Next, Shinji was escorted away by two female attendants from the capital's inner court. Their task was straightforward: prepare him for formal travel.
He bathed, changed into layered silk robes bearing the crest of his house, then endured the tedious process of hair binding, combing, and light ceremonial makeup. By the time they finished, nearly an hour had passed.
Outside, a procession awaited him. Dozens of retainers and guards lined the courtyard, and eighteen bearers stood ready to lift a lacquered palanquin. The structure was painted vermilion and adorned with red cord and floral knots — a traditional sign of nobility under the Fire Daimyō's domain.
Shinji grimaced.
"What a pain… When I become daimyo myself, the first thing I'll abolish is this ridiculous palanquin tradition."
With assistance from the attendants, he stepped inside. The curtain fell, shutting out the noise of the courtyard as the procession began moving toward Konoha.
Inside, Shinji reclined against soft cushions. In one hand, he held a scroll — not a secret treasure, but a compiled notebook of basic chakra control theory and low-level ninjutsu diagrams he had collected over the years.
For someone born into noble status, acquiring such material had never been difficult. The village libraries were open to allied lords, and shinobi instructors were always eager to curry favor.
He had read the scroll so many times that he knew every line by heart. He could form every hand seal instinctively. Still, whenever he had quiet time, he reviewed it again.
Old habits from a former life were hard to shake.
He set the scroll aside, straightened his posture, and closed his eyes.
Then he began molding chakra.
Chakra was the fusion of physical energy from the body and spiritual energy from the mind. Every shinobi learned this principle at the Academy. The method was simple in theory: draw both energies together, balance them, and circulate them through the chakra coils.
Shinji had long since mastered the technique.
Yet for eight years, something had gone wrong.
Every time he successfully molded chakra, he could feel it form — warm, alive, real — only for it to vanish moments later, as if swallowed by something unseen.
He never stopped trying.
Sometimes he would practice for hours, longer than most genin trainees, stubbornly repeating the same exercise.
If a Hyūga's Byakugan had been watching him, they would have seen chakra flare briefly through his coils — then rush unnaturally toward his head before disappearing completely.
This had happened every time.
Without exception.
But today was different.
As newly formed chakra streamed upward again, Shinji suddenly felt his awareness pulled inward.
A vast white expanse unfolded in his mind — an empty mental landscape, silent and still. At its center floated a tiny black point, no larger than a grain of sand.
And the chakra he had just molded was being drawn into it.
Absorbed.
Vanishing.
"What… is this?"
His consciousness stood inside his own mindscape — a phenomenon described in sealing arts and certain high-level genjutsu training, where a shinobi could perceive their inner world.
But Shinji had never studied such techniques.
Yet here he was, staring at something that clearly did not belong.
He focused on the black point.
It remained motionless, yet it drank chakra with quiet inevitability.
For eight years, something had been stealing his chakra.
Now he had finally seen the culprit.
Instead of fear, excitement rose in his chest.
A hidden bloodline limit?
A dormant seal?
A foreign chakra imprint?
Any of these could change his fate.
"Alright," he muttered inside his mindscape. "You've been stealing my chakra for years. At least give me a clue what you are."
Silence.
The black point floated, indifferent.
He called out again. Nothing.
No voice. No response. No guidance.
Only the quiet white void and the tiny devourer at its center.
After a long while, Shinji exhaled slowly.
"…Fine. If you want chakra so badly, I'll give you more."
His awareness withdrew back to reality. Inside the palanquin, his body remained still, eyes closed, breath steady.
Once more, he began molding chakra.
Physical energy.
Spiritual energy.
Fusion.
The chakra formed clearly — stronger than before — then surged upward along his coils…
And vanished into the black point again.
But this time, Shinji felt it distinctly.
Not loss.
But connection.