BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Nawaki's silhouette rose and fell rhythmically in the air. Every time he finally began to descend, he would land precisely on another explosive tag trap. The proximity triggers would detonate, launching him right back into the sky.
In the distance, Tsunade watched this scene with her jaw hanging open. "Has that kid's research into explosive traps gone that deep?" she muttered, incredulous.
Orochimaru watched his disciple, who was currently being tossed around like a rag doll, and murmured with equal surprise, "Did he learn this from the Uchiha? But the Uchiha..."
Even Minato scratched his head. After fighting side-by-side with Tatsuma for three months, he knew Tatsuma's proficiency with traps was high, but... surely not this high?
Calculating blast trajectories was notoriously difficult. Being able to roughly estimate the direction a person or object would be thrown, reacting ahead of time to intercept them before they hit the ground—that was already the "high-tier" play of trap-setting.
But Nawaki had been airborne for nearly thirty seconds, triggering over a dozen tags in a perfect chain. The sheer amount of mental calculation required...
Minato briefly wondered if Tatsuma had been holding back on the battlefield to spare his feelings, but he quickly dismissed the thought. Tatsuma was too pragmatic to play games when lives were on the line.
Even Uzumaki Mito, who had lived through the shifting of eras, tightened her grip on Kushina's hand slightly. She could see that the potency of these tags had been reduced, but to endure that many consecutive blasts...
Everyone was stunned, but no one was more baffled than the architect himself. Tatsuma was staring at the scene in a daze. He had intended to use those dozen traps to lure Nawaki into a series of separate engagements. By blowing him up a few times, he hoped to make Nawaki hesitate before every charge, fearing a hidden trap.
But... how the hell did Nawaki manage to trigger all of them in one go?
BOOM—THUD!
Finally, Nawaki triggered the last trap. After a high-difficulty 1080-degree mid-air spin, he plummeted head-first like a lawn dart, planting his noggin deep into the dirt.
Gulp.
Watching Nawaki's total lack of mid-air recovery, Tatsuma began to worry if he'd actually broken him. He also couldn't help but wonder: Does Nawaki have some secret talent for a 100% explosive-tag-hit-rate?
[Ding! PHY +5, INT +5. Pick up?]
Seeing that no "Special Talent" had dropped, Tatsuma let out a sigh of relief. He ran over to the boy and performed a "Reverse Willow-Pulling" maneuver, yanking Nawaki out of the ground by his ankles.
"Nawaki! Nawaki! Are you okay?"
Tatsuma patted Nawaki's blackened, soot-covered face. The boy suddenly shuddered, and the light slowly returned to his dazed eyes.
"So... so... so powerful. What a formidable trap layout," Nawaki wheezed, his speech slurred. "But it's fine... I am a Taijutsu ninja. Let me... let me consolidate my gains. We shall meet at the summit."
Nawaki was rambling nonsense. Tsunade walked over and delivered a sharp "chestnut" to the boy's head before her hands began to glow with the teal light of the Mystical Palm.
"Sensei, is he alright?" Tatsuma asked.
Aside from looking like he'd been dragged through a chimney, Nawaki didn't seem to have any major wounds. Still, Tatsuma was nervous; it would be hard to explain if he'd accidentally lobotomized the Hokage's grandson.
Tsunade's brow was furrowed in serious concentration, which only made Tatsuma more tense. However, the reason she was frowning wasn't because the injuries were too severe—it was because they were too light.
Tatsuma had clearly lowered the yield of the tags, but taking a dozen of them in a row was more than an average Genin should be able to handle. Yet Nawaki... aside from a bit of vertigo, seemed perfectly fine.
Well, his face had swollen up like a balloon, but beyond that, even Tsunade couldn't find any internal damage.
Could this be the result of those months of training? Tsunade wondered.
Nawaki had claimed he was training under a ninja named Might Duy. Tsunade knew Duy—or rather, it was hard not to know him. He was a perennial Genin, remembered by most for his "foolish" diligence and "idiotic" hot-bloodedness.
Since Duy was just a Genin, Tsunade hadn't expected Nawaki to make much progress under his tutelage. But looking at him now... she realized she might have been too dismissive.
"He's fine. Just a bit concussed," Tsunade said. She hoisted Nawaki up by his collar and headed toward his room. He didn't have any major trauma, but he definitely needed a nap.
Orochimaru turned to Mito. "Mito-sama, I'll take my leave as well. I'll visit again when I have the chance."
"Mm." Mito waved him off.
Once Orochimaru was gone, Minato found an opening to start chatting with Kushina. He began recounting his experiences on the battlefield, and Kushina listened with rapt attention, her eyes wide.
Tatsuma was suddenly the odd man out. Fortunately, Uzumaki Mito beckoned him over. He scurried to her side—partly because he'd just blown up her grandson, and partly to avoid being a third wheel to the budding romance behind him.
