"Phew…"
Only when his chakra reserves were completely depleted did Habara finally let out a long breath, casually pulling over a nearby chair and sinking into it. Even with his chakra utterly exhausted, he didn't feel overwhelmingly fatigued. After all, the energy he had just been wielding was Sage Chakra, which possessed a remarkably 'nourishing' effect on the body, even as it was expended.
"Did you really succeed? Like one of the Sannin, Jiraiya?" Daigo's voice suddenly echoed in the otherwise empty room, her tone laced with equal parts excitement and lingering doubt.
"Not 'succeeded'," Habara corrected, choosing his words carefully. "More like... 'usable'."
To maintain the complex seal necessary for his artificially induced Sage Mode, Habara wasted a significant amount of his own chakra just keeping the system running. In terms of efficiency and overall completion, his version was clearly inferior to Jiraiya's Sage Mode, which had been painstakingly honed through decades of dedicated, arduous practice.
Yet, one couldn't say Habara's Sage Mode was entirely unrefined either. The Sage Chakra produced by his seal was meticulously balanced according to the strict 1:1:1 ratio. In terms of purity, it was arguably better than Jiraiya's, whose own energy balance, achieved through feel and experience, wasn't quite as mathematically perfect.
"Just 'usable'? How much does that actually boost your combat power then?" Daigo pressed.
"When I say 'usable,' I mean it's viable for actual combat scenarios," Habara clarified. "Its primary drawback is the massive inherent chakra waste required to sustain it. I just tested it – in a relatively 'calm,' non-combat state, my personal chakra reserves drain completely in about 20 minutes. Considering the more complex and high-intensity demands of real combat, this Sage Mode would likely last only about 10 minutes, maximum. After that, my own chakra would be gone, and I'd lose the ability to fight… Fortunately," he added thoughtfully, "most one-on-one ninja duels don't last ten full minutes. That kind of duration is usually reserved for large-scale battlefield situations or facing multiple opponents in succession."
Habara had simply halved the duration as a rough combat estimate. It wasn't precise, but that operational window should be sufficient for most engagements. He had already felt the immense, tangible power Sage Mode provided, even in his brief test.
It was crucial to understand that his 10-minute limit stemmed from a different fundamental issue than Uzumaki Naruto's initial 5-minute limit in the canon timeline. Habara's duration was capped by his own chakra reserves running out due to the inefficiency of forcibly maintaining the Sage Mode state via his custom seal. Once his personal energy pool was depleted, Sage Mode ended, period. After all, he couldn't achieve it through orthodox, natural methods; his approach was a clever shortcut, a brute-forced solution that was fundamentally unconventional. Such shortcuts naturally came with significant inherent flaws.
Naruto's situation, by contrast, was different: his initial time limit was dictated by the finite amount of natural energy he could safely gather and carry within his body at any one time. After 5 minutes, if he could somehow replenish his Sage Chakra—or more accurately, replenish the necessary natural energy component (perhaps via shadow clones gathering it for him)—he could potentially continue fighting in Sage Mode indefinitely.
Talent in this esoteric area simply couldn't be forced or easily replicated. Naruto's heritage, after all, was impeccable, directly linked to the Sage of Six Paths himself; you could probably cremate the boy and his ashes would spontaneously form the shape of the Rinnegan.
Lacking Jiraiya's decades of focused, arduous training, and without Naruto's prodigious innate talent seemingly derived directly from his potent bloodline, Habara found himself quite satisfied with the results achieved through his 'brute-force hack' approach to Sage Mode. It wasn't as if he couldn't improve upon it further; imperfections discovered now would surely be refined over time. That optimization could be left to the future.
Regardless, progressing from merely being a passive 'carrier' of ambient natural energy, to actively using it via a 'Curse Mark' style application derived from his own modified cells, and now being able to generate true Sage Chakra and enter a functional Sage Mode… this represented undeniable, significant progress, built upon the foundation—or perhaps the scar—left by that initial, accidental exposure long ago.
After a moment of contemplative silence, during which Habara assumed Daigo's consciousness might have drifted elsewhere to monitor other systems, she suddenly spoke again, her voice thoughtful.
"Habara, why are you pursuing strength so relentlessly? Isn't the war already over?"
This was clearly a question she had been pondering for some time. Compared to his focus during the war period, Habara hadn't relaxed at all after hostilities officially ended; if anything, he seemed even more driven, more urgent in his quest to increase his personal power. He had employed a wide variety of methods, many of them unconventional… While he hadn't quite strayed into 'the ends justify any means' territory, and was far from being consumed by a dangerous obsession, he had certainly utilized numerous practices far outside the shinobi norm. It seemed slightly strange to her.
