“Lord Shikaku, I’m Yanagyū Chiba.
Forgive me for coming without proper notice.”
Chiba bowed politely.
Shikaku waved the concern off with a smile.
“No need for that.
Truth be told, I’d meant to invite you over myself earlier, but you were still recovering, and the hospital had you busy besides, so I didn’t want to intrude on your time.
Glad you decided to come.”
“I hope I’m not imposing.”
After the customary exchange of pleasantries, Chiba was shown into the courtyard.
“Good day.
I’m Nara Shikamaru.”
Shikamaru still had that same listless look about him, though he greeted Chiba without much trace of hostility from their last encounter—clever as he was, and even-tempered by nature, he’d already let that whole business go.
“Shikamaru, ha, you might not know this, but he submitted the tool-manipulation technique a while back too.
It’s already being taught at the chūnin level now.”
Shikaku got the conversation started.
Shikamaru’s eyes flickered with surprise at that, though realization followed quickly after.
Of course.
If the chakra threads had been strong enough to hold all three of them that day, plain ninja tools would be child’s play by comparison.
This guy’s real target probably wasn’t tool manipulation at all—it had to be puppetry, didn’t it?
Shikamaru thought to himself.
“It’s nothing much.
Just a C-rank technique.”
Chiba brushed it off.
Shikaku shook his head lightly.
“Plenty of people have come up with advanced techniques over the years.
Very few actually manage to learn them.
Take the Rasengan, for instance—you and the Fourth Hokage landed on the same idea independently, and how many people have actually mastered it since?”
Shikamaru listened without cutting in, watching Chiba with quiet interest, curious how he’d answer.
“That’s true enough.
Though chakra threads alone don’t accomplish much, and what one person can do is limited.
It takes everyone contributing their own ideas together—that’s what makes Konoha stronger.”
Chiba nodded, agreeing readily.
Shikaku nodded back with a smile, chatted with him a bit longer, then glanced over and said, “I hear you’ve been researching muscle physiology, the body, pharmacology lately.
Did you come here looking for rare herbs, or for books?”
“Ah, no hiding anything from you, Lord Shikaku.
I heard the earliest foundations of pharmacology in Konoha came from the Nara clan, so there’s a formula I haven’t been able to perfect.
I was hoping you might advise me on it.”
Chiba explained, laying out his thinking and the ingredients he’d chosen so far.
Shikaku’s eyes narrowed slightly, then he smiled.
“That kind of medicine would benefit every shinobi a great deal, but the Akimichi clan especially.
They hold certain secret formulas dealing with stimulating the body directly.”
Which meant—
Something clicked in Chiba’s mind.
Shikaku was clearly saying the Akimichi understood this particular area far better.
But where Chiba still had some standing goodwill with the Nara clan, he had no relationship whatsoever with the Akimichi.
Showing up out of nowhere to ask for knowledge at that level of secrecy simply wasn’t realistic.
He opened his mouth to say something along those lines.
“You didn’t hide anything from me just now, which tells me you trust my character.
Why don’t I take the lead on this—I’ll reach out to the Akimichi clan on your behalf.
If they’re willing to take part, the three of us can develop something better together.
If not, our two clans can work on it jointly instead.” Shikaku said it plainly, not bothering to shield Shikamaru from the conversation, watching Chiba closely.
“You’d be splitting the benefit a bit more ways, but there’s plenty to gain too.
Think it over.”
“That would be wonderful.
Thank you so much for your help!”
Chiba agreed without hesitation.
Shikaku had half-expected him to hesitate over the split, weighing his own interests.
In truth, though, what Chiba actually wanted and what Shikaku assumed he wanted were two entirely different things.
All Chiba cared about was reputation.
Shikaku nodded, smiling, and drew him into a little more conversation.
Not long after, catching the scent of food drifting from inside, Chiba took the hint and said his goodbyes.
Shikaku watched him go, then let out a quiet sigh.
