Yamamoto had been training for approximately sixteen hours straight when the green blur appeared.
At first, he thought it was a hallucination. Sleep deprivation could do strange things to the mind, and while his body had long since adapted to minimal rest, his brain occasionally protested in creative ways.
But the hallucination was making noise.
Very loud noise.
"DYNAMIC ENTRY!"
Yamamoto sidestepped on pure reflex, and the green blur shot past him like a very enthusiastic comet, crashing into a tree with enough force to splinter the trunk.
There was a moment of silence.
Then the blur peeled itself off the tree, revealing a boy approximately his age—maybe fifteen or sixteen—wearing the most aggressively green jumpsuit Yamamoto had ever seen. He had a bowl cut, enormous eyebrows, and a smile so bright it was almost weaponized.
"EXCELLENT REFLEXES!" the boy shouted, giving Yamamoto a thumbs up. "TRULY YOU ARE A WORTHY RIVAL!"
"What," Yamamoto said flatly.
"I am Rock Lee! The Beautiful Green Beast of Konoha! I have heard tales of your legendary training regimen and have come to challenge you to a contest of YOUTH and PERSEVERANCE!"
"What," Yamamoto repeated.
"I heard you train eighteen hours a day! That is INCREDIBLE! I only train sixteen! But I will increase my efforts to TWENTY hours and prove that hard work can overcome any obstacle!"
Yamamoto stared at the boy—Rock Lee, apparently—with something approaching disbelief.
In his previous life, he had watched the Naruto anime. He vaguely remembered a character who wore green and did a lot of kicking. But the memories were fuzzy, and nothing had prepared him for the sheer overwhelming presence of the real thing.
"You want to... challenge me?" Yamamoto asked slowly.
"YES! To a contest of endurance! We will run laps around the village until one of us collapses! It will be GLORIOUS!"
"Why?"
"BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT RIVALS DO!"
Yamamoto considered this.
On one hand, he didn't have time for distractions. Every moment spent on frivolous challenges was a moment not spent training.
On the other hand...
This was training.
Just with a competitor.
"Fine," he said.
Rock Lee's eyes—which were already quite large—somehow got even larger.
"TRULY?! YOU ACCEPT MY CHALLENGE?!"
"You said running. I run every day anyway. Might as well have company."
"THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE! GUY-SENSEI WILL BE SO PROUD!"
Before Yamamoto could ask who Guy-sensei was, Rock Lee had grabbed his hand and was shaking it vigorously.
"Let us begin IMMEDIATELY! I propose one hundred laps around the village as a warm-up, followed by five hundred push-ups, then—"
"That's not a warm-up. That's a full workout for most people."
"FOR MOST PEOPLE, YES! BUT WE ARE NOT MOST PEOPLE! WE ARE PRACTITIONERS OF HARD WORK AND DEDICATION!"
Yamamoto found himself nodding.
He was, he realized with some surprise, starting to like this strange green boy.
They ran.
And ran.
And ran.
The first hundred laps were easy—a light jog that barely registered as exercise. The next hundred were slightly more challenging, as Lee increased the pace and Yamamoto matched it. By lap three hundred, they were moving fast enough to leave visible dust trails. By lap five hundred, they had lapped the entire village seven times and several civilians had filed noise complaints about the constant sonic booms.
"YOU ARE AMAZING!" Lee shouted, not even winded. "I HAVE NEVER MET ANYONE WHO COULD KEEP UP WITH ME FOR SO LONG!"
"Same," Yamamoto admitted, and was surprised to find he meant it.
Most people gave up after the first hour of training with him. The pace was too intense, the standards too high. But Lee matched him step for step, never complaining, never slowing down.
It was... nice.
Having someone who understood.
"Shall we continue to ONE THOUSAND LAPS?!" Lee asked eagerly.
"Why stop there? Let's do two thousand."
"YOSH! YOUR FLAMES OF YOUTH BURN BRIGHTLY!"
