February came. Shorai was quite familiar with the neighborhood and surrounding area—he just hadn't paid much attention to it lately. He woke up, sat on the bed, and contemplated: "I have two months before the Academy. So far, so good. Although the ANBU still watch me from time to time, they seem less frequent. Now, for my achievements..."
He reviewed his physical and chakra progress.
"My body is in good condition—I can run ten kilometers without chakra. My chakra control is improving. I can climb and stick to trees effortlessly, maintaining it across any part of my body. As for the Stone... I can toggle its state on and off, but I still need to be careful. Any slight mistake could cost me my life or make me instantly noticeable... Danzo."
His eyes narrowed—cold, deadly.
"Reality manipulation is my trump card—but what good is it if I have to manually activate it every time? And shut it down before sleep to avoid accidental death? No autonomy. Every use requires re-imagining. I need to master my natural talents first—become strong without the Stone. But still, if I could one day master the Shadow Clone Jutsu, I could accelerate my training—decades of practice in days. If only I had the chakra for it."
He stood up and began his daily drills—running, push-ups, and sit-ups—for the next two to three hours, including rest. Then, he spent another two to three hours on meditation and chakra control, keeping his foundation solid for the Academy.
He avoided water-walking training. It would be too eye-catching for an orphan to be as advanced as a clan heir. It wasn't the time to stand out.
He finished training past 4 p.m.
Shorai took a walk through the village, dodging Naruto's persistent attempts to get him to play. He observed the bustling streets—civilians and shinobi alike moving through their daily lives.
Turning down a quiet lane, he noticed a building marked "Konoha Library." Curious, he approached and stepped inside.
At the front desk, a man in his late twenties looked up, surprised. "You're... quite young. What brings you here? Are you lost? Where are your parents?"
"I'm not lost, sir. I'd just like to read," Shorai said with a wide smile. "Is that allowed? What are your hours?"
"We're open from 8 a.m. to 7 p.m., five days a week," the man replied. "You've got time. But you'll need a permit to return—just bring a guardian or caretaker's signature next time."
Shorai nodded eagerly. "What kind of knowledge is here?"
Amused, the librarian called over a colleague and offered a tour. "This is the history section—great for understanding the shinobi world. Over there: theoretical knowledge, some written by the Second and Third Hokage themselves! And here—anatomy, biology, herbology, medical basics. Much of it is based on advanced medical research—some say even inspired by Lady Tsunade's legendary healing techniques. And, so you know—she is the best medic in the world, renowned as one of the three Sannin." He gazed at the boy and smiled warmly. "It's a solid start if you're aiming to follow that path—assuming you have the talent, of course!"
Shorai absorbed every word. Excitement pulsed through him. He could feel the knowledge in the air.
Then they reached the stairs.
"This is restricted," the man said sternly. "The second floor holds scrolls and practical data accessible only with Jonin-level permission or higher. No begging or sneaking in—you've been warned!"
Shorai frowned. "So nothing practical... like jutsu—on the first floor?"
"None. Just theory, research, and history. For real techniques, you'll need the Academy—or a Jonin's approval. Still, all these shelves hold enough knowledge. The Second and Third Hokages opened the first floor to all citizens—a move to spread education. Theory, yes. Combat? That comes later. For now, this can serve as your foundation."
Shorai smiled.
It was more than enough.
Thanking the guide for the tour, Shorai decided to begin with historical knowledge. He was curious about how events were recorded—and what could help him study efficiently for future Academy exams without revealing his deeper understanding.
He sat down, placing a large pile of books from the first bookcase beside him. Opening a thick, dusty tome titled The Warring States Period, he began reading.
Unknowingly, his mind worked at an extraordinary speed, as if sparks were flying from his thoughts. He was so engrossed that pages turned rapidly, almost on their own. To an observer, it would look less like reading and more like scanning—skimming lines and paragraphs in a blur.
Less than a minute later, he closed the book with a sigh.
"Not much useful information here—no detailed accounts of specific battles or jutsu. Just exaggerations and glorified tales of Konoha clans' victories before the village's founding. The Uchiha and Senju sections are fairly detailed, including some family trees, but still too much is missing."
He opened the next book—The Unification of Clans and the Founding of Konoha by Senju Hashirama. Then another: The Five Great Villages and the New Shinobi Order.
"Hm... The first Kage meeting is largely undocumented..." Shorai closed another book with a disappointed expression.
In just two hours, he went through half the history section—covering events up to the Third Ninja War, the intervals between, the legendary clash between Uchiha Madara and Senju Hashirama, Tobirama's tenure and his extraordinary deeds—including founding the Ninja Academy and his heroic sacrifice. He read about the rise of his students, particularly the future Third Hokage, Sarutobi Hiruzen, mentioned as a gifted professor. There were also accounts of political developments across the new ninja world since the five-village system was established.
He placed the last book back on the shelf—and froze.
"W-wait... What the... I read all of these in just two hours?! And I remember everything! How?!"
He turned his attention to the special ingot, but it remained dormant, with only a faint shadowy movement inside, waiting to be unleashed.
"So... it's definitely not 'its' doing. Then what? What secret does my body hold—allowing my brain to absorb, comprehend, and retain information at this speed?"
He pressed a hand to his chin. "I never wished for an Uchiha bloodline, nor specifically the Sharingan... Could it be related to my affinities? That's the only clue so far. Unless... some kind of mutation or external influence occurred in the womb or at birth..."
As he tried to process the anomaly, a sudden wave of fatigue and dizziness crashed over him—like a punch threatening to knock him unconscious. His brain had processed years' worth of data in hours—neural pathways overloaded, synapses burning like overcharged circuits.
"Crap! This is the aftereffect, isn't it? I need to act fast!" he whispered, and as a last resort, focused on activating the Stone—despite the danger.
With a faint, low hum, the Aether responded, attempting to spread its control. Shorai poured the last of his will into it, commanding it to reshape his bio-chemical state—resetting his mind to its condition before the intense reading session.
Relief washed over him as clarity and lightness returned. He exhaled deeply but kept his excitement in check.
"Now, I need to get back to my room before I slip and undo this effect." He blinked repeatedly to monitor the change. Mid-thought, his focus shifted—the Stone reacted. "Shit!" He felt the effect slipping and quickly stabilized it.
It was already minutes past closing time. A library staff member made a final round and spotted the boy standing motionless near a table.
"Hey, kid! We're closed. Go home—your parents might get worried!" he called, raising his voice—only to be abruptly cut off.
"Sorry, sir! I read too much and almost fell asleep! There's so much knowledge here. Please give my thanks to the receptionist and his friend. I'm off—good night!"
Without waiting, Shorai dashed out of the library toward the Orphans' Apartment Block, keeping an eye on the Stone's behavior.
Back in his room, he locked the door and approached the bed. He deactivated the inner power. Instantly, the refreshed state reverted to his original mental fatigue. Darkness fell as his body collapsed onto the bed—sleep taking him.
Over twenty-four hours would pass before he woke again.
.