The training did not stop.
If the previous month had been about building a foundation, this new period was about consolidation. There was no longer the excitement of the beginning, nor the absolute frustration of ignorance. What remained was something more dangerous and far more powerful: consistency.
The clearing no longer felt unfamiliar.
The uneven ground no longer distracted him.
The silence no longer bothered him.
The focus was now singular: the Academy Clone Jutsu.
He began the day as always, adjusting his breathing, feeling chakra flow through his internal pathways even before forming a single hand seal. His body still took time to respond, but it no longer resisted as before. It was like teaching a stubborn partner to cooperate—slow, but possible.
Hand seals.
Tiger.
Monkey.
Ram.
The flow was carefully measured, neither forced nor restrained excessively. He visualized every detail of his own body, remembering the most common flaws: unstable faces, blurred outlines, delayed manifestation.
— *Stable. Simple. Functional.*
The clone appeared.
It did not tremble.
It did not distort.
It did not vanish after a few seconds.
It was him.
Same height.
Same posture.
Same focused expression.
He stepped forward. The clone did the same. He moved his hand. The clone followed precisely. He walked in a circle. The illusion remained firm, without visible flaws.
Seconds passed.
Ten.
Twenty.
Thirty.
The clone was still there.
His heart beat faster, but he forced himself to remain calm. Excessive emotion had always been the enemy of stability. Even so, a slow smile formed on his face.
— *I did it…*
It wasn't perfect. He could feel the constant chakra consumption, a controlled but steady drain. Still, it was far beyond what he had been capable of weeks ago.
The clone lasted nearly two full minutes before dispersing into a soft release of chakra.
Silence.
Then, something different happened.
A clear, almost physical sensation ran through his mind. It wasn't exhaustion. Nor pain. It was recognition.
The system responded.
> **[Objective Completed: Initial Mastery — Academy Clone Jutsu]**
> **[Reward Granted]**
Something cold and solid appeared in his right hand.
His eyes widened slightly.
A kunai.
Real metal. Simple, without adornments or special inscriptions. The edge wasn't perfect, but it was well balanced. A standard weapon, common to any ninja… but to someone who, until recently, had been improvising everything with wood, it was enormous.
He turned the kunai in his hand, feeling its real weight, its firmness, the absurd difference compared to the makeshift versions he had used before.
— *This… is a lot.*
Not in monetary value.
But in meaning.
It was proof that the system did not reward promises, but results. Small advances generated tangible gains. Every real step was acknowledged.
He stored the kunai carefully, almost reverently.
The training continued.
Now, he alternated between creating clones and performing physical exercises alongside them, using the illusion as a visual and mental reference. There was no experience transfer—he knew that—but there was something valuable there: coordination, rhythm, and immediate posture correction.
When he made a mistake, he saw it reflected in the clone.
When he moved correctly, the synchronization was perfect.
His chakra control also improved in subtle but consistent ways. Maintaining a stable clone demanded a continuous flow, forcing his body to adapt, even if reluctantly.
At the end of the day, exhausted, he sat in the clearing with the kunai resting beside him.
The metal reflected the soft light of the late afternoon.
And for the first time, his thoughts did not remain confined to immediate training.
They went further.
— *Hokage…*
The word surfaced effortlessly, almost naturally.
It wasn't about recognition. Nor about being admired. That position represented something far more important: **real power**. Authority to decide, to shape, to interfere with the course of the ninja world.
He knew that world inside and out. He knew where it broke, where it failed, where it sacrificed children in the name of a fragile, temporary peace. Compared to the world he came from, it was brutal, outdated, trapped in cycles of hatred that no one truly seemed willing to end.
— *If I have enough power… I can change this.*
Not naïvely.
He didn't believe words alone could solve everything. Nor that mutual understanding would arise on its own. History had proven the opposite far too many times.
The vision that made the most sense to him was clear—and uncomfortable.
Peace through power.
Unification through force.
Not blind destruction, but absolute control. A unified ninja world, without constant wars between villages, without children sent to die for political interests disguised as honor.
In that sense, his thinking came dangerously close to Madara's.
He acknowledged it.
Madara was wrong in many of his methods… but not in all of his diagnoses. The world truly only bowed before something greater than itself.
Still, he did not dismiss other perspectives.
Jiraiya's, for example.
Naïve? Yes.
Idealistic? Without a doubt.
But not useless.
There was merit in believing people could change, that understanding could emerge, that the cycle of hatred did not have to be eternal. Even if that vision alone was insufficient, it still had value as a moral compass, as a restraint to prevent power from becoming pure tyranny.
— *Maybe… the mistake was never the dream. But the lack of strength to sustain it.*
He closed his hand around the kunai.
He still wasn't strong.
He still wasn't fast.
He still wasn't talented.
But now, he had something that hadn't existed before.
A real weapon.
A functional jutsu.
A system that rewarded progress.
And an ambition that was beginning to rise—slow, s
teady, and dangerous.
Not merely to survive.
Not merely to become strong.
But to **reach the top**…
and, from there, decide the fate of the ninja world.