"Tempest Kick — Severing Wind!"
Naruto leapt more than ten meters into the air, launching a flurry of crescent-shaped shockwaves. Dozens of arc-like blades of wind swept out in all directions, gouging deep trenches into the earth below.
At that moment, Naruto hovered in midair.
If any Shinobi had witnessed the scene, they would have been shocked—flight techniques were as rare in the ninja world as Space-Time Ninjutsu.
But this wasn't a Ninjutsu.
This was Moonwalk, one of the Six Styles—a Taijutsu-based technique he'd borrowed from another world.
Naruto gently descended, landing lightly on the ground. He pressed his palm to the earth, and with a pulse of chakra, the terrain returned to its undisturbed state. It was his way of erasing all evidence of his training.
"Naruto!" Lee exclaimed, eyes wide. "Your strength has increased so much! Incredible!"
Though his words were full of admiration, a surge of determination swelled in Lee's chest.
Naruto had already begun developing his own unique applications of the Six Styles. Meanwhile, Lee was still struggling to grasp the basic forms. The gap between them was clear.
And yet… Lee wasn't discouraged.
He was genuinely happy for Naruto.
"Lee," Naruto said with a grin, "I've still got a long way to go."
Deep inside, though, he was satisfied.
His mastery of the Six Styles had grown far beyond basic form. Even his Ninjutsu training had evolved—his Earth Release techniques were faster, stronger, and far more efficient. In fact, he had reduced some jutsu to just two hand seals—one to initiate, and one to finish.
In the shinobi world, hand seals acted like a language—each one a command to shape and guide chakra into Ninjutsu.
In truth, a ninja could cast jutsu without hand seals… but only with absolute mastery and chakra control.
Ninjutsu was like a pre-written program.
Hand seals executed the code. Chakra was the power source. But if you understood the code well enough? You could rewrite it, optimize it—even invent something new.
Just like Sasuke's Chidori Current, a variant of Kakashi's Chidori—it was a customized, upgraded version of an existing jutsu.
"Naruto…" Lee hesitated. "When I train Tempest Kick, it never comes out right. It feels like something's missing."
"Where do you think you're going wrong?" Naruto asked.
Lee explained his training process, outlining the issues he faced.
After listening carefully, Naruto nodded. "I think I see the problem. When you use Tempest Kick, your movements have to follow a rhythm. The strike comes from timing, not just strength. Without that rhythm, it won't manifest properly."
Lee nodded earnestly, committing it to memory.
"Oh, and Naruto," he added, "my Moonwalk training doesn't feel quite right either…"
Naruto chuckled. "You're actually progressing really well. But I suggest mastering Soru, Tempest Kick, and Paper Arts first. Once you've got those down, then tackle Moonwalk."
He added, "As for Iron Body and Finger Pistol—definitely train them too. Finger Pistol boosts your attack power, and Iron Body gives you a solid defense."
"But focus primarily on Soru," Naruto advised. "Dodging is always better than getting hit. Still, don't neglect Iron Body. No matter how fast you are, there'll always be moments when you can't dodge—and that's when you'll need it."
Naruto continued, patiently explaining training techniques and hidden details of the Six Styles.
In the pirate world, plenty of users had died because their Iron Body couldn't withstand a hit. And in the ninja world—where most shinobi prioritized offense over defense—having even a basic fallback could make all the difference.
Especially when strange Ninjutsu or Genjutsu came into play.
"That's enough for today," Naruto said at last. "Aren't you supposed to be training Taijutsu with Might Guy-sensei?"
Might Guy was a master of the Strong Fist style—unquestionably powerful, but not exactly known for moderation. Naruto suspected that in his later years, Guy would suffer the consequences of years of intense strain and hidden injuries.
Then again, in this world where lives were discarded like shuriken, who had the luxury to worry about the future?
Maybe Guy had methods to protect his body… but they were likely primitive and incomplete.
"Alright, that's it for now!" Lee agreed, a bit reluctantly. He turned and jogged off into the distance.
