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The morning sun bathed Konoha in soft gold as Kirito stretched atop the roof of his hidden laboratory. For the first time in months, he felt no urgency to train personally. His clones—perfectly disciplined and connected through his chakra core—continued their rigorous exercises inside the lab, practicing Multi Shadow Clone Jutsu, Flying Thunder God, fuinjutsu, and A-rank elemental techniques.
For once, I can simply watch, he thought, a rare smile tugging at his lips.
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Kirito descended into the village, moving through the quiet streets with an unassuming presence. He visited a small ramen stall tucked between two buildings, the aroma of simmering broth filling the air.
"Large bowl, please," he said quietly, settling onto a wooden stool.
The vendor nodded, sliding a steaming bowl of ramen toward him. Kirito savored the first bite—the simple flavors, the warmth, a contrast to the constant tension of training and missions. He let the noodles slide past his tongue slowly, watching villagers bustle about their daily routines.
Even in a world filled with danger, there is still peace to enjoy, he reflected.
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By afternoon, Kirito had made his way to a small, dimly lit cinema near the outskirts of the village. The latest film flickered across the screen—an adventure story filled with heroes, peril, and laughter.
He sank into a seat, letting himself be absorbed by the story, allowing his mind to rest while his clones continued their training. They moved through the laboratory like clockwork, performing complex simulations, elemental drills, and sealing experiments without his physical guidance.
They are learning faster than I could alone, he thought. And I can afford to take this moment for myself.
The cinematic world, though fictional, brought a rare sense of connection to the outside world—a fleeting reminder that life was more than battles and experimentation.
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Over the next few days, Kirito wandered through the village's quiet streets, sampling foods from small stalls: skewered meats, steamed buns, sweet dumplings. Each meal was a small celebration of simplicity.
At night, he would return to the roof of his lab, gazing at the stars. His clones continued their exercises tirelessly, their movements barely disturbing the calm of the lab. Occasionally, he would send mental nudges to adjust their training, but he refrained from direct involvement.
Even the strongest need rest, he reminded himself. And the clones can carry the burden for now.
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During quiet moments, Kirito reflected on the growth he had achieved:
His chakra core had expanded further, allowing longer and more stable clone deployments.
Multi Shadow Clone Jutsu had become second nature, executed seamlessly by both him and his clones.
Flying Thunder God and fuinjutsu integration were nearing perfection.
His clones were now capable of independent training in forbidden and A-rank jutsus, advancing his long-term plans without direct supervision.
Even while I enjoy these moments, my army grows stronger. Every clone is an extension of me, learning, adapting, preparing. By the time I resume active training, they will have reached heights I could not achieve alone in weeks, he thought, feeling a quiet satisfaction.
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By the seventh day, Kirito returned to his lab at dusk. The clones had completed a full cycle of training, their chakra signatures steady and efficient. He silently observed them, mentally noting improvements and areas for refinement.
Rested. Satisfied. And ready to push forward again.
As he closed his eyes for a brief meditation atop the lab roof, he allowed himself a rare smile, the hum of his chakra core and the quiet efficiency of his clones forming a comforting lullaby. A simple week of leisure had strengthened his mind in ways physical training could not, reminding him that even a shadow warrior needed to enjoy the light occasionally.
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