The training ground resembled a place hit by a small hurricane. The grass was trampled by hundreds of feet, tree bark smoked from contact with concentrated chakra, and the air smelled of ozone and burnt rubber.
Naruto sat in the center of the chaos, squeezing a rubber ball in his right hand.
The first stage—the water balloon—was about Rotation. The second stage—the rubber ball—was about Power.
Water is compliant; it flows. Rubber resists; it is elastic. To tear it apart from the inside, spinning the flow isn't enough. You need to invest monstrous density. Make the air harden.
"Damn..." the Jinchūriki hissed through clenched teeth.
His hand trembled, veins bulging, pulsing under the skin. The ball was scorching hot. The Fox's chakra, which he mixed in for amplification, was too aggressive and hot. It wasn't inflating the rubber with pressure; it was melting it. The acrid smell of burnt rubber hit his nose, causing nausea. The skin on his palm reddened, threatening to blister.
"Tajū Kage Bunshin!" he commanded hoarsely.
Twenty clones appeared around him. All looked exhausted, but cold determination burned in their eyes.
"Push!"
Torture.
Uzumaki felt the channels in his arm begin to burn. Crude, clumsy work, far from the elegance of Qi. He had to fight his own energy, cramming it into the tight space of the ball.
Suddenly, one of the clones screamed. The ball in his hand couldn't hold, but it didn't pop—it detonated, scattering hot shrapnel.
POOF!
The clone vanished. The original jerked, receiving the mental backlash: a sharp flash of pain in the hand, the sensation of a burn, disappointment.
Then a second one burst. A third.
The pain accumulated, turning into a throbbing migraine.
Jiraiya sat on a rock nearby, drawing something enthusiastically in his notebook. He didn't even raise his head at the explosions.
"You're trying to burn a hole," he noted lazily. "But you need an explosion from the center. Density, Naruto. Not temperature, but mass. Condense the chakra until it becomes heavy as stone."
The youth unclenched his scorched palm. A new ball.
Closed his eyes.
Density...
This was familiar. All Qi cultivation was built on densification. Compressing gas into liquid, liquid into solid. He knew the sensation.
But my Chakra is too loose compared to Qi. It's like steam. I need to compress it with my Will.
He stopped trying to spin faster. Started to press. Driving the chakra inward, not letting it out, layering it layer by layer until the internal pressure became critical.
The ball stopped heating up. It began to vibrate. Low, deep.
"More... More..." the blonde whispered.
POP!
The sound was dry and sharp, like a gunshot. The rubber tore to shreds.
"Got it!" the cultivator exhaled, opening his eyes. He found the right frequency.
Jiraiya snapped his notebook shut.
"Not bad. Faster than I thought. Break."
***
Evening descended on the training ground. They sat by a fire, roasting fish. Naruto ate silently, periodically clenching and unclenching his tired right hand, driving a healing flow of Qi through it.
Jiraiya took out a brush and a small scroll. He spread the paper on his knee and began applying symbols quickly, with light, fluid movements.
The student peered closer. Qi Sensory switched to micro-perception.
He saw the Sannin's chakra flowing from the tip of the bristles, but not soaking into the paper like water—it hardened in the ink, creating a rigid, closed energy structure.
"What is that?" he asked, forgetting his food.
"Fūinjutsu," the Sage answered without interrupting the movement. "Fire Suppression Seal. Useful thing if an enemy decides to roast you."
The Jinchūriki stared at the symbols, mesmerized. In the Library, he had seen similar formulas in Uzumaki scrolls, but they seemed like chaos. Now, looking at the Master's work, he saw logic. Saw how one symbol hooked onto another, creating a single chain.
"It's... like a recipe," he mumbled, choosing words. "Or an order. You write a condition, and the chakra executes it."
Jiraiya raised an eyebrow in surprise.
"Correct. Most shinobi think these are just mystical squiggles. But seals are the language of the universe. A way to give formless energy a rigid instruction. Your clan, the Uzumaki, mastered this language to perfection. They could seal a sea in a jar just by writing the correct symbols."
He pointed the brush tip at the central kanji.
"This is the 'Anchor'. It holds energy. And these spirals around it are the 'Pump', they pull chakra from the air. And the outer ring is the 'Fence', so nothing leaks out. A seal isn't just a drawing; it's a mechanism."
The Sannin handed him a brush and a blank sheet.
"Try. Draw this shape. But don't just draw. Concentrate chakra on the very tip of the bristles. You shouldn't wet the paper, but press your will into it. The line must be continuous and saturated."
