After our long training session with Minato-sensei and Kushina-sensei, I didn't waste any time. The moment I washed off the sweat and changed into fresh clothes, I left the house and headed straight for the Yamanaka compound. Something was weighing on me—something only Uncle Inoichi and Aunt Inoki could help me figure out.
The sky had darkened into soft evening hues, streaked with faint orange and pink as the sun dipped low. I walked through the quiet paths of the village, past shuttered shops and flickering lanterns, until I reached their front door. I knocked three times, firm and steady.
Soft footsteps approached from inside, and then the door creaked open.
Aunt Inoki stood in the frame, warm as always, her apron still dusted with flour from dinner prep. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up.
"Akira, how have you been?" she said, wrapping me in a gentle hug before I could respond. The scent of simmered miso and freshly baked buns clung to her, and just for a moment, my world felt calm again.
I returned the hug. "I was just training," I told her. "Minato-sensei and Kushina-sensei are off duty this month, so they've been working with me and Itachi every day."
She smiled and stepped aside, ushering me in. "Come. Sit."
The Yamanaka household was always warm. Literally and emotionally. The tatami mats smelled faintly of sandalwood. An incense stick burned softly in the corner. We sat across from each other in the main hall, the shoji doors open just enough to let in the garden breeze.
"Akira," Aunt Inoki said gently, resting her hands on her lap, "I know you're mature beyond your age. But I still wish you'd let yourself be a child sometimes. Take breaks. Go play. Make more friends. Bonds formed when you're young...they're different. They stay with you for life."
I hesitated for a second, then nodded slowly. "I know. And... thank you for worrying about me, Auntie. Really."
I looked down at my hands, small and steady. "But I'm not training because someone pushed me into it. I do it because I love it. The improvement, the challenge—it makes me feel like I'm moving forward. Like I'm becoming who I'm meant to be."
Then I looked up and added, "As for friends... I've got people who care. Itachi, Kakashi, Minato-sensei, Rin, even Kushina-sensei. They've been there for me."
She nodded, her expression soft. "I know. Just don't lose sight of your heart along the way."
We sat and talked for a while, catching up on small things, how the clan was doing, how I was eating, and whether I'd been sleeping enough. Then, a door slid open from the back of the house, and Uncle Inoichi stepped into the room with his usual swagger.
He wore that smug smile he always pulled when pretending to be wiser than he was.
"Evening, Akira," he said. "What's the occasion? Are you tired of eating your cooking again? Or are you here for some of my profound life advice?"
He puffed out his chest like it meant something.
I gave him a flat stare. "Uncle, the fact that you can say something that cliché without cringing is either peak shamelessness... or just plain delusion."
Aunt Inoki burst into laughter.
Uncle Inoichi coughed, clearly wounded but pretending otherwise. "You don't know how valuable my wisdom is, brat."
He plopped down next to her, the three of us now forming a circle.
"So?" he asked again, more serious now. "Why're you here?"
My expression shifted. I sat up straighter.
"I want to show you something," I said. "Something important. And I need your honest thoughts about what I should do with it."
That quieted the room.
We stepped outside into the backyard. The grass was still wet with dew, the sky above slowly slipping into twilight. A single tree stood fifty meters away, tall and unassuming.
They followed me in silence as I moved to the center of the yard. I raised my hand, index finger out, and focused.
No seals.
Just chakra and intent.
Then I flicked my finger.
The air cracked like thunder.
A wave of distortion erupted, invisible and brutal. The very atoms along its path vibrated, tearing in sync, resonating as if struck by sound itself. It struck the tree and tore through it cleanly, the trunk splitting with a boom that echoed down the street.
I turned around and walked calmly back to the hall, sat down between them again like nothing had happened.
They said nothing at first.
Then Aunt Inoki finally asked, "What... was that?"
I smiled faintly. "It's a jutsu I've been developing. I call it Severance Field. A-rank. Versatile, fully scalable, and seal-less. I've refined the chakra flow down to instinct."
Uncle Inoichi's reaction wasn't subtle.
He burst into laughter, slapping his knee. "My nephew's a damn genius! You see that, Inoki? An A-rank jutsu, no seals—at four years old!"
I smirked. "Well... what can I say? Genius comes naturally."
Without missing a beat, he leaned over and smacked the back of my head.
"Don't let it get to your head, brat. You're only this good because of my advice."
I rolled my eyes. "Your advice? You mean those half-sleep monologues about 'finding inner peace' while you sip tea and forget your point halfway through?"
We bickered for a bit, Aunt Inoki laughing as she watched us go back and forth. And just like that, everything felt normal again.
Safe. Familiar.
But then I brought the conversation back to why I came.
"Uncle," I said, voice low, "should I register the jutsu? Make it official with the Hokage? Or keep it hidden?"
