An hour later.
Sosuke opened his eyes.
A sharp gleam flashed through his pupils.
The sweat on his body had evaporated. His skin flushed with a faint crimson hue, as if he had just stepped out of a sauna.
He stood up and reached for the glass on the table.
The water inside was still boiling hot, freshly poured just moments ago.
But when his fingers brushed the glass, he didn't feel the expected unbearable heat. It merely felt warm.
'Fire resistance...'
Sosuke stared at his palm.
His skin had become denser. The Fire nature chakra in the fire salamander meat, though agonizing to digest, had tangibly dulled his body's sensitivity to the physical phenomenon of heat.
This meant that when facing Fire Style jutsu in the future, his flesh could withstand an extra second or two of burning compared to a normal person.
On the battlefield, those two seconds were the exact distance between life and death.
Beyond that, his basal body temperature had noticeably increased.
Higher temperature meant a faster metabolic rate, leading to greater instantaneous explosive power.
Though the thermal spike was temporary, the physiological enhancement was very real.
He clenched his fist.
His knuckles cracked like popping firecrackers.
His physical strength had visibly increased.
Alongside the physiological boost, his chakra reserves—once no more than a meager thread—had grown thicker.
'So this is the effect of chakra beast meat...'
Sosuke stared at the remaining nine pounds of flesh.
His gaze burned with intensity.
This was true cultivation capital.
No wonder the Akimichi clan consumed such massive quantities of calories. No wonder shinobi from noble clans developed their physiques so fast.
This was the sheer power of purchased advantages.
For the next half-month, Sosuke lived an extremely disciplined, monotonous existence.
By day, he ran the clinic.
He treated the sick commoners and local thugs, earning petty cash to maintain his cover, all while upholding his 'supply chain' with the Uchiha Police Force.
Every three days, the young Uchiha officer sent someone to collect the medicinal solution.
Though the Uchiha remained as arrogant as ever, they had at least stopped looking for trouble.
By night, the clinic became Sosuke's personal feasting ground.
He consumed the fire salamander meat with calculated madness.
It started at half a pound a day, escalating to two pounds.
He greedily devoured the high-energy biomass.
Half a month later.
Sosuke's chakra reserves finally met the threshold of a Genin.
Though only an entry-level Genin.
But this meant he was finally qualified to learn ninjutsu.
He was no longer an ordinary civilian relying purely on brute physical strength.
He could feel the blue energy pulsing within him, ready to be mobilized at his command to shatter human physiological limits.
But it wasn't enough.
Chakra without jutsu was like gunpowder without a gun.
He needed jutsu.
Even the lowest E-rank techniques.
But such things couldn't be bought in a bookstore.
Konohagakure maintained a draconian monopoly over ninjutsu. Even the Clone, Transformation, and Substitution techniques were proprietary Ninja Academy curriculum, strictly forbidden from public circulation.
The black market had options.
However, prices were astronomical, and the market was flooded with counterfeits—or worse, fragmented scrolls that would kill the practitioner upon trial.
Sosuke needed a guide.
Someone knowledgeable, connected, yet firmly planted on the fringes of society.
He thought of Viper.
The gang leader whose leg he had salvaged.
That evening.
Sosuke closed the clinic early.
Carrying a specially formulated, high-concentration bottle of Purified Water, he walked toward the Red Snake Gang's territory.
It was an underground casino at the end of the street.
Two burly guards stood at the entrance. Seeing Sosuke, they immediately bowed.
"Dr. Sosuke."
"I'm looking for Viper."
"The boss is inside. Please, come in."
Thick smoke filled the casino.
The screaming of gamblers was deafening.
Sosuke wove through the throng and reached the innermost VIP room.
Boss Viper sat on a leather sofa, a glass of liquor in hand.
He could bear weight on his leg again; though strenuous movement was still out of the question, walking was no longer an issue.
"A rare guest," Viper said, a sliver of a genuine smile crossing his face as he spotted Sosuke.
"How is the leg?" Sosuke placed the Purified Water on the table.
"Much better. Thanks to your miraculous water."
Viper waved his men away.
The room emptied until only the two of them remained.
"Spit it out, Brother Sosuke." Viper was a shrewd man. "You don't visit without a reason. Run into trouble?"
"No trouble."
Sosuke sat down, meeting Viper's eyes directly.
"I need a favor."
"What kind?"
"Ninjutsu."
Sosuke let the word drop.
Viper paused mid-drink.
He slowly lowered his glass, eyeing Sosuke with a mix of amusement and scrutiny.
"You want to be a shinobi?"
"I want the means to protect myself."
"You're past the age for it," Viper shook his head. "The golden window for shinobi training is between three and twelve. Your skeletal structure has set, and your chakra pathways have hardened."
"I know," Sosuke said, his voice flat. "But I have chakra."
He extended his hand.
A faint, blue halo ignited at his fingertips.
It was unstable, flickering slightly, but it was undeniably chakra.
Viper looked genuinely surprised.
"Seems you've been eating well."
As a gang boss, he knew of forbidden narcotics and rare biological materials capable of forcing chakra growth, but those were luxuries forged entirely out of cold, hard cash.
