When Tōru walked out of Naruto Uzumaki’s home, the sky, blanketed in falling snow, had already turned leaden black.
Even though it was still not yet evening, Konoha had been forced to turn on the streetlights ahead of schedule.
After arranging a time to come back and teach Naruto how to cook, Tōru slowly made his way down the road.
His small body cast a long, slender shadow beneath the streetlights, made almost ethereal by the reflection of the snow.
Naruto watched him leave through the window, his heart filled with anticipation for their next meeting.
Meanwhile, the Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi’s Shadow Clone, and Kakashi stood atop Naruto’s roof, staring intently in the same direction.
“This child…” Hiruzen instinctively reached for his pipe.
Then he remembered that he was merely a clone and hadn’t brought it with him.
He awkwardly put his hand behind his back instead.
“Kakashi, what do you think?” [I only have one eye to think with…] Kakashi really wanted to say that.
“The Uchiha rarely produce a child with such a gentle heart.” Kakashi was silent for a moment before finally voicing the part that had been bothering him.
“But he already said he doesn’t want to become a shinobi.
Why go out of your way to steer him toward the Academy?” Like Hiruzen, Kakashi assumed that Tōru had only agreed to attend because he was soft-hearted and didn’t want to disappoint Naruto and Sasuke.
But once he entered the Academy, whether out of pride or competitiveness, Tōru would soon forget his original intentions.
“If I don’t steer him toward the Academy, the Uchiha will force him to go anyway.
As Clan Head, Fugaku would never allow his son to grow up without strength.
The extraordinary speed he displayed when Naruto nearly fell is proof enough.
The boy has clearly received some taijutsu training already.” Hiruzen’s expression remained calm.
“But as far as sending him to the Academy is concerned, one approach is persuasion through reason and emotion, while the other is unreasonable coercion from his parents and clan.
In that child’s eyes, isn’t it obvious which one is preferable?” Kakashi was rendered speechless.
He simply felt that the temperature on this snowy day had become unbearably cold.
The howling wind high above seemed to express his thoughts for him.
The Third Hokage, Hiruzen Sarutobi, had always preferred to show others a gentle and even somewhat frail side of himself.
He appeared to never force anyone to do something against their wishes.
In reality, however, he liked planting subtle seeds in people’s minds, manipulating them through seemingly insignificant influences and quietly turning them against one another, ensuring that they continued to act according to his plans.
That was how he had maintained his control over Konoha for so many years.
And he had no intention of hiding this from Kakashi.
In Hiruzen’s mind, if he could no longer shoulder the burden one day, then among Konoha’s younger generation, Kakashi was the only one with both the potential and ability to inherit the position of Hokage.
A Hokage born from an ordinary shinobi background lacked overwhelming power.
Under such circumstances, using a few methods of psychological manipulation was not only understandable—it was necessary.
“Besides, don’t forget that Shisui is a soft-hearted child too.” Hiruzen continued, “He rarely takes lives, yet he has defeated countless enemies.
It was precisely those survivors who spread his exploits by word of mouth that allowed the name ‘Shisui of the Body Flicker’ to become famous throughout the shinobi world.
“Kakashi, Konoha needs ruthless shinobi to protect itself, but it also needs young people filled with ideals and compassion to maintain a balance.
We use the former to deal with Konoha’s enemies, and rely on the latter to win allies for the village and build a good reputation.
“Only then can the village gradually step out of the shadows and onto the world stage.
“A child like Tōru is perfectly suited for the second role.
For the sake of helping a Naruto he barely knew, he dared to question me, the Hokage, so sternly—even if his ‘questioning’ wasn’t particularly stern.
“Just imagine how much courage and strength he might display if it meant helping more people escape suffering and hardship…” He turned to Kakashi.
“At that point, as long as what the village asks him to do also aligns with his own judgment, what reason would he have to refuse becoming a shinobi?” Hiruzen turned around, patted Kakashi on the shoulder, and sighed.
“Kakashi, you still have a lot to learn.” With that, he dispersed into a cloud of smoke, leaving Kakashi standing there alone.
“Is it really his own judgment…
or a judgment subtly guided by the village’s leadership?” Kakashi touched his ninja pouch.
Inside was his treasured collection of rare, out-of-print adult novels.
“Yep.
I really am better suited to dealing with superficial things.” …
After crossing the Konoha River and reaching the forest path where he had first encountered Naruto, Tōru gradually resumed his practice of Flame Breathing.
He had temporarily stopped using the Breathing Style while at Naruto’s house.
Indoor air during winter was extremely dry, and with the temperature being relatively high, even a moment of carelessness could result in a fire.
But out in the snow, Tōru no longer had to worry about that.
Once he concentrated fully and drove Flame Breathing to its limit, dense white steam poured from his entire body.