They did two thousand laps.
Then three thousand.
Then they lost count and just kept going until the sun set.
The next morning, Lee showed up at Yamamoto's training ground with two other people.
One was a girl approximately their age, with brown hair tied up in two buns and an expression of barely-contained excitement. She was carrying an absolutely absurd number of weapons—scrolls and pouches and holsters covering nearly every inch of her outfit.
The other was a boy with long dark hair, pale eyes that marked him as a Hyuuga, and an aura of superiority that was almost impressive in its intensity.
"Yamamoto-san!" Lee called out, waving enthusiastically. "I have brought my teammates! This is Tenten, our weapons specialist, and Neji, our resident genius!"
"I didn't ask to be here," Neji said coldly.
"Yes you did! You said, and I quote, 'Fine, Lee, I'll come just to shut you up!'"
"That's not—"
"Same thing!"
Neji looked like he wanted to argue but couldn't find the energy. He settled for crossing his arms and radiating disapproval.
Tenten, meanwhile, was staring at Yamamoto with an intensity that was slightly unnerving.
"You're the one with the fire sword," she said.
"Yes."
"The black one that channels Amaterasu."
"Yes."
"The one that was forged in flames that never go out."
"Also yes."
Tenten's eyes were practically glowing.
"Can I see it?!"
Yamamoto blinked at her enthusiasm. "It's... not really safe for—"
"Please! I've studied every weapon in the village archives! I've read about legendary blades from across the nations! I've never seen anything like what you've created! Just a look! From a safe distance! With appropriate protective equipment!"
"...Fine."
He drew Kagutsuchi.
The blade emerged from its sheath with a sound like a distant inferno, black metal gleaming with barely-contained flames. Even inactive, it radiated heat—enough to make the air shimmer.
Tenten made a sound that could only be described as a "squee."
"It's BEAUTIFUL," she breathed. "The craftsmanship! The chakra integration! The way the fire is literally woven into the metal structure! This is the most incredible weapon I've ever seen!"
"Thank you?"
"Can I touch it?"
"No."
"Can I take notes on it?"
"I suppose."
"Can I ask you approximately three hundred questions about its construction and capabilities?"
"Maybe later."
"Can I watch you use it?"
"If you stay far enough back."
Tenten practically vibrated with excitement. She pulled out a notebook and began scribbling furiously.
Neji, who had been watching this exchange with growing annoyance, finally spoke up.
"This is pointless," he said. "I came here to observe this so-called prodigy, and all I see is another Uchiha with a flashy weapon. Natural talent means nothing in the face of true genius."
Yamamoto looked at him.
Neji met his gaze defiantly.
"Would you like to spar?" Yamamoto asked.
"What?"
"You seem to have opinions about my abilities. I thought you might want to test them directly."
Neji's pale eyes narrowed. "Are you challenging me?"
"I'm offering an opportunity. There's a difference."
Lee, who had been bouncing between them with increasing excitement, finally erupted.
"A SPAR BETWEEN TWO PRODIGIES! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I HOPED FOR! THE FLAMES OF YOUTH ARE BURNING BRIGHTLY TODAY!"
"I didn't agree to—" Neji started.
"Then don't," Yamamoto said, turning back to his training. "But if you're going to call me a mere 'flashy weapon user,' you should be willing to back it up."
There was a very long pause.
"Fine," Neji said through gritted teeth. "One spar. To prove that your clan's eye techniques are overrated."
"Interesting hypothesis."
They moved to the center of the training ground.
The spar lasted approximately four seconds.
Neji had barely finished activating his Byakugan when Yamamoto was already behind him, Kagutsuchi's inactive blade pressed lightly against his throat.
"How—" Neji started.
"You telegraphed your stance. Your weight was on your back foot, which meant you were planning a defensive rotation to the left. I cut off that angle before you could commit to it."
"That's impossible. The Byakugan has three-hundred-sixty-degree—"
"Vision doesn't matter if you can't react fast enough. Your eyes are excellent. Your speed is... adequate."
