----Momosuke's pov----
It has been more than five years since the day I read the title of that book. Six years since we arrived in this land. Six years, three months, and twelve days since I lost everything I loved.
Not everything, I reminded myself. If it wasn't for Karui and the others who went through the same pain, accompanying me, I would have been the one to lose everything. So much so that I was thankful that old man Jizen's angry face was still alive and kicking.
As I scooped another bowl of water, I caught my reflection in it. A 16-year-old me stared back—black hair, black eyes, and a square-shaped face that had hints of a beard trying to grow. My skin had turned rougher, darker, worn from the endless work we all had to do. I tried to smile, but instead of warmth, all it showed was a weary grimace—exhaustion carved deep into my features.
I shook the water to break the image. This wasn't the time to reflect.
Drawing my chakra into the water, I let it surge through the liquid, shifting it to water nature. The cool, fluid mass lifted into my hand, swaying like a dense glob, rippling with my control. I walked to the injured man—a shinobi from the Land of Wind, with purplish veins creeping up his arm. The arm had the telltale signs of a poisoned senbon wound.
With my free hand, I produced a scalpel of chakra and made two precise incisions beside the puncture.
One for the entry, and the other for the exit.
I looked towards the patient and his clanmates and said, "Get ready, the next part will hurt."
"Ah! As if, kid. I am a shinobi. Something like this-----AAAAHHHHHH"
His clanmates held the screaming man down as the water glob under my control entered the entry incision into the arm. Remembering the lessons, I infused more chakra and converted it into water nature. Right inside the wound.
"AAAAAAASHHHSHAHSHSSHHHHHH."
At this point, his screams turned animalistic. Knocking away brief flashes of ruins from my mind, I let my other hand bring the water out of the exit wound. With chakra control gained from constant practice of medical ninjutsu, I sucked the poison out through the exit wound.
Splash
"Argh!"
As the poisoned water got dumped in a bucket, the shinobi slumped into unconsciousness.
I said to his clanmates, "Pay the bill at the desk and clear out."
"Thank you! We are in your debt."
No, you are not. In fact, the poison was not that dangerous—at least not as much as the ones Kirito-nii could concoct. It was a rather big surprise when Kirito-nii started experimenting with various poisonous herbs, chemicals, and toxins five years ago. In his words, he was wisely using the time taken for his chakra to regenerate.
Such madness told me that I needed to master these advanced medical nin skills. For his and our safety.
I heard Hiro's voice from the desk, "Thank you for your patronage."
The now 12-year-old, as Kirito-nii would put it, was in his zone—happily soothing patients whose pockets were emptied of their money. Normally, fixing a herbal mixture as an antidote was enough to cure the shinobi. I used this complex procedure for two reasons—one for practice and the other for money.
"How vile! Always craving money. Even more so than the merchants."
Despite the years, Taro's bull-like voice irritated me. You would think that him toning down the bullying or five years of familiarity would get us used to each other. No, it didn't.
I instead replied, "I seem to smell the rotten scent of jealousy. Unfortunately, such jutsu needs to be taught and the user should be blessed with water nature. A pity."
I didn't need to say that Taro had neither such teaching nor water nature. A point that reignited our conflicts two years ago. As the teaching of medical nin basics completed, Kirito-nii swiftly kicked out the Uzumaki from the theory lessons of his advanced medical ninjutsu.
I had been taught medical ninjutsu since I was a child, and the constant practice helped me solidify the knowledge, allowing me to improve rapidly these days. I was even capable of using the Mystic Palm Jutsu—an incredible jutsu that could force the patient's body to heal itself in minutes. Even a stab wound could be healed as long as my chakra was sufficient.
"BOTH OF YOU! STOP IT."
Karui's loud voice broke the conflict between us.
While the familiarity didn't dull the conflicts between Taro and me, it did dull the animosity between the rest. In fact, the relationship between the others could be considered friendly.
Taro grinned at Karui, who was done stitching the wounds of another patient. Karui was the next best medic nin after me. Her relentless effort helped in that. Unfortunately, it was not the only field that she had advancements in.
"Karui, I can't wait to end this work in the medical bay and start the fuin practice in the shop."
Karui achieved a lot in fuinjutsu. Enough that she could be considered competent in the art. Unlike me, who had given up on the art, she persisted in it.
