Inside the house, Uzumaki Mito listened to Kaito explain Kaito's situation. After hearing how the kid frequently botched his ninjutsu for no clear reason, even someone like her—a legendary medical-ninjutsu practitioner and the Nine-Tails' jinchūriki—could only shake her head.
"This is a psychological problem," she said plainly.
"You'll have to overcome it yourself."
Sitting on the sofa, Mito gently patted Nawaki's head. After a brief moment of thought, her gaze fell on Kaito.
"As for Nawaki… I'll have to trouble you to look after him more. That child is far too innocent."
"Of course," Kaito nodded.
Mito's eyes shifted toward the rough direction of the ANBU lurking outside—they had followed from the old compound to here. Then she looked back at Kaito.
"Tell me everything that happened today."
"If Tsunade causes trouble again, you may come to me directly. I will deal with her harshly."
"Grandma!"
"Hmm?"
"Uh…"
"Um… that's not really good, right? I'm just a genin. If Lady Tsunade decides to take revenge on me…" Kaito scratched his head, voice trailing off.
"Don't worry. She wouldn't dare."
Leaving the Senju compound, Kaito immediately headed for the hospital to visit Nonō.
He soon spotted the blonde girl rushing around in a flustered blur—so busy she didn't even have time to greet him.
Seeing that, Kaito could only come back later. He turned toward the village's biggest weapon shop to check on his custom-made ninja blade—the one that had cost him a painful three hundred thousand ryō.
"Yo, Kaito! You came at the perfect time. Your new blade's done—take a look!"
The wooden interior was spacious, scented faintly of sandalwood. Rows of ninja tools lined the walls. From the ceiling hung a variety of ornaments—actually alarm devices used to alert nearby shinobi if anyone caused trouble.
After all, ninja tools were expensive, and troublemakers were common in places frequented by shinobi and samurai.
Behind the counter stood a dark-skinned, broad-shouldered middle-aged man, a white headband tied around his forehead, pale blue clothes beneath his apron.
He set the 300,000-ryō blade before Kaito. It wasn't some legendary weapon, but it was a newly forged warrior's fast-blade, tempered to a sharp, clean finish.
Shing—
The blade flashed past Kaito's cheek. Its weight, balance, and steel quality were leagues beyond the cheap, battered sword he'd bought earlier for 20,000 ryō.
"Can I test it?"
"Of course! But we're going to the testing room. No swinging blades inside my shop!"
Kaito nodded.
Compared to the little family-run stores like the Tenten household, this one truly was one of Konoha's largest.
The testing room was a compact training chamber. Two red-and-white targets stood at the far wall—one with a kunai stuck in its center.
Near the entrance sat a machine that held wooden stakes in place. In the corner were piles of thick test posts.
The shop owner grabbed a solid wooden stake, locked it into the machine, then clapped the sawdust from his hands.
"Alright. You can start."
As he spoke, he watched Kaito approach the machine.
"If you use chakra, with how sharp this blade is, you can easily—"
But at that moment, Kaito closed his eyes.
He grew quiet.
The shop owner kept talking, praising his craftsmanship, but to Kaito, the man's deep voice faded away, dissolved into silence.
His heart stilled.
During his first two years after transmigrating, Kaito trained his swordsmanship constantly. But afterward, he deliberately lowered his training frequency—once every few days, sometimes only once every half month—to avoid drawing attention to his talent.
Now, in the dim, silent space, it felt like he was the only one left in the room.
It's been so long since I felt this.
Chakra circulation, the slight rise in body temperature—the moment he sensed them align, his eyes snapped open, dark irises sharp and bright.
"One-Sword Style… Z-Weave Net!"
Boom—!
To the shop owner, it looked as though the boy had unleashed a Wind Release technique. A violent gust blasted outward.
Three seconds passed.
Arms shielding his head, eyes screwed shut, the shop owner finally sensed the wind dissipate. He peeked through one eye, realized the room was intact, then rapidly checked himself for injuries.
Kaito still stood exactly where he had begun, perfectly still—as though he'd never even drawn the blade.
"Hey! Kaito! That was too much! This is a testing room for tools, not for you to practice ninjutsu!"
He was convinced the boy had used ninjutsu and launched into a rant.
Kaito ignored it and asked calmly:
"Boss, how much does that machine cost?"
"Machine? What machi—?" The owner blinked until Kaito gestured toward it.
"Oh, that? Not too expensive—just over ten thousand ryō."
"And if I broke it?"
"Break it? Impossible! That thing is forged from fine—"
Shing—crack—
Three clean diagonal cuts appeared across the steel frame.
A sharp grinding noise followed as the machine began to separate along the sliced seams. The shop owner froze.
That machine was forged from refined steel.
And this blade—just a 300,000-ryō ninja sword—should not have been able to do something like that.
"Good blade," Kaito murmured.
"Though… I may have swung a bit too hard."
The machine collapsed behind him with a tremendous clang, and Kaito's smile froze with mild embarrassment.
After all, once a blade left the store, any damage to it was the buyer's own responsibility.
"…"
"Incredible," the owner whispered.
"So this is what a true swordsman looks like…"
He crouched to examine the cut edges—smooth as a mirror. A look of genuine admiration lit his eyes.
Kaito scratched his cheek. "Uh… I didn't bring that much money. I'll head to the exchange office and—"
"Hahaha! Don't worry! You don't need to pay for that."
The man waved dismissively.
"That machine's old anyway. I should've replaced it long ago."
When he faced Kaito again, his worn, time-etched gaze was steady and earnest.
"I hope to see the day when your name is known around the world."
He stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Kaito's shoulder.
"And when you become a jōnin of the Hidden Leaf… I'll give you the treasure of this shop. A family heirloom—"
Kaito tuned out the rest.
Walking out of the store with the new blade in hand, he muttered inwardly:
If you don't want to give it, just say so. Why tie it to 'when you become a jōnin'…
He understood the sentiment—nostalgia stirred by seeing a young man chase a dream he once had. The owner didn't know his real intentions.
But too bad… I'm just a genin.
Three days after receiving the new blade—three days of reacquainting himself with the feeling of holding it seriously—
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Three figures streaked above the rooftops of Konoha, cutting through the wind as they headed toward the towering red Hokage building.
At the same time, another squad waited at the entrance ahead of schedule.
A black-haired boy with a senbon between his teeth waved lazily at Kaito as the three landed.
"Yo~ Six-year—no, wait—seven-year genin. Looks like we're on the same mission today."
Kaito squinted at him. "Three-year genin—don't joke with me. With that greeting, I already know today's summons is bad news."
"Ahem."
Beside Shiranui Genma stood a black-haired kunoichi with long curls and red eyes. She tugged her green flak jacket, clearly eager to remind everyone she was a chūnin.
Kaito ignored her and looked at Yūhi Kurenai.
"You'll know soon enough," she said.
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