After realizing that Magnet Release didn't match his assumptions, Fujimoto Tōma began to wonder whether other parts of his memory were flawed as well.
So he started reviewing records he normally ignored.
The files of the Konoha Twelve, for example. Tōma had rarely bothered with them. He knew those kids too well from his previous life, and when he did skim their profiles, it was usually just a glance.
This time, he read carefully.
Most of it matched his memories.
Except for one person.
Rock Lee.
According to the records, Lee possessed an innate talent for Drunken Fist. Once intoxicated, he would enter a berserk state so unpredictable that even experienced jonin struggled to restrain him. Even Might Guy had difficulty controlling him in that condition.
Because of that, Guy had repeatedly emphasized one thing in his reports.
Never let Lee touch alcohol.
Not only did he lose control easily, his tolerance was terrible.
"…Drunken Fist," Tōma muttered, rubbing his forehead.
Now that he saw it written out, he remembered. Lee had shown signs of this ability. But later appearances were few, and the concept itself had quietly vanished from the spotlight. Over time, Tōma had simply forgotten.
He studied Lee's profile again.
In Tōma's impression, Lee couldn't use ninjutsu at all. His taijutsu was rigid, mechanical, almost textbook-like. Even with constant training, his movements lacked flexibility. Like a machine executing commands.
His only obvious gift had seemed to be his body. One that never broke no matter how hard it was pushed.
But this record suggested something else.
An instinctive fighter.
Drunken Fist wasn't about technique. It was about surrendering control. Letting the body move on instinct. Erratic. Unpredictable. Completely unlike Lee's usual stiffness.
It was like two different people.
Tōma didn't expect Lee to become some decisive force in the future. Still, Lee had once been his sparring partner. If there was a way to help him break past his limits, Tōma felt it was worth trying.
After some thought, he had Nara Shikaku summon Might Guy.
"Hokage-sama! You called for me?!" Guy boomed the moment he arrived.
"It's about Lee," Tōma said, handing him the file.
Guy blinked, scanned it, then frowned. "This all looks normal to me. Most of it's my own reports."
"I'm talking about the Drunken Fist," Tōma said. "I have a different idea."
Guy straightened immediately. Anything involving Lee had his full attention. "Please explain."
Tōma laid it out clearly.
Lee's Drunken Fist wasn't powered by alcohol. Alcohol was just the trigger. The real strength came from Lee's instincts being unleashed.
But if Lee could only access that state while drunk, it was useless.
Drunken Fist fundamentally clashed with the Eight Gates. By the later gates, blood nearly boiled. Alcohol wouldn't survive long enough to matter.
If Lee couldn't use that instinctive state while sober, then no matter how strong it looked, it had a hard ceiling. A ceiling too low to matter in high-level combat.
Breaking defenses mattered more than raw force.
Guy scratched his head. "I understand the theory. But how do I train him to use that instinct without alcohol?"
Tōma's lips curled into a grin that made Shikaku instinctively uneasy.
"Let him get drunk anyway," Tōma said. "And then it's your job."
Guy went pale.
Drunk Lee was terrifying. Even without opening the Eight Gates, subduing him wasn't easy.
But… if Lee truly learned to access that instinct freely…
Guy clenched his fist. "Then I'll do it! For Lee, I'll burn my youth once more! Ohhh!"
He turned and ran out immediately, chakra blazing.
Shikaku pinched the bridge of his nose. "That man really is simple."
"That's just how Guy is," Tōma said calmly. "You get used to it."
He paused, eyes distant.
"Don't underestimate him," Tōma added. "If he goes all out, he's stronger than I am right now."
Shikaku froze.
Tōma was reminded of a single kick. A final technique. One that nearly rewrote history.
Night Guy.
At that moment in the past, Madara hadn't yet absorbed the Divine Tree. He still had human weaknesses. Guy truly might have killed him.
Afterward, Madara stopped being human in any meaningful sense.
"It's a one-time thing," Tōma added quietly.
That only made it more frightening.
Shikaku's thoughts drifted to Might Duy, Guy's father. A genin who had once defeated the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist at the cost of his life.
Guy was far stronger than his father ever had been.
If this Guy opened all Eight Gates…
Shikaku exhaled slowly.
Terrifying didn't begin to cover it.
Of course, Tōma wasn't worried about facing Guy himself. He wouldn't make Madara's mistake of standing still and testing fate. All he had to do was survive until the Eight Gates burned out.
The real danger was Night Guy locking on.
That kick distorted space itself. Whether Flying Thunder God could function safely under spatial distortion was an experiment Tōma had no desire to run.
He finished reviewing the remaining records. No other major discrepancies surfaced.
In the end, the only thing he'd gotten wrong was Lee. Or rather, he hadn't been wrong. He'd simply forgotten.
A few days later, Tōma received good news.
Tsunade told him over dinner. Kakashi and Shizune hadn't made anything official, but Shizune had started preparing Kakashi's meals every day.
That alone said plenty.
Tōma wasn't surprised. Kakashi might hide his face, but he was undeniably handsome. From Tōma's perspective, he held his own even against Sasuke.
It wasn't strange that Shizune had taken the initiative.
Tōma also asked Naruto, who'd been sent along that day. Kakashi hadn't rejected her either.
Which meant things were moving.
Tōma smiled, satisfied.
Kakashi deserved this.
His life had been nothing but loss after loss. If starting a family could smooth the edges of that pain, even a little, then it was worth it.
He hoped Kakashi's second half would finally be peaceful.