BOOOOMMMM
The familiar sound of a boom made me look towards the shop across the street—Kyudo's Store of Everything.
It was a brainchild of Kirito-nii that had us earn money from selling exploding tags, medicinal salves, and clothes.
Of course, the explosion didn't faze anyone on the street because it was a common occurrence. Ever since Yoshime showed his interest in the exploding tag formula, Kirito-nii told the fuinjutsu genius to go wild in exploring its limits.
To that end, he prepared the backyard of the shop and constructed barriers to shield the surroundings from his experiments. Looking at the shimmering barrier that rose up, I knew that the Uzumaki would be ticked off once more.
I looked towards Taro, whose face was already scrunched up from frustration. Taro, as expected from an Uzumaki, was a fuinjutsu genius.
Unfortunately, he compared himself with Kirito-nii, who was an absolute monster. Sure, Kirito-nii was older and had more chakra when he started. But it didn't change the fact that his progress was monstrous. It was the same before the clan got destroyed. It was the same even now.
Stuff that Taro spent 16 years mastering, Kirito-nii did in five years since we arrived in this land.
Since then, he was exploring the limits, making advancements in the last year that left no doubt he would complete the last part of our side of the deal—an advanced fuinjutsu not seen in Uzumaki archives.
Despite the familiar nature of the explosion, I was once more curious about how Yoshime had managed to mess up again. But like the rest of the trainee medic-nin here, I couldn't move. This medical bay, established through the joint effort of the Uzumaki and Kirito-nii, demanded our attention throughout the day.
Despite my distaste for Taro, which extended to his favoured art of Fuinjutsu, I couldn't deny its complexity. It was as difficult and intricate as medical ninjutsu. That was something.
Because more than seventy-five percent of the Uzumaki kids had dropped out of medic nin class, satisfied with basic first aid. Even among our Kyudo, many would have done the same.
Ryu and Ichi particularly hated the mind-numbing art. But quitting wasn't an option. Kirito-nii had all but barred us from giving up. In fact, he took it upon himself to personally teach Fuinjutsu and medical ninjutsu to us after class, late into the night.
It started a few months after we arrived in the Land of Whirlpools. Before that, he let us pursue our own means of strength. Now, he demanded skill in both fields. The reason became clear when I found the book in Jizen's hand—the contents seen only by me, Jizen, and Kirito-nii himself. Of course, Kirito-nii was the author, so he knew what was written. That day, I stopped comparing myself to him like Taro did.
That was the day I stopped viewing Kirito-nii as just my brother and started seeing him as a monster—and as our clan leader. Despite Kirito-nii never formally claiming the title, in both function and responsibility, he had become the Kyudo clan leader.
The book's title said it all: "How to Build Your Hidden Village."
The sheer scale of the vision behind it terrified me. Mission halls, rank divisions, an academy, research divisions, special assassin squads, jonin squads, and shinobi corps. Each was a chapter title, each referencing yet another volume detailing the organizational framework. He even wrote the academy curriculum and textbooks.
It took me three months to read through it all. Five years to understand the reason behind it. Now I knew why he forced us down this path. Fuinjutsu and medical ninjutsu required years of training to achieve competence. Unlike frontline combat shinobi, these professions would be more respected, and safer.
More importantly, they were vital to the foundation of his village.
Given Kirito-nii's reliance on Hiro to manage our financial matters despite constant losses, I knew he planned to cultivate us as the backbone of this hidden village's structure.
I was more or less scared and even at this point, did not believe this 'hidden village' was possible.
The sound of the sliding door snapped me from my thoughts. The medical bay had closed for the day.
As we crossed the street, I spotted the familiar figure of the Uzumaki old man. That was all we called him—"Old Man"—since none of us knew his name. Even Taro didn't know. I got that much from his clear irritation whenever I poked him about it.
The Uzumaki old man was playing shogi with Kirito-nii.
While the old man looked the same as ever, Kirito-nii had changed the most. He had become a man—a 21-year-old shinobi dressed in black armor with blue stripes. His medium build, hardened with muscle, combined strength and agility—the result of years of 'scientific' observation and research into shinobi bodybuilding.
'Scientific'.
