Everything matched exactly what Yuu had guessed.
Minato had realized that Tobirama’s Flying Raijin — this unique instant‑movement technique — worked by using spatial perception to lock onto fixed spacetime coordinates: vanishing from Point A, appearing at Point B, folding space to create a new dimension.
Building on that foundation, Minato developed his own method of spatial markers.
He would project chakra outside his body — similar to shadow clones, but fundamentally different — condensing it into distinct points anywhere within his sensing range.
If anyone or anything touched one of these points, he would feel it instantly.
That meant whenever a Flying Raijin kunai passed through or aligned with one of his chakra markers, that spot became his locked spacetime coordinate.
No extra time spent scanning.
That was why Minato could cast Flying Raijin almost without pause.
“The Yellow Flash… this is the secret behind the name.”
It all clicked.
Minato hadn’t outpaced them because he was faster — he’d sensed their movements before they even acted.
He had all the time in the world to pick the perfect angle and timing to dodge, and to counter before they could adjust.
To Obito and the others, it just looked like he moved impossibly fast.
In ninja combat, instinct and danger sense are everything.
Once you commit to an action, changing course mid‑strike is incredibly hard.
Minato’s style — reading enemies ahead of time and exploiting that lag — upended every assumption Yuu had about battle.
Fighting can be like this?
It reminded him of Jeet Kune Do from his old life; Minato’s philosophy and Bruce Lee’s shared the same core.
It also made him think of his own Sharingan, which already granted unmatched insight and copying ability.
Most of all, its perception could pierce every form of ninjutsu, taijutsu, and genjutsu — and predict attacks early enough to defend, pushing his combat power even higher.
Could I learn Minato’s tactics using the Sharingan?
“So this is why the Flying Raijin is so impossible to guard against!”
But what truly caught Yuu’s eye was Tobirama’s notes on Uchiha Izuna.
Tobirama had killed Izuna with the Flying Raijin — yet his journal warned repeatedly: Beware an Uchiha like Izuna.
Such a one will counter this technique.
That seemed contradictory.
How could the very move that killed him be countered by him?
Digging deeper, Yuu found the answer.
In their battles, Tobirama had noticed something strange about Izuna’s Sharingan — especially how it tracked motion.
As a Senju, and the Uchiha’s fiercest rival, Tobirama knew the Sharingan better than almost anyone — sometimes even better than the Uchiha themselves.
After countless clashes, one thing defied explanation.
Though the Flying Raijin had caught Izuna off‑guard — a killing blow — Izuna had still reacted.
Before it even landed.
That was why he hadn’t died instantly.
Tobirama feared it.
He’d called Izuna the “Flawless Shinobi” not just for his sharp vision, but because it seemed he could see the future and act accordingly.
The Flying Raijin moved too fast for anyone to track — it had never existed before — so Izuna should have had zero chance.
Yet he’d still moved.
Tobirama concluded: Izuna’s Sharingan may have let him see what was to come, even at such close range.
He never understood exactly what made those eyes different.
But he left a warning: whoever masters the Flying Raijin must watch for an Uchiha like Izuna — eyes that might see the coordinates locked in space before the technique even fires.
Tobirama’s words sounded wild, almost absurd — but Yuu knew better.
Tobirama was nothing if not cold, precise, and rational.
He wouldn’t write such things without cause.
Only one conclusion remained: Izuna’s Sharingan held something beyond Tobirama’s grasp — something no one had fully understood.
“The key lies in motion perception… what did Izuna see that even Tobirama couldn’t explain?” Yuu wondered aloud.
He knew the Sharingan could accelerate reaction speed, granting reflexes several times — even ten times — faster than normal.
That was why Madara with the Eternal Mangekyō could cut through an army like slicing melons.
Without Tobirama’s notes, Yuu would have assumed motion perception simply made time appear to slow down.
Now he had to rethink everything.
“Even if it feels like time slows, that doesn’t mean you can see the future.
As the creator of the Flying Raijin, Tobirama would never get such a critical detail wrong.”
“That’s why he believed Izuna’s eyes were unlike any other Uchiha’s.
He arrived at an answer he couldn’t accept — but which fit all the facts: Izuna saw the future, and that was how he reacted.”
Yuu followed the same logic.
As a man from another world, he remembered a famous maxim: Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains — no matter how improbable — must be the truth.
If Tobirama was right — and if Yuu’s modern knowledge held — then Izuna must have been seeing four‑dimensional space.
The fourth dimension beyond our three is time.
Past, present, future — all unspooled like a scroll, visible all at once.
“Is that truly possible?” You are reading on g.com, the official source.
Yuu recalled reading once that human eyes can perceive four‑dimensional space — but our brains lack the processing power to make sense of it.
If Tobirama was right…
The Sharingan is the key that lets the brain receive what lies in four dimensions.
If that was true — how could he do what Izuna did?
Not just see it, but let his mind process it through the Sharingan.
“Only one way to find out.”
Even as a theory, the thought was too thrilling to ignore.
He activated his Sharingan — still only one tomoe, while Tobirama’s notes described Izuna’s Mangekyō — and began to test.
He took an apple he’d set aside for Obito, tossed it in the air, and watched.
Ghosted trails appeared.
The apple seemed to hang, slowed — just as motion perception always worked.
Without Tobirama’s notes, he would have left it at that.