"Can I learn it or not?" Sosuke asked.
"Through official channels? Not a chance," Viper said bluntly. "The Ninja Academy doesn't take overage rejects. Finding a Jonin to apprentice under? You lack the bloodline, and you lack the prestige."
"Then I bypass official channels."
"The black market?" Viper scoffed. "Nine out of ten scrolls on the black market are fakes. The tenth is a booby trap."
"That's why I came to you."
Sosuke leaned forward.
"You've survived in Konohagakure's underbelly for years. You must know a few... retired or disgraced shinobi."
Viper went silent.
He was weighing the cost.
Brokering this kind of introduction meant spending political capital.
But looking at the bottle of Purified Water...
This kid was a high-yield asset.
"There is one guy."
Viper picked his glass back up.
"But he's a drunk. And he has a vile temper."
"Who is he?"
"Genzo," Viper supplied the name. "Used to be a Chunin. Got crippled on a mission, lost a leg, and washed out."
"Where is he?"
"Far west end of the slums, right by the waste disposal plant. He lives in an abandoned shipping container."
Viper took a swig of his liquor.
"Bring good sake. And bring enough cash. Those are the only two things he respects."
"Thanks."
"Remember, if the Anbu bag you, this has nothing to do with me. All I gave you was the address of a neighborhood drunk."
"Understood."
Sosuke stood up.
"One more thing," Viper called out to his back. "Don't die in training. The old bastard might be crippled, but he knows how to torture a man."
Sosuke didn't look back. He simply waved a hand and walked out of the casino.
The waste disposal plant.
This was the shadow cast beneath Konohagakure's glamorous facade.
Massive incinerators roared day and night, belching thick pillars of black smoke into the sky.
The air hung heavy with the acrid stench of burning plastic and rotting acid.
Trudging through the sludge, Sosuke located the shipping container.
The corrugated metal box was heavily rusted, with a jagged hole haphazardly cut out to serve as a door.
Empty sake bottles were piled high at the threshold.
Sosuke carried two bottles of premium sake and a fresh package of roasted meat.
He stopped right outside the entrance.
"F*ck off."
A slurred curse rasped from inside.
A glass bottle came hurtling out immediately after.
Crash.
The bottle shattered against the dirt just inches from Sosuke's boots, sending shards of glass flying.
Sosuke didn't flinch.
"Viper sent me," Sosuke said.
Silence stretched from the dark interior for a few seconds.
"That venomous snake isn't dead yet?"
An old man with greying hair and a scruffy, unkempt beard hobbled out.
He leaned heavily on an iron crutch. His left pant leg fluttered empty in the breeze.
His face was a map of deep wrinkles and liver spots, but his eyes—though clouded by alcohol—burned with absolute ferocity.
It was the distinct, lingering malice of a man who had taken lives.
He stared at the liquor in Sosuke's hand.
"New face," Genzo rasped, licking his cracked lips. "What do you want?"
"To learn ninjutsu."
"Not interested." Genzo turned to hobble back inside.
"One thousand Ryo. A day."
Sosuke named his price.
Genzo stopped in his tracks.
He slowly turned around, looking at Sosuke as if examining an idiot.
"Do you have any idea how much booze a thousand Ryo can buy?"
"I know." Sosuke set the sake and meat on the dirt. "This is the deposit."
Genzo closed the distance and snatched up one of the bottles.
He bit the cap off with his teeth and tipped his head back, taking a massive, greedy pull.
"Haah—"
He let out a long breath. A fraction of his miserable lethargy seemed to burn away.
"How old?" Genzo demanded.
"Fifteen."
"Useless," Genzo spat without hesitation. "Go back to playing in the mud."
"I have chakra."
Sosuke manifested the faint blue halo once again.
Genzo gave it a passing glance.
"Reserves are passable. But your control looks like total sh*t."
He took another swig, circling Sosuke once.
"Hand out."
Sosuke extended his arm.
Genzo moved without warning. The iron crutch struck out like a striking viper, jabbing precisely into Sosuke's wrist.
Agony.
Sosuke felt half of his body go completely numb.
"Chakra pathways are too stiff. Muscles are too rigid," Genzo critiqued. "Train Taijutsu, and you'll snap your own bones. Train Ninjutsu, and your hand seals will be slower than a crippled turtle."
"But I have money."
Sosuke pulled a stack of bills from his jacket.
It was exactly one thousand Ryo.
"I want to learn the three basic Academy jutsu. And chakra control."
Genzo stared at the cash.
His Adam's apple bobbed.
For a crippled alcoholic scraping by on a measly veteran's pension, this was an undeniable fortune.
"Let's get one thing straight," Genzo said, snatching the bills and shoving them into his filthy coat. "If you fail to learn, there are no refunds."
"Acceptable."
"If you die, I take zero responsibility."
"Acceptable."
Genzo scooped up the second bottle of sake from the ground.
"Tomorrow morning. Five AM. Be here. Bring your ninja tools."
"I don't have ninja tools."
"Then go buy some. A shinobi without shuriken is like a man without a d*ck."
Cursing under his breath, Genzo crawled back into the dark belly of his shipping container.