The cheers of the crowd still echoed faintly in Yuki's ears, but they seemed far away now—like a dream fading upon waking.
He walked a half-step behind the Hokage, keeping pace, but not daring to speak. The silence between them was dense, heavy with unspoken meaning. Yuki's mind raced with questions, but something about the way Hiruzen moved—calm, deliberate, almost too quiet—kept him from breaking it.
After several minutes, they arrived at a secluded clearing near the edge of the forest, beneath a massive tree with twisted, ancient roots. The canopy above filtered the sunlight into shifting patterns that danced along the forest floor.
Hiruzen stopped and turned to face him.
The old man studied him.
Seconds passed.
Then more.
To Yuki, it felt like time had stopped altogether.
The warmth Hiruzen had shown earlier was gone. His gaze now was sharp—piercing—like he wasn't looking at Yuki so much as through him. The weight of it settled on Yuki's shoulders like invisible chains. His heart beat faster, but he stood still.
Then, finally, the Hokage spoke.
"I saw some of your battles. Absolutely brilliant."
The words were soft, almost kind—but the coldness in his eyes remained.
Yuki opened his mouth to thank him, but the Hokage raised a hand slightly.
"During the last battle," Hiruzen said, voice like steel sheathed in silk, "what ninjutsu did you use to escape the shadow prison?"
There was no warmth now. No admiration. Just a question with no room for evasion.
Yuki's blood turned to ice.
He'd feared this.
Hoped the dust and chaos had obscured it.
But of course the Hokage would notice. Of course he would.
For a moment, panic surged through Yuki's chest like a crashing wave. But he forced it down—locked it away behind practiced calm. His face remained composed. Neutral. Respectful.
Inside, he scrambled for a lifeline.
He had to lie. And it had to be perfect.
He took a breath and lowered his head slightly—not too much, just enough to show humility without seeming weak.
"I noticed the shift in Tokasu's chakra a few seconds before the trap sprung," Yuki began, voice steady despite the hammering of his heart. "It was subtle, but… I felt it. His stance changed—his hands were slower between seals. He was buying time."
The Hokage said nothing, so Yuki continued.
"He wanted me to press forward. He made mistakes on purpose—sloppy footwork for example. All a lure. It didn't make sense at first, but then I saw his shadow stretching behind me instead of toward me."
Yuki met Hiruzen's gaze for a second before respectfully averting his eyes.
"That's when I realized: he was baiting me into a fixed position. A trap. One of those high-level variations of Shadow Possession. He'd carved out a zone, a dome, and I was already halfway inside."
He paused, gauging the Hokage's reaction.
"I didn't have enough chakra left to overpower it… and I didn't have time for a full counter jutsu."
Yuki hesitated.
This was the part that mattered.
The part that had to be just convincing enough.
"So I gambled."
He kept his posture humble, but his voice was gaining weight now—like he was reliving the moment.
"I'd been doing extra training with the Body Flicker jutsu for weeks. But I couldn't get it right. Not completely. I always hesitated—moved too far, or not enough. But in that moment, I wasn't thinking anymore. The fear, the instinct… it just hit. I acted before the shadow closed."
"I don't even remember it clearly," Yuki admitted. "It was like something clicked. I entered a kind of trance. My vision narrowed. My body moved before I gave it the command. All I know is I was outside the dome—and behind Tokasu—before I understood what I'd done."
A beat of silence.
"I think… it was a breakthrough," he said quietly. "With the Body Flicker. I couldn't do it like that before. But something changed."
He looked up at Hiruzen again, careful not to appear too defiant. Just sincere.
The forest was quiet again.
Even the birds had gone still.
Yuki's breath was calm, but his heart was pounding so hard he swore the Hokage could hear it.
Then—finally—Hiruzen exhaled through his nose, folding his hands behind his back.
"You devised a counter-strategy mid-fight. Trusted your instincts. Executed without hesitation."
He turned away, gazing out at the clearing.
"Good job."
Yuki blinked.
"Thank you, Hokage-sama."
Hiruzen didn't look back.
"There's no shame in breakthroughs. But you must understand—techniques used in moments of desperation can become crutches. Learn what you did. Refine it. If you truly wish to walk the path of a shinobi…"
He turned again, his face now unreadable.
Yuki nodded. "Yes, sir."
The tension bled from the air like steam rising from a cup of tea. Still present, but softer now. The Hokage took a few slow steps forward, then glanced over his shoulder.