Neji's face went through approximately seven different expressions, none of them happy.
Yamamoto withdrew the blade and stepped back.
"You're talented," he said, and meant it. "Your technique is refined, your chakra control is impressive, and your analytical abilities are above average. But you're relying too heavily on your eyes and not enough on your instincts."
"I don't need advice from—"
"From someone who just beat you in four seconds? Perhaps not. But I'm offering it anyway."
Neji looked like he wanted to argue. He also looked like he couldn't think of what to say.
Lee, meanwhile, was crying.
"THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!" he sobbed. "A CLASH OF YOUTH! A MOMENT OF GROWTH! NEJI, YOUR RIVAL HAS SHOWN YOU THE PATH TO IMPROVEMENT!"
"He's not my rival—"
"HE IS NOW! JUST LIKE HE IS MY RIVAL! WE WILL ALL GROW STRONGER TOGETHER!"
"I really don't think—"
"THE FLAMES OF YOUTH CANNOT BE DENIED!"
Tenten, who had been frantically taking notes throughout the entire exchange, looked up with stars in her eyes.
"That was amazing," she said. "You moved so fast I could barely track it. And you didn't even use the fire abilities. Just pure speed and technique."
"The sword isn't meant to be the first resort," Yamamoto said. "It's meant to be the last one."
"That's so cool. You're so cool. Everything about this is cool."
Yamamoto wasn't sure how to respond to that.
"Thank you?" he tried.
Tenten's cheeks turned slightly pink. "I mean—I just—from a professional perspective—weapons analysis—combat observation—" She cleared her throat. "You're very skilled. That's all. Professionally speaking."
"Professionally speaking," Neji muttered, rolling his eyes.
"SHUT UP, NEJI!"
Over the next few weeks, Team Guy—as they called themselves—became regular fixtures at Yamamoto's training ground.
Lee came for the exercise. They would run together, do push-ups together, engage in increasingly absurd physical challenges that left the surrounding landscape scarred and smoking.
Neji came reluctantly at first, but kept returning. He never admitted why, but Yamamoto suspected it had something to do with the brief, brutal spars they engaged in—spars that always ended with Neji losing, but losing slightly less badly each time.
Tenten came for the weapons.
Specifically, she came for Kagutsuchi.
She would sit at a safe distance—approximately fifty feet, as recommended by the still-recovering researcher—and take notes. Detailed notes. Obsessive notes. Notes that filled multiple notebooks and included diagrams, measurements, and theoretical frameworks for how the sword's construction might be replicated.
"I don't think it can be replicated," Yamamoto told her after the first week. "Takahashi—the smith who made it—said the Amaterasu changed the metal into something new. Something that doesn't follow normal rules."
"That's what makes it so FASCINATING," Tenten said, scribbling furiously. "A weapon that transcends conventional metallurgy! A blade that exists outside the boundaries of known science! This is the discovery of a lifetime!"
"It's just a sword."
"It's not JUST a sword! It's a paradigm shift in our understanding of chakra-metal interaction!"
Yamamoto didn't know what a paradigm shift was, but Tenten seemed excited about it.
He also didn't notice the way she stared at him when she thought he wasn't looking. The way her cheeks flushed when he demonstrated a new technique. The way she always found excuses to stand close to him, even when the heat from Kagutsuchi made everyone else back away.
He was, as he had always been, completely focused on training.
Everything else was secondary.
The discovery happened on a Tuesday.
Yamamoto had been practicing his sword forms—the usual routine, nothing special—when he felt something strange.
A presence.
Not external. Not an approaching enemy or observing spy.
Internal.
Coming from the sword itself.
He stopped mid-swing, Kagutsuchi humming in his grip.
"Hello?" he said, feeling slightly foolish.
The sword pulsed.
Not with chakra. Not with fire.
With something else.
Something that felt almost like... consciousness.
Finally, a voice said.