Naruto took the brush. It fit in his hand familiarly—years of calligraphy and meditation gave him perfect motor skills.
Dipped the bristles in the inkwell.
Not chakra. Too unstable. Qi. It's dense. Holds shape better.
He imperceptibly switched the source. Qi, habitually colored blue, flowed to his fingers.
Inhale. Exhale.
The brush touched the paper.
With one smooth, confident movement, he drew the required shape.
The bristles didn't waver. The ink lay evenly, didn't run. But most importantly—the paper under the drawing sagged slightly, as if the ink weighed as much as lead.
Jiraiya took the sheet. His eyes widened. Ran a finger along the line. It was... heavy. Alive.
"Whoa..." the Sannin said quietly. "Steady hand, Naruto. Perfect flow control in the tool. Usually, rookies either tear the paper or make blots. Where did you learn this?"
"I wrote a lot," the youth answered evasively. "In solitude. It's calming."
Jiraiya looked at him with deep interest.
"You have a talent for Fūinjutsu, kid. Rare gift. Usually, Jinchūriki are walking bombs, destroyers. But you... you can be the lock for that bomb too. And gain control over your power."
He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a thick, battered tome.
"'Basics of Seals: Volume 1'. Take it. Read before bed instead of comics. If you master the theory, I'll teach you to create simple barriers."
Naruto pressed the book to his chest. The weight of the tome felt like the weight of hope.
The key to the ancestors' power.
"Thank you," he said sincerely.
***
Break over.
Jiraiya pulled out a balloon. Ordinary, thin.
"Third stage. Final."
He inflated the object.
"You learned to rotate water in the first stage. Learned to create density and power in the second. Now you must combine them."
The Sannin extended his hand. A Rasengan appeared in his palm.
"You must create a storm inside the sphere, but... not damage the shell. Maintain the shape of a perfect sphere. Maximum power in minimum volume. If the shell tears—energy dissipates. If the rotation is weak—no impact."
Uzumaki took the balloon. It seemed weightless after the heavy rubber ball.
The hardest part.
As soon as he concentrated power like in the second stage, the rubber popped instantly. The thin shell couldn't withstand the pressure. As soon as he tried to spare the balloon, power vanished, resulting in only a weak breeze inside.
Conflict. Yin and Yang. Control and Power. Containment and Release.
He created clones. Hundreds of attempts again.
The clearing filled with sounds of popping balloons.
Naruto was getting angry. His head was splitting. He felt the Chakra inside protesting, and the Fox's energy tearing outward, wanting to blow everything up.
"I can't!" he roared, throwing away a burst scrap. "When I rotate with one hand, I lose stability! My chakra is too unruly, it hits everywhere! I need a second hand to hold the shell, but then I can't rotate!"
A clone sitting nearby looked at him.
"Why do you have to do everything alone?"
The original froze.
"What?"
"We're clones," the double shrugged. "I am you. If I hold the shell and stabilize the form, and you rotate and pour in power... it will still be your chakra. Just... divided."
The blonde slapped his forehead.
"Dammit!"
He extended his right hand. The clone approached and placed his palms over the original's palm, forming a sphere.
The original Naruto focused on wild rotation and power input.
The clone—on holding the shape, smoothing corners, creating a perfect spherical shell.
Division of labor. Harmony.
Air buzzed in the palm.
The sound became higher and more piercing. A blue vortex began to form. Unstable, trembling, ready to break loose, but it held.
The ball didn't pop. Hummed like an angry beehive trapped in a glass jar.
Jiraiya, watching from afar, smiled.
Found your own way, huh? Using a clone to form the technique... Unconventional. No one has done that before him. But for his volumes and chakra type—the only correct solution. He isn't trying to remake himself; he is adapting the technique to himself.
In the youth's hand formed the first, still rough, but real Rasengan.
He held it for five seconds before control slipped and the energy dissipated in a gust of wind.
Naruto fell onto his back, looking at the starry sky. His chest heaved.
"I did it."
"Almost," Jiraiya's voice sounded overhead. "The shape is there. But power is still too low for a complete technique. And creation time is too long. In battle, the enemy won't wait for you and your clone to shake hands."
The Sannin handed him a flask of water.
"You have more than three weeks until the finals to make this automatic. So your hands remember the movement faster than thought."
Uzumaki clenched his fist, feeling the residual tingling in his palm.
"I'll make it."
He knew it wouldn't be easy, but with a mentor, the effectiveness of training had multiplied tenfold.