“Rejected.”
Lying in bed with an expression utterly devoid of emotion, Aoba passed on the first option without a second thought.
Using the chip to stimulate human growth hormone secretion was essentially forcing growth at the expense of his foundation.
It came with severe side effects—burning through his potential and causing his growth plates to close prematurely.
He only wanted to grow up a bit faster; there was no need to make such a reckless sacrifice.
“As for Option Two…
that’s a real headache!” Aoba rolled over, tangling himself in his blanket.
“Creatures possessing chakra?
Things like that practically qualify as summon animals.
Besides, once beasts gain chakra, many of them develop sapience—just like youkai, they can even talk.”
*That leaves no choice but to hunt in the Forest of Death,* Aoba mused quietly.
Rumor had it that the Forest of Death was originally created by the First Hokage’s Wood Release, and quite a few beasts within had grown abnormally massive under the lingering influence of his chakra.
Naturally, they had also become exceptionally dangerous, which was how the training ground earned its ominous name.
Moreover, many of the summon animals throughout the village had been captured right from that forest.
“That’s definitely worth a shot…”
The trouble was that, much like antibiotics, his body developed a tolerance if he consumed too much of the same thing.
He would have to constantly switch up his sources.
When he first started eating that killer bee honey, the results had been astonishing—not only accelerating his height growth, but also granting a massive surge in chakra.
Now, it was little more than everyday sugar to him.
*Sigh~.*
Aoba sat up and scratched his messy hair.
[Re-searching database…
Option Three: Acquire a Kekkei Genkai.
Feasibility analysis in progress…]
“A Kekkei Genkai…”
Aoba tapped his chin with a finger.
He activated his makeshift chakra radar once again.
No Anbu surveillance.
Ever since he gave Asuma a brutal beatdown that day, the Anbu seemed to have stopped watching him entirely.
Of course, it was also possible they had simply become stealthier, but the likelihood was slim—even his mysterious sixth sense showed no reaction.
This “sixth sense” was a perk of living through two lifetimes, much like a battle-hardened veteran developing an extreme sensitivity to the faintest trace of killing intent, allowing them to evade enemy ambushes.
Aoba formed the Snake hand seal with both hands, and a small fireball manifested above his palm.
[Fire Release・Great Fireball Technique]
It was the only Fire Release ninjutsu Aoba currently knew.
After several modifications aided by the chip, he no longer needed to exhale it from his mouth.
However, without the momentum of a projected airstream, the jutsu’s destructive power took a nosedive.
Still, it became far more controllable, making it convenient for him to study the nature transformation and shape transformation of fire chakra.
His repertoire of Fire Release jutsu was just too meager.
Even with the auxiliary chip analyzing every detail, his progress crawled at a snail’s pace.
Aside from Fire, he also possessed Earth Release.
He was born with dual-natured chakra, confirmed via chakra induction paper two years ago.
While progress on fire was slow, putting in the hours yielded steady results; earth, on the other hand, left him completely at a loss, having no idea where to even begin.
Uncle Shinku definitely knew Earth Release and could offer guidance.
The problem was finding a “perfect” excuse.
Nature and shape transformations of chakra were high-level ninja secrets.
It was monopolized knowledge.
Ordinary Chunin couldn’t even dream of touching information at this level; for the vast majority of shinobi, knowing the hand seal sequences and executing them smoothly was already the absolute norm.
Aoba waved his hand, dismissing the fireball.
After a quick wash, he began preparing breakfast.
Even if his growth had hit a temporary plateau, maintaining proper nutritional intake remained essential.
Aoba was so fixated on “growing up” not only because he hated being treated like a kid—children dealt with endless annoyances and restrictions, where merely purchasing kunai and paper bombs required presenting ninja credentials, having an adult present, and explaining the intended use.
More importantly, he needed to expand the capacity of his “bucket.”
The body was the container; chakra was the water.
If the container wasn’t large enough, even if one mastered a forbidden technique, there wouldn’t be enough juice to cast it.
With the auxiliary chip, mastering ninjutsu was child’s play for him.
He certainly didn’t want to end up like the future Sharingan Kakashi—boasting a repertoire of a thousand copied jutsu, only to be hamstrung by pathetic chakra reserves, forced to overanalyze every fight and pinch every drop of chakra, earning himself the mocking moniker of “Hatake Fifty-Fifty” among netizens back on Earth.
Beyond that, he had another identity dilemma to resolve.
A civilian student at the Academy had far too little backing.
Even after graduating, one remained an ordinary civilian ninja, entirely cut off from high-level intelligence.
The scrolls left behind by his deceased parents didn’t even mention nature or shape transformations, let alone Kekkei Genkai.
Trying to fuse two nature transformations purely through imagination was impossible.
How was that any different from knowing nuclear fission is triggered by a neutron striking an atomic nucleus?
What about the process?
What about the methodology?
The longer he stayed in this world, the more suffocating the class stratification felt.
The monopoly on ninjutsu knowledge was downright appalling.
An ordinary civilian hoping to learn ninjutsu?
Keep dreaming.
He had visited the village’s public library a few times.
The shelves were stuffed with brainwashing propaganda like *The Legacy of the Will of Fire*, *Quotations of the Past Hokage*, and *The History of the Hidden Leaf Village*, with the remainder consisting of trashy biographical novels.
Any advanced theories touching upon chakra nature or shape transformation were nowhere to be found.
Even in the Academy’s library, apart from the fraying scrolls on the Basic Three Techniques, the rest merely covered laying traps, decoding ciphers, and foraging in the wild.
Knowledge was power, and the Konoha higher-ups had locked that power inside a vault—one whose keys belonged exclusively to the noble clans and the village leadership.
If the source of one’s knowledge couldn’t withstand scrutiny, long-term surveillance was the mildest outcome; memory probes, being sent to Root for brainwashing, and landing on an autopsy slab after death were standard operating procedure.
“Yeah, web novels really are full of crap.”
Aoba sighed, cleaned up his dishes, and grabbed the ninja pouch off the table to strap around his waist.
Before heading out, he grabbed a few handfuls of feed to scatter for the crows in the courtyard.
That’s right, he had started raising crows.
The nickname “Ao-Itachi Yamashiro” wasn’t half bad.
Most importantly, it looked cool!
…
The Forest of Death.
Slipping through a gap in the damaged wire fence, the bustling noise of the village gradually gave way to the chirping of insects and calls of birds.
Colossal ancient trees blotted out the sky, allowing only dappled beams of sunlight to filter through the canopy.
The air hung thick with the earthy scent of decaying leaves and soil.
Aoba darted swiftly among the branches, his movements as light and agile as a civet.
With his frequent use of the Body Flicker, his activation speed was growing faster by the day.
“Hm?”
Aoba halted.
Tapping the bark lightly with the tips of his toes, he floated onto a high branch like a weightless feather.
*Rumble—!*
The ground began to tremble, and the underbrush ahead parted and flattened as if mowed down by a bulldozer.
A massive spherical object spun at high velocity, bulldozing forward with tremendous momentum.
Trees in its path splintered in showers of woodchips, while thinner trunks snapped cleanly in two.
“Human Bullet Tank?”
Aoba raised a brow.
In all of Konoha, only one clan practiced this distinctive taijutsu.
The giant meatball finally ground to a halt after slamming into a boulder with a dull, heavy thud.
As the dust settled, a chubby boy sat dazed on the ground, his eyes spinning in dizzy circles.
“Ow, ow, ow…”
Rubbing his head, the boy struggled to his feet.
He wore an oversized training outfit with the kanji for “Food” embroidered across the chest.
The Akimichi clan.