Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, winter had arrived.
When the first snow of the 49th year of Konoha began to fall, Linbei was sitting on a stone slab in his courtyard, eyes closed as he felt the flow of chakra within his body.
Snowflakes drifted down onto his hair, shoulders, and knees, yet he remained entirely oblivious to them.
The chakra inside him was like a broad river, flowing steadily through his pathways.
Compared to the trickling stream of a few months ago, his current chakra reserves had multiplied countless times over.
By Linbei’s rough estimation, he was now at the Elite Chunin level.
He was only one step away from becoming a Jonin.
All of this was thanks to Tom.
Every single day, without fail, that cat practiced the Chakra Refinement Technique.
He practiced from morning until night, even refining chakra while he slept.
Sometimes, when Linbei woke up in the middle of the night, he would see Tom perched on the windowsill with his eyes closed, his breathing rhythmic and deep.
A faint blue halo would envelop the cat’s body—a visible sign of chakra circulating within.
Tom practiced, and Linbei grew stronger.
The feedback mechanism was simple and crude, but the results were staggering.
Even more surprising to Linbei was that his Sharingan had completed its evolution over these few months.
The One-Tomoe had ascended to a Two-Tomoe Sharingan.
Within his red irises, two black tomoe now floated quietly, larger and clearer than they had been during the one-tomoe stage.
The boost provided by the Two-Tomoe Sharingan was comprehensive—his insight had drastically improved, his dynamic vision was sharper, and he could even vaguely capture the flow of chakra.
Then there was his taijutsu.
Linbei wasn’t sure if it was another effect of Tom’s feedback, but he had recently discovered that his reaction speed had increased significantly.
It wasn’t the kind of “speed developed through deliberate training,” but a primal, almost instinctive quickness.
The moment an opponent initiated a movement, his body was already beginning to react.
A cat’s reaction speed was seven times faster than a human’s.
He had likely reached that same level.
As for the Rasengan—Linbei had tested it on a rock half the height of a man in the forest.
With a single palm strike, the rock had exploded from the center, sending fragments flying over ten meters away.
Its power was already comparable to the early-stage Rasengan used by Naruto in the original series.
Everything was progressing well.
The only thing that gave Linbei peace of mind was that his chakra control was exquisite enough to suppress his chakra fluctuations to an extremely low level.
At the Ninja Academy, he remained a “perfectly average Uchiha orphan”—above-average grades, barely passing marks in taijutsu, and only capable of the Three-Body Technique when it came to ninjutsu.
No one suspected him.
No one noticed him.
This was exactly what Linbei wanted.
Today, however, Linbei didn’t plan on training.
It was a special day.
He stood up from the stone slab, brushed the snow off his clothes, and walked into the house.
Tom was busy in the kitchen, the counter covered with various jars and containers—flour, eggs, cream, frosting, and fruit.
“Tom, how’s the cake coming along?”
Tom poked his head out from behind the stove, a dollop of cream on his face, and gave an “OK” gesture with his paw.
He then pointed to a three-tier mold on the counter—the first layer was already baked, the golden sponge emitting a sweet fragrance; the second was in the oven; and the third was still being mixed.
Linbei leaned in to take a look and couldn’t help but swallow his saliva.
The cakes Tom made, even just the base sponges, were more exquisite than anything found in a Konoha sweet shop.
“Alright, keep at it.
I’m going to go get the gift.”
Linbei walked to his room and pulled a small wooden box from under his bed.
Inside was a palm-sized jade pendant—pale green, translucent, with a surface as smooth as a mirror and fine patterns carved along the edges.
He had spent a week making this.
The raw material was a piece of nephrite jade he had found by the river while practicing ninjutsu.
The stone wasn’t large, but the quality was excellent—pure green throughout without a single crack.
Linbei had spent three days using chakra to slowly polish it, turning the rough stone into a smooth jade plaque.
Then, he spent another four days condensing his chakra into tiny blades to carve the patterns onto the surface.
