Waiting, Nanami decided, was the most inefficient human activity invented.
The Senju garden was beautiful. The koi pond rippled with zen-like tranquility. The cherry blossoms drifted down in a poetic dance. But to Nanami Kento, who measured his life in training reps and ink strokes, sitting on a bench for forty-five minutes was torture.
Tsunade, apparently, shared his sentiment, though she expressed it with less internal brooding and more external fidgeting.
She had kicked every pebble within a five-meter radius. She had braided a blade of grass. She had groaned loudly at the sky three times.
"I'm bored," Tsunade announced, flopping onto the grass in a heap of expensive kimono fabric. "Granduncle takes forever with these Elder meetings. They're probably arguing about tea budgets again."
Nanami checked the sun's position. "Bureaucracy is a slow beast, Tsunade. It feeds on time."
"Ugh, stop sounding like a textbook," she sat up, eyes gleaming with a sudden idea. "Fight me."
Nanami looked at her. "You are wearing a formal kimono. If you rip it, your mother will end me. Tactically, this is a poor decision."
"I won't rip it if you don't hit me," she grinned, standing up and tucking the long sleeves into her obi sash. "Come on, Kento! Just light sparring. Evasion practice. Unless... you're scared?"
Nanami sighed, standing up and dusting off his trousers. He knew that look. It was the look of a Senju who wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer.
"Fine," Nanami conceded, walking to the center of the grassy clearing. "But purely defensive on my part. I am not explaining a grass stain on the Senju Princess to the Hokage."
"Deal!" Tsunade bounced into her stance. It was solid, grounded. She had improved significantly since their first bouts.
Nanami reached into his pocket and picked up a small, smooth pebble.
"When the stone hits the ground," Nanami said, holding it out at shoulder height. "We begin."
Tsunade narrowed her eyes, muscles tensing.
Nanami dropped the stone.
Gravity took hold. The pebble fell, cutting through the silence.
Click.
Before the sound had even fully registered, Tsunade was moving.
She launched herself forward, a blur of green and pink. Her fist was pulled back, glowing faintly with chakra. Even at this age, her control was monstrous. She wasn't just throwing a punch; she was channeling kinetic energy into the point of impact.
Target: Sternum, Nanami analyzed instantly.
He didn't step back. He stepped around.
As her fist occupied the space where his chest had been, Nanami pivoted on his heel, letting her momentum carry her past him. He gently tapped her elbow as she flew by, disrupting her balance.
Tsunade stumbled but tucked into a roll, coming up on her feet instantly. She spun, launching a high kick at his head.
Nanami ducked. The fabric of her sandal brushed his hair.
"Too wide," Nanami critiqued calmly, still watching her. "You're telegraphing the kick by dropping your shoulder. A Jonin would have swept your standing leg."
"Shut up!" Tsunade yelled, launching a flurry of jabs.
Nanami wove through them. Left. Right. Duck. Weave.
It was a dance. Tsunade was the storm—loud, powerful, relentless. Nanami was the leaf caught in the wind—impossible to pin down, moving with the currents rather than fighting them.
"You're using too much chakra on the acceleration," Nanami noted, parrying a strike with a soft palm deflection that sent Tsunade's fist harmlessly to the side. "Save the burst for the impact. You're leaking energy during travel time."
"I'll leak your energy!" Tsunade growled, frustrated.
She planted her feet. She took a deep breath. She channeled chakra not just into her hand, but into her legs.
BOOM.
She exploded forward, the ground cracking under her sandal. This was speed. Real speed.
Nanami's eyes widened slightly. Improved.
He didn't have time to dodge fully. He brought his arms up in a cross guard.
Thud.
Her fist connected with his forearms. The impact slid him back two meters, his sandals carving deep furrows in the pristine Senju lawn.
Nanami lowered his arms. They stung.
"Better," Nanami nodded approvingly. "Much better. You condensed the output."
Tsunade panted, grinning wildly. "Gotcha."
They continued for thirty minutes. The sun moved across the sky. Tsunade grew sweatier, her breathing ragged, her chakra reserves dipping low. Nanami remained relatively fresh, his breathing controlled, though a sheen of sweat coated his forehead.
Mid-way through a dodge, Nanami felt it.
It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a visual cue. It was a cold, sharp presence that suddenly existed at the edge of the garden, near the veranda.
The Hokage has arrived, Nanami thought.
He didn't stop. He didn't look. He maintained the flow, dodging a sloppy haymaker from an exhausted Tsunade.
