"Kaede is lucky to have a teammate like you."
Yamanaka Inoichi's words were soft and gentle.
Sora's smile remained brilliant.
"You're too kind, Uncle Inoichi! Actually, it's Kaede-senpai who's always looking out for me!"
He bowed again—his movement so perfect it could be in a textbook.
"It's getting late—I won't disturb your family time any longer! I'll take my leave!"
Without giving them a chance to respond, he turned and melted into the street crowd.
Not staying a second longer—hurrying home, as if lingering would turn it into a blind date or meeting the parents.
Pushing open the creaky wooden door.
What greeted him was a small, even somewhat shabby single apartment.
A bed, a table, a wardrobe.
This was all that Akashi Sora—the "genius boy" of Konoha, the future "Hokage candidate"—owned.
The image of a selfless, duty-bound war orphan leaped off the page.
Sora casually closed and locked the door.
Then he walked to the windows, drawing all the curtains tightly shut.
The room instantly plunged into darkness.
He liked sunlight.
But all his secrets could only thrive in the dark.
Clap.
He clasped his hands.
"Shadow Clone Technique!"
A puff of white smoke dispersed, and a shadow clone identical to him appeared in the room.
The clone skillfully removed its jacket, went to the bed, picked up a copy of *Intimate Paradise*, and read with relish.
This was something Sora had "borrowed" from Kakashi.
In his words, it was to better understand his captain and strengthen team camaraderie.
The original, meanwhile, entered the innermost tiny storage room of the apartment.
This was his true world.
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the warm amber was gone.
Replaced by those eerie, magnificent Mangekyō Sharingan eyes.
Hum!
The surrounding space emitted a faint buzz—inaudible to ordinary people.
Sora's body began to blur and distort.
The floor beneath his feet, the walls beside him, the entire world before his eyes—rippled violently like water disturbed by a stone.
The next second.
His figure vanished from the storage room.
...
Sea breeze, carrying a salty dampness, rushed toward him.
Beneath his feet was soft, golden sand.
Sora walked to the beach's edge and sat down.
This was his divine realm.
A subspace created by his left eye's *Takamagahara Seirei: Banjō Iniki*—completely isolated from the real world.
An eternal twilight golden beach and endless azure sea.
Absolute silence, absolute safety.
Sora took a deep breath—the salty air filling his lungs, washing away the last trace of barbecue grease from the real world.
So refreshing.
He removed his shoes, stepping barefoot on the soft sand, walking step by step toward the sea.
Waves gently lapped at his ankles—the cool touch settling his chaotic thoughts completely.
Uchiha Itachi had taken the bait.
Uchiha Fugaku had received the lure sufficient to make the "correct" choice.
The massive ship of the Uchiha clan—once heading straight for an iceberg—had, under his manipulation, quietly changed course toward a new path named "Akashi Sora."
Perfect.
Sora gave his operation full marks once again inwardly.
Exploiting information asymmetry, creating identity resonance, offering hope, then displaying absolute power.
A combo punch that left even the sharpest genius or most suspicious clan head no choice but to follow his scripted route.
Because they had no other options.
And he held the ultimate veto power to flip the board.
This trip to Sunagakure had been bountiful.
The Fourth Kazekage's Magnet Release and the One-Tail's Air Sand Bullet were quite nice additions.
But Sora's attention ultimately fell on the disc that had accompanied him since arriving in this world.
[Namikaze Minato - Flying Thunder God Technique].
Once, this was his greatest reliance—the foundation for surviving in this dangerous world.
But now...
His right eye silently shifted to that simple yet mysterious Mangekyō pattern representing absolute dominion over space.
*Ugo no Mei · Banri Ikku*.
In the face of his own ocular power, the Flying Thunder God seemed somewhat... primitive.
One was a "technique" requiring pre-placed markers for point-to-point teleportation.
The other was an "authority" ignoring distance—forcible swapping, space locking, tearing all things.
The gap was immeasurable.
Keeping this disc, beyond saving a bit of ocular power in specific moments, held little strategic value anymore.
In that case...
Sora's smile grew thicker.
