Antares stood up abruptly, his voice clear and firm. "Onii-san, we'll go with you. After two years, we'll be ready too. We'll take on missions and help earn money for the clan."
Benimaru rose beside him, nodding. "He's right. We've trained hard, and we'll continue to. We want to stand beside you, not just behind you."
Shanks turned his gaze to the rest of the children. Even the ones who hadn't spoken wore the same determined look. Their eyes burned with shared resolve. He didn't need to hear the words—he already understood.
He let out a slow breath, then addressed them calmly but firmly. "I know what you all want. And I'm proud of your intentions. Your hearts are in the right place. But if all of you leave the valley, then who will stay behind to protect it? Like it or not, this place—at least for now—is our home."
His voice hardened slightly as he continued. "More importantly, your mothers and aunts are here. They've raised you, supported you, and trained you. It's your responsibility to protect them, just as they've protected you."
He stood now, his presence commanding silence.
"I made this decision a long time ago—back when we first arrived. You will stay in this valley for five years. That is non-negotiable. By the end of that time, you'll have the strength, discipline, and experience to move freely in the world. Until then, you stay here. You train. You grow. You protect this home and the people in it."
His tone dropped to iron.
"This is final. No exceptions. No arguments. That's my bottom line."
The group fell quiet, the weight of his words settling over them like a stone. They understood—not just his authority, but the care and foresight behind his decision.
Erza stood up and stepped forward, her voice steady and respectful. "We'll honor your decision, Onii-chan. Until our five years in the valley are complete, none of us will even consider leaving."
The others nodded in agreement, their earlier eagerness now replaced with quiet resolve. They understood that Shanks wasn't being harsh—he was protecting them. Five years in the valley, under guidance and training, would give them the strength to face the world without fear. Like Erza, they each gave their silent or spoken acknowledgment.
With the main topic settled and no other pressing matters to address, the meeting came to a natural close. The mood eased, and the group gradually shifted into a more relaxed rhythm as they began sharing lunch together. Laughter returned, children chatted among themselves, and the tension of serious discussion faded into the hum of daily life.
----
Time passed, marked by sweat, discipline, and steady progress. Each day in the valley became a chapter in their journey toward strength.
Shanks continued to refine his own abilities. He trained relentlessly—pushing his physical limits, sharpening his swordsmanship, and perfecting his original jutsu: Lightning Release: Thunder God's Sword.
Meanwhile, the children trained in their own unique paths. Each one was bonded to a powerful character template—a legacy of skills, instincts, and abilities they were still learning to unlock. Day by day, they grew into those roles, mastering techniques that once felt out of reach, and pushing beyond their limits.
Every ounce of hard work added to the silent transformation of a clan once in hiding, now on the verge of becoming something formidable.
----
Two Years Later
Shanks stood at the forest's edge, just a few meters from the valley, Gryphon gripped firmly in his right hand—his only hand. The sunlight filtered through the canopy above, casting dappled patterns on the forest floor. His expression was calm, focused.
With deliberate precision, he began forming hand seals—fingers moving rhythmically around the hilt of his sword. Despite the handicap of having only one hand, each motion was fluid, honed through relentless training. Ten seals in quick succession. Then his body sparked to life.
A surge of lightning exploded across his frame, wrapping him in a cloak of crackling energy.
"Lightning Release: Thunder God's Sword."
In the next instant, he vanished—his body nothing but a red blur cutting across the clearing.
An old tree several meters away shuddered. Then, with eerie calm, it split cleanly in half, the upper portion sliding off and crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. The exposed cross-section of the trunk was smooth and flawless—a perfect cut.
To an observer, it would have looked like a red flash streaking through the tree and materializing on the other side as Shanks—a blur of movement defined only by the shimmer of lightning and the flash of his crimson hair.
He stood with his sword raised slightly, the edge still humming with residual chakra. Slowly, he deactivated the technique, letting the lightning fizzle out. He let out a quiet breath.
"Finally," he murmured, satisfied. "After two years of grinding, I've brought the hand seals down from thirty to just ten."
He slid Gryphon back into its sheath with a sharp, satisfying click.
Closing his eyes, he entered his mental space. In the silence of that internal realm, a glowing panel appeared before him, projecting his progress in precise detail. A proud smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
–––––
Name: Shanks Uzumaki
Rank: S-Rank
Abilities:
• Swordsmanship (Level 4)
• Armament Haki (Level 4)
• Observation Haki (Level 4)
• Conqueror's Haki (Level 4)
• Shanks's Movement Technique (Level 4)
–––––
His growth was no longer just visible in battle—it was measurable, undeniable. He had crossed the threshold he set for himself two years ago.
Shanks opened his eyes and emerged from his mental space. The cool forest breeze met him, but his mind was already elsewhere. The time had come.
He had stayed in the valley for exactly as long as he'd promised—two years of relentless training, strategy, and preparation. Now, not only was he strong enough to move openly in the world, but he had to. According to Miki's latest financial reports, the clan had just six months of funds left—barely enough to sustain their current living standards. If he didn't act now, their survival would soon be at risk.
But Shanks wasn't heading into the unknown. He had a target. A destination already marked in his mind.
The Land of Hot Water.
Just the day before, while on a routine supply run in Tonika Village, he had overheard two local shinobi discussing troubling news. Standing in the market's shadowed alleys, he caught fragments of their conversation—just enough to piece together the situation.
It had been a little over three years since the outbreak of the Second Shinobi World War, and the effects were spreading like wildfire. Smaller nations, lacking the military power of the Five Great Shinobi Countries, were suffering the most. And among them, the Land of Hot Water was bleeding.
Though the nation was known for its peaceful traditions and neutral stance, it had become a prime target for exploitation. Villages across the country were being raided by Kirigakure shinobi—attacks growing bolder and more violent with each passing month. Supplies stolen. Homes burned. Civilians slaughtered. Even their limited ninja forces were being overwhelmed, stretched far too thin.
The whispers Shanks had overheard painted a grim picture: Kirigakure forces have become completely unrestrained—murdering wherever they please, taking whatever they want.
And the Land of Hot Water was just a few miles from the valley.
Shanks clenched his jaw, his hand resting on the hilt of Gryphon.
He didn't just see opportunity—he saw responsibility. This wasn't just a chance to earn money for the Uzumaki Clan. It was a chance to test his strength against real enemies, to push back against the chaos, and to begin carving a new place for the clan in a fractured world.
It was time.
----
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