Ever since training with Naruto, Lee had begun to understand a new philosophy—the Way of Caution.
These days, under Guy-sensei's watch, he only used about a third of his actual strength. At school? Barely a quarter.
Even so, his real power already surpassed most Genin.
Lee was almost nine.
Naruto, nearly eight.
As Lee's figure disappeared from view, Naruto fell silent, deep in thought.
Shisui had already established a secret base in the Land of Waves. He'd begun recruiting rogue ninjas—not for the inner circle, but as outer members. And under Naruto's suggestion, he had also begun gathering civilians.
Though they lacked combat ability, civilians had their own strengths—and sometimes, those strengths could tip the balance in ways no jutsu could.
After all, a single spark can ignite a wildfire.
The shinobi world isn't entirely made up of ninja—most of it is filled with civilians. And it's those civilians who often suffer the most.
The Land of Waves, being a country without a Daimyō, lacked centralized power, making it easier for Shisui to spread the Umbrella's ideology. There were no clan elders or aristocrats to resist change, no hidden forces to crush rising hope.
As for Zabuza Momochi, Shisui was still searching. Though he hadn't located him yet, he had stumbled upon an unexpected piece of news—Kirigakure, the Hidden Mist Village in the Land of Water, had just undergone a coup d'état.
The Yondaime Mizukage was no longer in power.
A new female Mizukage had risen to leadership.
And with her rise, the brutal Bloody Mist era came to an end.
As he combed the perimeter of the Land of Water, Shisui continued to gather information. Whispers and fragmented reports eventually gave him some leads on Zabuza's whereabouts.
"The Land of Water... what a sorrowful country," Shisui murmured, as he passed through village after village.
The difference was stark. The people here lived in worse conditions than even the poorest in the Land of Fire. Their homes were falling apart, their food supplies were meager, and worst of all—their eyes were lifeless.
It only strengthened Shisui's resolve.
He wanted to bring them under the Umbrella's protection. He wanted to let its light reach even the furthest, frostbitten corner of the shinobi world.
He wanted these people to believe in a better future.
And slowly, with every step, that belief became a conviction.
Snow began to fall. A pale white covered the land, blending sky and earth into one cold canvas. But Shisui didn't notice the chill. What truly disturbed him were the blank, expressionless faces of the villagers.
Naruto would've described it as numbness—and Shisui now understood what that meant.
Their eyes had lost all emotion. Not fear, not anger—just emptiness.
Shisui's gaze drifted across the snow-covered streets. His vision no longer saw the lines between nations and Hidden Villages. To him, the people of every country—no matter their land, bloodline, or name—were future citizens of a new world.
A world led by the Umbrella.
A world ruled by Naruto.
Not just as a political figure, but as a spiritual guide.
A beacon.
Shisui had already made up his mind. He would help Naruto become the one true ruler, the one who would unite the world not through fear, but through hope. Through light.
And in Shisui's heart, Naruto wasn't just a leader—he was the light.
His walk through the village streets came to a halt.
He looked up—and froze.
A tiny voice drifted through the quiet snow.
"Big brother... your eyes are different. Your eyes have light."
Shisui turned his head sharply.
A small girl sat huddled on the roadside. She wore thin, tattered clothes, no shoes on her frostbitten feet. Her tiny body shivered as she curled up tightly, trying in vain to stay warm.
Her voice wasn't one of fear or pleading—it was just... tired. Honest. Soft.
Shisui was stunned.
He slowly walked toward her, crouched down, and looked into her dull, frost-bitten eyes.
There was no light in them.
No childhood joy, no curiosity, no fear.
Just the quiet despair of a life without warmth.
He gently held out his hand.
"Would you come with me?" he asked softly.
"There's a place filled with light. A place where people still believe in tomorrow."
She looked up at him again—uncertain, but no longer entirely numb.
"There's still hope," Shisui said. "And where we're going... everyone has eyes filled with it."