"Tell me, Yuki," Hiruzen said, voice now contemplative. "What kind of jutsu do you wish to learn?"
He followed in silence for a few steps, mulling it over. Fire? Ice? A summoning technique, maybe? Something flashy, powerful—what most would leap at.
But then his hand instinctively drifted to the sword at his hip.
The one he'd used in every match. The one that had cut through clone and jutsu alike. The one he had poured his chakra into again and again.
He unsheathed it slowly, eyes narrowing.
The once-polished blade was warped. Its edge serrated with hairline fractures. Several spots along the fuller had melted into dull craters from where his chakra had overwhelmed the steel. As he tilted it in the light, he could see the stress marks spider-webbing through the core.
Another technique or two, and the weapon would shatter.
This sword wouldn't survive him. It wasn't the first and it wouldn't be the last destroyed by his technique.
Yuki exhaled softly, then slid it back into the sheath.
He stepped forward.
"Hokage-sama… if it's permitted, I don't want a jutsu."
Hiruzen raised an eyebrow, mildly intrigued.
"No jutsu?" he repeated.
Yuki shook his head, firmer now.
"I want a new sword. One that can withstand the chakra I use. The techniques I use—they destroy normal blades. This one barely survived the tournament. If I keep using it, it'll break... and next time, I might not be able to win without a weapon I can rely on."
He straightened his back, eyes unwavering.
"What I need isn't more ninjutsu. Not yet. I need a tool that won't break under my own strength."
Hiruzen studied him in silence. The boy stood tall beneath the weight of the old man's gaze—unflinching, composed.
There was no fear in him now. Only resolve.
Finally, the Hokage's lips tugged into a faint smile, barely noticeable beneath the lines of his weathered face.
"A chakra blade," he said thoughtfully. "Not a request most genin would make."
"Most genin aren't swordsmen," Yuki replied without hesitation.
Hiruzen gave a soft chuckle.
"True enough."
He turned his gaze upward to the forest canopy above, leaves stirring with the soft touch of wind.
"It's a rare thing these days… the art of chakra-forged steel. Most such blades are relics now—difficult to replace, even harder to wield properly. But…"
He looked back at Yuki, expression unreadable.
"You've earned it. I will have one commissioned—forged personally by the craftsmen who still remember the technique. As a gift. From me, to you."
Yuki's eyes widened, but only for a breath. He bowed deeply.
"Thank you, Hokage-sama."
Hiruzen nodded but raised a hand before turning away.
"That said, I will still honor my promise to grant you a jutsu of your choosing."
Yuki hesitated—just for a moment.
Then he looked up, eyes sharp with certainty.
"In that case… I want to learn the Flying Thunder God Jutsu," Yuki said, wasting no time.
The forest stilled.
Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Hiruzen slowly turned his head toward the boy, his expression unreadable, though something sharp stirred behind his calm eyes.
"...That name," he said quietly. "Where did you hear it?"
Yuki met his gaze steadily.
"I'm already proficient with the Body Flicker. I've been training to reduce its delay—to feel the space between places. But the Flying Thunder God… it's more than that. Instantaneous. Controlled. It's the pinnacle of movement techniques. I came across references to it—scattered mentions in old scrolls. Nothing concrete, but enough to know it exists."
Hiruzen's gaze darkened—not in anger, but in careful contemplation.
"You've been reading things far beyond your level," he said slowly.
Yuki nodded. "Only because I want to surpass my limits."
"You're not ready," he said after a pause. "The Flying Thunder God is not simply fast movement. It is space-time ninjutsu, and it relies on a complete mastery of fuinjutsu. Without that, it's as good as a suicide technique."
Yuki didn't flinch.
"Then I'll prove it to you," he said. "Fuinjutsu is one of the major disciplines for next year's academic exams. If I can show mastery in both that and teleportation… then I'll have earned the right to learn it."
Hiruzen said nothing at first. He looked into the boy's eyes for a long time, measuring more than words.
Then, at last, he closed his eyes and let out a long, quiet breath.
"Very well," he said. "Show me mastery in both. Not imitation—mastery. If you succeed… I'll grant you access to the Fourth's notes myself."
Yuki's breath caught—just for a moment. He bowed again, deeper than before.
"I won't disappoint you."
Hiruzen turned to walk once more, his steps slower, his hands clasped behind his back.
"We'll begin preparations for the sword immediately."
He cast a glance sideways, toward the boy walking beside him.
And this time, there was no coldness in his eyes.
Only a glimmer of something else.
Hope. And anticipation.