Space-time power. Space-time chakra. Space-time nature transformation. The instant he saw it, Gojo Yoru understood what the black chakra's true effect was.
Everyone in the ninja world knew the basic theory: chakra had seven attributes. Wind, fire, water, earth, lightning, plus yin and yang—the world's version of the five elements and the dual poles hidden behind them.
Yin and yang were special. They weren't things ordinary people could simply train into existence through hard work. Unless an outside force powerful enough to reshape the body intervened, those hidden attributes were either innate or forever out of reach.
Even Hashirama Senju, the God of Shinobi, hadn't awakened yin-yang release through cultivation alone. Neither had Naruto Uzumaki or Sasuke Uchiha in the original story. Madara Uchiha had only reached that realm by grafting Hashirama's cells into his own body. Without them, his ceiling would've been no different from Sasuke's—yin release plus the five elemental natures, and no more.
Two attributes fused together formed a kekkei genkai. Three fused together became a kekkei tota. As far as the ninja world understood, that was the limit of bloodline evolution.
But Gojo Yoru knew better. The fusion of all seven attributes created a Kekkei Mora—the power the Otsutsuki clan regarded as the mark of true kin. Without a bloodline limit of that level, without the all-attribute constitution of an Otsutsuki, everyone else was only a diluted hybrid among hybrids, no different from inferior life-forms in their eyes.
To the people of this world, there were only seven chakra natures. That was common knowledge. Only a vanishingly small number of people knew there was an eighth, hidden category—a special attribute that transcended the seven.
Its lower limit was absurd. Its upper limit was even more absurd. Some space-time techniques rivaled bloodline limits. Some were bloodline limits. Some surpassed them altogether.
That power was space-time.
In truth, the manipulation of space and time wasn't all that rare in the ninja world. Storage scrolls were built on its principles. Summoning techniques also brushed against the same power. But those were crude applications achieved through seals and contracts, things that only barely touched the edge of that domain and could hardly be used directly on the self.
That was why, when Tobirama Senju created the Flying Thunder God Technique and showed the entire ninja world what true space-time power looked like, it instantly became one of the strongest S-rank secret arts ever recorded. To this day, outside its creator, no one in Konoha had truly mastered it.
And Flying Thunder God was only a support-type space-time ninjutsu.
Across the long, bloody centuries of the Warring States era, no true offensive space-time ninjutsu had ever appeared. Because no one could genuinely control space-time itself, much less transform their chakra nature into space-time chakra. Not even the pure-blooded Otsutsuki who roamed the cosmos could do that.
Abilities like Flying Thunder God and Kamui didn't convert chakra into raw space-time manipulation. They merely spent chakra—or in some cases yin chakra—to lever open that power. Amenominaka. Yomotsu Hirasaka. Daikokuten. Those divine arts and bloodline abilities all leaned toward support or utility in one form or another.
Kamui, despite not being a godly art or a kekkei mora, was already considered terrifying because it possessed a rare offensive space-time trait. Even then, Kamui had limits. It needed a visible activation process. It consumed enormous eye power. Its effect was fixed. It still wasn't true chakra transformed into space-time itself.
And now, the first being to possess actual space-time chakra had been born.
No wonder Gojo Yoru was so excited. The fact that he didn't burst out laughing on the spot was already proof of the self-control granted by two lifetimes of memory.
Over the last six years, no one knew how much pressure he had been under.
If he had arrived in the same era as Naruto and Sasuke, even without a bloodline limit and without any cheat at all, he would've accepted a mediocre life. With his knowledge of the plot, he could've avoided most disasters with enough care. Apart from the Infinite Tsukuyomi—which, if one looked at it from a certain angle, wasn't even a disaster so much as a beautiful lie—he would've had a fair chance of surviving quietly.
But fate had shoved him into Minato Namikaze's generation instead.
The Second Shinobi World War could erupt at any moment. The original story barely provided any detailed information about this era. Gojo Yoru had no idea whether Minato's class would be sent to the battlefield in a few years.
And if they were, then even rear-line logistics would be dangerous. Enemy ninja could break through at any time. Anyone capable of raiding those routes—or anyone sent on a serious mission—would at the very least be Special Jonin-level. Without a protagonist's halo, running into people like that was practically the same as receiving a death sentence.
