As we approached the final stretch of the Academy year, I found myself nearly finished with the last ninjutsu I had received from the Third Hokage. Lightning Release: Arc Net. A beautiful, nasty little technique that I had grown fond of. I could now stretch four threads and maintain a stable formation for more than five seconds. That alone had taken months of grinding, testing, and minor burns. But instead of running to Seiji-sensei with the news, I kept it to myself. He was already too busy helping the stragglers catch up, making sure they wouldn't drop dead the moment real missions began. So I took it as my cue to push forward on my own.
I crouched near the flat stone clearing just outside the Academy grounds. It was dry, level, and secluded enough that no one would trip over my work and get stunned. Perfect.
I pulled out one of the kunai I had 'borrowed', one of many I had already ruined trying to perfect this formation, and coated it with a thin sheen of chakra. The metal began degrading almost immediately. Tiny fractures spread across the blade as it shimmered under the strain. These things weren't built for chakra conduction. Definitely not the Academy's budget kunai.
With a sigh, I pressed the edge to the ground and began carving the first seal. Nothing fancy. Just a simple anchor point to help stabilize the net. The original four-point version of the jutsu required constant micromanagement, and that didn't work for me. I had ambitions. I needed to move freely, maybe chain other jutsu while the Arc Net was active. The way it was designed, it felt like a support technique. One person traps, the other strikes. But I was planning to be both. No partner. Just me and the battlefield.
That's where this trick came in.
The first seal looked like a wide U with two sharp slashes across its arms. A base-level chakra stabilizer. I wasn't inventing anything new, just bolting on structural support like chakra duct tape.
I didn't stop at just four corners. Instead, I began carving a larger pattern, a rough grid made up of small squares, almost like a crude chessboard. Each point along the perimeter got the same stabilizer seal, and between them, I scratched out narrow channel guides that would link everything together.
The idea was simple. Once the formation activated, chakra would flow into the pattern and form a net across the entire grid. The best part? I could trigger the whole grid at once and turn it into a full cage of lightning, or just activate a few specific tiles while leaving the rest dormant. It saved chakra and messed with the enemies heads. The image made me grin. Watching an enemy freeze, unsure which step would cook them and which wouldn't? That was the real trap. If they hesitated, I'd catch them. If they bolted, they'd probably sprint into a shock. Either way, pain was guaranteed.
By the time I carved the final mark, my fingers were cramping, and I'd already ruined more kunai than I cared to count. I cracked my knuckles, lowered myself into a cross-legged position in the center of the formation, and let out a slow breath.
"Let's see if it works this time."
I formed the jutsu. Lightning chakra surged through me, and a lattice of glowing threads erupted outward. They darted along the etched channels, snapping into place with a sharp hiss. For a few seconds, the entire grid lit up in a pulse of electric light, like a web being spun from the inside out. Each thread connected corners and edges, locking down squares across the formation. From a distance, it probably looked like some puzzle box just sprang to life.
Then, as the chakra settled, the glow faded. The formation held steady, invisible now to anyone without the eyes or senses to detect it. A hidden net, waiting. Just the way I wanted it.
And that was exactly the point.
The difference was immediate. Before, I'd constantly been adjusting, correcting, balancing. The threads would twist, warp, and occasionally short out. But now? The seals held firm. The formation was stable. It buzzed lightly in the air, but it didn't collapse or waver.
Five seconds passed. Then ten. Still perfect.
I wasn't even trying that hard. I could breathe normally, hold a conversation, maybe even eat something if I wanted. No more laser-focused concentration.
"Oh yeah," I muttered to myself, grinning. "This one's going in the toolset."
The chakra cost was very high. I had to inject a large burst of chakra up front to fuel the formation. Once activated, the seals would keep the net going. It wasn't perfectly efficient. Some leakage was unavoidable, especially with my lack of experience handling complicated fuinjutsu formations. But it worked. It actually worked. This wasn't just some scribbled concept anymore. It was real. A functioning technique, built with my own hands. Trial, error, frustration, broken kunai, and far too many hours spent designing, sketching, and optimizing hundreds of formations had all led to this. Now it hummed faintly in the air around me like a promise of pain.