His mild choice paralysis had no chance against such an obvious comparison.
"Then... devour it."
He softly decided.
[Confirm devouring disc: Namikaze Minato - Flying Thunder God Technique?]
[After devouring, the disc will permanently vanish; its contained source energy concept will fully integrate into the host.]
"Confirm."
The instant his thought fell.
Boom!
The entire world vanished.
Golden beach, azure sea, eternal twilight—everything submerged in an instant by surging, endless golden floods.
Not chakra.
But a pure "concept" ocean formed from countless intricately harmonious techniques.
Sora felt his consciousness forcibly stripped from his body and thrown into this raging sea.
Countless images, insights, calculations flooded his mind madly.
He saw it.
A young man with brilliant golden hair, sleepless amid mountains of scrolls.
He saw the man failing repeatedly on the training ground, standing up again and again—always with a gentle, resolute smile.
He saw the man engraving a special technique onto a custom kunai.
He saw the man on the battlefield—becoming a golden flash, taking enemy generals' heads amid thousands of troops.
In that moment, Sora was no longer Sora.
He was Namikaze Minato.
He felt the precise chakra flow through meridians with every seal.
He understood the superhumanly fast spatial coordinate calculations and judgments before each teleport.
This wasn't merely "learning" a technique.
It was "inheriting" a genius ninja's crystallized wisdom on this art.
Forcibly etching the "Flying Thunder God" concept—from principle to application, development to perfection—into his very bones.
How long passed—perhaps an instant, perhaps eons.
The golden conceptual sea finally receded slowly.
Sora's eyes snapped open; he knelt on one knee in the sand, gasping heavily.
His body trembled slightly.
Not from fear—but excitement.
He slowly stood, closing his eyes to savor the changes in his body.
If before he was merely a "driver" of a top-tier sports car.
Now he had become its "chief designer."
He no longer simply "used" the Flying Thunder God.
He fully "understood" it.
The exquisite space-time technique once wielded by Namikaze Minato was no longer a fixed string of symbols in his mind.
But a living formula he could freely disassemble, recombine, optimize.
"So that's how it is."
Sora murmured softly.
His right eye's Mangekyō pattern slowly emerged.
He didn't directly lock onto a reef for spatial swap as before.
Instead, he silently left an invisible *Ugo no Mei* mark under his feet and on that reef.
These marks were no longer simple coordinates.
Optimized by the Flying Thunder God concept, they now had "directionality" and "connectivity"—brand-new space-time beacons.
Then.
Sora took a step forward.
No golden flash.
No spatial fluctuation.
Not even a trace of chakra leakage.
One second—he stood on the beach.
The next—he appeared atop the reef in the sea.
Beneath his feet—slippery, moss-covered rock.
Sea wind whipped waves, wetting his pants.
As if he'd always been standing there.
And in his original spot on the beach—a identical slippery rock appeared.
Perfect equivalent exchange.
"Truly... magnificent."
Sora felt this unprecedented microscopic control over space—his face showing an obsessed smile.
No longer crude displays of authority.
This was art—power perfectly concealed in the invisible.
He could now truly kill without trace.
Silently swapping an enemy's heart with a pebble miles away.
Devouring the Flying Thunder God had utterly reshaped his space concept.
Sora felt his right eye's *Ugo no Mei · Banri Ikku* resonating wonderfully with the newly integrated Flying Thunder God concept.
If before *Ugo no Mei* was a powerful supercomputer with fixed programs.
Now Namikaze Minato's wisdom had written open-source code at the lowest level—allowing free programming.
He was no longer limited to executing "swap," "imprison," "tear."
He could create entirely new space techniques.
After the silent swap, Sora turned his attention back to the system space.
In his view, several discs floated quietly, glowing enticingly.
[Fourth Kazekage - Magnet Release]
[One-Tail Shukaku - Wind Release: Air Sand Bullet]
Time for the pleasant choice paralysis again.
Sora stroked his chin, lost in thought.
The One-Tail Shukaku's Air Sand Bullet—undeniably powerful.
Highly compressed wind chakra cannon—destructive far beyond normal ninjutsu.
