Chapter 283 – Signal
The sparring match between Kenta Imai and Kei ended as expected —
Kei won.
But it wasn't a decisive victory born of effort.
It was surgical. Effortless.
And Kei could tell, even as the dust settled, that Kenta hadn't fought to win.
He'd fought to measure.
To use Kei as a living yardstick — a training instrument.
That realization amused him more than it irritated him.
Because, truth be told, Kenta had grown strong.
Very strong.
Even though Kei's movements during the fight had looked deceptively calm —
a few clean, deliberate strikes that ended things almost too quickly —
he knew it wasn't pure dominance.
He'd simply been the worst possible opponent for Kenta to face.
Kenta's entire fighting style was built on speed and reaction.
And Kei's Sharingan, especially his agile-type Mangekyō,
was the natural counter to both.
Unless Kenta somehow mastered the same teleportation technique as the Second Hokage,
he would never force Kei to even consider using his full Mangekyō Sharingan.
Flying Thunder God… Kei thought, watching Kenta lying on the ground.
If any clan could have preserved that, it'd be the Senju.
Kenta Imai — heir of a fallen house, trying to drag the Senju name out of extinction.
It wouldn't surprise Kei if, buried somewhere in that family's archives,
were fragments of techniques that could make the entire village envious.
---
Ayaka Hyūga stood nearby, stylus in hand, jotting neat lines of analysis onto her scroll.
Her expression was cool, detached — the clinical gaze of a scientist cataloguing results.
"It seems you've gained much better control over your chakra," she finally said, looking up.
"Both Suiton and Doton techniques show a drastic increase in efficiency and output.
The chakra density alone is… terrifying."
Her pale eyes flicked briefly toward Kei.
"Against an average shinobi, that level of power would be more than enough.
But against you, Kei-kun…"
She trailed off, shaking her head slightly.
Even if Kenta's techniques had improved in precision and force —
they were meaningless before someone who could see everything.
To Kei, his opponent's strength was quantifiable. Predictable. Contained.
Ayaka continued writing, her tone neutral.
"As for Kei-kun… there's not much I can evaluate.
You weren't fighting seriously.
But from the data I already have, your chakra levels and quality alone
put you beyond most ninja entirely."
Kenta groaned from where he lay, pressing a hand to his forehead.
"Great. So the takeaway is: the Captain's even more depressing than I thought."
"Not entirely," Kei said as he walked over and dropped to sit beside him.
"Knowing your own limits has value.
Your style reminds me of the Second Hokage's —
efficient, sharp, unpredictable.
But you lack a finishing technique, something that matches your speed and reflexes."
"Yeah, I know," Kenta muttered, still staring up at the sky. "You mean Flying Thunder God, right?
That jutsu's out of my league."
---
The Flying Thunder God Technique —
the legendary space-time ninjutsu of Tobirama Senju and later Minato Namikaze.
A jutsu that rewrote the very laws of distance.
Learning it required more than genius.
It required a nervous system built for combat beyond human reaction.
It wasn't enough to teleport behind an enemy —
you had to move, strike, and balance instantly after reappearing.
Even a fraction of hesitation could mean re-materializing off-balance…
or worse, in midair, with no time to react.
One stumble, one slip, and you'd be dead before realizing what happened.
Most shinobi gave up long before that point.
After nearly fifty years of Konoha's history — four Hokage —
only two had ever truly mastered it:
Tobirama Senju, long dead, and Minato Namikaze, still quietly reshaping history.
Even Minato's personal guards, the elite "Shadow Corps,"
barely qualified as students of the technique.
They could perform short-range transfers,
but in true combat, the jutsu was beyond them.
They lacked the instincts — and more importantly, the seals.
---
The second stage of Flying Thunder God was what broke most would-be users:
Formula mastery.
Every teleportation marker was a seal —
a unique, precise combination of symbols or sigils.
A personal signature burned into the fabric of space itself.
Without the ability to design and imprint your own seal,
you could never fully control your teleportation points.
You'd be limited to pre-marked kunai,
barely a fraction of the jutsu's true potential.
And that required something rarer than raw talent —
a deep, exacting command of fūinjutsu.
Sealing arts.
Kei sighed quietly.
Even he knew that was a wall he might never cross.
The complexity of sealing formulas was staggering.
That was why every village treated its sealing corps like treasures —
small in number, precious beyond measure.
"Fūinjutsu experts," Kei murmured, almost to himself,
"you can count them on one hand… across the entire shinobi world."
He glanced at Kenta again.
The young man's talent was undeniable, but Flying Thunder God…
that was a path lined with corpses of geniuses who'd tried and failed.
"Not everyone can be Tobirama," Kei said softly.
"And not everyone can be Minato — born with impossible gifts and a sealing master for a wife."
---
The three of them fell quiet.
Kenta still lay on the ground, panting softly.
Ayaka's pen scratched across paper, her expression unreadable.
Kei looked up at the sky — pale and still,
a faint wind brushing through the empty training field.