Another word Kirito-nii had introduced in his book, one that made more sense these days. Kirito-nii was smart and had different way of thinking when compared to others. It showed in the shogi match which was anything but normal.
Neither of them played the match normally.
With each move, seals flickered and broke, interwoven into the game itself. Each piece they placed carried faint chakra traces that combined to form intricate patterns. I recognized parts of the seals, but together the structure felt alien—a shifting combination of offense and defense. No wonder I hated this art. It was half like a language and half like an art. The feeling of the same seal made by different people varied slightly. The differences were minimal in basic exploding tags or barriers, but the more advanced the Fuinjutsu, the greater the discrepancies.
But, Kirito-nii was freak because he could learn, understand and control even the slightest discrepancies. As if he was a 'machine'. Another word to my language, the courtesy of his books.
"You're truly fierce nowadays, old man," Kirito-nii said with a grin, placing a knight that completed a seal shaped like a binding mark.
The old man frowned, tapped his piece against the board, and placed it down. His piece distorted Kirito-nii's seal before forming a defensive wall. "It's because you deserve it," the old man shot back.
"So," Kirito-nii pressed, setting a bishop that began forming a faint, rotating spiral seal pattern, "what pissed you off this time?"
The old man placed a rook with a sharp snap, shattering Kirito-nii's spiraling seal before it completed. "To think that this medical ninjutsu of yours would be so precise with chakra control. It's the antithesis of our Uzumaki clan. We just weren't made for it."
Kirito-nii chuckled, placing a pawn that cleverly rebuilt his previous spiraling seal with even more complexity. "You Uzumaki were the same. You trapped countless shinobi with Fuinjutsu that consumed less chakra, yet learning those same Fuinjutsu required vast amounts of it. In a way, you marketed an art meant for your clan into every shinobi's finest weapon."
For the first time, the old man grinned. He slid a lance forward, causing a chain reaction of seals that locked Kirito-nii's spiral pattern in place. "It is every shinobi's finest art. The difficulty in learning it? That's their problem."
Kirito-nii laughed quietly, breaking the chain with a well-placed silver general that unraveled the old man's lock. "Until it became a problem when I learned it, right?"
The old man's smile faded. He moved his king, and seals flared up in a complex pattern—a series of explosive tag formulas laced into the board itself.
Kirito-nii placed a bishop that severed the chain of tags with precision, dispersing the formation as if unraveling threads. He spoke in a quiet voice, "Yoshi Uzumaki and his so-called 'Medic Squad', Where were they? I didn't see them now-a-days."
The old man sighed deeply, lowering his hand. "I am sorry."
For a moment, Kirito-nii stared down at the shogi board in silence. Then he moved his piece forward, breaking yet another seal that had flickered to life.
"It seems it was time for our Kyudo clan to leave the land of whirlpool," Kirito-nii muttered.
What the fuck?
----Kirito's pov-----
I was sure that Momosuke and the others were shocked by my muttering. One second, they had been watching a shogi match unfold like always; the next, I had told them to prepare to vacate the life they had known for years. While Momosuke looked stunned, it was the rest of the kids that made me realize this was the right decision. They had spent half their lives here. The scars of the Kyudo clan's eradication would never fade, but time had dulled the raw pain.
Of course, the biggest reason for this decision was what I now held in my hands.
POOOF
With a swift weave of hand signs, I summoned the massive master scroll. The sheer size of it was daunting, the intricate black and gold markings swirling across its surface. Within that scroll was everything: my research on Hidden Village structure, my theories on Fuinjutsu, Ninjutsu, and Medic Ninjutsu. Years of effort—my life's work—were etched into its pages. This was the crystallization of my mind, my experience, my obsession.
I glanced at the old man, signaling him to look at the end of the scroll—its edges carefully folded and tucked.
"I never fold the scroll neatly," I said, voice cold. "It seems your shinobi were far too inexperienced. Any seasoned shinobi in the mainland won't make such silly mistakes."
The old man's face fell, his voice barely a whisper. "I am sorry."
I allowed a flicker of lightning chakra to dance at my fingertips. With a sharp pulse, the crackling energy surged through the scroll, igniting the edges and curling the paper into ash. Flames consumed my supposed life's work in seconds.