Master Shuzo was going to lose his mind. I could already picture the exact face he'd make. A mix of begrudging approval and repressed pride. I couldn't wait.
I chuckled to myself and looked down at the last kunai I'd used. It was halfway to crumbling. Another one sacrificed to the altar of progress. I really needed proper carving tools. Maybe something Master Shuzo had in that dusty cabinet he always locked. Or maybe I'd just keep borrowing more kunai from the Academy. Fair trade, honestly. Future powerhouse tax.
Still seated, I looked at the seal formation again. I had originally come up with the idea to use it as a perimeter alarm. An early warning trap for camp setups. That was the practical application. Now, though? I had other thoughts. Real nasty ones. This jutsu could be weaponized in ways no one expected.
A wide grin broke across my face.
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Training with Master Tetsuya never ended with me on my feet.
I was face-down in the dirt again, my ribs aching from the last hit. Not broken, probably, but definitely bruised. He'd caught me mid-step with a tanto feint, then used the flat of his blade to knock me sideways like I was made of cardboard.
"I have seen more grace from the dancers in the red district," he said.
In my mind, my eyes widened as I thought "Who speaks to a kid about a red district? Are all the old men in Konoha perverted? Is there no decent one out there?" I stretched my vague memory, but none came to mind.
So, I decided to have some fun.
"What is the red district, Master Tetsuya?"
His eyes shot open in realization, and he started sweating while muttering, "It's... it's... nothing. Don't, don't tell anyone I told you about that. It's a, a , a training area."
I was so happy I decided to torture him more. Revenge for all the hits I took while he "trained" me whenever I got too "snarky" with him.
"I like training. Can you take me there, please?"
At this point, he was sweating bullets as he said, "You are too young. When you become a jounin, I will take you there."
I replied enthusiastically, "You believe that I would reach that level?"
He replied right away, "Yeah, maybe in around a hundred years. Give or take a few days."
I laughed as I stood up. He straightened up too, that usual mix of smugness and confidence written all over his posture. For once, though, there was a trace of something softer in his voice.
"You've done really well, for an idiot. Your spear work's strong. Your tanto technique is acceptable. Definitely focus on that more going forward."
He looked away for a moment, as if trying to find the right words, then sighed.
"I'll report to Hirotaka-sama that you performed well. But I've got a request."
I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of request?"
He scratched the back of his head. No insults. No sarcasm. Just a veteran trying to find the right words for a younger shinobi.
"When you start doing real missions… don't get cocky."
I blinked. That was it?
He caught my look and shook his head.
"I'm serious. You're good. Annoyingly good. But the real world isn't like training fields. People don't hold back. Your enemies lie, cheat, and do anything to win. Your allies can panic. Civilians can freeze. You have to think on your feet."
He stepped forward and tapped me on the forehead.
"You've got a good head on your shoulders. Use it. Don't let pride or hesitation get you killed. Stay sharp. Stay alive."
I nodded, slowly. It didn't feel like a lecture. It felt like someone who had been through hell and didn't want to see me thrown into it unprepared.
Then he smirked.
"And most importantly, don't die. Training you nearly made me give up on the youth of Konoha. I'm not doing this again, so don't go decorating some cliffside."
"Got it," I replied flatly.
He flicked my forehead.
"We won't have much time together anymore once your missions start. But stop by. Keep working on your tanto form. We'll polish it up once you start facing real combat."
"I'll come by," I said. "But I'm only paying the minimum fee."
A tick mark formed on his forehead. "My fee for one lesson would cost more than what you'll make from a few missions." My eyes widened in disbelief. His usual smirk crawled back onto his face as he saw my reaction, and with a smug tone, he added, "Get out of here and celebrate or something. You've earned it. Barely."