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After being discharged from the hospital, life settled back into something like calm.
Kitahara Kaede didn’t stay idle.
The max-level talent brought more than just accelerated learning.
It confirmed a fact he’d verified the very first time he extracted chakra.
His chakra possessed all seven nature transformations.
Fire.
Water.
Wind.
Lightning.
Earth.
Yin.
Yang.
All seven.
Complete.
In the world of Naruto, an ordinary ninja who mastered two or three nature transformations in a lifetime was already considered exceptional.
All seven?
In his memory, fewer than ten people in all of Konoha’s history had that kind of gift.
So Kitahara Kaede went back to pestering his “father” for ninjutsu lessons.
The Hagoromo clan head eventually caved and produced two techniques: a C-rank Water Release called Wild Water Wave, and a B-rank ninjutsu — Shadow Clone Technique.
Two techniques.
Kaede watched each demonstration once, then performed them himself.
Wild Water Wave, first try.
Shadow Clone was clumsy on the first attempt, but it worked.
The clones the Shadow Clone Technique produced had actual physical substance.
They could be touched, could fight, could take a blade in your place, and could think independently.
Not like the E-rank clone from the Academy that dispersed if you breathed on it.
The Hagoromo clan head went quiet for a moment.
After the Great Fireball incident, he’d thought he was mentally prepared for his son’s talent.
But learning a B-rank ninjutsu from a single demonstration — that was jonin-level comprehension.
Kaede was quietly pleased with himself.
Not because of the talent.
What pleased him were the concrete gains.
In the real world, he didn’t even have access to ninjutsu training.
C-rank techniques were an unreachable luxury.
B-rank was beyond imagining.
Learning them for free in the simulator?
He’d be an idiot not to.
But all of that was the surface.
What Kitahara Kaede was actually working on, he told no one.
He was developing a technique.
More precisely, he was attempting to replicate an A-rank ninjutsu he’d read about but never witnessed, Lightning Release: Chidori.
He understood the principle.
High-density lightning-nature chakra concentrated in the palm, generating a cutting effect through high-speed oscillation.
Essentially a short blade made of chakra, with extreme penetrating power, capable of directly destroying internal organs and chakra pathways.
Two core difficulties.
The first was precision in lightning-nature chakra transformation.
Lightning Release wasn’t like Fire Release, where you simply released it and were done.
It required sustained high-frequency oscillation held in the palm.
Lose control of the chakra for even a moment and it would backfire on the user.
The second was compressing the transformed chakra into the palm without it dispersing.
In theory, with all seven nature transformations, lightning chakra posed no barrier for him.
But “no barrier” and “actually being able to do it” were two completely different things.
Every day, after finishing his regular training in the back mountain, Kaede would find an empty corner and practice alone.
Right hand extended.
Fingers slightly curled.
Chakra surging along his pathways toward his palm, undergoing lightning-nature transformation at the point of contact,
The first few attempts, the chakra blew apart the moment it transformed.
Not an actual explosion.
Dispersion from unstable transformation.
His palm went numb.
His fingertips twitched.
Like touching a live wire.
On the tenth attempt, a brief electric arc appeared in his palm.
Blue-white light.
Less than half a second, then it collapsed.
But that half-second confirmed what he needed to know.
He was pointing in the right direction.
All he needed was time.
He told no one about this.
Including Tsunade.
The only side effect was that his right palm often bore red marks from the shocks, and occasionally twitched on its own.
He attributed it to “old wounds not fully healed.”
Tsunade asked once.
“Why is your hand twitching again?”
“Old wound.”
She stared at his palm for two seconds.
The red marks and the scar from the kunai wound weren’t in the same place.
She didn’t press further.
…
School days continued as usual.
Kaede sent a clone to class and took his real body to the back mountain.
Tsunade read medical introductory textbooks in class and occasionally covered for him.
Jiraiya slept through class.
The only thing that changed was where the three of them went after school.
Tsunade went to the medical training room.
Every day, without fail, alone.
Kaede would sometimes pause when he passed by.
He never went in, just lingered outside the door and glanced through the half-open window.