He leaned back, rubbing his chin as he considered it. "It's a powerful technique. If you register it, it becomes part of your shinobi record. That means prestige. Recognition. Protection. You'll have access to more advanced training, missions, resources... and the Hokage's attention."
I nodded slowly, absorbing his words.
"But it also paints a target on your back," he added. "And not just from enemy villages. There are forces inside Konoha who don't like unknown variables. Some might want to control you. Others… remove you before you become a threat."
I didn't need to ask who he meant.
Danzo.
He didn't need to be mentioned aloud. His presence lived in the silence between us.
"I'm probably already on his radar," I said.
"Then it's better to have powerful allies now," Uncle Inoichi replied. "If you're serious, talk to Shikaku. He'll see more angles than I can."
I nodded. "Call him?"
He performed the Sound Transmission Jutsu, sending a silent message across the compound walls.
Minutes later, a knock sounded at the front door.
Uncle Shikaku stepped in, calm as always, dark eyes thoughtful even before he sat down.
"You've got something to show me?" he asked.
I didn't answer. I just stood and led him outside.
The tree I had destroyed earlier had already been replaced by a training dummy, courtesy of clan practice. I pointed at it, raised my hand again, and repeated the jutsu. Another thunderous crack split the air, and the dummy exploded into wooden shards.
Shikaku didn't react for a long while. He just stared at the shattered remains, then turned to me.
"What do you want, Akira?" he asked, his voice quiet. "In the future. What's your goal?"
I paused.
Then I said, "I want to be strong. Stronger than anyone else. So no one can hurt me, or the people I love. I want to protect what's mine."
My hands clenched.
"And I want revenge. For my mother."
The words felt heavier in the air than I expected. I kept going.
"I know she wouldn't want me to follow that path. But I can't just live like it never happened. I can't find peace when the person who killed her is still out there, living freely."
Shikaku's eyes softened. He exchanged a glance with Inoichi, then looked back at me.
"If that's your path," he said, "then go public with the jutsu. It'll cement your name. Get the Hokage's backing. With his protection, you'll have space to grow. Resources. Time. But make no mistake…"
His gaze darkened slightly.
"It also means you'll be watched. Closely. Judged. Hated by some. Your every move will be monitored."
"I understand," I said. "And I'll adapt. Grow. Change the system if I have to."
He stood and nodded. "Then let's go."
We walked together to the Nara compound, then back toward the heart of the village. On the way, Shikaku spoke again, quieter this time.
"This road won't be easy. There'll be betrayal. Pain. You'll question everything, maybe even yourself. But no matter what you do… we're behind you. Me. Inoki. Inoichi. Your father. Your friends. Your mentors."
He glanced down at me.
"So don't carry it alone."
"Thank you, Uncle," I whispered.
That night, I stayed at their house. We didn't talk about war or politics or power. We just laughed. Ate. Talked about stupid things. Aunt Yoshino fussed over me like I was a baby again. Shikaku sat cross-legged, grumbling about Choza stealing his shogi pieces.
It was peace.
A rare thing.
I fell asleep with a full stomach and a quiet mind.
The next morning, I woke before the sun had fully risen. Pale gray light spilled through the paper shoji windows, casting long, quiet shadows across the tatami mats. The village was still, caught in that in-between hour where the world held its breath.
I dressed in my cleanest training gear, navy with silver lining, the Nara clan crest stitched into the collar. It wasn't flashy, but it looked sharp, composed. The kind of outfit you wore when your name was about to mean something.
I slid the scroll into my satchel, carefully sealed, the ink still fresh from yesterday morning. Every word inside had been written with purpose. Chakra diagrams, execution breakdowns, and theoretical notes, everything laid out with the precision of someone who knew this moment mattered.
Uncle Shikaku was waiting for me outside the house, his arms crossed, his eyes steady.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded. "Let's go."
The walk to the Hokage Tower was silent, but it wasn't empty. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of morning earth and the faint perfume of burning wood from bakeries firing up their stoves. The sky above was just beginning to blush orange, and rooftops glinted with dew.
At the gates of the tower, we found Uncle Inoichi and Uncle Choza already waiting. They stood together like they always did, three halves of a single whole.
"You all decided to come together?" I asked.
Uncle Inoichi gave me a sideways grin. "Of course. We're family. We move together. We back each other. That's what it means to wear the same blood."
Choza nodded in quiet agreement, his expression unreadable but solid.
We entered the building in silence, our footsteps echoing softly along the stone corridors. Inside, everything felt different. Sterile. Ancient. The scent of parchment, old scroll ink, and something earthy—maybe incense- hung in the air like a memory too stubborn to fade.
This place didn't feel like a building.
It felt like a relic.
We stood outside the Hokage's office for a few minutes, waiting. My heartbeat beat evenly, but there was a weight behind each thud, heavier than usual. Not fear. Not nerves. Just... consequence.
When it was our time, I stepped forward and knocked.