Yamamoto looked around. He was alone in the training ground. Team Guy had left an hour ago, and the sun was setting.
"Who said that?"
Me.
The voice was coming from the sword.
Yamamoto stared at Kagutsuchi.
"...The sword is talking to me."
I prefer 'communicating.' Talking implies a physical mouth, which I obviously don't have.
"I'm hallucinating. That's the only explanation. I've finally pushed my body too far and now I'm having auditory hallucinations."
You're not hallucinating. I've been trying to contact you for months. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to get your attention? You're always training! Always focused! Never stopping to meditate or reflect or do anything that would let me establish a connection!
Yamamoto sat down heavily.
"The sword is scolding me," he said to no one. "My own sword is scolding me for training too much."
I'm not scolding. I'm explaining. There's a difference.
"Who are you? What are you?"
I'm... complicated. The short version is that when you forged me in Amaterasu flames, you created something new. Something that shouldn't exist. And in creating that impossibility, you accidentally opened a door.
"A door to what?"
Another system. Another set of rules. Another way of doing things.
Yamamoto's mind raced. Another system. Another set of rules. Why did that sound familiar?
And then it hit him.
"Oh no," he said.
Oh yes, the sword replied, sounding almost amused.
"You're a zanpakuto."
Technically, I'm a unique hybrid between a chakra-forged weapon and a zanpakuto-style spirit blade. But yes, essentially, I'm a zanpakuto. Complete with all the associated abilities.
"That doesn't make any sense. Zanpakuto are from a completely different fictional universe. They shouldn't exist here."
And yet, here I am. It's almost like the rules of reality are more flexible than you thought.
Yamamoto was silent for a long moment.
"What's your name?" he asked finally.
I was wondering when you'd ask. My name is—
The sword pulsed again, and suddenly Yamamoto wasn't in the training ground anymore.
He was standing in a world of fire.
Endless flames stretched in every direction—orange and red and gold and white, dancing and roaring and consuming everything. The sky was fire. The ground was fire. The air itself seemed to burn.
And in the center of it all, there was a figure.
It was vaguely humanoid, but composed entirely of flame. Its eyes were black flames—Amaterasu, Yamamoto recognized—and its body shifted and changed constantly, never settling into a fixed form.
"Welcome to your inner world," the figure said. "It took you long enough."
"I didn't know it existed."
"Because you never stopped to look. You were so busy training your body that you neglected your spirit. Your sword. Me."
"I apologize."
"Apologize by listening. I am Enbukenja—the Flame Sage. I am the spirit of your blade, born from impossible fire and forged through impossible will. And I have abilities that you haven't even begun to explore."
Yamamoto looked at the burning world around him.
"Like what?"
Enbukenja smiled—or at least, the flames shifted in a way that suggested a smile.
"Like Shikai," it said. "And Bankai."
Yamamoto returned to reality with a gasp.
He was still sitting in the training ground, Kagutsuchi resting across his lap. The sun had fully set, and stars were beginning to appear overhead.
"That was..." he started.
Overwhelming? Enbukenja suggested.
"I was going to say 'informative.'"
Of course you were.
Yamamoto stood up, examining the sword with new eyes.
According to Enbukenja—according to his own sword—Kagutsuchi had two additional forms beyond its base state. Shikai, which required speaking a release command and the blade's name, would unlock its first level of power. Bankai, which required extensive training and mastery, would unlock its full potential.
Yamamoto had no idea what that full potential was.
But he was going to find out.
"What's the release command?" he asked.
Are you sure you want to do this now? It might be wise to prepare, to find an isolated location, to—
"What's the release command?"
The sword sighed—somehow.
Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you. The command is: "Reduce all creation to ash, Enbukenja."
Yamamoto raised the blade.
"Reduce all creation to ash, Enbukenja."
The world ignited.
Tenten had forgotten her notebook.
This was embarrassing. She was usually so careful with her research materials. But she had been distracted during today's observation session—distracted by the way Yamamoto's hair fell across his face when he moved, by the precise control in his movements, by the intense focus in his eyes—
Not that she was thinking about that.