Her hands hovered above a simulated wound.
Fingers slightly curled.
Green chakra seeped from her palms in a thin, even layer and settled over it.
It wasn’t very steady at first.
The chakra output fluctuated like a candle in the wind, brightening, dimming, brightening again.
When healing incisions, the edges of newly generated tissue would sometimes show uneven growth.
Not enough to affect function.
But imperfect.
Tsunade didn’t accept imperfect.
She would reset the simulated wound and start from the beginning.
Once.
Twice.
Seven times.
Eleven times.
Until the green light sat as still as water painted onto skin, without a single tremor.
Kaede watched for a while, then moved on.
One afternoon after class, Tsunade walked up to his desk and slapped a grade report down.
Medical Ninjutsu Basic Theory.
Full marks.
“You said it.” She tilted her chin up.
“I learn everything fast.”
Kaede glanced at the score, then at her expression.
He thought of the girl in the hospital room, hands clenched in her skirt, saying next time you’re hurt, I can handle it myself.
Less than a year.
“Fast, sure.” He pushed the grade report back toward her.
“But last time you practiced incision repair, your chakra output fluctuated three times.”
Tsunade’s eyebrows shot up.
“How do you know that?”
“I stood behind you and watched.”
“…You really have nothing better to do.”
“I was passing by.”
Tsunade snatched the grade report back, folded it twice, shoved it in her pocket, and walked off.
She muttered something on the way out.
Kaede didn’t quite catch it.
Probably something about minding your own business.
The next day he passed the medical training room again.
Tsunade was inside.
Alone.
Green chakra spread across the simulated incision, smooth and still as a mirror.
Not a single fluctuation.
Jiraiya seemed to have gotten serious, too.
Since the back-mountain training exercise, he’d attached himself to Kaede like a barnacle.
Every day after school, following him around the training field, running laps, drilling taijutsu.
At first he’d collapse after fifteen laps, gasping.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
When he couldn’t go anymore, he’d sprawl face-down in the grass and mutter, “His Greatness just hasn’t warmed up yet.”
Kaede never waited for him.
He trained what he needed to train.
If Jiraiya got up and caught up, good.
If not, there was always tomorrow.
Orochimaru still didn’t speak in class, didn’t speak after class.
He always sat in the corner by the window, reading books that had nothing to do with the lesson.
Occasionally their eyes would meet in the hallway, and he would give a slight nod.
Nothing more.
…
Another semester’s end.
Grades posted.
Kaede first, Tsunade second.
No suspense.
Tsunade stood at the bulletin board and stared at the rankings for 3 full seconds.
Then she turned and punched him in the shoulder.
Strength well beyond what her frame suggested.
It hurt through his clothes.
“I’ll beat you next time.”
“Alright.”
“You always say ‘alright.’ Not one shred of sincerity.”
“Then what do you want me to say?”
Tsunade snorted and turned to leave.
Two steps out, she looked back.
“Ninjutsu Practical — last subject.
I was only two points behind you.”
“Mm.”
“Two points.”
“I heard you.”
Tsunade glared at him, then actually left.
Jiraiya crouched beneath the bulletin board, gripping his white hair, muttering, “His Greatness just didn’t perform to his full potential.”
Nobody responded.
…
[Timeline accelerating —]
[Final two years of Ninja Academy.
Training focus shifted to practical combat and fine chakra control.
Weighted cross-country runs and free-climbing became daily routines.
Shadow clone sparring made up for the absence of high-level training partners.]
[Chakra reserves and ninjutsu proficiency: reached Chunin level.]
[The Lightning Release technique developed in secret achieved a breakthrough.
The electric arc in your palm extended from 3 seconds to 10.
Its form condensed from scattered sparks into an unstable orb of light.
Still far from the completed form, but the prototype exists.]
[The bubble of peace, however, was always going to break.]
[With the passing of the God of Shinobi, Senju Hashirama, the agreements between the Five Great Nations began to unravel.
The Hidden Cloud made the first move.
The Hidden Stone and Hidden Mist followed.
The First Shinobi World War broke out in full.]