"It's a pity," I said, watching the last ember die out. "That was a fake. The 'knowledge' inside it—especially the Medic Ninjutsu—was a carefully woven trap. It looked real, supported by detailed explanations and carefully structured experiments. I altered key details in some sections and fabricated others entirely. Anyone who followed that twisted guidance would endanger themselves and their patients."
Of course, I didn't include the books of hidden village inside the fake. That would be far too much and crazy. But, I needed to put enough valuable info to make the fake believable.
I thought of the most dangerous piece of misinformation in fake scroll—a deliberately falsified method of converting medical chakra during surgery. A single misstep in applying that technique would guarantee a patient's death.
Of course, there was more. The scroll's ink itself had been laced with a toxin—a poison of my own making, embedded into every stroke of the brush. The very act of unrolling the scroll would seal the reader's fate. The detoxification process detailed inside the scroll? Also wrong. A flawless death trap.
Yet it had been all for nothing. No poison, no false information could touch the Uzumaki's true medic nins. The only reason they weren't here was because they were... somewhere else. Clearly dealing with the fiasco from the incident.
I knew of the kekkai genkai possessed by the true medics of Uzumaki. A single bite can bring back a person from the edge of death.
"You knew where they were," I accused, locking eyes with the old man. "And you still let this happen."
His gaze dropped to the table, lingering on the faint scorch marks left by the burning scroll.
"I am sorry," he whispered again.
The words felt hollow, and I knew better than to believe in apologies. For a brief moment, my eyes drifted to Momosuke and the others—faces too young, yet far too hardened by the burdens I'd placed on them. It was time for me to proceed towards my plan. Depending on the others will always result in leaving my fate in other's control. It was the same before the clan was destroyed. It was the same here in Uzhiogakure.
It was such things that kept stroking my desire to carve a place of my own.
I got up as the hand signs I weaved revealed the Fuin markings in the shop, "This ends our deal. I am sure the Fuin barrier here is advanced enough to meet your harsh judgment. That is if you can resolve it."
I walked out of the shop as Momosuke and the rest followed.
Though, I was sure that the Uzumaki can resolve it. I felt petty and wanted to challenge the old man. Besides the Fuin barrier was worthy of the challenge, considering that the barrier was never broken by old man.
I know that old man was extremely skilled in Fuinjutsu.
Even if they resolve it and master the knowledge behind it. They might pull their hair out of sheer frustration. The true power of this Fuinjutsu barrier lied in the ability to change it's entire structure by single person.
[ Fuin Barrier : Hundred Transformations.
With minimal chakra usage, the Fuin barrier function could be changed on the whims of the user due to its everchanging pattern. Making the only way to break it, brute force.
Classification : Forbidden Jutsu
Difficulty : Extreme.
Usability : A fuin barrier that could seal away numerous enemies no matter the terrain or formation of enemy.
Hidden requirements : The user must have ability to build an Fuin Barrier pattern within an instant.
Restrictions: Require constant chakra supply and constant maintenance by the useronly
Useless against one vs one in which the opponent surpasses the user's strength.]
A complex Fuin Barrier that keeps changing, only held together by constant changes the user makes. It was almost impossible for any other Fuin user to do that continuously.
Well, Impossible for everyone except me. For others, they need time to take the changes in terrain, enemy strength and other bullshit factors into account. A task that takes time. Time which was very precious in a battle. However, I don't such time because of my AI. . Thanks to my AI, I could use this forbidden jutsu. It was made by me, for me. Considering my current strength, it could isolate and help seal away shinobi at chunin or below. It was one vs many Fuinjutsu.
In fact, it could hold back Jonin level shinobi for a few moments and their quest to break free would allow me to gather info on their combat abilities.
Despite it's numerous restrictions, it was good trump card in terms of large-scale battles.
WHOOSH
WHOOSH WHOOSH
Much had changed since the first time we came here. Unlike our early days, when we walked like civilians, we were now jumping across rooftops as if we belonged. Though we never entered the Uzumaki clan's core compound, we had gained much freedom now.
We were famous for being the trading and healing shinobi—a completely foreign concept when associated with shinobi. Not for lack of trying, though. Any shinobi clan that attempted this path was slowly annihilated by the current power structure. Like the old Kyudo clan.
But considering my ambition, perhaps it was better that we had a head start in these matters. We were already behind in strength and shinobi numbers. Of course, the next step would be to address this issue.