She was thinking about weapons.
Professionally.
So she had come back to retrieve her notebook before heading home. It was a simple errand. In and out. No big deal.
Except when she arrived at the training ground, it was on fire.
Not metaphorically. Actually on fire.
Flames everywhere—orange flames, white flames, and those terrifying black flames that she recognized from her research as Amaterasu. They covered the ground, climbed the remaining trees, and spiraled into the sky in a massive column of heat and light.
And in the center of it all, Yamamoto stood with his sword raised.
But it wasn't Kagutsuchi anymore.
Or rather, it was Kagutsuchi, but transformed. The blade had elongated, doubling in length, and now resembled a massive katana with flames literally woven into its edge. The guard had changed too—becoming a stylized sun with rays extending outward—and the handle was wrapped in what appeared to be solidified fire.
Yamamoto himself had changed.
His clothes were... different. Instead of his usual training outfit, he was wearing something that looked like a cross between traditional samurai armor and a robe of living flame. Fire licked at his shoulders, danced around his feet, and trailed from his hair like a burning cape.
He looked like a god.
A very confused god, judging by his expression.
"Why do I look like this?" he was asking the sword. "I didn't ask to change clothes!"
Shikai activates your spiritual pressure as well as the blade's power. The outfit is a physical manifestation of your soul's nature.
"My soul's nature is 'on fire'?"
Have you met you? Of course it is.
Tenten's notebook fell from nerveless fingers.
Yamamoto's head snapped toward the sound, his transformed eyes—which were now literally glowing—locking onto her position.
"Tenten?"
"I—you—the sword—fire—clothes—what—"
"I can explain."
"YOU LOOK COMPLETELY DIFFERENT!"
"I'm aware."
"YOUR SWORD IS HUGE NOW!"
"Also aware."
"THE FIRE IS—THE FIRE IS EVERYWHERE—AND YOU'RE—AND IT'S—"
Tenten's brain, overwhelmed by the sheer impossibility of what she was witnessing, made an executive decision.
She fainted.
When she woke up, the fire was gone.
Well, mostly gone. There were still scorch marks everywhere, and several trees were definitely not going to recover. But the wall of flames that had surrounded the training ground had been extinguished.
Yamamoto was kneeling beside her, looking concerned.
His clothes were back to normal. His sword was back to its regular size. He looked almost completely ordinary.
Almost.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"I... think so?"
"You fainted."
"I remember."
"That was my fault. I should have made sure the area was clear before testing the new ability."
Tenten sat up slowly, her head still spinning.
"What... was that?" she asked.
"I'm not entirely sure," Yamamoto admitted. "Apparently my sword has a spirit. And that spirit grants additional powers when I speak a release command. The transformation you saw was called 'Shikai.'"
Tenten stared at him.
"Your sword has a spirit."
"Yes."
"And speaking a command transforms it."
"And me, apparently. I wasn't expecting the costume change."
"Yamamoto-san."
"Yes?"
"I have approximately seven thousand questions."
"I expected as much."
Explaining took several hours.
Tenten was, as promised, thorough. She wanted to know everything—how he had discovered the spirit, what the inner world looked like, what the release command was, how the transformation worked, why the clothes changed, whether the power boost was permanent or temporary.
Yamamoto answered as best he could, though many of his answers were variations of "I don't know" and "the sword won't tell me yet."
I would tell you if you had earned it, Enbukenja commented. Bankai requires mastery. You have achieved Shikai through instinct and raw power, but true understanding takes time.
"The sword is being cryptic," Yamamoto relayed.
"Swords don't usually have personalities," Tenten said faintly.
"This one does. Rather strongly, actually."
I resent that.
"See?"
Tenten was quiet for a long moment.
"This changes everything," she said finally.
"How so?"