Devouring it would elevate his wind release understanding another tier.
But...
A fatal issue surfaced in Sora's mind.
This was a tailed beast technique.
Devouring its source energy—wouldn't it taint his body with Shukaku's unique chakra signature?
Almost certainly.
The risk was too great.
His current persona: "pure-blooded civilian genius," "perfect Hokage candidate."
This clean slate was his most important camouflage—to lull the Third Hokage and Danzō, to leverage the entire Konoha higher-up structure.
Once tailed beast chakra appeared on him—no explanation would suffice.
He'd instantly be labeled "dangerous," "uncontrollable," "not one of us."
Forget becoming Hokage.
Not being captured by Danzō for Root dissection until death would be the Third's mercy.
Gambling his entire plan's foundation for an A- or S-class wind ninjutsu?
A losing deal.
Sora shelved [One-Tail Shukaku - Wind Release: Air Sand Bullet] without hesitation.
Keep it as a high-power "playback" skill.
But devour? Impossible.
Then only one choice remained.
[Fourth Kazekage - Magnet Release].
Rasa's bloodline limit.
The ability to convert chakra into magnetism—freely controlling metals and sand.
Especially Rasa's use with placer gold.
"Money..."
Sora murmured almost instinctively.
He narrowed his eyes—his ultimate rationalist face overlapping perfectly with a shrewd merchant's.
A future Hokage could lack powerful offensive ninjutsu—because he himself would be the rule.
But a future Hokage absolutely could not lack money.
Developing the village needs money.
Improving livelihoods needs money.
Upgrading equipment needs money.
Waging war especially—burning money like paper.
Why could Senju Hashirama found Konoha? Beyond his invincible Wood Release—he could build from nothing with it, creating basic survival and economic value.
Though Sora had devoured Wood Release, his chakra volume was far from Hashirama's level—impossible for large-scale infrastructure.
But Magnet Release... controlling placer gold...
This was a money printer!
Literal out-of-thin-air printing!
Combined with his massive chakra from the top-tier Uzumaki physique...
A terrifying idea—capable of upending the entire ninja world's economy—grew wildly in Sora's mind.
His future Konoha empire's budget would be unlimited!
This temptation—he couldn't resist.
"Devour!"
No hesitation.
[Confirm devouring disc: Fourth Kazekage - Magnet Release?]
[After devouring, the disc will permanently vanish; its contained source energy concept will fully integrate into the host.]
"Confirm!"
Hum!
Utterly different from devouring Flying Thunder God—no information flood.
This time, Sora felt his body become a massive magnet.
An invisible yet omnipresent "force" spread from his limbs.
He could "feel" the weight of every sand grain on the beach.
He could "distinguish" trace metal minerals in the sand.
He could "touch" free metal dust invisible in the air.
The world was deconstructed anew in his perception.
No longer colors or shapes.
But "attractable" and "non-attractable."
A bloodline-born absolute dominion—like a king over subjects.
When the source energy fully integrated, Sora slowly opened his eyes.
He extended his right hand, palm up.
Then he channeled chakra per the newly parsed "Magnet Release" concept into his palm.
No earth-shaking change.
The beach beneath merely trembled lightly.
Then strands of golden dust were forcibly extracted from the sand—converging toward his palm.
Placer gold dust.
The dust swirled above his palm, condensing into a spinning golden orb.
Sora loosely clenched his fist.
The orb instantly compressed and elongated—forming a sharp, chillingly gleaming senbon.
Countless golden placer gold rose, forming a brilliant golden stream surging into his palm.
They swirled, fused, condensed above it.
Finally forming a small pile—still dazzling under eternal twilight...
Placer gold.
Sora quietly gazed at the wealth in his palm.
His sunny, harmless smile long gone.
Replaced by a near-cold calm—filled with ambition and desire for control.
With this.
Plus his tailed beast-level chakra volume.
He could endlessly extract gold from the earth.
His future empire would have inexhaustible wealth.
He could buy off daimyo, fund small nations, corrode enemy foundations with money.
Truly... magnificent.