“This scroll contains some relatively low-level Fuinjutsu.
Your mother likely brought it with her from the Land of Whirlpools back in the day,” Principal Ichii explained.
“Later, when your mother fell severely ill, she specifically sent someone to deliver this scroll to me.” He spoke with complete transparency.
“I’ve already read through the contents of the scroll and made a copy for the village’s archives.
So, you can practice it in the future without any reservations or fear of suspicion.” Although the current timeline was roughly twenty years before the start of the original canon story, the tragic reality was that Uzushiogakure—the Village Hidden by Whirling Tides—had already been wiped out by the combined forces of Kumogakure, Kirigakure, and other hidden villages six or seven years ago.
Naturally, the surviving members of the Uzumaki clan were left homeless, scattered and wandering across the far corners of the ninja world.
Ayane wasn’t entirely clear on the specifics of her mother’s past.
However, based on the timeline, her mother must have left the Land of Whirlpools and married into the Land of Rain long before the village’s destruction, meaning she had likely been spared the trauma of watching her homeland burn.
This scroll was probably the price her mother had paid, a token of absolute sincerity, to beg the Principal to look after her daughter before she passed away…
The young girl pursed her lips, accepted the scroll, and unrolled it for a quick glance.
Fantastic…
Dense, tadpole-like formulas and sealing marks were scattered all over the parchment.
Just a single glance was enough to make her head spin.
The overwhelming aura of sheer, suffocating academic complexity hit her right in the face…
If the C-rank Ninjutsu she practiced daily were the equivalent of middle school geometry, Ayane figured this stuff was at least university-level advanced calculus…
It made sense for a peerless genius like Minato Namikaze to play around with this stuff and make it look easy.
But she couldn’t fathom how a brash, hot-blooded tomboy like Kushina Uzumaki was supposed to be a master of this…
The two concepts completely clashed in her mind…
“Look at it when you get home,” Ichii said, waving his hand.
“This discipline is incredibly difficult to learn.
The village has trained countless shinobi, but those who excel in Fuinjutsu are few and far between.
Still, the blood of the Uzumaki flows through your veins; you should have an easier time grasping the basics than the rest of us.” The girl nodded silently.
She appeared to be accepting the challenge, but internally, she was already throwing in the towel.
If I have to rely on self-study to learn this, it’s going to be a nightmare.
Her best bet was to grind hard, hope she could generate a “Fuinjutsu” Trait on her system panel, and pray the system would carry her through it…
Hey, I grinded for those Achievement Points with my own blood, sweat, and tears!
Claiming it’s all through my own hard work is completely justified!
“As for the items your father left behind…” Ichii respectfully lifted the remaining blade with both hands and presented it to Ayane.
“This is his chakra blade.” It was an exceptionally sharp weapon.
The blade was slender, measuring roughly sixty to seventy centimeters in total length, with a pale cyan tsuba (handguard) resting near the hilt.
Upon taking it, Ayane drew the blade slightly from its scabbard.
A cold, white glint of steel flashed through the dimly lit room.
She lowered her head, carefully observing the intricate, dense folding patterns along the weapon’s edge.
Even without knowing exactly what made it special, just looking at it evoked a profound sense of awe.
“It was forged from top-tier chakra-conductive metal by a master smith in the Land of Iron who spent three years tempering and polishing it.
It is vastly superior to the mass-produced, soulless standard issue gear churned out by the Takumi Village.” Watching the cyan-hilted blade leave his hands, Ichii displayed a rare moment of nostalgic melancholy.
“Weedapons of this caliber are becoming increasingly rare in our village.
In the future, we may never see them again.” A little over a year ago, news of the Land of Iron’s defeat had reached them.
While the younger generation might not have felt much about it, for an old veteran like Ichii, it brought a wave of heavy emotion.
In his youth, Hanzo of the Salamander had also traveled to the Land of Iron to study kenjutsu.
Yet today, he had personally hammered the final nail into the coffin of the samurai’s legacy.
Ayane didn’t feel much of that melancholic sentiment.