"We thought Kagutsuchi was just a unique weapon. A powerful one, but ultimately just a sword. But if it's actually a... what did you call it? Zanpakuto?"
"That's the term the spirit used. I'm not entirely sure what it means in this context."
"Neither am I. But if your sword can transform, if it has stages of power, if it can grant you additional abilities..." She trailed off, her eyes going wide. "The implications are staggering."
"I'm just trying to get stronger."
"You're rewriting our understanding of what weapons can be!"
Yamamoto shrugged. "Same thing, really."
Tenten looked like she wanted to argue, but couldn't figure out how.
"Can you... show me again?" she asked hesitantly. "The transformation? I want to take proper notes this time. For research purposes."
"Professionally speaking?"
"Yes! Professionally! Completely professionally!"
Yamamoto stood up, drawing Kagutsuchi.
"Stand back," he advised. "The fire spreads quickly."
Tenten scrambled to a safe distance, notebook at the ready.
"Reduce all creation to ash, Enbukenja."
The flames returned.
By the time Yamamoto sealed his Shikai and returned to normal, Tenten had filled an entire notebook.
She had also, he noticed, drawn several sketches of him in his transformed state. Detailed sketches. From multiple angles.
"For documentation purposes," she said quickly when she caught him looking.
"I see."
"Purely scientific."
"Of course."
"The anatomical accuracy is important for understanding how the transformation affects your physical structure."
"Naturally."
Tenten's face was very red.
Yamamoto decided not to comment on it.
She likes you, Enbukenja observed.
Yamamoto ignored the sword.
No, really. She likes you. In a romantic way. It's extremely obvious.
"Did you say something?" Tenten asked.
"No. The sword did."
"What did it say?"
"Nothing important."
Coward.
Word of the transformation spread quickly.
Yamamoto had tried to keep it quiet, but Tenten's excitement proved impossible to contain. She had told Lee, who had told everyone he knew, who had told everyone they knew. Within a week, the entire village was buzzing with rumors about the Uchiha survivor's shape-shifting sword.
The Hokage summoned him.
"I've received... reports," Hiruzen said carefully, eyeing Yamamoto across his desk. "About a new ability you've developed."
"Yes, Lord Hokage."
"A transformation technique linked to your sword."
"That's correct."
"One that changes both the weapon's form and your own appearance."
"Also correct."
Hiruzen was silent for a long moment.
"How?" he asked finally.
"The sword has a spirit," Yamamoto said. "When I speak the release command, it grants me access to additional power."
"The sword has a spirit."
"Yes."
"A conscious entity living inside your weapon."
"It prefers 'bound to' rather than 'living inside,' but essentially yes."
Hiruzen pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Is there anything else about your abilities that I should know?" he asked. "Any other impossible developments waiting to surprise me?"
Yamamoto considered the question.
"The sword mentioned something called 'Bankai,'" he said. "A second, more powerful transformation beyond Shikai. I haven't achieved it yet, but I'm working on it."
"Of course you are."
"Training is important."
"Yes, I've noticed." Hiruzen sighed heavily. "You're dismissed, Yamamoto. Please try not to create any new geological formations or revolutionary weapon systems this week."
"I'll do my best, Lord Hokage."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
Danzo received his own report that evening.
"A spirit bound to the sword," he read aloud. "Transformation capabilities. Multiple stages of power."
His hands were trembling.
Not from fear.
From anger.
"This boy continues to exceed every expectation," he said quietly. "Every time we think we understand his limits, he reveals new depths."
"What are your orders, Lord Danzo?"
Danzo was quiet for a long moment.
"Nothing," he said finally. "We do nothing."
"Lord Danzo?"
"He's too powerful to confront directly. Too unpredictable to manipulate. And too valuable to eliminate." He crumpled the report in his fist. "We watch. We wait. And we pray that he never decides to become our enemy."
"Understood, Lord Danzo."
The aide left.
Danzo stared at the fire burning in his hearth for a long time.
Then, slowly, he began to laugh.
It was not a happy sound.
