Chapter 14: The Development of Seal-less Ninjutsu (Part 3)
On the other side, Kakashi, ever the sensible one, quickly caught on to Hagoromo's intentions and said, "Sensei Minato, I think it's time for us to take our leave."
"What? Leaving already?" Obito protested, visibly disappointed. "But I was hoping to have a destined duel with Hagoromo! And besides, I haven't even finished today's training yet. I was going to ask you for guidance, Sensei!"
Hearing Obito's dramatic complaint, Hagoromo couldn't help but smack his palm against his forehead. Seriously, Obito? Read the room a little.
Destined duel? Since when did Obito get infected by some watermelon-headed guy in a tight kappa suit?
Rin gently stepped in, "Obito, we really should wrap things up."
"Well... alright then. If Rin says so," Obito mumbled, scratching his head in embarrassment before reluctantly agreeing.
Apparently, Rin's words were the only force in the world that could calm Obito down—no need for Kakashi to intervene or Hagoromo to lift a finger.
Of course, Minato was more than happy to accept his students' suggestion to rest.
"Alright, then take some time off and get some real rest," Minato said with a warm smile. "Especially you two, Obito and Rin."
Minato and Kakashi were already veterans of war, used to its rhythm and brutality. But for Obito and Rin, who'd only been on the battlefield for three months, the harsh reality had been much harder to bear.
They had a rare seven-day break ahead of them—a chance to breathe again, back home in the village.
Once Minato gave the word, the group truly did split up.
Hagoromo had gotten his close-up observation of the "Yellow Flash," and those three had gotten their fill of the "Red-Hot Habanero." With both sides satisfied, it was time for everyone to head home.
Unfortunately, Hagoromo and Obito lived in the same direction—meaning he'd have to endure the latter's nonstop chatter all the way back.
---
The next day, Minato took his students out for yakiniku—naturally, Hagoromo was included.
For Hagoromo, this was a rare treat. Back when he relied entirely on Konoha's relief fund, eating yakiniku was a luxury far out of reach. Now that he was a full-fledged genin, the relief payments had stopped. And since both he and Kushina weren't too keen on low-rank missions, his income was still laughably low. Unless he clung to Kushina's metaphorical thigh, meat was still a pipe dream.
He was praying Kushina would finish developing the Reverse Four Symbols Seal soon—once it was complete, he'd finally earn some serious pay assisting her and could upgrade his living conditions.
So when the future Fourth Hokage invited him to dinner?
Like hell he'd say no.
"It's been a while since I've been back in Konoha. I've actually missed the flavor of yakiniku," Minato said after placing his order at a local barbecue joint.
Given Minato's insane mission load and high-rank assignments, he was easily among the village's top earners. Even if they ate the entire restaurant out of business, it wouldn't make a dent in his wallet. Everyone knew this, so they didn't even bother pretending to hold back.
Rin and Obito showed up dressed casually this time. They still carried a few tools, but at least they weren't in full combat gear. After a night of rest, they both looked much more refreshed.
Resting in the village and resting on the front lines were two entirely different beasts. On the battlefield, you could never fully relax. But in the heart of Konoha, there was no real threat to speak of.
Rin mentioned that some of their classmates had already been killed—a tactful way to put it. In truth, over half the recent academy graduates had become casualties in just three months.
Even someone as powerful as Namikaze Minato couldn't guarantee his own safety in every battle. So what chance did freshly minted genin have? Death was the great equalizer—it didn't care if you were a Kage-level powerhouse or a nameless rookie. It struck without discrimination.
But now, back in Konoha, they could momentarily forget the weight of that ever-present shadow.
---
"You two are really working on forbidden techniques?" someone asked as they ate and chatted. The conversation was casual, mostly between Kushina and Minato, while the younger ones listened quietly.
Well—except for Hagoromo, who was far too busy stuffing his face to say much of anything.
Kushina, meanwhile, was proudly bragging about her genius student. She hadn't expected Minato to react quite so strongly.
Annoyed, she said, "What's the big deal? I taught you plenty of forbidden techniques when you were a kid. Frankly, I think Hagoromo's talent surpasses yours."
Minato gave a sheepish smile. Was it just him, or had Kushina developed a habit of throwing shade at him in front of the younger generation?
He tried to speak up, "Well, I just think—"
But Kushina cut him off and turned to Hagoromo.
"Show him your jutsu, Hagoromo."
"Right here? Isn't that a bit… inappropriate?" Hagoromo said, quickly swallowing his food. Performing ninjutsu in a barbecue joint didn't exactly scream "good idea."
But he knew exactly what Kushina meant when she said "your" jutsu.
And so, it happened. From this moment on, the future "Copy Ninja" truly earned that title—because the one original jutsu he ever created was about to get pirated right before his eyes.
Pirated by a reincarnator with zero shame.
"Just do it already. Stop whining."
"…Fine."
After a light smack to the head, Hagoromo relented and held out his right hand.
Everyone looked on, confused. What was he doing? Showing off his palm lines?
Kakashi watched him with curiosity. Hagoromo was two years older, slightly taller, with the same silver hair, though noticeably paler and more frail-looking. To be honest, Kakashi didn't know him well. They'd both been at the Academy, but Hagoromo had left little impression. By contrast, Might Guy—who challenged him ten times a day—was unforgettable.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Hagoromo said with a theatrical tone, "prepare yourselves for a demonstration of a brand-new ninjutsu. I call this one—Chidori."
As he spoke, he casually raised his forearm, fingers relaxed.
In the next instant—an earsplitting screech erupted.
A dazzling burst of blue lightning crackled to life in his palm. It sparked wildly, dancing with a volatile energy that seemed almost alive.
His fingers trembled, unable to fully contain the chakra.
Power and destruction radiated from his hand.
Danger hummed in the air.
And with that, history changed.