On the front of the jade pendant was a lotus—Izumi’s favorite flower.
On the back, two characters were carved: *Peace*.
Linbei held the jade pendant in his palm, feeling its warm, smooth texture.
“She should like it,” he murmured to himself.
By evening, Izumi’s house was buzzing with excitement.
Izumi’s mother had set a large table in the living room, covered with a white tablecloth and piled high with various snacks and drinks.
Six or seven classmates were huddled around the table, chirping away as laughter and noise filled the small living room to the brim.
Izumi sat in the middle of the table wearing a pink sweater. Get faster updates on g.com.
Her hair was tied into two small pigtails, her cheeks were flushed red, and her eyes sparkled.
She looked very happy—or rather, she looked like she was about to take flight from sheer joy.
“Linbei-kun is here!” Izumi waved immediately when she saw Linbei push open the door.
“Over here, over here!
I saved a seat for you!”
Linbei smiled and walked over, sitting down beside her.
Tom jumped down from his arms, walked gracefully to the center of the table, and reached behind his back—
He pulled out a three-layer birthday cake.
The first layer was cream and strawberry, the second was chocolate mousse, and the third was matcha red bean.
Every layer was decorated with incredible precision; the whipped cream piping was as delicate as lace, the fruit slices were thin as cicada wings, and a small candle stood at the very top.
The candlelight flickered atop the cake, casting a warm halo of light.
“Whoa—” Everyone present let out a collective gasp of wonder.
“Did a cat really make this cake?”
“It’s way too beautiful!”
“It looks even better than the cakes from Amagurigama!”
Tom stood next to the cake, bowed slightly, and made a “please enjoy” gesture.
Then, he reached behind himself again, pulled out a conical birthday hat to put on his head, and produced an accordion, which he cradled in his arms.
“Meow,” Tom called out, his paws pressing a few notes on the accordion.
The meaning was clear: *Are you ready?*
“Wait!
Sing the birthday song first!” one classmate shouted.
Everyone gathered around the cake and began clapping along to the birthday song.
Izumi stood in the center, hands clasped together and eyes closed.
The candlelight danced across her face, making her smile look exceptionally warm.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you—”
The singing echoed through the small living room, mingled with laughter and applause.
Izumi opened her eyes, took a deep breath, and blew out the candle.
“Yay!”
“Happy Birthday!”
“Cut the cake, quick!”
Just as everyone was cheering, there was a knock at the door.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
Three times, neither too heavy nor too light, in a steady rhythm.
Izumi walked over to open the door and froze.
Standing outside was Itachi Uchiha.
He was wearing a deep blue kimono, his hair tied in a ponytail, with a few snowflakes resting on his shoulders.
His expression remained calm, but his gaze softened slightly the moment it met Izumi’s.
“Itachi-kun?” Izumi’s voice carried both surprise and delight.
“What are you doing here?”
Itachi took a scroll from his sleeve and held it out with both hands.
“Happy birthday, Izumi.” His voice was very soft, as if he were afraid of disturbing something.
“This is a birthday gift for you.”
Izumi took the scroll, but before she could say a word, Itachi turned and left.
“Itachi-kun—do you want to come in and sit for a while?” Izumi took a step after him, but Itachi’s silhouette had already vanished at the end of the alleyway.
He walked fast, as if he were running away from something.
Izumi stood at the door, staring in the direction Itachi had disappeared for several seconds before looking down at the scroll in her hands.
“Forget it, Izumi.
You know what Itachi is like,” Linbei’s voice came from behind her, tinged with a hint of helplessness.
“That’s just the kind of person he is.
He drops off a gift and leaves; he doesn’t want to stay a second longer.”
“I suppose.” Izumi hugged the scroll as she returned to the table, her face still showing a trace of confusion.
“I just felt…
like he was in a hurry.”
“Quick, open it and see what Ninjutsu it is!” A classmate crowded in, staring curiously at the scroll.