Lee found out about the transformation during their next training session.
His reaction was, predictably, enthusiastic.
"A BLADE THAT TRANSFORMS BASED ON SPIRITUAL CONNECTION?!" he shouted, tears streaming down his face. "THIS IS THE ULTIMATE EXPRESSION OF YOUTH! YOUR BOND WITH YOUR WEAPON HAS TRANSCENDED PHYSICAL LIMITATIONS AND ACHIEVED TRUE HARMONY!"
"I appreciate your support," Yamamoto said.
"SHOW ME! SHOW ME THE TRANSFORMATION! I MUST WITNESS THIS MIRACLE OF HARD WORK AND DEDICATION!"
Yamamoto activated Shikai.
Lee wept harder.
"BEAUTIFUL! ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL! THE FLAMES! THE OUTFIT! THE AURA OF OVERWHELMING POWER! GUY-SENSEI MUST SEE THIS!"
"Please don't tell—"
"GUY-SENSEI!"
A green blur descended from the sky.
Might Guy was, somehow, even more intense than his student.
He stood in the training ground—having appeared from literally nowhere within seconds of Lee's shout—and stared at Yamamoto's Shikai form with eyes that were actively overflowing with tears.
"MAGNIFICENT!" he bellowed. "THE FLAMES OF YOUTH BURN SO BRIGHTLY IN YOU THAT THEY'VE BECOME LITERAL! THIS IS THE MOST INSPIRING THING I'VE EVER WITNESSED!"
"Thank you?"
"I MUST SPAR WITH YOU! A CLASH OF YOUTH BETWEEN THE SUBLIME GREEN BEAST AND THE BLAZING FIRE SAGE! IT WILL BE LEGENDARY!"
"I really don't think—"
"LET'S GO!"
Guy attacked.
The spar lasted six hours.
Six hours of taijutsu at speeds that would have vaporized ordinary shinobi. Six hours of kicks and punches and dynamic entries that left craters in the earth. Six hours of Yamamoto's Shikai-enhanced speed barely keeping up with Guy's ridiculous physical capabilities.
It was, without question, the hardest Yamamoto had ever worked.
And it was the most fun he'd had in years.
"INCREDIBLE!" Guy shouted as they finally stopped, both of them breathing hard. "YOUR FLAMES OF YOUTH ARE TRULY EXCEPTIONAL! I HAVEN'T BEEN PUSHED THIS FAR SINCE MY LAST BATTLE WITH KAKASHI!"
"You're... stronger than I expected," Yamamoto admitted.
"HARD WORK CAN OVERCOME ANY OBSTACLE! EVEN GENIUS! ESPECIALLY GENIUS! YOUR POWER IS GREAT, BUT IT'S YOUR DEDICATION THAT MAKES YOU TRULY FORMIDABLE!"
For once, the shouting didn't seem excessive.
It seemed appropriate.
"Thank you, Guy-sensei," Yamamoto said. "This was... valuable."
"ANYTIME, YOUNG YAMAMOTO! THE BEAUTIFUL GREEN BEAST IS ALWAYS AVAILABLE FOR INSPIRATIONAL SPARS AND CONTESTS OF YOUTH!"
Lee was sobbing in the background, overwhelmed by the beauty of the moment.
Neji was standing slightly apart, looking contemplative.
And Tenten was taking notes furiously, occasionally pausing to stare at Yamamoto with an expression that was definitely still completely professional.
That night, after everyone had left, Yamamoto sat in the ruined training ground and spoke to his sword.
"Enbukenja."
Yes?
"Tell me about Bankai."
You're not ready.
"When will I be ready?"
When you truly understand me. My nature. My purpose. My desires.
"What are your desires?"
The sword was quiet for a long moment.
To burn, it said finally. To consume. To reduce everything impure to ash and leave only what is true behind. That is my nature. That is what you created when you forged me in impossible flames.
"And what does that mean for Bankai?"