“Is Father disappointed he can’t learn ninjutsu or genjutsu?”
Shikamaru asked, noticing.
Shikaku shot him a look, then said dryly, “A boy that sharp at his age—why would I waste pity on that?
What I’m disappointed about is that he isn’t my son.”
He hadn’t named anyone directly, but the jab landed all the same.
Shikamaru grumbled internally.
“Kid, there are plenty of clever people in this world.
Don’t wait until you hit real trouble before you regret not putting in the effort earlier.
Come on, enough talk—let’s eat.”
The Akimichi clan, huh.
Completely slipped my mind.
Their secret formula paired with what I’ve got could be genuinely powerful—even if I only pick up part of it, that’s enough to work toward something that stimulates the body, stamina, and chakra all at once.
Stimulant medicines like that came at the cost of lifespan, of one’s very foundation—but none of that mattered much if you didn’t survive the fight in front of you.
Life came before anything else, and medicine like this could be exactly what saved it, when the moment demanded.
If I can get a real line into the Akimichi clan, that’s two formulas at once instead of one.
He’d only meant to pay a courtesy visit, and it had turned into an unexpected windfall.
Chiba ran on, a smile creeping across his face despite himself.
Just then, the sound of quick footsteps rose up behind him, and a moment later he sensed a familiar presence.
Rock Lee.
He slowed his pace.
“Chi—Chiba, wait up!”
“Lee.
Class just let out?”
“Yeah.
Ugh, everyone’s been studying so hard lately—Tenten and the others.
I just can’t keep up with that no matter how hard I try, so after a few days I gave up and went back to training instead.”
Lee sighed, and it was plain from his expression that something had been weighing on him lately.
Chiba couldn’t help a small laugh, then spoke seriously.
“Why compare yourself to them at all?
I only graduated early because I had a specific need to.
You leave the Academy behind, and you’re still training every single day regardless.
If you don’t learn to balance effort and rest, you’ll end up wrecking your own body one of these days.”
“You think so?”
“Did Sensei Guy hit you for slacking?”
“Ah.
He did.”
Lee admitted it honestly.
He wasn’t a particularly clever boy—mostly he just got swept up in whatever mood surrounded him at school.
But hearing both Guy and Chiba say more or less the same thing made it feel like there might be something to it, and gradually he let the worry go.
And then—
“Yosh!
That’s it, training with Chiba just feels right!
My flames of youth are burning bright again!
Chiba, let’s duel—five hundred laps, whoever gives out first loses, then a hundred rounds of handstands!”
“Ha.”
Chiba didn’t bother answering, simply picking up his pace instead.
“Eh?
Wait for me!”
“By the way, where’s Sensei Guy?”
Normally Lee trained alongside Might Guy without fail.
“Out on a mission, probably,” Lee said.
“Fair enough.
Actually, since I’ve run into you, there’s a project I’ve been working on that could use another set of hands.
Any interest in helping out?”
“Me?”
Lee looked almost disbelieving, his thick brows working up and down, clearly stirred.
Chiba’s real first choice, if he was honest, was still Might Guy.
The stronger someone’s grasp of taijutsu, the more they could appreciate the gains that came from properly leveraging muscle and strength—and the better they could help him spot the gaps in his own thinking.
Lee, by contrast, was pure practice, nothing but instinct.
Ask him how to throw a punch or a kick, and he’d demonstrate it flawlessly, without a hitch.
Ask him about the mechanics behind that punch’s power, or how to weave chakra into it to push the impact to its absolute limit—
He’d have about as much luck as asking a wall.
Sure enough.
An hour later, Lee looked thoroughly lost, more confused the longer Chiba talked.
“Never mind.
Just throw it exactly the way I’m showing you and see if it hits harder than what you’ve been doing.”
Chiba said, and threw a punch of his own to demonstrate.
One strike—
Craaack!
A thick tree trunk let out a sharp, splitting groan.