Lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, Masahiko gave only absentminded nods as he bid farewell to Butsuma Senju and Tobirama. Even the newlyweds, Hashirama and Mito, received only a fleeting, vacant glance. He politely but firmly declined the offer of an escort and set off on the return journey completely alone, feeling grand plans swarming in his head.
Participating in the development of the Flying Thunder God Technique and witnessing the process firsthand... I should definitely keep a close eye on Tobirama from now on. Very soon, his genius will birth the Shadow Clone Technique, and for that event, I'm sure to be showered with a generous handful of witness points. But the real prize is the Impure World Reincarnation. If the System doesn't hand me at least fifty points for that cheat code of a technique, it'll be daylight robbery.
He walked on, legs moving mechanically, while possibilities of the future flashed before his inner eye. What other milestones of history could he catch? If he really racked his brain, he didn't necessarily have to wait for the official founding of Konoha to amass a decent fortune in points. History was being written here and now, in every battle and every discovery.
The journey was surprisingly peaceful. Masahiko traveled light, unburdened by heavy luggage, and solitude only quickened his pace. Not even a couple of hours had passed before the borders of the Uzumaki clan lands were less than five li away.
Suddenly, he froze in his tracks, struck by the abrupt realization of one extremely delicate detail. During this short trip, he had grown younger by a whole twelve years. If he showed up now looking like this and claimed it was just a side effect of developing the Yin Seal, the Patriarch and the trio of grumpy Elders would laugh him out of the room. At best.
Tell them I stumbled upon a fruit of eternal youth in the forest? Nonsense; I don't live in a fairytale fantasy. Or maybe claim that the old man decided to shake off the years and fell into his second childhood—literally?
Masahiko imagined their faces for a moment and winced.
Alright, let's take the path of least resistance.
His fingers blurred, weaving seals with impeccable precision. The soft pop of displaced air announced the activation of the technique. "Transformation Technique!" A moment later, the same elderly man stood on the road once more. Level 10 mastery in the Three Basic Techniques proved incredibly useful—the disguise was so perfect that even an experienced eye wouldn't notice the deception.
"There, now I can go home," he thought with satisfaction, and soon he had crossed the outer boundaries of the settlement.
However, something strange awaited him at the entrance. The guards at the gate, barely spotting his figure, exchanged quick, anxious glances. To Masahiko's profound astonishment, both warriors, without uttering a word of greeting, broke into a run, racing each other toward the Patriarch's house.
Masahiko watched them go in bewilderment. I just came home. Have I become such a VIP? One messenger would have been more than enough; why run in a pair?..
Unable to find a logical explanation, he decided not to clutter his mind with unnecessary suspicions and leisurely headed toward his dwelling. But he was not destined to reach his doorstep—a familiar figure blocked his path. Striding swiftly toward him was the Clan Patriarch himself.
"Um, are you that eager to hear about your daughter's fate? Relax, Mito has settled in..." Masahiko began, wearing his usual light smirk, but the words stuck in his throat. The Clan Head's expression was darker than a thundercloud, and a heavy, oppressive shadow lingered in his eyes.
"Kureto died in battle," the Patriarch's voice sounded hollow, as if he were squeezing out every word with difficulty.
"What?" For a moment, Masahiko thought he had misheard, or rather, his mind simply refused to accept the information.
"I said, Kureto is dead..." the Clan Head repeated, and this time, the pain in his voice was unmistakable.
The world around Masahiko tilted for a moment. Wasting no time on unnecessary questions, he spun around and broke into a run, rushing toward the clan's main hall.
Inside, preparations for the farewell ceremony were already in full swing. The air was thick with the scent of incense and heavy silence. The Second and Third Elders sat motionless, glancing only fleetingly at Masahiko as he burst in. A strange detachment could be read in their eyes—they turned away immediately, clearly having neither the strength nor the desire for conversation.
"Where is the First Elder? Is he also..." Masahiko's voice trembled.
The Second Elder flashed an angry look in his direction, cutting off the panicked thoughts: "Older Brother is fine, if one can call it that. He is wounded and recovering in his quarters. We received the distress signal and moved out immediately, giving it everything we had, but... we were too late. Kureto passed away on the road home."
Slowly, as if in a dream, Masahiko approached Kureto's body, covered by a clean cloth. Lifting the edge, he saw a gaping wound in the chest. The blow had been delivered by something incredibly sharp and powerful—the lung had been pierced through, leaving no chance for survival.
"This mark..." he muttered, peering at the nature of the injury.
"You are not mistaken. This is the handiwork of those madmen from the Kaguya clan," the Third Elder confirmed, his voice laced with cold fury.
Masahiko shifted his gaze to the face of the deceased. Kureto looked painfully young, almost a child. The memory surfaced of how this boy, filled with pride and determination, had sworn to protect Mito at any cost before their departure to the Senju. A heavy, ragged sigh escaped Masahiko's chest. "Damn this Warring States Era!" Unable to bear the stifling atmosphere of grief any longer, he turned and walked out of the hall.