The air around him warped faintly from the heat, surpassing even what Kyojuro Rengoku had been capable of back on Earth.
This wasn’t because Tōru’s mastery of Flame Breathing was particularly profound.
Rather, the Natural Energy drawn upon by Flame Breathing in this world was simply too violent.
Even with the Transparent World allowing him to control it with incredible precision, he couldn’t guarantee that nothing would go wrong.
If the power brought forth by Water Breathing could be compared to a slightly mischievous dolphin, then the power brought forth by Flame Breathing was like a mad bull charging wildly in every direction.
It was almost impossible to control.
And this was without using it to refine chakra.
He was merely using Natural Energy to strengthen his body.
That left Tōru somewhat troubled.
If he wanted to achieve Constant Total Concentration and resurrect Rengoku as soon as possible, he needed to maintain his Breathing Style even while sleeping at night.
But he certainly didn’t want to set fire to his entirely wooden home.
[What am I supposed to do?] “Tōru.” Shisui’s sudden voice was accompanied by a pebble curving through the air toward him, much like the shuriken Itachi used to throw for Sasuke.
Tōru, whose entire attention was focused on his Breathing Style, frowned and instinctively swung his hand.
The instant the pebble struck his fingernail, it shot back at an even greater speed, flying straight toward its origin like a cannon shell.
Shisui sensed the danger, as though a swarm of spiders were crawling down the back of his neck.
He instinctively activated his Three-Tomoe Sharingan.
A pebble wrapped in distorted, superheated air spiraled past his ear with a whoosh.
Then came the smell of singed hair.
And the sound of something solid exploding apart.
Shisui covered his curled sideburn and turned around stiffly, a rigid smile plastered across his face.
Three trees, each with trunks as thick as the necks of adult Akimichi Clan members, cracked in unison.
Krak!
Krak!
Krak!
They then toppled in the same direction.
Their shattered ends were covered in black scorch marks, as though they had been blasted by Explosive Tags.
“Looks like I can’t greet you like that anymore…” After confirming that the trees wouldn’t catch fire, Shisui turned back sheepishly.
Seeing Tōru’s solemn expression, he deliberately patted his chest.
“Even if winter makes trees more brittle, getting hit by something like that is still terrifying.
Don’t do that in front of other people, okay, Tōru?” “Sorry.” Tōru’s apology was completely sincere.
The moment he had struck the pebble back, he had suddenly felt an inexplicable surge of anger.
Although the movement had been instinctive, he’d wanted to unleash all his strength and vent every ounce of power he possessed in one blow.
The fact that Breathing Styles could influence a person’s temperament and way of dealing with the world was clearly not an exaggeration.
Now it seemed that accidentally setting his own house on fire wasn’t the only danger Flame Breathing posed.
If he injured an innocent person, he would truly be unable to forgive himself.
[What am I going to do?] “Don’t hang your head.” Shisui walked over to Tōru.
He had just wanted to pat the boy on the head and experience the feeling Itachi usually got, but the intense heat radiating from Tōru forced him to instinctively take a step back.
“You’re burning hot.” After thinking for a moment, he asked, “Were you practicing that…
Breathing Style Itachi told me about again?” During one of their previous training sessions, Itachi had demonstrated a strange swordsmanship style.
Without coordinating it with a specific breathing method, the movements looked unnecessarily exaggerated and excessively forceful.
They weren’t suitable for shinobi who prioritized speed.
Even the samurai of the Land of Iron wouldn’t have developed such a swordsmanship style.
According to Itachi’s speculation, the Breathing Style was a secret technique Tōru had “imagined” during his many years of silence, one that could push the body beyond its normal limits.
Therefore, Tōru’s imagined enemy probably wasn’t human either.
It was even possible that, as a baby, Tōru had witnessed the Nine-Tails destroying the village and unconsciously imprinted that image deep within his subconscious.
Itachi had been deeply worried about this, afraid that something might be wrong with his younger brother’s mental state.
Shisui had been surprised when he heard about it too.
But considering that it had been invented by Tōru, somehow, it didn’t seem all that strange.
As far as Shisui knew, there was a phenomenon in the ordinary world known as the “genius syndrome.” Most of those afflicted were quiet children like Tōru, renowned for their extraordinary imaginations.
Some could even compose music at the age of three.
Itachi also experienced an increase in body temperature when using that “Breathing Style,” but nowhere near the extent Tōru was demonstrating now.
By Shisui’s estimate, the layer of superheated air surrounding Tōru was approaching fifty degrees Celsius.
“I still can’t control it very well.” Tōru stopped using his Breathing Style at full intensity, and the redness in his face gradually faded.
But the residual heat remained.
Snowflakes that landed on his shoulders immediately melted into droplets of water that trembled in place.