"Break," Nanami said, catching her wrist gently as she tried to follow up. "You're tired. Your form is degrading. We're done."
Tsunade slumped, pulling her hand back. She wiped her forehead with her sleeve. "I... almost... had you."
"Statistically unlikely," Nanami said, handing her his water bottle. "But your output has increased by fifteen percent."
He turned toward the veranda. He straightened his posture, adjusted his collar, and bowed deeply.
"Lord Hokage."
Tsunade froze mid-drink. She whipped around.
Standing in the shadows of the cherry trees, arms crossed over his chest, was Tobirama Senju.
He wore normal black clothing without the blue armour, with a face that was sharp, angular, and intimidating. His red eyes—the same shade as the markings on his face—were fixed on Nanami.
"You sensed me," Tobirama stated. It wasn't a question.
"I felt a sudden drop in ambient temperature, Lord Second," Nanami replied smoothly.
Tobirama stepped out of the shadows. He walked with silent, predatory grace. He ignored Tsunade, who was hastily trying to make her kimono look presentable again, and stopped three feet from Nanami.
"Your Taijutsu style," Tobirama said, his voice deep and gravelly. "It is not from the Academy. It minimizes movement to an extreme degree. It prioritizes efficiency over force."
"Force costs energy," Nanami said. "I try not to waste it."
Tobirama stared at him. Then, incredibly, the corner of his mouth twitched upward. A microscopic sign of approval.
"Pragmatic," Tobirama noted.
He looked at the divots in the grass where Tsunade had pushed Nanami back.
"Mito tells me you created a crater in this garden last week. She tells me you used a jutsu that requires no hand signs."
Nanami nodded. "Yes, Lord Hokage."
"Show me."
There was no preamble. No small talk. Just a direct order.
Nanami looked around. "Is there a designated target? I would prefer not to destroy Lady Mito's hydrangeas. She was quite specific about their value."
Tobirama pointed to a large decorative boulder near the koi pond. It was granite, solid and heavy, roughly the size of a bear.
"That rock offends me," Tobirama said deadpan. "Remove it."
Nanami walked to the boulder. He took a breath.
Showtime, he thought. Don't fumble the presentation.
He extended his right hand.
He didn't use a clone this time. He didn't need the distraction.
Focus. Rotation. Grind.
Blue chakra flared in his palm. It spun into existence—a chaotic, swirling vortex contained within a perfect sphere. The sound was high-pitched, a screeching whine like a circular saw cutting through air. The wind whipped Nanami's hair back.
Tobirama's red eyes narrowed. Pure shape transformation. Extreme density. The rotation is multi-directional.
"Rasengan," Nanami whispered.
He thrust the sphere into the granite.
CRUNCH.
It didn't just crack the rock. It ate it.
The Rasengan ground its way into the stone, pulverizing it into dust. Nanami pushed forward, the sphere expanding as it released its stored energy.
BOOM.
The boulder exploded. Fragments of granite shrapnel flew in all directions, splashing into the pond and embedding themselves in the nearby trees.
Where the boulder had been, there was now only gravel and dust.
Nanami stood amidst the rubble, shaking his hand to disperse the numbness.
Tobirama didn't flinch as a pebble bounced off his body. He walked over to the pile of gravel. He picked up a handful of dust, letting it sift through his gloved fingers.
"Impressive," Tobirama admitted. "It is a technique of pure destruction. No elemental advantage, yet it hits with the force of an A-rank jutsu simply due to rotation velocity."
While Tobirama analyzed the dust, Tsunade stood frozen a few meters away.
She stared at the spot where the massive rock had been. It was gone. Vaporized.
She looked at her own hands. She had felt proud of pushing Nanami back earlier. She had thought her punches were getting stronger. But compared to that?
My punches are just pushing air, Tsunade realized, a frown creasing her forehead. She clenched her fist until her knuckles turned white. He destroyed it. He didn't just break it; he turned it into powder. If I want to be a Hokage... I can't just be strong. I need to be a hammer. I need to be able to shatter mountains.
A fire lit in her golden eyes. The seed of the legendary "Monstrous Strength" had been planted.
Tobirama turned to Nanami.
"Are you willing to submit this to the Village Archives?"
Nanami blinked. "Submit it?"
"Konoha rewards innovation," Tobirama said. "If you document the theory and training method for the Scroll of Seals, I will grant you access to a jutsu of your choice from the library. Within reason. No Kinjutsu that will kill you."