Pursuing strength wasn't inherently wrong for a ninja, but relentlessly chasing it without a moment's pause seemed peculiar, especially now. Habara didn't exactly project the image of an ascetic monk who had renounced all worldly desires and dedicated himself solely to enlightenment through power… After the conclusion of a major conflict like the Third Shinobi World War, most ninja, even the most dedicated, would surely allow themselves to relax, at least a little. Even if they didn't become completely complacent, there seemed no pressing need to keep one's mind constantly strung as tight as a bowstring.
Based on his intense, unceasing activities, Daigo vaguely sensed Habara was preparing for something significant, but… what could it possibly be?
Habara could actually answer that question, though not directly. The raw, underlying answer was simple: So I don't end up getting casually killed off by some random thug with a sharpened wooden stick someday.
But he couldn't fully explain why he felt such preparations were necessary, not even to the completely trustworthy Daigo. He needed to become stronger, not for conquest or to fulfill some grand ambition, but precisely the opposite: he simply hoped to acquire enough personal strength to guarantee his own self-preservation in the face of future threats he foresaw.
"As for why I'm constantly pursuing strength," Habara finally said aloud, meeting Daigo's implied query, "rest assured, I have absolutely no interest in becoming the 'strongest ninja' or uniting the world or anything remotely like that." He paused, then added with stark simplicity, "Why strive to get stronger? The answer is simple: because I'm still not strong enough."
Daigo simply nodded, accepting his partial explanation without further questions, and immediately departed from the room.
Later that afternoon, Hyuga Neji arrived punctually at the archive – the facility nicknamed the 'Little Earthen Building' by Habara's small group, which belonged to the "Akakammuri" network, though its official placard read "Konoha Secondary Intelligence Archive" (a deliberately mundane cover name, much like how Danzō's 'Root' division was officially designated merely as the 'ANBU Training Division').
Neji greeted everyone he passed politely along the corridors until he reached Habara's office.
"Good afternoon, Habara-sensei." Neji offered a perfect, formal greeting, already moving to help organize papers or tidy the room as he often did upon arrival.
This time, however, Habara stopped him.
Hyuga Neji, having recently turned seven following the New Year but not yet enrolled in the Ninja Academy, already maintained a demanding daily schedule. Normally, he spent his mornings receiving rigorous clan education within the Hyuga compound, diligently building a solid foundation to become an outstanding Hyuga ninja. His afternoons were typically spent visiting Habara for instruction—although, truth be told, Habara hadn't actually taught him anything specific or substantial yet. Despite this curious lack of formal lessons, Neji maintained considerable respect for his designated teacher.
Speaking of six-year-olds, Uzumaki Naruto, currently deep in his prime 'likely-to-annoy-both-people-and-dogs' phase, was quite the spectacle. His sheer, unrestrained, hyperactive energy often made onlookers, even seasoned shinobi, wonder internally with a mixture of awe and exasperation, "Is this kid really only six?" Most of the time, even Habara made a point to actively avoid him. Not because he couldn't handle such a boisterous brat, but because engaging was simply unnecessary. Avoidance guaranteed zero trouble; any interaction carried a statistically significant probability of inciting some form of chaos or minor disaster. A child like that had his own parental figures (or lack thereof) to handle his upbringing; others didn't need to meddle unnecessarily.
Compared to such a human whirlwind, Hyuga Neji, only slightly older at perhaps seven, presented a completely different, almost jarringly composed picture. Neji was always immaculately clean, his clothes invariably neat, his behavior precise and meticulous, his interactions with others impeccably polite. He was even demonstrably more intelligent and academically inclined than Naruto… Simply put, Neji was the perfect, sometimes intimidating, "neighbor's kid" archetype often held up as a model of childhood perfection.
Of course, in a way, ninja raised strictly according to the rigid traditions and demanding expectations of the major clans often shared certain common traits in their youth – discipline, focus, a premature seriousness. It was often only later in life, under pressure or after trauma, that they invariably seemed to 'grow crooked' in unique and sometimes tragic ways… Consider Neji himself after receiving the Caged Bird Seal, or Uchiha Sasuke after the Uchiha Massacre; the shadows of their future selves likely overlapped considerably with their outwardly perfect younger personas.
This observation underscored the profound importance of having a mentor with sound values and a balanced perspective. Such a teacher could not only instruct a disciple on how to correctly acquire and wield power but also, crucially, guide them towards a healthy and constructive path in life… Like Habara, for instance. He saw himself as just such a positive influence.
"Neji," Habara began, his tone casual but purposeful, "you've been learning Taijutsu from Hizashi… your father, correct?"
"Yes, Habara-sensei. I am learning the Gentle Fist style from my father," Neji replied dutifully.
"Alright," Habara continued, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more conspiratorial. "Now, according to convention, I probably should consult your father before proceeding with my own instruction, but frankly, that seems rather unnecessary. As a teacher, one naturally possesses unique and potentially superior teaching methods. Besides," he added, leaning in slightly, "doting fathers often spoil their sons, you know? Your father's understanding of potential isn't necessarily as profound as it could be…"
Hearing Habara speak so dismissively, even subtly, of his respected father, the young, serious expression on Neji's face immediately tightened.
