Filling the Hole
No matter how poor the quality of the Spirit Vein was, it still far surpassed Shirō's own Chakra. Unfortunately, he hadn't yet learned how to properly harness it.
Still, his recent training pace had shown signs of improvement. As long as his exercises didn't require excessive Chakra, he could now train Barrier Magic in parallel.
Regrettably, the Shadow Clone Technique had too many drawbacks. Even when Shirō only created a single clone for studying, the resulting feedback left him utterly drained. But there was no other way—he simply had to endure it.
There were no shortcuts in cultivation. While the Shadow Clone could indeed speed up learning by dividing labor, the fatigue accumulated upon dispelling the clone was equally real. Of course, Shirō would never admit that using such "cheats" also counted as a form of cultivation.
Fatigue weighed heavily on him, but Shirō refused to give in. As much as his body cried out for rest, he knew that if he collapsed now, he might not get back up again.
In his previous life, Shirō had fallen behind, step by step—missed reviews, failed exams—all because of a single, repeated lie: "It's fine. I'll do it tomorrow."
Never again.
He clenched his teeth and began organizing the information his Shadow Clone had just returned to him. Fortunately, in his current state, he only needed to verify and absorb the feedback. If he had to study from scratch like this, his efficiency would've plummeted.
Soon enough, Shirō had finished reviewing the clone's knowledge. To his surprise, he had successfully learned his first Barrier-type spell.
But really, it wasn't that surprising. After so much accumulated effort, the progress felt almost inevitable. Like the clone, the spell just clicked into place.
While sorting through the feedback, his fatigue eased slightly. After all, a ninja's recovery rate was better than a civilian's.
The spell he had learned was a basic detection barrier—a rudimentary magic formation that would trigger an alert if someone with hostility entered the area. It had no offensive capability whatsoever, but it formed the cornerstone of a proper Magic Workshop—a magician's domain.
Simple, yes. But still important.
That said, his poor aptitude for magecraft showed immediately. Even with theoretical understanding, it took him multiple attempts before he successfully deployed it.
To truly master it would take more time and practice. Unfortunately, his Chakra reserves were now completely drained.
So, Shirō packed up and headed home. He didn't dare refine Chakra again just to keep training—last time, it had been a life-or-death situation. But now? That would be killing the goose that laid the golden eggs.
He wasn't stupid.
When he returned home, his parents were already asleep. Konoha's technology was decades behind what he'd known in his past life—no televisions, no computers, no nightlife. With little else to do after sundown, most people simply turned in early.
Shirō tiptoed into his room. Quietly, so as not to wake anyone, he washed up and lay down on his bed.
Yes—a bed. There are beds in the world of Naruto. Even Naruto himself slept on a proper one. When Shirō first transmigrated, he'd had to sleep on a tatami mat—and hated it.
Imagine it: a modern man, who'd never even had to sleep on the floor during family gatherings, suddenly expected to live like that every day?
Sorry, but— (his eyes briefly drifted toward the Hokage Rock outside the window) —yeah, I'm completely fine now.
He hadn't slept well during his first few days in this world. Luckily, one afternoon while walking through Konoha's shopping district, he stumbled upon a furniture store that sold beds. That discovery had ended his time as a floor-sleeper.
That experience also gave Shirō insight into Konoha's economic divide.
Anything related to ninja was absurdly expensive. Meanwhile, basic goods like firewood, rice, and oil were relatively cheap.
Take restaurants, for instance. High-end ones catered to ninja, including ones like the soon-to-open Ichiraku Ramen. Shirō recalled that a bowl there cost around 100 Ryo, which—believe it or not—was the same price range as a basic bed.
Why were these meals so pricey? Because, while they looked ordinary, they were infused with high-energy ingredients that helped replenish stamina. That was essential for ninja, but not something a civilian could casually afford.
Thankfully, this pricing disparity was mostly limited to ninja-related goods. Ordinary restaurants and stores still operated at civilian price points—lower quality, yes, but far more accessible.
This explained why completing a C-rank mission, like clearing out mountain bandits, often required an entire village to pool funds. And Konoha was still the best among the Five Great Shinobi Nations.
Unlike the other Hidden Villages that continued to follow militaristic models, Konoha had dared to reshape its system into an actual village—one with an infrastructure and economy that could support civilians and ninja alike.
Still, no matter how expensive things were, even civilians could afford the occasional luxury. After all, even in his past life, there were restaurants where a single meal could cost hundreds of dollars.
Like that line from The Mermaid: "You can even eat roast chicken for less than 200 yuan." Damn, with 200 yuan I could buy four whole chickens...
For the average civilian in Konoha, meals at those ninja-tier restaurants were rare indulgences. Most of their patrons were ninja, not regular folks.
Fortunately, the bed Shirō had purchased didn't have any fancy Chakra-enhancing features—if it had, he definitely wouldn't have been able to afford it.
Still, despite being completely exhausted, Shirō couldn't sleep.
He had faced down two major challenges that day and emerged victorious. His body was tired, but his mind was wide awake—buzzing with adrenaline and pride.
Sometimes, Shirō couldn't help but think: If only the Heroic Spirit Card of Gilgamesh had survived, he wouldn't need to work so hard now.
Transmigrated at five, annihilated Kage-level foes at six, collected a harem at seven—and the author gets killed by readers at seven and a half.
…Yeah. Better to just daydream about it.
Shirō quickly reminded himself to be content. Inheriting Red Archer's magic alone was already a ridiculous cheat. Without it, he likely wouldn't have even survived the Second Shinobi War.
After all, that shitty system was practically useless! It couldn't even perform Initiation—the most basic magecraft ceremony. Truly a disgrace among systems!
How are you even supposed to betray and exploit your host if you're this pathetic? At this rate, you're the one getting farmed!
Lucky for you, Shirō thought smugly, you met someone like me—kind, generous, good-looking, incredibly charming—
And with those final narcissistic thoughts, Shirō eventually drifted off into sleep…