AI, bring up my plans.
[Step 2: Establish Hidden Village.
Step 2.1: Recruit loyal shinobi into the Kyudo clan.
Step 2.2: Form alliances with multiple clans, serving as a base for Hidden Village recruitment.
Step 2.3: Muster the rights, wealth, and influence needed to establish the Hidden Village.
*Step 2.4: Acquire the resources required to research a way to strengthen normal humans to be capable of hosting a Tailed Beast.]
Hiro asked in complete astonishment, "Wait, we're leaving just like that? What about the shop and all the goods?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Seriously, kid, do you think I would leave with a loss? Jizen should have already completed the handover procedures in the administration. He'll be waiting at the dockyard for us."
Karui asked me in a shallow voice, "So... did the Uzumaki try to steal your master scroll?"
I gave her a studying glance in response.
Now that was surprising.
The reason for the sheer hurt that broke her gentle mask became clear to me in a second.
"WAIT! Please wait!"
I saw Taro running toward us on the roof, his gaze flustered, his face panicked. He stopped right in front of Karui, clear exertion and sorrow visible on his face.
I couldn't help myself from muttering, "Fucking hell! Since when did this happen?"
Momosuke grunted, "Since you made Karui demonstrate her resolve in class back then. Since then, he's been like a bee seeking out the scent of honey."
I couldn't help but say, "That was five years ago."
"Yes," Momosuke confirmed. "It's been ongoing for five years."
It seemed I was the only one who hadn't recognized this. Considering even the mad explosion kid Yoshime knew, it meant one thing—I had zero romantic sense.
Fuck.
You'd think all that K-drama watching would have instilled some romantic sense in me. But no. A decade into the shinobi life, I forgot most of that entertainment. My meager chakra reserves could only support the canon knowledge upload into my AI database. Sorry, my past entertainment—my mind and AI didn't think of you as a priority.
Besides, I had new and improved entertainment.
Looking at Karui and Taro, who looked like they were holding themselves back from bear-hugging each other, I was certainly entertained. Especially when Taro gave Karui a hairpin etched with seals. My senses told me the seals were active, considering the chakra flowing through them.
AI, scan and decipher the hairpin.
[Acquiring information from host senses...
Processing the data...
Cross-referencing known database...
Fuin pattern: Durability and Chakra Transmission.
Difficulty: Medium
Restriction: None]
Fuck.
The reason I was shocked wasn't because of the simple Fuin pattern. No, it was because of the material of the hairpin.
AI, please estimate the material once more.
[Cross-referencing with Materials section of database using observational data of the hairpin...
Processing the Fuin Pattern module with the possible materials...
Eliminating material assumptions of less than 10%...
Hairpin Material: Chakra metal, purity 92%]
I couldn't help but think that if this was a love gift the Uzumaki gave, because I definitely didn't mind seducing one of them.
Such high-purity chakra metal could be recast into a good tanto. Sure, the purity would decrease, but such a weapon would massively increase combat power. For example, I had been trying to create a Kenjutsu style based on the chakra scalpel, but it was left to gather dust in the theoretical phase. All because of fact that the majority of weapons couldn't conduct chakra precisely enough to maintain the scalpel's structure.
It was the first time I had seen chakra metal outside of books. If the kid loved Karui enough to give such a gift, it could lead to much more with the right push.
A pity I didn't know this beforehand.
Perhaps I was being impulsive. If I had led the Kyudo clan to stay behind, this might have turned out to be a marriage alliance.
WHOOSH WHOOSH
THUCK THUCK THUCK
As we reached the docks, I cleared my head of such thoughts. What was done was done.
No need to regret it.
When I possess enough chakra in the future, I will have the AI upload its database with most of the romance concepts. I don't like getting caught off guard like this. In the future, I'd be able to take even these factors into account in my planning, making it more perfect.
It was at that point that I realized I might be far too controlling.
Perhaps it was the way I felt safe in this messed-up world where I was leading two teenagers and a dozen 11- to 13-year-olds on the mission to form a Hidden Village. A mission that only one of the two teenagers was privy to. Meanwhile, the other teenager was clearly heartbroken. Obviously, the rest of my shinobi were children, no matter how mature they were, they didn't fully understand the happenings.
Forget about the world—I felt like I was messed up too.