They returned to the hall where Tatsuma usually studied Sealing Arts. He took his usual seat, but Mito didn't seem in the mood for a lecture. Instead, she asked softly:
"Do you miss that feeling of power?"
Tatsuma knew she was talking about the Nine-Tails' chakra. He was silent for a moment before answering honestly.
"To say I don't miss being that strong would be a lie. But... the side effects that come with that power are something I find completely unacceptable."
Tatsuma was telling the truth. He craved strength, but he hated that specific source of it. Not only was its manifestation born of tragedy, but he lacked the ability to control it. That sensation of his mind being drowned in a sea of corrosive rage was something he never wanted to experience again. He wanted to be strong, but he wanted it to be his strength, not a temporary "buff" he couldn't handle.
Mito nodded. As the Nine-Tails Jinchuriki, she knew better than anyone the crushing burden that chakra carried. And what she had given Tatsuma was refined, filtered chakra; the raw, unadulterated hatred of the Fox would have likely killed him instantly.
As she watched him, she used the Fox's ability to sense emotion. While she trusted Tatsuma's sincerity, the confirmation made her feel even more at ease.
Still, a flicker of regret crossed her mind. A boy with such a clear-headed, disciplined mindset regarding the Fox's power would have been the perfect candidate to safeguard it.
Unfortunately, his body... simply lacked the lineage to hold it.
If Tatsuma could maintain his current rate of growth, he might have a chance by the time he was an adult. But Mito knew she didn't have that long. If she wanted to live, she could—given her Uzumaki vitality and her mastery over her own life force, a few more years was easy.
But if she waited too long, she wouldn't be able to guarantee that the seal would hold. She held this power for the village, and the handover had to be conducted while she was still strong enough to ensure its stability.
This meant she had to pass it on while she was still in control. And that meant she couldn't wait for Tatsuma to grow up—even if his growth was a "maybe." Only Kushina, with her pure Uzumaki blood, could reach the necessary level within the few years Mito had left.
Mito gently smoothed Tatsuma's hair, pulling down one of his curls. "You really should get a haircut. It's too long; it makes you look unkempt."
"Mm."
"Any plans for the coming days? If you're free, come back and continue your studies."
"Lord Hokage said he would take some time to instruct Minato and me. That might take up a bit of my schedule."
"I see. Work hard, then. Come back whenever you have time."
Tatsuma genuinely enjoyed his time with Uzumaki Mito. She treated him like an actual grandson, which reminded him of the warmth of his past life. Back then, if he was bullied at school or scolded by his parents, he'd run to his grandmother's house. She'd make him a bowl of instant noodles—the kind his parents wouldn't let him eat—or cook up some sesame soup.
She didn't understand things like "career paths" or "academic competition," but she knew exactly how to make a little boy feel better.
The next day, Tatsuma visited the village barber. He had the man chop off two-thirds of his hair, though the visual change was surprisingly minimal.
The tips still hovered around his eyebrows, but his head no longer looked like an overinflated balloon. He felt like his head had shrunk by two sizes.
Freshly shorn, Tatsuma headed toward the Senju compound, but as he turned into a quiet alley, a figure dropped from the rooftops.
"Tatsuma. Long time no see."
Looking at the ninja in Anbu gear with his mask pushed up, Tatsuma offered a polite smile. "Sakumo-sama. It's been a while."
"The Hokage is waiting for you at the training grounds. I'll take you there."
"Thank you, Sakumo-sama."
Tatsuma's face betrayed a hint of excitement. Sakumo reached out and gave the boy's head a friendly ruffle—and ended up with a hand covered in silver-grey hair clippings.
Sakumo blinked, then patted Tatsuma's shoulder, surreptitiously wiping the stray hairs back onto the boy's clothes. "That blade I gave you... it must have caused you quite a bit of trouble, didn't it? I heard you were targeted more than once on the battlefield."
Tatsuma shook his head immediately. Being targeted wasn't Sakumo's fault. Well, maybe a little, but the main reason was his own actions. Early on, it was Sajin's personal vendetta; later, it was the Suna ninja shouting "Vengeance for Sajin!" as they swarmed him, often ignoring Minato and Fugaku entirely.
"You're joking. I should be the one thanking you. Your blade—and the techniques you asked Orochimaru-sama to teach me—saved my life out there."
"I'm glad to hear it."
Sakumo didn't press the issue. Whether or not his blade drew aggro, he knew Tatsuma's character was such that the boy would never blame him. He simply resolved to give Tatsuma more "perks" in the future.
The two arrived at the Third Training Ground. Minato was already there waiting. Hiruzen Sarutobi had discarded his formal robes in favor of his classic combat gear.
"Lord Hokage."
Even though Hiruzen's back was turned, Tatsuma bowed respectfully. With the Hokage's sensory abilities, making a face behind his back was a one-way ticket to a lecture—or worse.
Hiruzen nodded and slowly turned his head, giving them a steady, side-eyed profile. His voice was calm and heavy with authority.
"Tell me... what do you believe a ninja is?"