The Patriarch, who hadn't left, was waiting for him right at the entrance. He saw Masahiko's state and understood that he demanded an explanation. Without waiting for questions, he spoke, staring somewhere into the distance: "Yesterday, our scouts reported suspicious activity on the eastern border. Kureto's squad volunteered for reconnaissance. It was supposed to be a simple mission."
He paused, gathering his strength. "They reached a gorge, where they were ambushed. The enemy didn't hide—they were discovered by Shōrai himself, the head of the Kaguya clan."
Masahiko shuddered inwardly. A Clan Head against a scout squad?
"Spotting Kureto's men, Shōrai attacked instantly and mercilessly. Kureto, realizing there was no chance, decided to cover his comrades' retreat. He engaged the Kaguya leader alone, buying the others time..."
The Clan Head sighed heavily, weighing every subsequent word: "You know the rest. The three Elders arrived to help when the signal reached the settlement. The First Elder engaged in combat and was wounded, but in the end, they managed to push the enemy back. Unfortunately, Kureto's wounds were too deep. His heart stopped on the way back."
"I have two questions," Masahiko said, his voice sounding frighteningly steady. "Why was the head of the Kaguya clan personally lurking so close to our borders? And second, although in our times it sounds naive: we have never been openly at war with them. Is this somehow connected to the alliance through Mito?"
"No," the Patriarch shook his head. "The reason is far more prosaic and terrible. It's all because of the Ice Bone Herb."
"Ah..." Masahiko nodded impassively as all the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in his mind. "Now I understand."
"And now we can forget about peace forever. Gather your strength, Masahiko. Prepare for a great war," the Head added before walking away.
"Understood," Masahiko turned and slowly trudged toward his home.
The Ice Bone Herb—a rare, endangered plant with pale blue stems. The only remedy in the world capable of somewhat soothing the pain and suppressing the progression of the hereditary disease devouring the Kaguya clan from the inside. Masahiko knew from his vague memories of the future that this plant would soon vanish entirely.
Perhaps that was why the proud and fierce Kaguya clan would later perish ingloriously in the lands of the Mist. In the current Warring States Era, however, they were a formidable force, second in power only to the great Senju and Uchiha, and standing head and shoulders above the likes of the Hyūga. If not for their accursed illness and the eternal shortage of medicine, the Kaguya could dictate their will to all other clans.
Evidently, rich thickets of this herb had been discovered dangerously close to Uzumaki lands. And if Shōrai himself had gone on the hunt, it meant the Kaguya clan was desperate. Kureto had become an accidental victim of this desperate thirst for life, and now war was inevitable—the Uzumaki never forgave the death of their kin.
Once home, Masahiko collapsed onto his bed without even taking off his shoes. "I am completely drained..." he whispered into the emptiness of the room. "Two weeks on the road sucked me dry, and now this news. I am exhausted in both body and soul."
Lately, he had felt his progress advancing by leaps and bounds, and this ease had gone to his head. He had relaxed, abandoned his usual grueling training. But harsh reality quickly put him back in his place. Right now, he was nothing more than an Elite Jōnin. Yes, he had hidden trump cards allowing him to fight on par with those stronger, but that was catastrophically insufficient for the coming chaos.
The current me is just a grain of sand before the crushing might of the Kaguya. And looming ahead is the prospect of aiding the Senju in their endless slaughter with the Uchiha... This thought worked better than any cold shower. He sat up on the bed instantly, casting off drowsiness.
The only path to salvation was to become stronger, and to do it immediately.
He summoned the attribute panel in his mind. For observing the creation of the foundations of the Flying Thunder God Technique, the System had rewarded him with five Witness Points. Including the one saved earlier, he had six units at his disposal. How to use them for maximum benefit?
Right, the "Technique Power (Chakra)" stat. I've never tried investing points into it. Curious, what effect will that have?
Gathering his resolve, he mentally directed one unit into the line.
Technique Power (Chakra): 1004 (+1) (+)
"Um, is that it?" Masahiko listened to his sensations but felt absolutely nothing. Shrugging, he added another point.
This time, the changes washed over him suddenly. He felt the density of his chakra changing rapidly—it seemed to thicken, becoming more concentrated and heavy. Masahiko realized: the quality of his energy had risen by two stages at once. This meant that with absolutely the same expenditure of effort, his techniques would be a whole twenty percent more powerful than those of any other shinobi.
Stunned by such a result, Masahiko didn't hesitate to pour all remaining crumbs of points into this parameter.
Technique Power (Chakra): 1004 (+5.5)
So, after five units, the growth slows down to half per point? Fair enough. It would be strange if I became the strongest overnight, he reasoned, closely studying the updated data.
Finished with the distribution, he felt deep satisfaction. The power of his Ninjutsu had increased by more than half—fifty-five percent. In the face of impending war, this was a colossal trump card. Now, even if fate threw him against someone on the level of a hostile Clan Head, he wouldn't just be surviving; he could impose his own game... or at least "spin around" very energetically in a skirmish with an elite opponent.
"Well, let's settle on that. With this boost, I certainly won't perish. From now on, call me Uzumaki Pinwheel," Masahiko thought with a bitter smirk before falling into a heavy, troubled sleep.