“No — this is just speed perception.
It’s nowhere near what Tobirama described.”
“Something’s missing… eyes, tomoe, rotation — could it be how fast they spin?”
He glanced in the mirror, watching the tomoe slow to a stop, and a guess took shape.
He re‑activated the Sharingan, and forced the tomoe to spin faster — something no Uchiha had ever tried, something others would call madness, something that could damage the eye itself.
The faster they turned, the more Yin chakra surged from his eyes into his mind — draining him fast — until the world shifted, just a little.
“Something’s changing!”
The apple’s trails multiplied.
A drop of milk spilling from the table left streaks across its fall.
Yuu’s heart raced.
“I still can’t see the future in four dimensions — but more trails mean my mind is running faster.
The theory holds: spin the Sharingan far enough, and the brain can process what lies beyond three dimensions.”
Driven by excitement, he pushed the tomoe harder.
Exhaustion set in; his eyes burned — a clear warning to stop.
“Should I stop?
Damn it — why hasn’t it changed?
Did I get it wrong?”
He jotted the thought down in his journal.
> [Record: High‑speed rotation of the Sharingan’s motion perception may reveal four‑dimensional space.]
He hoped the system would confirm or deny his reasoning.
> [Recording… Detected use of an unknown, mysterious force in this entry.
Channel it?]
“Mysterious force?”
This was new.
When he first gained the journal, he’d asked what else it could do — and been told only that he would trigger it when the time came.
> [Channel it.]
He had to know.
This system was his greatest lifeline, his strongest card in this world.
The more he understood it, the better his chances.
> [Begin absorption.]
A wave of dizziness washed over him; his spinning tomoe slowed to a halt.
> [Record saved.
Feedback altered — absorbed trace of host’s four‑dimensional awareness.
View?
All daily entries used.]
“View it.”
> [Feedback generated: Fragment of future prediction.
Extract?]
Future prediction?
What does that mean?
He pulled the fragment up — and saw himself.
In the vision, his own eyes widened with shock, wonder, excitement — and three tomoe spun clearly in his gaze.
A system prompt followed: The journal has extracted four‑dimensional perception — future sight — from your Sharingan.
He’d done it.
His guess was right.
More importantly: he could feed the system his own abilities.
Use four‑dimensional awareness to record, and earn a prediction.
Future sight.
A power like that…
If he could bring that into battle, he could see every move before it happened — just as Minato mastered space, Yuu would master time itself.
As the realization settled, his view shifted.
A faint, translucent line stretched out before his eyes, thin and flickering.
For a moment he feared his Sharingan had broken, and quickly deactivated it.
The line vanished.
He opened his eyes again — it stayed gone.
But when he sharpened his motion perception, the line reappeared.
System — what is that line?
No reply.
He’d already used all his entries for the day.
“Guess I’m pulling another all‑nighter…”
Glancing at the time, he saw midnight would soon pass.
Yuu closed his eyes and waited; the moment the clock struck twelve, he began to write.
> [Record: A faint, flickering line appeared in my Sharingan — like a crack opening in my vision.
Is something wrong with my eyes?!]
> [Ding!
Record saved.
Feedback received.
Extract?
14 entries remaining today.]
“Extract it.”
> [Feedback: The line you see is a view of four‑dimensional space.]
Relief washed over him — his eyes weren’t broken.
Then his heart raced.
That faint line was four‑dimensional space.
He’d done it.
If what lay beyond matched what he remembered from his old world… then it was the future.
The flow of time itself.
Nothing in the official databooks had ever mentioned this.
But Yuu also realized that forcing the line open would take an immense toll on his Sharingan — pushing too hard could blind him entirely.
In that moment, a revelation struck: Izanagi, the forbidden Uchiha technique, which rewrote misfortune into good fortune and even cheated death, must also draw on this power — opening a crack into four dimensions to reshape what had already happened.
It raised more questions: the Infinite Tsukuyomi might be nothing more than projecting four‑dimensional reality into three dimensions; with enough power, there would be no need to turn people into White Zetsu — one could simply manifest the world itself.
Sasuke’s Amenotejikara, too, was clearly four‑dimensional manipulation.
Even Shibai Otsutsuki’s Almighty Creation — the power to make thought reality, the ultimate power of a god — was likely another form of four‑dimensional manifestation.
The line remained too thin to see through, even when he spun his tomoe to their limit; only the system could pull glimpses from it.
Yet watching it, he felt something new — not sight, sound, smell, taste, or touch — but a strange, intangible sense, as if he’d suddenly grown a tail.
He trusted that with the system’s help, and by drawing on the Sharingan power of other clansmen, he would understand it in time.
The four‑dimensional fragments felt like watching a video, easing his mind and carrying him back to his old life.
Then a thought struck: If it’s like a video… can I fast‑forward?
For a moment, he stopped thinking like a shinobi and thought like the anime fan he’d once been.
The system seemed to hear him — the fragment skipped ahead.
It worked.
Can I pause?
Rewind?
The image froze, then played backward.
It felt familiar.
Then he thought: If the system can pull the future from that line… can it show me how ROOT plans to kill me?
He fixed his Sharingan on the line — and pain exploded.
Not just in his eyes, but deep in his body.
His mind snapped back to Konoha.
Physical pain?
Are they already here?
Before he could reason further, darkness took him.