Nanami considered it. A free jutsu from the Hokage. It was a golden ticket.
But then he thought about the bone brush in his pocket. He thought about the 5,500 punches waiting for him at the training ground. He thought about the barrier theory he still needed to perfect.
"I accept the offer," Nanami said slowly. "However... may I defer the reward?"
Tobirama raised an eyebrow. "Defer it?"
"I am currently studying under Lady Mito," Nanami explained. "My capacity is full. If I take on a new Ninjutsu now, my focus will be split. Efficiency will drop. I would prefer to claim this favor when I have the time to properly learn a new skill."
Tobirama looked at him. He stood there for a long moment, analyzing the boy.
Internally, the Second Hokage was stunned.
He refuses power because he knows his limits, Tobirama thought. Most kids would have demanded a fire style or a secret technique instantly. This boy... he thinks in terms of systems. Capacity.
Tobirama knew about the boy's routine. His ANBU had reported it.
Subject: Nanami Kento. Routine: Academy -> Library -> Training Ground 4. Activity: Creates four Shadow Clones. Performs repetitive punching motion for four hours. Total estimated repetition count: 5,000+ daily.
He knew the boy was grinding. He knew he was forcing a civilian body to catch up to clan genetics through sheer, brute-force will.
"Very well," Tobirama nodded. "The credit remains on your file. Collect it when you are ready."
"Thank you, Lord Hokage."
"Now," Tobirama crossed his arms. "Explain the creation process. How did a six-year-old deduce the mechanics of spiraling chakra without a teacher?"
Nanami launched into the explanation. He talked about the water balloons. He talked about the rubber balls. He talked about the need to contain the turbulence.
Tobirama listened intently, occasionally asking sharp, technical questions about chakra ratios and spin direction. It wasn't a conversation between a Kage and a student; it was a conversation between two inventors.
"Ingenious," Tobirama muttered. "Using water to visualize the rotation... simple, but effective."
He looked at Nanami with a new respect. The boy wasn't just talented; he was logical. And Tobirama Senju valued logic above all else.
"You remind me of myself," Tobirama said, which was the highest compliment he was capable of giving. "You see the village not as a family, but as a system. A machine that requires maintenance."
"It is a system," Nanami agreed. "And like any system, it requires constant optimization to prevent catastrophic failure."
Tobirama stared at him, his red eyes analyzing the boy. He didn't ask what Nanami considered a failure, but the shared understanding was there.
Nanami kept his face neutral, but internally, his mind drifted to the village's most controversial element.
He is correct, Nanami thought, thinking of Tobirama's actions towards Uchiha. His strategy of isolation is harsh, but from a management perspective, it is necessary. The Uchiha are high-yield, high-risk assets. Dealing with them is like managing a nuclear reactor run by a drama student. One bad breakup, one tragic backstory, and the containment core melts down. Keeping them at arm's length isn't prejudice; it's basic safety protocol.
He didn't voice this. He simply stood straight, projecting the image of a loyal, logical soldier.
Tobirama let out a short, sharp exhale through his nose. He seemed to sense the boy's alignment with his own philosophy.
"Work hard," Tobirama said. "Do not die. I expect great things from you."
"I will do my best to remain alive and productive, sir."
Tobirama nodded. He performed a single hand sign.
Zip.
There was no smoke. No sound. He simply vanished. Instantaneously.
Nanami stared at the empty space where the Hokage had been.
"Flying Thunder God," Nanami whispered, his eyes wide with desire. "Instant transportation. Zero commute time. The holy grail of efficiency."
That, he decided. That is the jutsu I will ask for. One day.
Tsunade walked up to him, looking at the spot where her Granduncle had vanished.
"You're lucky," she said. "He usually makes people cry. He actually seemed to like you."
"He appreciates logic," Nanami shrugged, picking up his bag. "And shared headaches regarding personnel management."
"You're weird," Tsunade concluded, though she looked at him with a fierce new determination. "Come on. Mom made snacks."
"I cannot. I have a schedule." Nanami checked the position of the sun. "I have lost one hour of training time. I must compensate."
"You just blew up a rock and met the Hokage! Take a break!"
Nanami ignored her and said. "See you tomorrow, Tsunade."
He waved and walked out of the compound.
As he walked home, Nanami felt the weight of the day settle on him. He had navigated the Senju, impressed the Hokage, and secured a future favor.
Then he walked faster. The grind didn't stop for anyone, not even the Hokage.