The mountains slept.
The soft sound of wind moving through cedar branches whispered against the inn's wooden beams.
Inside, Hayato-sensei lay in deep sleep, breath even, body still worn from battle.
But Naruto sat awake.
On the small veranda outside their room, he rested against a post, knees drawn up, eyes on the distant dark.
Sleep would not come.
His mind returned again and again to the ravine — to that fight.
Ranmaru's gaze. The flickering shadows. The strange, almost burning warmth that had filled his chest in that moment of near-defeat.
"That… that was the fox, wasn't it?"
It was the only thing that made sense. The Kyūbi — sealed inside him since birth. He'd never spoken to it, never reached for that power consciously. But the stories... the warnings... the fear others carried — they had always made it clear. The beast was there.
"For some reason… it helped me. Just a little."
All though that was enough to deal with him with Kyubi's power.
Raiga had been fast — too fast. His own sword had nearly felt too heavy.
"I can't rely on it. The fox, might not help next time."
A cold truth. The Kyūbi was no ally. The stories made that much clear.
And as for the strange sensation in his vision — the odd clarity that had haunted his eyes after the fight — it had faded. For now, his sight was his own again.
Normal.
"Maybe it was the heat of the moment. Adrenaline. A trick of the mind."
He wasn't convinced — but without proof, there was nothing to do.
For now.
Naruto turned on the futon, facing the dark wall.
"I need to get stronger — myself. Without that warmth. Without tricks."
His jaw tightened.
When dawn came, training would begin.
He would sharpen his blade. Test his limits. Push past them.
Until he could stand alone — no fox, no strange power needed.
Sleep came late — restless.
But resolve burned steady.
[One Week of Resolve — Takayama Mountain Training]
Dawn broke crisp and cold over the Takayama range.
By the time the sun breached the peaks, Naruto was already moving — blade strapped to his back, hands bandaged, eyes sharp with new purpose.
Hayato-sensei had allowed him space — resting to recover his own wounds, but watching silently from a distance when awake.
Naruto trained alone.
No mission. No orders.
Just one goal: to bridge the gap he'd felt in the ravine.
At first light, Naruto drilled the simplest of tasks:
One-handed shadow clones.
"No excuses. If one hand is all I have, one hand will be enough."
His fingers twitched. Muscle memory wanted both hands to form the familiar cross.
But in a real fight — one blade in hand, wounds burning — he might not have the luxury.
He forced it.
The first attempts fizzled — unstable chakra swirling without form.
Again.
And again.
Sweat trickled down his back. His arms burned from the strain of forcing unfamiliar control.
By mid-morning, a single shaky clone flickered to life — unstable, but standing.
"Better than nothing."
And then the idea struck him.
"I'm wasting time. I have clones. Why not use them?"
He formed three more one-handed clones — unstable, but serviceable.
"Split the work."
Each clone began drilling — one focused on stabilizing the hand signs, one on the flow of chakra, one on endurance of the process itself.
Naruto watched, correcting them as he repeated the drill himself.
By midday, progress was already three times faster.
Next:
One-handed Shunshin.
"Speed is survival. And I need to be faster than anyone expects."
He practiced the body flicker alongside his clones — sending them leaping between the ancient cedars while he refined his footwork and chakra control.
Crashes and bursts of displaced air echoed through the valley.
"Good. Learn from each mistake. Again."
By day's end, his clones were flickering in and out of sight with practiced rhythm.
Bruises dotted Naruto's limbs from his own failures — but his grin was grim with satisfaction.
At dusk:
Sensory training.
Naruto sat beneath the old cedar, clones arrayed around him in silent meditation.
"If there's a skill that will keep me alive next time... this is it."
He focused — extending chakra outward.
At first, everything was noise — the wind, the shifting leaves, faint chakra threads from distant animals.
"Quiet. Focus."
Each clone practiced independently — refining the art from different angles, feeding their experiences back to Naruto when dispelled.
Slowly, presence became distinguishable from noise.
One step at a time, the storm cleared.
By nightfall, Naruto could faintly sense chakra within a wide circle — imperfect, but reliable.
The week passed in rhythm:
Morning — one-handed shadow clones.
Midday — one-handed Shunshin, with clones assisting.
Evening — sensory training, aided by clone meditation.
Each night he collapsed into sleep, body aching, head full of new lessons.
By the end of the week:
One-handed clones — functional and reliable.
Shunshin — sharper, faster, flowing like a blade's draw.
Sensory — extended to nearly 50 meters with focus; passive awareness improving.
As soon as the week passed, new mission arrived.