Three solid taps.
A pause.
Then a voice answered. Old. Worn by time, yet unmistakably firm.
"Come in."
We pushed open the door.
The Hokage's office was lined with aged scrolls and mission records. A faint trail of smoke curled from a pipe resting in a nearby dish. Hiruzen Sarutobi sat at his desk, surrounded by ledgers, maps, and intelligence documents. His robes were the formal white and red, his hat resting nearby on a stand.
He looked up, and his gaze met mine first. Calm. Calculated. There was kindness there, but not softness. It was the gaze of a man who'd sent too many young soldiers to their deaths and memorized every name.
Uncle Shikaku stepped forward. "Hokage-sama," he began with a respectful bow, "we've come to submit an original A-rank jutsu created by my nephew. Inoichi and Choza are present as witnesses to its legitimacy."
Hiruzen raised a brow slowly, then turned to me.
"You created an A-rank jutsu, Akira?" he asked, voice even.
"Yes, Hokage-sama," I replied, stepping forward. "With the guidance of Minato-sensei and Kakashi Hatake."
The Hokage showed no surprise. Just a faint nod. Of course, he knew. With ANBU watching Kushina and those connected to her, it would've been impossible to keep that kind of development off his radar.
"Can you demonstrate it?" he asked.
We moved together to a secluded training yard at the rear of the tower. It was a rectangular space framed by stone walls and cedar trees, the ground leveled and marked with old scars from years of tests and trials.
A single reinforced wooden dummy stood in the center of the field.
I stepped forward.
I didn't overthink it. No seals. Just movement.
I raised my right hand. Focused my chakra. And flicked my finger.
The air cracked—loud and sharp like a whip splitting the sky.
The Severance Field shot forward in a distortion wave, the pressure invisible but violent. The atoms themselves trembled in its path, vibrating apart in perfect resonance. The force hit the dummy and tore straight through it. Wood splintered, the frame twisted midair before splitting with a clean, almost surgical tear.
The silence that followed was absolute.
I turned and walked back to them.
"That version," I said, "used thirty percent of my chakra. The technique is seal-less. It can be adjusted for range, power, or area of effect. I call it Severance Field."
The Hokage was still staring at the destroyed target when he finally spoke.
"Incredible," he said. "The Nara clan has produced a remarkable shinobi. What do you want in return, Akira?"
I met his eyes.
"I'd like two days of mentorship with each of the Legendary Sannin."
The air in the courtyard shifted.
Even Uncle Shikaku looked at me, the corner of his mouth twitching in surprise. Inoichi blinked. Choza's eyebrows lifted.
Hiruzen didn't react. He simply tapped his pipe against a small stone tray and looked back at me, measured and thoughtful.
"Why?"
"Because I admire what they've done for this village," I answered. "Their strength, their roles during the Second Shinobi War. If I want to protect Konoha, if I want to carry the Will of Fire, I need to learn from those who lived it."
I didn't flinch as I added, "I don't want to be just strong. I want to be someone worth following."
The pipe hissed as he took a slow drag, then exhaled.
"Jiraiya and Orochimaru are in the village," he said at last. "Tsunade is currently away on a mission. I will ask them. Whether they agree or not... is their choice."
I bowed. "Your recommendation is all I need, Hokage-sama. Here is the scroll."
He accepted the scroll without a word.
Our meeting was over.
As we left the tower, the midday sun warmed the flagstone streets. The wind carried the scent of grilled meat from nearby vendors. The village felt alive again.
Choza glanced over at me as we walked.
"You could've asked for anything. Why mentorship?"
I smiled faintly. "I can learn jutsu from our clan. I have already trained with Minato-sensei. What I need now isn't technique, it's influence. Protection. Political weight."
He gave me a puzzled look.
"If I earn the Sannin's respect," I continued, "they might become more than mentors. They might become allies. And if I have someone like that in my corner… even someone like Danzo won't touch me."
Choza blinked, then let out a low whistle. "He's sharp."
Uncle Shikaku chuckled softly beside me. "He's a Nara. What did you expect?"
We made our way to the Akimichi family's favorite barbecue joint. The scent of charred pork belly, miso broth, and sizzling beef filled the air long before we arrived. Inside, we laughed more freely. Talked about clan matters, rumors from the front lines, the idiocy of certain elders, and how Inoichi accidentally set his pants on fire during a failed genjutsu demo.
Lunch was loud. And perfect.
Afterward, we parted ways outside the restaurant.
The sun started to dip low again, casting long shadows over Konoha's rooftops.
And I made my way toward Minato-sensei's house, scrolls in my bag and resolve sharper than ever.
There was still more to do.
Still threads to pull.
But today, I have taken a step forward.
Not just toward strength.
But toward power.
Not the kind you're born with.
Not the kind you're given.
The kind you build.
"""
Chapter length-2800 words
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