The afternoon sun filtered through the dense canopy of Shorai's hidden training spot, casting dappled shadows over the flattened grass and scuffed earth. The ANBU evaluation had been grueling, stretching from one o'clock until well past four. It hadn't been a test of mere strength, but of endurance, mental fortitude, and the ability to remain invisible while under pressure.
Shorai sat on a mossy root, his breath coming in steady, rhythmic pulls. He wasn't at the point of collapse, but a heavy, leaden weight settled into his bones—the specific ache of a child's body pushed to its absolute threshold by an adult's relentless will.
Not bad, he thought, wiping a smear of dirt from his cheek. But even with the passive enhancements, this vessel had its limits.
Shorai checked his watch—4:20 PM.
He needed rest, but the timeline of the village wouldn't wait for his recovery. Tonight was the night.
Shorai exhaled, then sent a controlled pulse of wind beneath his feet to mask what came next. The Reality Stone flared to life, warping his mind back to its pre-trial state and activating sensory mode. His consciousness expanded—reaching into the village, latching onto minds. Hiruzen… ANBU reporting to him. Naruto… pointed and exploited… Mizuki preparing his move.
Back in his room, under the warm stream of the shower, Shorai sank into a meditative state. Hiruzen knew. He had to. Why let it happen? Is this part of a greater design? Or is the system truly this fragile?
After dressing, with deliberate care, he set a clock for the late hours of the evening—calculating the window when Naruto would most likely make his move on the Forbidden Scroll. Then, silence.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Shorai's eyes snapped open, silencing the alarm with a swift punch. He felt sluggish, his muscles stiff, but his mind was sharp.
He reached into the ether of his consciousness, calling upon the Reality Stone. The crimson gem didn't manifest physically, but its power flooded his vision, peeling back the walls of his room and the layers of the village like an onion.
Through the Stone's gaze, he began to watch.
The events unfolded with agonizing slowness. He saw Naruto, a small orange blur in the moonlight, slipping through the shadows of the Hokage Estate. He watched the boy navigate the rooftops, clutching a massive scroll to his back with a mix of terror and desperate determination. Shorai tracked him all the way to a small clearing in the woods—the meeting place Mizuki had designated.
Naruto sat, panting, the sealed scroll laid before him.
Shorai felt a flicker of pity, but he didn't intervene. He was a witness, not a savior. His gaze drifted away from the clearing, shifting toward the Hokage Tower. He watched as Hiruzen Sarutobi stood before a gathered assembly of shinobi, his face etched with a grim, paternal disappointment.
"Find him," Hiruzen commanded, his voice carrying the weight of decades. "Bring Naruto and the scroll back immediately."
It was at that exact moment—the transition of Shorai's focus from the boy in the woods to the old man in the tower—that the world began to distort.
Silence was disrupted by a burst of an invisible shockwave.
Shorai flinched. His heightened, sharpened senses screamed—mortal danger!
He blinked. In that moment, he saw a faint yellowish energy strand pulsing outward—brief, alien, demanding. Shorai reacted just in time. The Reality Stone flared, enveloping him in a crimson-black shield. The wave crashed against it like towering sea waves against a wall of solid, unwavering rock.
For a fraction of a second, Shorai felt it—something foreign and subtle, an intent. Corrosive. Altering. Commanding. Surrender!
Then, gone.
Shorai's breath hitched. Through the lens of the Reality Stone, the wave wasn't a physical force, but a mental assault on existence itself—making its way beyond the horizon. Like a pebble dropped into the pond of reality, ripples of its effect were rewriting the water.
Shorai was sweating as the shockwave lingered, vibrating through the very essence of the Reality Stone. A surge of cold dread intensified. This wasn't chakra. It wasn't a jutsu. It was something only he recognized—a terrifying resonance... a song of an Infinity Stone?
Another one? Shorai's heart hammered against his ribs. Here? Now?
He scanned the village.
No one noticed.
But he saw it—tiny shifts. Subtle. Permanent. Even Hiruzen carried the imprint.
What the—? His mind raced.
He demanded silently, "Stone—analyze. Source. Pattern. Cause."
The construct formed, cold and clinical.
"Unknown energy source detected. Mental wave signature. No known chakra pattern. Frequency continuously shifting. Source no longer active."
"No longer active? Where did it go?"
He scrambled to focus back on the clearing, but the distortion made the image flicker. By the time the visuals stabilized, Naruto was simply sitting there, looking confused, rubbing his head as if he'd just had a sudden dizzy spell. There was a large energy imprint on him, but nothing more.
Whatever had happened, the phenomenon had passed, leaving behind a lingering, oily residue in the air that only he could perceive.
This... it came from him… but how? Shorai's thoughts spiraled.
An Infinity Stone? But which? Soul? Mind?
He ruled out Soul—no death-related scenario, no seal disruption on his body.
Mind. It logically fits. Perhaps someone used it on Naruto—brief contact, then reverse summon? Otsutsuki? Someone with their tech? But Naruto showed no personality shift. No memory loss. Just… potential and presence of that radiation. Shorai exhaled, considering the possibilities.
Too brief. Too weak. Or… too precise.
He expanded his search and kept studying the anomaly.
Later, Shorai watched as the events unfolded—Iruka, bloodied and broken, placing his headband on Naruto.
"Congratulations… you're a shinobi."
Shorai let out a breath. But he wasn't at ease.
That wave—it could return.
And next time, he might not be awake to stop it.
He turned inward.
"Stone—design a seal. Include formation if needed. Detect, absorb, and alert on contact with that energy. Use frequency matching. It's fine for the seal to break. I just need the seal to buy me time... at least 10 seconds window."
Shorai sat back in the dark of his room, his exhaustion forgotten for a moment, replaced by a cold, calculating alertness. The game had just changed. The variables had multiplied.
He felt the prickling sensation that he was no longer the only one holding a piece of the universe's foundation. It reminded him of Shisui's Kotoamatsukami—the same subtle rewriting intent of another's will—but this was vaster, colder, and infinitely more dangerous. Shisui could control a person; this energy seemed capable of rewriting the world itself.
For the first time since his rebirth, Shorai felt true fear.
Not of death.
Of loss.
Of control.
Of self.
"Mind Stone…" he whispered. "One touch… and I'm not me anymore."