The surface of the lake in front of Fujimoto Tōma’s house lay quiet beneath the afternoon sun.
Tōma stood on the water with his eyes closed.
One hand held his blade, Still-Mind Mirror, the tip resting exactly against the lake’s surface without breaking it.
He was still using the civilian-interface body Mizuno Kagetora had given him.
Standing on water in a physical body wasn’t natural. Not even for most elite shinobi. Souls or pure chakra constructs could ignore gravity easily. Flesh could not.
Normally.
Tōma forced chakra downward in an ultra-thin layer, distributing pressure across the water like an invisible platform.
When he first tried this years ago, the lake had looked like a typhoon testing itself.
Now?
A falling leaf made more disturbance than he did.
He opened his eyes.
Lifted his hand.
Still-Mind Mirror slipped from his grip and dropped straight into the lake.
The sky began to drizzle.
Raindrops spread soft ripples across the surface.
Tōma walked toward the shore.
Each step left a distortion behind him, water bending around the space where his foot had been, like reality was reluctant to close.
The mont he reached land—
The lake detonated.
A pillar of water blasted skyward, mist blooming outward like shattered glass made of sunlight. A faint rainbow flashed through the vapor.
High above, his blade spun through the air and shot downward.
He caught it casually and returned it to his sheath.
"...Still not enough."
Years had passed since he first settled in the civilian world.
His chakra was still compressing.
Not at its limit yet.
But the speed had slowed to a crawl.
Compressed chakra was harder to control. That was why he developed this training thod. Externalizing pressure. Circulating micro-flows. Synchronizing body and output without spikes.
Side benefit: he could now access the ntal state behind Still-Mind Mirror without fully activating the weapon.
Progress.
But he’d hit another wall.
His taijutsu, kenjutsu, and ninjutsu control were all near peak refinent.
Sealing techniques he’d studied by repeatedly observing Takeda Jūzō’s demonstrations. The man never formally taught him, but he didn’t need to. Once Tōma saw sothing, he could reconstruct the logic behind it.
Now?
If soone used a high-level sealing technique on him, he was confident he could cut it apart mid-activation.
Movent techniques ca from training with Shijōin Yoru.
He still couldn’t surpass her pure agility. But his burst acceleration was sharper. Better suited for sword combat.
Yoru had shown him a hybrid technique once. Chakra enhancent layered over close combat strikes.
Interesting idea.
But Tōma had already taken a different path.
Instead of blending techniques into punches, he fused them into sword forms.
Form Four: Heaven Scorch was the clearest example.
And Yoru’s demonstration gave him another idea.
Why limit himself to high-tier offensive techniques?
Low-tier techniques could be integrated too.
Why choose... when he could take everything?
Harder?
Sure.
But difficulty was just another tax you paid for power.
Even binding techniques could theoretically be woven into sword forms.
It would just take ti.
Lots of ti.
When the fusion work was complete...
Maybe he could finally test himself against the Commander-General of the Shinobi Forces.
The thought made his fingers twitch.
There were barely any opponents left who could push him anymore.
Maybe Akiyama Kenpachi could have, if his internal limiters were gone. Unfortunately, they weren’t. And he still hadn’t unlocked his clan’s true combat state.
Still.
Kenpachi was improving. After losing decisively, he’d finally started training proper sword technique instead of relying on raw instinct and brute force.
Tōma had suggested using a limiter body for training control.
Apparently, Kenpachi kept breaking them every few days.
The engineers were probably losing their sanity.
Tōma sighed.
Mizuno Kagetora still refused to spar with him.
Claid he wasn’t a pure combat specialist.
Convenient excuse.
Tōma let it go.
They weren’t enemies.
"Moon Spirit."
A small dark creature blinked into existence on his shoulder.
"Gura?"
"Let’s go to the shop."
Since arriving in the civilian world, Moon Spirit could move freely.
Kagetora and the others assud it was a manifestation of his weapon spirit.
Which worked perfectly for Tōma.
Less explaining.
The world folded.
They appeared near the familiar storefront.
Tōma stepped inside.
And paused.
"...Tenth Division Captain. Shiba Isshin?"
Isshin blinked.
"...dical Corps Deputy Commander. Fujimoto Tōma?"
They stared at each other.
Then Isshin shifted the unconscious girl in his arms.
Tōma narrowed his eyes.
"...You kidnapping children now?"
"NO," Isshin snapped. "She saved from a chakra-corruption entity. It infected her instead. She’s... changing."
"Go," Kagetora said calmly from behind the counter. "I’ll explain to him."
Isshin rushed inside with the girl.
Tōma watched them go.
The girl’s chakra was wrong.
Corrupted.
But also...
"...Different signature too. Clan-based. Rare." He glanced sideways. "Bloodline archer lineage?"
Kagetora gave him a long look.
"You’ve been doing howork."
"I live here. Of course I have."
The truth was worse than he expected.
The archer clans were rare because most had been wiped out decades ago.
Their thod of fighting erased corrupted entities completely instead of purifying them.
That disrupted the balance of the world.
Negotiations failed.
War followed.
Only a few bloodlines remained. Under heavy monitoring.
"So she’s from one of those surviving families," Tōma said quietly.
"Yes."
"And Isshin is trying to save her."
"Yes."
Tōma exhaled slowly.
This world really loved bloodlines.
Even more than the shinobi system.
Alive humans had almost no path to strength unless they were born special.
Die with talent?
Maybe beco sothing more.
Die without it?
...Hope you didn’t beco a monster.
He tilted his head slightly.
Sotis he wondered if those archer clans were even fully human anymore.
Tōma turned toward the hallway where Isshin had disappeared.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Because if soone like that girl survived...
The balance of power in this world might shift again.
And Tōma had the distinct feeling...
He was about to get dragged into the center of it.
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