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Upon returning home, Naruto sat down at his small kitchen table to consume the meal his Shadow Clone had prepared. He noted with a trace of clinical dissatisfaction that while the clone shared his knowledge, its execution lacked the soul of the original. The seasoning was slightly off—a mediocre imitation of his own culinary standards.
After finishing his meal and chugging a carton of milk, Naruto bypassed the living room and went straight to his bedroom. He found a clean glass bottle, filled it with fresh water, and carefully placed the light-purple bellflower Ino had given him inside.
He didn't start his training immediately. Instead, he reached out a finger and gently brushed the delicate petals. Deep within his core, he mobilized a thread of Wood Release chakra—still unfamiliar and raw, yet thrumming with the heartbeat of the forest—and injected it into the stem.
A faint, emerald glow pulsed at his fingertip. The bellflower, which had begun to droop after being severed from the earth, straightened its spine. Its color deepened, vibrant and defiant against the dim light of the room.
"Hehe..."
Inside the Sealing Space, Kurama's low, gravelly voice echoed with a tinge of mockery. "A little girl hands you a wildflower, and you're already smitten, brat?"
Naruto's consciousness dived into the dark water of the seal. He looked up at the massive scarlet eyes behind the bars and shook his head. His tone was calm, but carried the weight of a complex, lived-in fatigue.
"It isn't about being smitten, Kurama," Naruto said softly. "I'm just... feeling the weight of the moment. I never thought that in my life, someone would think to give me something as simple as a flower."
The Nine-Tails' teasing expression faltered. The beast fell silent, the malice in his gaze replaced by a somber stillness. He knew the history better than anyone. He thought of the years of cold stares and the vitriol Naruto had endured—a childhood defined by a loneliness Kurama himself had helped create the night he took the lives of Minato and Kushina.
Seeing the fox fall silent, Naruto gave a soft, dry chuckle. "I don't blame you, Kurama. I'll save my resentment for the man who actually pulled your strings that night."
Obito. The name was a target in Naruto's mind. Before he could face a monster with the Kamui, he needed to forge his body into a Sage vessel capable of rivaling the First Hokage. Perhaps one day, "Naruto Cells" would become the same legendary S-rank commodity as Hashirama's.
Withdrawing from the mindscape, Naruto lay on the bed and dismissed the four Shadow Clones that had been active all day.
In an instant, four distinct torrents of memory and exhaustion slammed into his brain. For an ordinary shinobi, this massive influx of information—the failures, the mental strain, and the intricate rune-logic of the sealing scroll—would have caused a debilitating migraine. Naruto merely winced, his brow furrowing as he began the systematic process of "indexing" the data.
He acted like a librarian of his own mind, filing away the failed attempts as "experience" and solidifying the successful insights into "skill." It was a mentally taxing process that left beads of sweat on his temples. When the last bit of information was digested, he let out a long sigh of relief.
He stood up and switched on a small lamp, opening the sealing scroll once more. The basic structures—the Chakra flow principles that had been indecipherable yesterday—now clicked into place. However, as he moved his gaze to the latter half of the scroll, he hit a wall.
The advanced formulas involving space, soul-contracts, and conceptual anchors looked like an alien script.
Sealing techniques really are just like mathematics, he grumbled to himself. Math will never betray you—because if you don't know it, you just don't know it. No matter how long you stare at the page, the answer won't manifest through sheer willpower.
The next morning, before the dawn could fully dispel the winter chill, a slight fluctuation of Kurama's chakra nudged Naruto awake.
Naruto rubbed his eyes, watching the sun peek over the eastern horizon. He didn't linger. He tied on an apron and began the rhythmic, therapeutic work of the kitchen. The scent of fresh miso soup and perfectly fried eggs filled the apartment—a far cry from the clone's efforts the night before.
After breakfast, Naruto stood in the center of his living room and formed the seal.
Poof. Poof. Poof. Poof.
He created four clones again, but this time, he refined the plan. He had realized that sealing techniques couldn't be conquered through sheer volume; they required intense, focused comprehension.
"Assignment update," Naruto commanded. "Clone One: Theoretical focus on the sealing fundamentals. No distractions. Clone Two: Nature transformation drills. Clone Three and Four: High-intensity Wood Release stability experiments."
This was the path of the genius: recognizing when to pivot. By dedicating only one mind to the seals, he ensured the thought process remained linear and clear, while freeing up the others to build his physical and elemental arsenal.
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