Chapter 103: 72 Hours
With [Shadow Clone Jutsu] acting as a hack, I obviously made substantial progress in a very short amount of time. This wasn't a small edge—it was the equivalent of me doing three hundred times the amount of work that a normal person would manage. And on top of that, I had one of, apparently, the best spear users on the entire planet personally teaching me how to use the weapon.
He was extremely particular when it came to form. He didn't allow any improvisation or laziness; every time I went even slightly out of alignment, he would correct it immediately, often without even saying anything—just a sharp nudge, a hand placed on my wrist or shoulder to guide it back into place.
By the end of the seventy-two hours, we hadn't moved even once from our original camping spot.
At first, I was concerned that someone—most likely a member of the Akatsuki—might eventually locate us, but after three days of uninterrupted training, it became obvious that no one was coming.
Either we were being quietly observed by White Zetsu, or they simply hadn't bothered to check up on us, for reasons I still didn't know. In any case, it was beyond my control. So I focused entirely on training.
"That's enough," Tetsuya said after the final round of corrections. "Dispel all the clones. You can take a break now."
I didn't argue. I released the jutsu, and all at once, the sheer load of information—movement patterns, corrections, repetitions—rushed into my mind. My legs gave out almost immediately, and I collapsed flat onto the ground, breathing heavily, overwhelmed.
He looked at me but didn't comment on the state I was in. He just asked, "Your main body has to leave soon, right?"
I gave a weak nod, too tired to bother speaking. He didn't press for a reply.
"Alright," he said, standing calmly nearby. "I'm satisfied with your current proficiency. You've officially reached the level of a beginner in spear style."
I slowly pulled myself up and conjured some drinking water using a basic water style jutsu, taking small sips to rehydrate. After a minute or two, I asked him a question that had been sitting in the back of my mind for some time now.
"If you were to compare me to the average fighter from the Land of Iron, or even to your past self back when you just started learning the spear… how do I measure up?"
It wasn't just curiosity—it was about needing some kind of benchmark. When I trained in elemental ninjutsu, I had the anime to go off, I had examples, characters, pacing. I knew what slow looked like.
I knew what too fast was. But with spear style, I had nothing. It was completely uncharted territory.
He thought about it briefly, then answered without emotion. "You're progressing the fastest, no doubt. That's because of your Senju bloodline, and because you can use shadow clones—most people can't use them at this level to multiply their training. But you're not the most talented I've seen."
That made sense, and I didn't really have much to say in response. I wasn't chasing talent—I just wanted to improve.
He went on without prompting.
"That being said, talent in weapon styles is completely overrated for one reason."
He raised his hand slightly, and his spear—which he referred to simply as Tetsuya's Spear—flew cleanly to his palm.
He caught it without looking and gave it a light spin.
"Like I told you before, weapon style isn't a technique. It's not something you imitate or memorize. It's the sum of your rhythm, mindset, emotions, and philosophy… all poured into a weapon. It's less about being born gifted and more about understanding who you are."
As he said this, he raised his right leg straight up, tip toeing on his left with perfect balance, while the spear followed the motion upward as if tethered to his movement. He held the pose calmly, then spoke again.
"This was a style I created when I had finally made peace with everything in my life."
He turned slightly and moved, his steps light and controlled, feet weaving into precise patterns while the spear glided beside him.
He didn't strike.
He didn't swing.
It was all motion—clean, uninterrupted footwork. Watching him, I didn't just see him. I saw several versions of him, like overlapping shades moving in harmony.
They weren't illusions. It was rhythm—perfect, synchronized, self-created rhythm.
"Weapon Style – Flow of the Wandering Shinobi," he said quietly.
Then, without warning, he stopped. His expression didn't change, but I could see the muscles in his arm tighten as he shifted his stance, his grip on the spear changing.
"This one," he said, voice low now, "I made after I was betrayed."
He stepped forward, thrusting the spear so fast I didn't fully track the movement. It pierced through the thick trunk of a nearby tree as though it were soft bark, and his entire posture radiated anger. He didn't need to say it—but the emotion in that motion told the story.
"Weapon Style – Insatiable Thrust."
The move, while not as outwardly devastating as the techniques I'd seen him use during our battle, still left an impression.
The control, the message, the sharp intent—it all carried weight.
