Time flew by. In the blink of an eye, three years had passed.
In the rear courtyard of the Kazama Style Dojo, a fourteen-year-old boy was drenched in sweat, doing push-ups with a ridiculously large "husky" sprawled across his back.
That boy—and the oversized beast—were none other than Gekkō Hoshiyomi and his companion, Lobo. By now, Hoshiyomi stood at around 170 centimeters, with sharp brows and clear eyes, handsome features, and a bare upper body that showcased perfectly sculpted, lean muscle.
With looks like his—combined with that well-built body—if someone were to record a short clip of this and upload it online, who knows how many kunoichi would instantly swoon?
Sunrise, a handsome guy, and a hardcore workout—it was a picturesque scene. That is, until a lazy voice broke the harmony:
"Nine hundred ninety-seven… nine hundred ninety-eight… nine hundred ninety-nine… one… one thousand."
The voice didn't come from Hoshiyomi—but from Lobo, the giant husky sitting atop his back.
Yes, over the past three years, the highly intelligent Lobo had actually learned to speak human language. At the moment, he was sprawled on Hoshiyomi's back, bored out of his mind, acting as his personal rep counter.
Hoshiyomi grumbled:
"If you're gonna sound that lazy, don't make it sound like saying 'one thousand' nearly killed you."
Lobo shook his head lazily.
"Hey, I was just matching your effort. Gotta make you seem more epic, right?"
"Yeah, yeah—get off already, you're heavy as hell."
With a groan, Hoshiyomi gestured for Lobo to hop off. He collapsed to the ground for a moment, gasping, before finally sitting upright again.
Those push-ups had really taken it out of him. Lobo, though currently using Transformation Jutsu to appear about two meters tall, still weighed a solid seven to eight hundred pounds.
Add that to Hoshiyomi's usual training weights, and he'd just completed one thousand push-ups under over a thousand pounds of pressure.
Even in the world of Naruto—where superhuman physiques were common—that was a staggering feat.
What made it even crazier? That was just one part of his daily training routine.
After push-ups came a ten-kilometer run, five hundred frog jumps, and fundamental kenjutsu drills. For Hoshiyomi, this punishing routine had become the new normal. Every day for three years, he'd endured this kind of intense physical training.
Sometimes, he even dreamed that his hair had all fallen out and he'd turned into Saitama-sensei of the shinobi world. He'd always wake up in a cold sweat and rush to check his hairline before going back to sleep.
Still, the training had paid off. By his estimation, he could now open the Fifth Gate of the Eight Gates without issue—and he was close to the threshold of the Sixth.
Once he removed all his training weights, he figured he'd be ready to try breaking into the Sixth Gate.
And swordsmanship? That had never fallen behind either. Morishige, though old and too frail for daily sparring, had designed a rigorous training regimen specifically for him.
While the elder couldn't match Hoshiyomi in duels anymore, his sharp eye and decades of experience were more than enough. Simply by watching Hoshiyomi practice, he could offer expert-level critique.
And whenever Hoshiyomi followed those suggestions, he always found that his sword movements became more fluid, more instinctive.
There were also some unconventional training methods.
For example: practicing dodging thrown weapons while blindfolded, or swinging at mannequins in pitch-black rooms—where every strike had to hit the exact point Morishige specified.
All of it was meant to train his instinctive sword sense. Morishige called it "feeling the sword's breath."
Hoshiyomi, however, thought that was nonsense.
What is this, am I wielding Rhaast? Am I actually the embodiment of a Darkin?
Have I ever considered that weapons have their own consciousness? This is getting off track!
Jokes aside, there was truth in the training.
Over time, he developed a strange bond with his blade, the Mikazuki Munechika. He could feel its grain, its edge—even with his eyes closed. It was a subtle, surreal sensation. He couldn't say exactly how it helped in battle, but his strikes felt more natural, more in sync.
Whenever he felt this deepened resonance with the blade, he'd check his Sword Heart System—because experience points don't lie.
And sure enough, every time, he'd be stunned by how much his XP had jumped.
In the three years of training, he'd had this kind of "compatibility breakthrough" three times. Each time granted him +30 XP.
The system's message read:
"Your compatibility with the weapon Mikazuki Munechika has improved. Experience +30."
Hoshiyomi preferred that explanation. He could feel it, too—if he switched to an ordinary blade, that intimate connection vanished.
But the moment he gripped Mikazuki Munechika again, the familiarity would return—like being reunited with an old friend. It even brought him a strange sense of joy.
These compatibility boosts, combined with old man's guidance, the sword skills he'd adapted from anime in his past life, and his relentless daily training, had raised his XP significantly.
After three years, his skill level had reached:
Intermediate Swordsmanship: 300/500
Along the way, when he hit 250 XP, he drew a new skill from the system called:
Nature Transformation!
Its description was dramatic:
"The wielder becomes a child of the elements—able to freely manipulate any one chakra nature and unleash elemental attacks with unique effects."
Hoshiyomi was convinced this skill came straight out of some cheesy, third-rate fantasy novel.
In practical terms, it meant the system had helped him unlock every chakra nature.
That's right—Hoshiyomi was now a rare shinobi who could use all seven types of chakra:
Wind
Fire
Water
Lightning
Earth
Yin
Yang
And beyond that, he could now channel elemental chakra into his sword strikes for enhanced effects:
Fire Release: burning
Water Release: slowing
Lightning Release: paralysis
Wind Release: faster and longer-range attacks
Earth Release: terrain disruption
Yin and Yang: still unclear—too abstract for now
The skill looked ridiculously overpowered on paper. But Hoshiyomi had a theory:
System, you knew I couldn't use chakra right now. So you gave me this flashy skill just to mock me, didn't you?
Damn it!
Still, once a skill was drawn, it couldn't be returned. Even if he cursed out the system's ancestors, it wasn't going to change anything.
Since he couldn't resist, all he could do was accept it—and hope that once his chakra returned, the skill would surprise him in a good way.