such a state, the smaller countries fared even worse, with the most typical example being the Land of Rain, which had been so thoroughly infiltrated it resembled a sieve.
“How long exactly is ‘not much longer’?”
Kurenai Yuhi continued to ask.
“Probably just these few years.
Once there’s no one left to fight, won’t the war just stop?”
Though it was somewhat of a dark joke, that was simply the truth.
“Then won’t all our comrades be dead by then?”
Kurenai felt Kiyohara’s words were too terrifying.
“I think we should be worrying about ourselves.”
Kiyohara shook his head.
“Lord Minato is here as well, isn’t he?
Surely nothing will go wrong.”
At this time, like everyone else, Kurenai placed too much trust in Minato Namikaze’s reputation, believing things were all but certain.
“Anyone can die on the battlefield.
Don’t let your guard down, Kurenai.”
Kiyohara warned.
Had she not seen how Sasuke’s “Six Tomoe Rinnegan” could be stabbed out by a single kunai?
In the ninja world, no one could claim they would never die.
“Alright.”
Kurenai nodded.
“I’ll be going then.”
With that, Kurenai left the place.
Kiyohara quietly watched Kurenai’s retreating figure.
The rogue ninja Kiyohara’s spirit, meanwhile, had been watching the entire exchange between Kiyohara and Kurenai.
Sealed within his urn of ashes, he lacked all five senses and could not perceive anything happening in the outside world.
But once he floated out, he could exist like a soul.
“How good is your genjutsu?”
Kiyohara turned and asked.
He had noticed that the rogue ninja Kiyohara had only been supplying him with ninjutsu.
“Terrible.”
The rogue ninja Kiyohara spoke.
“Makes sense.”
Kiyohara thought it over carefully—unless a “Kurama Kiyohara” or “Uchiha Kiyohara” were to appear in the future.
Otherwise, there was no way his genjutsu skill could ever reach anywhere impressive.
This crappy world was proving the theory of bloodlines in every single way!
“Let’s keep going.”
After Kurenai left, Kiyohara took out his paper and brush once more, having the rogue ninja Kiyohara teach him ninjutsu.
After all, it was the only way—without strength, he couldn’t earn war merits, and without war merits, he couldn’t obtain new ninjutsu.
Konoha had long since locked ordinary shinobi into an inescapable vicious cycle.
…
For days on end, Kiyohara trained in ninjutsu at home.
Through testing, he discovered that his speed in mastering Wind Release and Lightning Release techniques had indeed increased considerably—his comprehension compared to the past was like night and day.
So this was the feeling of stacking buffs?
Loving it!
At that moment, in the courtyard, Kiyohara formed the Boar and Dragon hand seals with both hands, then brought them together and slammed them with force.
He gathered his Wind Release chakra in the center of his palm, then compressed the wind pressure.
Whoosh!
A semi-translucent gale shot out from Kiyohara’s palm, slamming into the tree stump and leaving behind a deep gash.
“Huff…”
Kiyohara started panting again.
There was nothing to be done—even for the rogue ninja Kiyohara, his chakra reserves were, frankly, less than one Kakashi.
If one took an elite Jonin like Kakashi’s chakra reserves as the standard, then the rogue ninja Kiyohara, who had only recently reached the strength of a regular Jonin, was certainly no match.
And the current Kiyohara was still only a Genin.
Even if his chakra reserves had grown somewhat compared to the past thanks to the fusion, he still felt a bit feeble.
“Shinobi combat is a battle of chakra.”
Kiyohara rubbed his chin.
Until he fulfilled the rogue ninja Kiyohara’s second last wish, he would have to ration his use of chakra carefully.
The next day.
While still in the middle of training, Kiyohara was called out by Minato Namikaze.
When he arrived, he found Obito, Kakashi, Rin Nohara, and the others all there.