Finally, the blade stopped just one centimeter above Tamura Hao's head, its cold edge brushing the sweat on his scalp.
"Whoosh…"
Tamura Hao's breath came in ragged gasps, his hair damp with sweat. His flushed face twitched slightly, and his heart pounded double its normal rhythm. Both arms, still holding his twin Miao Dao blades, trembled from the accumulated strain.
This was the price of his prior outburst. Even though he had sharpened his chakra control close to its current limit using his enhanced perception, such a high-intensity blitz placed an enormous load on his muscles and chakra pathways, pushing his ten-year-old body dangerously close to its edge.
Fukai's sheer explosive strength was overwhelming. Each strike had been like a hammer blow, shaking Tamura's arms and taxing his joints to their limit. The sinews of his forearms felt tight and sore, some areas already bruised.
"He's on a completely different level. Even going all-out, I couldn't force him back a single step."
Tamura let out a shaky breath and sealed his swords—Big Cat and Little Cat—back into the fuinjutsu scroll woven into his vambrace. He looked up at Fukai with both awe and respect.
Fukai had not used any ninjutsu. Just raw chakra-enhanced physical power. His movements were minimal but precise—his enhanced taijutsu fluid and utterly suffocating. Every counter had left Tamura scrambling.
He had landed over a hundred attacks, yet not a single cut had made it through Fukai's guard. The jōnin's counteroffensive had been effortless—pushing Tamura back like a leaf in a storm.
He really is worthy of being a jōnin... and the previous Eight-Tails jinchūriki.
Tamura clenched his fists. The truth was painfully clear—he was still weak. Right now, his effective fighting power was perhaps only on par with Rock Lee during the Chūnin Exams before opening any of the Eight Gates.
Worse, his current strength was the result of a short, unsustainable burst. He had pushed himself for less than a minute before his chakra hit rock bottom. No matter how refined his movements were, without chakra, he was helpless.
Fukai gazed at Tamura's dulled blade—its edge now nicked and warped—then gave a quiet nod, eyes thoughtful but approving.
"That burst just now—strong enough to handle a taijutsu-specialized Chūnin. You're only ten, and your chakra control's already top-notch for your age."
He glanced down at the sealed twin swords.
"It was a smart move to select longer weapons. For someone with little ninjutsu range, a reach advantage compensates well. Especially against puppeteers or shinobi with mechanical augmentations. Staying outside their counter range is vital."
Fukai's tone remained calm, but his words were sincere. Strength-wise, Tamura's burst potential was genuine Chūnin-class. The problem was sustainability—his chakra capacity was barely Genin-level. If not for that bottleneck, the boy might already be field-ready.
Still, strength was only one side of becoming a Chūnin. Tactical leadership, mission planning, and psychological judgment—those weighed just as heavily, and Tamura's experience in those areas was still lacking.
"I didn't get here by talent alone." Tamura's voice was soft. "I've worked far harder than most. But... even with effort, there are limits."
He looked at his arms, still quivering.
In the world of shinobi, effort determined your foundation—but talent determined your ceiling. No matter how hard someone tried, without the genetic gifts of a Kekkei Genkai or a bloodline like the Ōtsutsuki, one simply couldn't reach the pinnacle.
Without the right blood, no one becomes the Ten-Tails jinchūriki.
Fukai folded his arms and nodded.
"You're still growing. Your physique's not mature yet, so forcing raw strength training isn't ideal. But your sword style—focused on piercing with speed and supported by slashes—makes you better suited for speed-type enhancements."
His voice took on a more instructive tone.
"Next, we'll start Lightning Release transformation training. Once you can shape lightning chakra properly, you'll be able to stimulate your nerves and muscles to increase explosive speed—just like the Yeyue clan's hand strike technique."
Fukai emphasized:
"Speed bursts place far less strain on your frame than brute force. It fits your style and age better. But you also need combat experience—your sword form is precise, but still stiff. Only real combat can sharpen that edge."
He began outlining a personalized training regimen, methodical and goal-oriented. Tamura listened silently, absorbing everything.
Then a voice called out casually from the side:
"Told you, didn't I? Ah Hao's a natural-born genius."
A figure flickered into view—Yeyue Ai, who had evidently been observing from the start. He had remained quiet until now, but the short skirmish had left a deep impression.
He already knew Tamura's genius in weapon design and unorthodox thinking. What surprised him was the latter's growth in pure combat. Even in a brief fight, Tamura had visibly adapted, correcting his angles, improving his tempo, even as exhaustion built up.
With a bigger chakra pool and more durability, he might've lasted another minute—maybe more.
"Brother Yeyue!"
Tamura greeted him with a tired smile.
Yeyue Ai walked over and slung an arm around his shoulders.
"Come on. I've got medics and a medicinal bath waiting. Fukai, you coming too?"
Fukai nodded, curious about where this was going.
...
When the trio arrived at a private chamber deep in the Yeyue compound, Fukai froze upon seeing the setup—three enormous barrels filled with a glowing liquid.
"This is... the Yeyue clan's hand-conditioning medicinal bath?"
He stared in disbelief.
He had used the Yeyue clan's standard body-forging medicated bath in the past—it enhanced resilience, repaired microtears, and accelerated recovery. But even then, each barrel cost nearly a million ryō, and most shinobi only used small portions.
This, however, wasn't the standard version. This was the elite-grade compound—originally developed by the Second Raikage, refined from rare herbs collected from all corners of the Land of Lightning. It was a closely guarded clan secret.
And here it was—in triplicate.
"This isn't the regular version," Ai said, grinning. "This is the full-body variant we use to temper our clan's most critical tool—the hand blade. My father refined his Hell Stab with this exact mixture."
He gestured to the thick, almost glowing liquid.
"Normally, we only soak our hands and forearms. That alone takes years and costs a fortune. But this? This is a full-body soak. Each barrel costs 10 million ryō. Total cost? Thirty million. Each soak lasts a month. And you, Hao, get a slot monthly."
Tamura's jaw dropped. Fukai stared, speechless.
The Hell Stab—a technique known to pierce through even the Eight-Tails' hide—was the culmination of decades of lightning-enhanced body training. That this bath helped shape it was no exaggeration.
"But why—" Fukai started.
Yeyue Ai answered with a shrug.
"Simple. Hao here is the future of the village's economy. His weapon designs already earn the village more revenue than most clans combined. And that's just the start."
He ruffled Tamura's hair.
"If he gets stronger, our return on investment multiplies. And besides—if he can afford it, why not push our physical training even further?"
It was a calculated gamble. If Tamura's financial empire continued growing, the Yeyue clan could finally train their full bodies using this elite bath. With superior physique and lightning techniques, their combat power would soar.
Tamura stood by the barrels, eyes wide with excitement.
Fukai gave a dry chuckle.
"Well… I guess we're really doing this."
And so began a new chapter in Tamura Hao's training—one paved with electricity, steel, and the burning heat of a 30-million-ryō bath.