Bankai is the ultimate expression of that nature. When you achieve it—if you achieve it—you will have access to power beyond anything this world has seen. Fire that can burn concepts. Flames that can consume dimensions. Heat that can rival stars.
Yamamoto absorbed this.
"That sounds dangerous."
It is. That's why you're not ready. You need control first. Mastery. You need to understand that power without wisdom is just destruction.
"I understand destruction. I've been destroying things my whole life."
Yes. That's exactly the problem.
Yamamoto was quiet.
"Teach me," he said finally. "Teach me what I need to know."
That's what I've been trying to do. But you need to listen. Really listen. Not just grind endlessly, but reflect. Think. Grow.
"I don't know how to do that."
Then learn. That's the training you actually need.
For the first time in years, Yamamoto felt genuinely challenged.
Not physically—physically, he could handle almost anything.
But mentally? Spiritually?
Those were weaknesses he hadn't addressed.
Weaknesses he needed to fix.
"Okay," he said. "I'll try."
That's all I ask.
The next morning, Naruto showed up at the training ground with a giant scroll strapped to his back.
"Yamamoto! You'll never believe what happened! Some guy tried to trick me into stealing this scroll but then I learned this AMAZING jutsu and now I'm officially a genin and I have a team and everything!"
Yamamoto stared at the orange blur bouncing in front of him.
"Congratulations?" he offered.
"Thanks! Hey, what happened to the training ground? It looks like someone set off a bunch of explosions. Also there's a new canyon over there."
Yamamoto looked at the canyon.
He didn't remember creating that one.
That was during the Guy spar, Enbukenja supplied helpfully. You were rather enthusiastic with the finishing move.
"Training accident," Yamamoto said.
"Cool! Hey, wanna see my new jutsu?! It's called Shadow Clone and it's AWESOME!"
Naruto performed the technique, and suddenly there were fifty of him.
Yamamoto blinked.
"That's... actually impressive."
"Right?! And there's more! I can make even MORE clones! Like, hundreds! Maybe thousands!"
"Thousands seems excessive."
"That's what the pervy sage said too! Anyway, I gotta go meet my new team, but I wanted to tell you first because you're my friend and friends share good news!"
He dispelled the clones and ran off, waving over his shoulder.
Yamamoto watched him go.
He's going to be important, Enbukenja observed.
"I know."
You should keep an eye on him.
"I plan to."
Good. Now, shall we continue our discussion about spiritual growth and the path to Bankai?
Yamamoto sighed.
"Fine. But I'm also going to do physical training at the same time."
Of course you are.
Sasuke arrived at the training ground three hours later.
He was sweaty, exhausted, and looked like he hadn't slept properly in days. But there was a determination in his eyes that hadn't been there before.
"I've been running," he said. "Like you told me. Every day. Until I collapse."
"Good."
"I'm ready for the next step."
Yamamoto studied the younger Uchiha.
He was still weak. Still nowhere close to the level Yamamoto had been at his age. But there was something there—a spark of potential, a fire waiting to be stoked.
"Okay," Yamamoto said. "Sit down."
Sasuke sat.
"We're going to meditate."
"What?"
"You heard me. Close your eyes. Focus on your breathing. And listen."
"Listen to what?"
"To yourself. To your chakra. To the world around you."
Sasuke looked skeptical, but complied.
Yamamoto settled into a meditation pose beside him.
What are you doing? Enbukenja asked.
"Teaching," Yamamoto replied silently. "Like you're teaching me."
Interesting. Perhaps you're learning after all.
They sat in silence as the sun climbed higher.
Somewhere in the village, Naruto was meeting his new team.
Somewhere in the shadows, Danzo was making plans.
Somewhere in his office, the Hokage was sighing heavily over another report about unusual activity in Training Ground Seven.
And in the training ground itself, two Uchiha survivors sat together, breathing slowly, reaching for something beyond physical strength.
The grind continued.
But maybe, just maybe, it was starting to become something more.
End of Chapter 3