Habara, meanwhile, internally justified his decision to bypass Hizashi. Parents, he mused silently, often trample on children's rights under the convenient banner of 'it's for your own good.' The relationship isn't truly equal; it's fundamentally one of dominion and control. Once a student enters a master's tutelage, the master holds considerable sway; Hizashi wouldn't really get a chance to object or reverse this later. He'd employed similar logic when deciding Tenzo's fate – the man needed to be put in the cryogenic tank for the experiment's sake, regardless of his personal feelings, right? Injecting him, making him breathe oxygen through a mask… it was all necessary for progress.
Just then, Daigo re-entered the office silently, handing Habara a disposable syringe and a small, sealed vial of pale liquid medicine – the refined Curse Mark of Man vaccine.
Habara carefully checked the calibration markings on the syringe, then skillfully drew out a precise, small portion of the dose. Beckoning Neji closer with a gesture of one hand, he simultaneously instructed Daigo with the other, "Notify Hyuga Hizashi that Neji will be staying here with me for a period of special training for the next three days. He won't be returning home for now."
"Understood," Daigo confirmed and vanished as silently as she had appeared.
"Habara-sensei, I… I don't understand your earlier words about my father," Neji said, clearly still troubled and confused by Habara's comments.
"It simply means," Habara explained, placing a reassuring hand gently on Neji's shoulder, "that I am preparing to officially begin teaching you some things. And this," he indicated the syringe containing the clear liquid, "is a small gift, an initial investment to help unlock your potential. Now, we should both hope that this gift works as intended, enabling you to benefit fully from my instruction."
With that cryptic pronouncement, the needle quickly and expertly pierced the skin of Neji's upper arm.
Neji tentatively held out his arm as instructed, his mind still whirling, vaguely sensing that his father had just been slighted somehow, though he wasn't entirely sure how or why. He endured the slight sting of the needle, still puzzling over Habara's confusing words about teaching methods and parental understanding. It was only after the needle was withdrawn and a small bandage applied that the immediate reality fully hit him…
Wait, why did I just get a shot?
"Alright," Habara said, seemingly oblivious to Neji's dawning realization. "Now, I want you to demonstrate the Gentle Fist forms you have learned. Perform them here. Don't hold back your chakra."
Habara wasn't expecting polished, complete techniques suitable for combat from a child Neji's age; he wanted to observe something more fundamental – Neji's current chakra capacity, his control, his stamina, and the raw foundation of his clan's taijutsu.
"Habara-sensei," Neji asked, ever the diligent student, "may I concentrate and gather my chakra for a while first?" At his age, refining chakra and preparing it for use wasn't yet an effortless, instantaneous process.
"Of course," Habara readily agreed. "Take as long as you need. Relax."
Neji found a clear spot on the floor, sat down cross-legged, and began concentrating, meticulously gathering and molding his chakra. Approximately half an hour passed in silence before he rose and signaled that he was ready.
Habara activated his own sensory abilities. Although he hadn't personally studied the intricacies of the Gentle Fist style, the fundamental principles of taijutsu often intersected… Well, setting aside Habara's own rather unorthodox taijutsu skills, a quick assessment confirmed that Neji's Gentle Fist basics looked remarkably solid for his age.
With Habara's nod of permission, Neji began performing the precise, demanding Gentle Fist katas he had learned from his father.
Slowly and deliberately at first, Neji moved through the sequences he knew. Habara watched intently, analyzing the flow of chakra, the precision of movement, the strain on the young boy's system, but he didn't utter a word or tell him to stop.
So, Neji, assuming this was a test of endurance or diligence, started again from the beginning once he completed the cycle.
He continued, repeating the katas again and again, pushing himself. He carried on until his limited chakra reserves were completely depleted, until his elegant Gentle Fist movements lost all tangible power and impact, becoming mere empty postures, technically correct but lacking any force. Only when Neji was visibly exhausted, only capable of going through the motions, did Habara finally tell him to stop.
"Okay, that's enough."
Habara had thoroughly assessed Neji's current chakra level and endurance. The boy was undoubtedly a genius, possessing remarkable control and potential, even if the very word 'genius' felt somewhat cheapened and commonplace in Konoha, a village practically teeming with prodigies from powerful clans.
So, Habara thought with satisfaction, contemplating the next stage of Neji's 'special training' under his unique guidance, it truly highlights the importance of having a mentor with sound values. One who can not only teach a disciple how to correctly acquire power but also guide them towards the right path in life…
...Believe in the Snake Child, gain eternal life. The stray, cynical thought echoed with dark amusement in the back of his mind.