Chapter 190 — Development: Flying Thunder God
That afternoon, Taichi shifted his focus from sealing techniques to the Flying Thunder God Technique.
In truth, this wasn't his first time studying it. For a long while now, he had been assigning one of his shadow clones each day to research the technique specifically.
But unfortunately… progress had been nonexistent.
Now that the original body had taken over, Taichi dispelled that clone. A flood of memories returned—confirming that the entire morning had once again yielded nothing.
He didn't get frustrated. Instead, he pulled out the notes Minato Namikaze had given him when he first learned the technique and began reviewing them carefully.
After all, Minato had taken the Flying Thunder God to another level—developing applications like redirecting Tailed Beast Bombs. There had to be something valuable hidden in those notes.
The research continued until evening.
When Taichi finally closed the notebook, he still had no breakthrough.
But it wasn't a complete waste.
[Through study, Flying Thunder God proficiency +500 → Lv.5 (331/800)]
"At least the time wasn't wasted…" Taichi muttered with a wry smile.
Inspiration was like that—when it refused to come, no amount of effort could force it.
He scratched his head, unsure whether to keep pushing.
Then his eyes drifted back to the notebook.
A spark flashed.
Why struggle alone… when the creator is right there?
If two heads are better than one, then going straight to Minato himself was obviously the smarter move.
And for some reason, Taichi had a strong intuition—he would find his answer there.
The stronger one became, the more one trusted these instincts.
He glanced outside. It was already late.
"Tomorrow morning, then."
Decision made.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in Konoha…
Inside Minato's home, he suddenly sneezed several times in a row while sitting with Kushina Uzumaki.
"…That's strange. I'm not sick," he muttered.
Kushina reached over, touching his forehead, then her own.
"No fever. Are you okay?"
"Probably just some enemy thinking about me," Minato said casually.
Kushina laughed. "Then they're the unlucky ones."
The atmosphere quickly turned warm—almost embarrassingly so.
The next morning arrived.
After finishing his daily training, Taichi gathered all his research notes and headed straight to Minato's house.
But as soon as he approached, he felt several subtle gazes sweeping over him.
He frowned slightly, scanning the area—before spotting a few figures in ANBU attire.
"Ah… security for Kushina-neesan," he realized.
As the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki, she was under constant protection—especially now, with tensions between nations at an all-time high.
Taichi knocked.
As always, Kushina opened the door.
"Taichi? What brings you here this early?"
"I came to ask Minato-senpai something," he replied directly.
Understanding it was serious, she immediately led him inside.
"Minato! Taichi's here!"
The house felt warmer than before—more lived-in. Taichi couldn't help but smile inwardly.
Seems like things are progressing nicely here.
After a brief exchange of greetings, Minato got straight to the point.
"You came this early—must be something important?"
Taichi quickly laid out his notes.
"I want to modify the Flying Thunder God… so that under certain preset conditions, it can automatically summon me to the target—like a reverse summoning."
Minato immediately understood.
"You want to protect whoever holds your mark. If they're in danger, you teleport instantly to them."
Taichi gave a thumbs-up. "Exactly."
Then his expression dimmed slightly.
"But I've been stuck for days."
Minato began flipping through the notes—and the more he read, the more interested he became.
If this works… Kushina will be even safer.
He unconsciously glanced at her, his expression softening.
Taichi almost gagged.
"…Ahem."
"Got any ideas?" he pressed.
"Not yet," Minato admitted. "But the concept is solid."
Kushina, meanwhile, had picked up the sealing-related notes.
After just a few pages, she looked up in surprise.
"You wrote all this?"
"Yeah… why?"
She hesitated.
She had been the one to introduce him to sealing techniques—but now, some of his work was already beyond her understanding.
It wasn't about depth—it was the breadth, the combinations, the creativity.
Even she found herself learning from it.
Soon, the three of them were fully immersed.
Papers filled up, got revised, discarded, rewritten.
They even tested small-scale formulas on the spot.
Time passed unnoticed.
By the time the sun began to set, they finally stopped.
Kushina stretched. "Ugh… my brain's fried."
Minato immediately moved behind her, gently massaging her temples.
Taichi: "…seriously?"
Still, he looked at the stack of notes with satisfaction.
"At least we've mapped out a workable direction."
Minato nodded, eyes gleaming.