[Your father, the Hagoromo clan head, followed the Second Hokage Senju Tobirama to the front lines.]
[The war ground on.
The Hidden Cloud fractured internally, war faction versus peace faction.
The Second Raikage moved to negotiate a ceasefire alliance with Konoha.]
[At the alliance ceremony, the Gold and Silver Brothers struck.
They assassinated the Second Raikage, then led an elite pursuit force after the Konoha delegation.]
[The Second Hokage Senju Tobirama stayed behind alone to cover his subordinates’ retreat.]
[Your father chose to stand beside him until the end.]
[That battle —]
[Second Hokage Senju Tobirama.
Killed in action.]
[The Hagoromo clan head.
Killed in action.]
[You became an orphan.]
[That same year, you visited your father’s grave.
You found Orochimaru there, also dressed in black.
His parents had died in the war as well.]
[He said: “Kaede, the fragility of life is disgusting.
I’m going to find the truth of eternity.”]
[You put a hand on his shoulder.
You said nothing.]
[All major nations had taken devastating losses.
The First Shinobi World War came to an end.
Sarutobi Hiruzen succeeded as the Third Hokage.]
[At his inauguration, facing the people of Konoha, he spoke the words that would echo through shinobi history,]
[“Wherever leaves dance in the wind, fire burns.
The shadow of that fire will illuminate the village, and new leaves will sprout.”]
[To fill the void of talent the war had carved open, the Third Hokage overhauled the system.
The Three-Man Squad: one jonin instructor, three genin.
The classic two-and-one configuration, designed to maximize survival through complementarity, and the occasional love triangle.]
[This year, you are eleven years old.]
[Chapter Three begins.]
…
Kitahara Kaede opened his eyes.
“You’re late.”
That familiar tone.
He came back to himself and turned.
Tsunade was leaning against a wooden railing by the road.
Two years had passed and she’d grown, noticeably taller.
Her golden hair was tied in a ponytail that rested on her shoulder, her face shifting gradually from the soft roundness of childhood toward something sharper, more defined.
But the way she spoke hadn’t changed one bit.
Arms crossed, looking at him sideways, the corners of her mouth slightly downturned.
“Yeah, I’m late.”
The corner of Tsunade’s mouth moved, that particular expression she got when someone admitted fault so cleanly that there was nothing left to be angry at.
She pushed off the railing and looked him over, top to bottom.
When her gaze reached his right hand, it paused.
That scar.
Palm to back of the hand, a through-and-through wound.
The mark of a kunai driven in and pulled back out.
Four years of new skin had grown over it, but the scar tissue was just a shade different from the surrounding skin, barely visible unless you were close, unless you were looking.
Tsunade always looked a little longer when she saw it.
“Let’s go.” She turned.
“The teacher’s waiting for us at Training Ground Three.”
She was already walking.
Kaede fell in beside her.
After two steps, he reached into the side pocket of his gear pouch and pulled something out.
“Did you eat breakfast?”
Tsunade’s stride hitched.
“Why does that matter?”
“Guessing you didn’t.”
He held out a rice ball.
Wrapped in bamboo leaves.
Still faintly warm.
Tsunade didn’t take it.
“I already ate.”
“Every time you say that, you haven’t.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re so annoying.”
She grabbed the rice ball, peeled back the bamboo leaf, and took a bite.
Chewed twice.
No comment.
Walked a few more steps.
Took another bite.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kaede could see her cheeks puffed out, like a hamster that had just found something worth protecting.
“Good?”
Tsunade didn’t answer.
“Corner of your mouth.”
She blinked.
“What?”
“Right side.
Grain of rice.”
Tsunade swiped at it quickly with the back of her hand, then turned to glare at him.
“Can’t you look somewhere else?”
“I’m watching the road.”
“You were obviously looking at me.”
“Incidentally.”
The tips of her ears went pink, barely visible, tucked behind stray strands of gold.
She picked up her pace, pulling a half-step ahead.
“Hurry up.
We’re going to be late.”
“You’re the one who made us late.”
“I was waiting for you!”
…
➤ Next: The Bell — The Conversation