Power, knowledge, legacy.
The true signal of strength isn't what you inherit — it's what you choose to create.
He exhaled slowly, the faintest smile curling his lips.
"Keep working, Kenta," he said at last, standing. "You've got potential — but potential's useless if you stop at admiration."
Kenta laughed tiredly.
"Yeah, yeah… guess I'll take that as encouragement."
Kei turned away, his cloak shifting slightly in the wind,
the crimson glow of his Sharingan fading back to calm black.
"Encouragement," he said under his breath. "Or a warning."
Kenta Imai, that kid—
he was probably still stuck at the second stage of the Flying Thunder God training.
Whether he would ever break through it, Kei couldn't say.
And honestly, if he couldn't?
That might actually be a good thing.
If things ever went south between them,
Kenta would be much easier to handle without instantaneous teleportation, wouldn't he?
Kei smirked faintly at the thought.
He wasn't afraid of the Flying Thunder God—not with the Mangekyō Sharingan technique he possessed.
He'd already proven in his fight with Obito that his time-halting ocular power could neutralize even space–time jutsu.
The only thing he'd ever need to worry about… was speed.
---
"By the way," Kei said idly, turning his gaze toward Kenta,
"you've been holed up here for quite a while. Don't you worry about the Mission Department while you're gone?"
Kenta gave him a dry look.
"You're talking like you've been visiting your new Police Headquarters."
The man's recovery rate really was impressive—
he sat up with barely a trace of fatigue, brushing dust from his shoulders.
"Like you, I left a shadow clone in charge," Kenta said with a shrug.
"Nothing major's happening in the village. Konoha's peaceful.
I don't need to show my face every day—though," he added, "probably shouldn't make that a habit."
Kei nodded slightly.
He wasn't wrong.
Right now, Konoha was stable.
Peaceful.
And for the moment, that peace had taken some of the weight off their shoulders.
---
The new Police Force Headquarters had already been completed.
The Doton specialists on the construction team had done their work in record time—
less than a month, start to finish.
The only real delay had been the foundation and steel reinforcements.
The new building stood proudly only a few dozen meters from the Hokage Tower,
right at the heart of Konoha's administrative district.
To one side of the Hokage Tower stood the Administrative Bureau,
on the other, the Mission Department—
and now, the Police Department completed the triangle.
It was a statement as much as a structure.
A message, clear as daylight:
the Uchiha's authority was no longer confined to the outskirts of the village.
The Police Headquarters wasn't as tall as the Hokage Tower,
but every floor inside was state-of-the-art,
built with both bureaucracy and defense in mind.
In barely over a month,
what had once been a cold, empty shell of a department was now alive with new personnel.
Kei had expanded the force—though not with fighters.
He deliberately recruited administrators and strategists,
people capable of paperwork, coordination, and management.
And, perhaps more importantly,
he had handpicked a number of Nara clan members.
It was a gesture—subtle, but strategic.
A move meant to draw the brilliant Nara closer to Minato Namikaze's growing circle of allies.
Of course, Kei hadn't forgotten the commoners either.
He'd made them a priority.
Konoha had no shortage of sharp minds among its civilian population,
and Kei had an eye for talent where others only saw status.
---
As for the three squad captains under his command—
they had already been dispatched to their assigned sectors,
each overseeing a new branch office in the freshly reorganized Police network.
Only the fourth division remained unfilled.
That sector's reconstruction was still underway,
and until it was done, Kei had the other three divisions rotate patrol duties there.
Everything was orderly.
Everything was smooth.
Almost.
---
"Speaking of which," Kei said suddenly, turning toward Ayaka Hyūga,
"what's your clan planning to do about that open captaincy?"
He raised an eyebrow.
"I asked you last time, and you dodged the question.
Don't tell me they're actually planning to send you?"
Ayaka shook her head, her expression calm as ever.
"I doubt it. And even if they did, I wouldn't accept.
I'd rather stay here at headquarters.
Administrative work suits me just fine."
Ayaka had officially left the Third Division and transferred directly under Kei's authority—
a Hyūga assigned to the Police Department's central office.
That alone was a signal to the Hyūga clan.
An olive branch.
But the clan's elders still hadn't responded.
That silence was beginning to irritate Kei.
He exhaled slowly, then spoke with quiet firmness.
"Tell your clan head this," he said, voice sharpening.
"If they still can't make a decision soon,
then I'll appoint someone I trust."
He glanced at her again, his tone turning colder.
"I want to keep working with your clan, Ayaka. I really do.
But I won't let the Police Department fall behind waiting for their politics to catch up.
Once that district's reconstruction is finished,
the division needs to be operational. No excuses."
Ayaka inclined her head slightly.
"Understood. I'll deliver the message."
"And one more thing," Kei added.
"Tell them not to insult me by sending someone incompetent."
His eyes narrowed faintly, a trace of sardonic amusement flickering within them.
"Like that fool… Hyūga Sora."
Ayaka couldn't help a quiet sigh.
He wasn't joking—and she knew it.
---