The more a transmigrator knew, the more there was to fear. Especially in an era where plot knowledge offered almost no concrete advantage. Every day, the invisible weight pressing on Gojo Yoru's chest had grown heavier.
That was why his strategy guide had long since included plans for gaining power by any means necessary. If it meant surviving, he had even been prepared to turn himself into some grotesque composite monster like Kakuzu or Hiruko—something stitched together from stolen advantages and forbidden methods.
To prepare for that future, he had deliberately crafted a personality from the moment he entered the Academy. As an adult soul who understood the value of connections, he should've tried to build goodwill. Instead, he chose coldness, arrogance, and intimidation. Every day, he acted the part.
Because if you were going to seize opportunities that shouldn't belong to you, it was better to make people wary first.
In truth, many nights had been ruined by nightmares. He dreamed that his plans failed before they even began, that someone peered into his mind, discovered the truth of his transmigration, and reduced him to a laboratory specimen even more miserable than death. He dreamed that he had finally clawed his way to overwhelming power, only for some higher-dimensional force to erase him as though all his struggle had never mattered.
Those fears were the invisible shackles wrapped around Gojo Yoru's soul.
But now, as the black space-time chakra appeared, those shackles shattered one by one.
Before this, his natural ceiling was obvious. With the talent and resources his parents had left behind, he might eventually become a versatile Jonin. If his strategy guide went perfectly—perfectly—he might push himself to the upper edge of pseudo-Six Paths territory through stolen opportunities and dangerous gambles.
Now? That upper limit had become a blur.
That was the terrifying thing about space-time power.
Its floor was low enough that ordinary ninja could use scraps of it to seal items inside storage scrolls. Its ceiling was so high that an elite Jonin like Kakashi Hatake, once he mastered an offensive space-time technique, could wound the progenitor of chakra herself.
As for Gojo Yoru, a first-year academy student who now possessed genuine space-time chakra, his future strength had become impossible to measure. Everything depended on how much black chakra he could generate... and what exactly he could make it do.
If he could develop offensive techniques from it, then even now—while still no more than a six-year-old trainee—he would possess the same kind of terrifying threat level as elite Jonin who had mastered top-tier secret arts. He would already have the means to endanger a Kage.
Even the Ten-Tails' jinchuriki, a being nearly immune to ninjutsu, would not necessarily be safe if struck by something that pierced through defense at the level of space-time.
And if black chakra turned out not to be suited for direct attack, then his combat strength would remain roughly what it was. In that case, this ability would still be no different from the hidden arts or bloodline abilities guarded by the great clans: not raw destructive force, but a unique and potentially game-changing special power.
Even that would have been enough to satisfy him.
Because moments ago, his feet had become insubstantial.
Intangibility.
That was Obito Uchiha's absurd, bug-like invincibility throughout nearly the entire Naruto storyline.
If Gojo Yoru could achieve true, full-body intangibility at will, then in this era there would be almost no one capable of killing him head-on. Not through normal battle. Not with conventional ninjutsu. Not even that man still alive in the world right now—the so-called savior of the ninja world—could casually put him down unless he was assassinated or caught under very specific conditions.
The thought sent a thrill through his entire body.
He had been panicking over survival for six years. He had spent sleepless nights polishing contingency plans, memorizing timelines, calculating worst-case scenarios, forcing himself into an ugly, isolated role at school, all because he couldn't see a way to truly stand on the board with the monsters who ruled this world.
Now, for the first time since crossing over, he finally felt like he had drawn a piece that could sit at that table.
A smile slowly spread across Gojo Yoru's face. Then it widened. Then widened again, until he could barely suppress it.
No. He didn't want to suppress it anymore.
The morning breeze drifted over Konoha's rooftops. The rising sun painted the village in soft gold and pale crimson. Tiles, power poles, courtyards, distant walls, the Hokage Rock—all of it looked so vivid that for an instant the entire world seemed newly made.
What a beautiful village.
What a truly wonderful world.
And from this day onward, Gojo Yoru was no longer a child trembling beneath fate's shadow.
Now, he had the right to be patient.
Now, he had the confidence to wait.
Now, he was a true master of endurance.