And in that moment, I understood what he meant by style being more than just technique. It was the memory made visible.
He set his spear down beside him, letting it rest against the grass, then looked at me and asked, "What do you think you are? You should be able to answer the question—who am I?"
I couldn't help but chuckle a little to myself when I heard him ask that. The question felt almost too familiar. Any remotely cultured person who grew up watching even a basic selection of films would immediately recognize it—it sounded exactly like something out of Kung Fu Panda. This was the same kind of identity question Po had to figure out for himself before he could truly become the Dragon Warrior and find any sort of inner peace.
Still, I didn't dismiss it outright. I looked back at him and asked honestly, "What if I'm not able to answer that?"
He didn't hesitate. "You don't have to be able to answer it, not completely. Even I haven't fully answered it myself."
He paused briefly, then continued in the same steady tone, "You just need to be able to explain it to yourself. It doesn't matter if other people understand it, and it doesn't matter if your answer is right or wrong by anyone else's standard. It only matters that it means something to you. That it gives you some kind of clarity."
He turned his head slightly to the side, eyes narrowing toward the tree line, and said calmly, "Seems like we have company."
Immediately, I activated [Mind's Eye]. I usually tried to keep it running in the background as often as I could, but doing so over extended periods drained chakra far too quickly.
And given how intensely I had been focused on training—and just moments earlier on recovering from the clone dispelling overload—I hadn't maintained it properly. The moment I activated it again, though, I sensed them clearly.
Two Kage-level chakra signatures were moving toward us, not masking their presence at all. I didn't need to see their cloaks to recognize the source.
"The Akatsuki," I said aloud.
Tetsuya nodded casually. "Yeah. Took them long enough, to be honest."
I looked over at him, only to see him stretching his shoulders with all the urgency of someone waking from a nap.
He let out a short breath, then added, "I know I said they probably wouldn't bother with me. But truthfully? I expected them to send someone a lot sooner. After all, I have a piece of information they need to complete their next steps."
Hearing that, I couldn't help but ask, "And what information is that, Sensei?"
He gave a slight smile—not smug, not taunting, just measured—and replied, "Well, you've got your secrets, don't you? Until you're willing to share all of them with me, I won't be sharing all of mine with you either."
It felt almost childish—like two kids refusing to hand over their toys until the other went first—but I couldn't argue with the logic. People reveal what they want, when they want. It wasn't my place to demand anything.
"So what's the plan?" I asked him, already preparing for the worst.
He blinked at me like I had just asked what color the sky was. "What plan? We fight."
I brought a hand to my forehead, not quite a full facepalm, but close. The two chakra signatures were still just barely within my sensory range, but closing in fast.
I could tell how much chakra they had, and the scale was… immense. I still couldn't determine their exact identities.
"Do you know who they are?" I asked quietly.
Tetsuya nodded. "Yeah. And they're not exactly the kind of people you want to fight unless you absolutely have to. Let's just say… they're not easy to kill."
The second he said that, I understood. "The immortals."
He gave a small shrug. "How about we treat this as your first real test of application? Try fighting them using your spear style."
My chakra reserves were already running low from three days of nonstop clone training. I didn't even get the chance to ask before Matatabi filled the gap. Warm chakra surged through me—still in balance with mine—and with it came a slight enhancement in speed, strength, and focus. Nothing overwhelming, but enough to bring me back to combat-ready.
"You're forgetting something," I said as I stood, dusting off my cloak. "I don't actually have a spear."
He waved his hand like he had already anticipated that problem hours ago. With a small puff of smoke, a spear appeared next to him.
"This one's old," he said, lifting it easily. "Something I used back in my early days. It barely survived my training methods, but it should be more than enough for you."
He tossed it to me, and I caught it with both hands, instantly feeling the weight and balance of the weapon settle into my grip. The spear was—
Sleek, darkened steel from blade to base, engraved with thin vertical notches, its center wrapped in a faded leather grip, the shaft slightly weathered but perfectly balanced, the metal cool and unforgiving, with a faint crimson tint near the spearhead's edge, like it had once been soaked in battle and never quite forgotten.
Before I had even finished processing its design, my two opponents landed directly in front of me.
…
Authors note:
You can read some chapters ahead if you want to on my p#treon.com/Fat_Cultivator