"It's ambitious—but possible. Just… extremely difficult."
Then he added,
"From here on, you'll have to develop it yourself. That's the only way it'll truly suit you."
Taichi nodded.
The Flying Thunder God was a unique technique—everyone who mastered it had to adapt it personally.
The Second Hokage's geometric formula.
Minato's stylized markings.
Taichi's own "Where I stand, none can oppose me" imprint.
Each was a reflection of its user's understanding.
There was no shortcut.
"Well then, I'll head back," Taichi said. "Hopefully I can finish this before the next deployment."
Minato froze slightly.
Finish… in a month?
It had taken him nearly two years to develop the Rasengan.
And this kid—
Minato suddenly felt a rare sense of defeat.
Taichi, oblivious, said his goodbyes and activated Flying Thunder God, vanishing instantly.
Back in his study, he spread out all the notes.
While his thoughts were still fresh, he began organizing everything rapidly.
This…
was where the real development began.
To realize Taichi's idea, the three of them broke the entire system down into three core modules.
The first was detection.
This part drew from sensory barrier techniques—by predefining what constituted "danger," the system could automatically trigger an alert the moment those conditions were met.
The second was transmission.
Here, Taichi borrowed inspiration from the memory-feedback mechanism of shadow clones. Once the alert was triggered, the information would be relayed instantly back to the original body.
The final step was reverse summoning.
To account for extreme distances—or situations where the caster might not even perceive the Flying Thunder God mark—the system would rely on stored chakra. Using reverse summoning principles, it would directly pull the caster to the location of the mark.
By combining these three steps, they aimed to create a remote rescue function for the Flying Thunder God Technique.
It sounded straightforward in theory.
In practice… it was anything but.
Each step required dissecting entirely different techniques—sensory barriers, clone mechanics, summoning principles, sealing arts—and then reconstructing them into a unified formula within the Flying Thunder God system.
Just thinking about it was enough to give anyone a headache.
That was exactly why Minato Namikaze had reacted so strongly earlier. Completing such a modification in a short time frame was, frankly, absurd.
But Taichi wasn't intimidated.
For one, the process itself was valuable training. Every attempt improved his mastery and granted experience across multiple disciplines.
More importantly—even if he failed—he still had his "fallback."
Skill points.
That alone gave him unwavering confidence.
In the days that followed, Taichi's main body practically stopped leaving the house altogether.
Everything else was delegated to shadow clones.
Hospital shifts.
Ninjutsu research.
Sword training.
Sparring with teammates.
Ice Release experimentation.
Routine tasks.
Each handled by a different clone.
He even pushed past his usual limit—maintaining six clones active at all times.
The cost?
Every night, when he dispelled them, the accumulated fatigue would hit all at once—knocking him out instantly. He would collapse onto his bed and sleep until the next morning without fail.
While Taichi immersed himself in relentless research for the sake of protecting those he cared about, the situation elsewhere in the ninja world was growing increasingly unstable.
Far to the south, in the Land of Wind—Sunagakure was descending into chaos.
The ceasefire between Sunagakure and Iwagakure had one purpose: to redirect their attention toward Konoha, the richest prize.
But neither side was foolish.
Whoever attacked first would bear the full force of Konoha's retaliation.
So both villages waited.
And waited.
Nearly a full month passed.
For Iwagakure, this was no issue. Under Onoki, internal control was firm. Aside from occasional complications involving the Jinchūriki, authority was centralized. Waiting longer posed no problem.
But Sunagakure was different.
The disappearance of the Third Kazekage had already shaken the village's stability. After enduring Iwagakure's initial invasion and finally retaliating successfully, morale had surged.
Then—suddenly—the order came to halt.
To the lower ranks, it was baffling.
Were they… afraid of Iwagakure?
Even though the Fourth Kazekage, Rasa, had personally led the counterattack and secured enough merit to stabilize his position, the unity was fragile.
After a month of inactivity, the temporary cohesion born from revenge began to crumble.
Dissatisfaction resurfaced.
Doubts about leadership.
Conflicts over resource distribution.
Factional tensions.
One by one, they erupted.
Sunagakure fell into even deeper turmoil than it had after the Third Kazekage's disappearance.
Within the residence of Chiyo, the acting Fourth Kazekage had arrived in person.
Rasa sought guidance.
Because at this point—only someone like her could steady the storm.