Izumi untied the ribbon and unfurled the scroll.
The very first line of text made everyone freeze—
*Fire Style: Great Fire Dragon Jutsu.*
A B-rank Ninjutsu.
“This is…
a B-rank Ninjutsu!” Izumi covered her mouth, her eyes wide.
“This is far too valuable!”
Izumi’s mother walked out of the kitchen.
When she saw the contents of the scroll, her expression shifted from surprise to gravity.
As a Chunin, she naturally knew the value of a B-rank Ninjutsu—those were techniques used by most Jonin, not something one gave away as a casual birthday present.
“Great Fire Dragon Jutsu…” Izumi’s mother repeated in a low voice, her gaze falling on the signature at the end of the scroll.
“Itachi-kun gave this?”
“Yes,” Izumi nodded.
“He just brought it over, dropped it off, and left.”
Izumi’s mother was silent for a moment, then sighed softly.
“Keep it safe,” she said, her tone carrying an indescribable weight.
“Itachi-kun…
put a lot of heart into this for you.”
Izumi blushed and carefully rolled the scroll back up, clutching it to her chest.
Linbei stood to the side, looking at the scroll in Izumi’s arms, his lip twitching slightly.
B-rank Ninjutsu.
Great Fire Dragon Jutsu.
Was Itachi emptying out his family’s treasury?
However, he quickly tossed the thought aside.
Whatever gift Itachi gave had nothing to do with him.
“Alright, alright,” Linbei waved a hand, his tone light.
“Itachi is our Young Clan Head, after all.
What’s a B-rank Ninjutsu to him?
For someone like him, a technique of this level is probably the same as the Three-Body Technique.”
Izumi was amused by his words, the blush on her cheeks deepening.
“Okay.” She put the scroll away and turned to face Linbei.
“Let’s practice it together sometime, Linbei-kun!”
“Sure,” Linbei agreed without a second thought.
If Itachi knew that Izumi was going to share the Great Fire Dragon Jutsu with him, he would probably be standing somewhere feeling very distressed.
That feeling of distress would likely be more powerful than any words.
“Put all that aside for now!” Linbei clapped his hands and raised his voice.
“We’re here to celebrate a birthday!”
He turned to look at Tom.
“Tom!
Show them what you’ve got!”
Tom put away the accordion and pulled out a grand piano from behind his back.
Yes, a grand piano.
Black, nine feet long, with golden patterns printed on the lid and keys as white as snow.
Everyone in the living room fell silent.
Izumi’s mother’s hand, holding a teacup, stopped mid-air.
The expressions of the six classmates transformed in perfect unison into a face that said: *Am I dreaming?*
Only Izumi clapped her hands and laughed, “Tom is amazing!”
Tom sat on the piano bench—yes, he had even pulled out a piano bench—straightened his bow tie, and placed his ten claws on the keys.
Then, he began to play.
A cheerful melody flowed from his fingertips, like a spring stream, like fireflies on a summer night, like autumn leaves dancing in the wind.
The piano music echoed in the small living room, every note precise and full, every melody smooth and moving.
Tom was playing a variation of “Happy Birthday.” It began with the classic melody, then gradually accelerated, changed keys, and added ornamentations, transforming a simple birthday song into a magnificent piano piece.
His body swayed gently with the rhythm, his tail swishing behind the bench, his expression focused and entranced.
Everyone was spellbound.
Izumi stood by the piano, hands clasped to her chest, her eyes shining like stars.
Her lips were slightly parted, and her smile grew wider and more brilliant by the second.
Linbei leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching Tom play with a slight curl to his lips.
He remembered the line Tom had written on the chalkboard a few months ago: “Tom does not like to speak.
Writing is more elegant.”
So what if he didn’t speak?
Tom’s music was more powerful than any language.
The piano music echoed through the living room, driving away the chill of the winter night.
Outside the window, the snow continued to fall, but everyone inside forgot the cold.
Because they were standing in the warmest light in the world.