He stared at Shisui’s baby-faced features for a moment before asking bluntly, “Do you know of anywhere around Konoha that has few people and little risk of causing a fire?” He had to minimize the potential damage caused by practicing Flame Breathing.
“Hmm…” Shisui rubbed his chin.
Thinking about what had just happened, he quickly guessed Tōru’s intention.
“Tōru, you’re looking for somewhere to train, right?” “Yes.” Tōru nodded seriously.
“I see.” Shisui paused.
“I built a small cabin near the waterfall behind the Naka River.
It happens to meet your requirements.
Almost nobody goes there.” Shisui’s words caused a glimmer of hope to appear in Tōru’s eyes.
The Naka River was the river behind the Uchiha clan compound.
The waterfall was directly opposite the clan’s shrine, already extremely close to the edge of the village.
It was also an area not covered by the village’s barrier network.
But Tōru wasn’t particularly worried about his own safety.
And if it was beside a river, that should eliminate many of the risks…
“However, even though you’re Itachi’s little brother, I can’t help you for free.” Shisui leaned against a tree with his arms folded, grinning.
“Besides, I helped you brothers hide so many things from the Clan Head and the village before.
You should show me some proper gratitude too.” Shisui had promised Itachi that he wouldn’t tell the clan or the village about Tōru’s circumstances.
Although Shisui’s position leaned more toward Konoha, he would never betray Itachi.
He had therefore kept the secret all this time.
“What do you want me to do?” Tōru remained expressionless.
“I heard from Itachi that your Breathing Style doesn’t just strengthen your taijutsu.
You can also combine it with chakra.
Is that true?” “Yes.” “When you fought Uchiha Enka last time, did you combine your Breathing Style with chakra then?” This question had been bothering Shisui for quite some time.
Tōru’s ability to perform the Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet without hand seals clearly couldn’t simply be attributed to having a high affinity for Water Nature.
Moreover, the technique’s ability to gradually grow stronger was fundamentally different from the ordinary Water Dragon Bullet.
“That’s right.” Tōru’s answer confirmed Shisui’s speculation.
“That was the Tenth Form of Water Breathing.” “I knew it.” Shisui excitedly clapped his hands.
“Then how about this, Tōru?
Give it your all.
Combine your chakra with your Breathing Form and fight me once.
In exchange, I’ll lend you the cabin.
How does that sound?” It wasn’t that Shisui coveted Tōru’s Breathing Style.
If he wanted to, he could simply copy the unique breathing rhythm and movements after seeing Itachi perform them.
Shisui himself wasn’t particularly hungry for power.
Combined with what those eyes of his could accomplish, there were very few things in the world that could truly catch his interest.
The reason he made such a request was pure curiosity.
He wanted to see what a genuine genius was like—and just how far such a person could go.
There was another, even more important reason.
If Itachi’s concerns ultimately became reality— if Tōru became a weapon of the Uchiha Clan, how much would that affect the delicate balance between Konoha and the Uchiha?
Shisui had no answer to that question.
And honestly, it made it difficult for him to sleep at night.
“But don’t worry too much.
I’ll go easy on you.” Tōru fell silent.
After spending this period of time with the children of the clan, he had come to understand that fighting one another was a method shinobi used to improve themselves.
It wasn’t simply some childish attempt to show off one’s strength.
Because of that, he no longer resisted combat as strongly as before.
But Shisui wanted him to go all out?
“You’ll get hurt.” After thinking for a long time, Tōru managed to squeeze out only those words.
“You’d better not hold back.” “So you’re agreeing?” Shisui raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t take Tōru’s warning seriously.
“Yes.” Tōru nodded.
“But I may need to use the place for a month or two.
I’ll also need to stay there at night.” “No problem.
I work the night shift.” Shisui extended his fist toward Tōru.
“Then it’s settled.” Tōru stared at the fist, unable to understand what Shisui intended by the gesture.
He ignored it and simply asked, “When will this sparring match take place?” “When are you going to move in?” “Three days from now.” Itachi and his mother would both have three days off, and Tōru didn’t intend to miss the opportunity to spend that time with them.
“Then we’ll do it that day.” Shisui happily made the decision.
“Don’t worry.
If you don’t know how to explain it to the Clan Head, I’ll help you.
We might have to tell a little lie, though.
You don’t mind, do you?” Tōru shook his head.
Telling the truth would violate his promise to Itachi.
If his parents learned about the dangers of practicing Flame Breathing, they probably wouldn’t allow him to do it.
“All right, let’s go.” Shisui patted him on the shoulder.
“It was Aunt Mikoto who happened to run into me and asked me to come find you.
I’m going to your house for New Year’s dinner today, so remember to make some of my favorite dishes.” “Mm…
Then we need to buy some more ingredients on the way home.”
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