She gripped the hilt and gave it a few test swings in the air.
At a height of 1.6 meters, the girl was actually a bit too short for a blade of this length, making it slightly unwieldy.
Fortunately, she was still growing.
Honestly, until she reached the godly tier of ‘clapping her hands together and shouting whatever jutsu she wanted’, having a high-quality weapon felt vastly superior to fighting empty-handed.
Satisfied, she slid the blade back into its scabbard with a sharp clack.
“By the way, Senior, does it have a name?” she asked.
Ichii smiled.
“The blacksmith who forged it originally named it Kogitsunemaru (Little Fox).
But since it has a new master now, you are free to give it a new name.” Ayane thought for a moment.
Looking at the cyan handguard, a spark of inspiration hit her.
She patted the scabbard and smiled.
“Alright, from now on, you’ll be called…
Arashikiri (Storm Cutter)!” Ichii smacked his lips, savoring the name.
“Arashikiri…
Storm Cutter…
A fine name.
It’s no wonder you got an S-rank on your written exam with that highly imaginative and entertaining essay about Lord Hanzo shooting down Onoki with a single kunai.” The girl’s mouth twitched.
Can we please never bring that up again…?
During times of war, everything served the frontlines.
Amegakure’s administrative efficiency was brutally fast.
The Academy graduates had barely received their squad assignments from their homeroom teachers that morning before they were systematically collected by ninja from various departments and shipped off to their respective battlefields in less than an afternoon.
The chubby Takayuki Nagano waited anxiously until Ayane returned from the Principal’s office, making sure to give her a tearful goodbye.
He was heading to the Reconnaissance Force.
According to Ichii, that was the combat division with the absolute highest casualty rate on the battlefield.
Ayane had no idea how someone with his rotund physique had qualified for Reconnaissance, but she sincerely wished him the best of luck.
Her tone was solemn.
“Nagano, once you reach the frontlines, please take care of yourself.” “Ayane…
you too!” Having simp-ed for two and a half years and finally getting a genuine response, Nagano was thrilled.
“Just wait!
Once…
once I earn some merits on the battlefield, I’ll definitely come back and treat you to some peach wine at the izakaya!” Although the Three Shinobi Prohibitions clearly stated that ninja should avoid excessive drinking—and village regulations outright forbade minors under eighteen from drinking at all…
For shinobi who lived on the bleeding edge of a kunai and never knew if they would see tomorrow, breaking a few rules was practically a daily routine.
The ‘peach wine’ Nagano mentioned was a sweet, extremely low-alcohol beverage popular in the village, and many underage ninja would secretly buy a glass just to get a taste of adulthood.
Ayane remained silently looking at him.
Seeing her quiet demeanor, the chubby boy carefully reined in his excited smile.
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but the escorting ninja standing nearby had already lost his patience.
The man pulled a long face and snapped, “Enough yapping, brat!
We’re moving out!
Save your sweet talk for if you actually manage to survive the battlefield!” Hearing the harsh reprimand, the chubby boy quickly bowed his head.
“I-I’m so sorry!” The ninja shook his head, not bothering to scold him further.
He cast a side-glance at the slim, pretty girl standing nearby and muttered under his breath, “Ignorant kid.
Once Lord Hanzo leads us to conquer the Land of Fire, you’ll have your pick of whatever kind of woman you want.
I don’t know what you see in a beanpole like her anyway…” Hearing this, Nagano—who had just been cowering submissively in front of his senior—suddenly flared up and shouted back, “Hey, hey, hey, Senpai!
You might be older than me, but my love for Ayane is true…” “Please, Senpai…
do not…” “…use such vulgar words to insult my feelings for her!” The chubby boy was physically dragged out of the classroom by the collar, his dramatic protests fading into the distance.
Ayane remained in her seat, watching him disappear down the hall.
She felt a strange mix of amusement and a lingering sense of sorrow.
Although that older ninja’s attitude was garbage, one thing he said was absolutely right.
No matter what the future held, she had to survive the battlefield first!