Danzo was a man who understood power.

That was the only reason he granted my request. When I told him the Bishops were weak, he didn't object. He didn't argue. Instead, he offered me this place-an abandoned underground facility at the edge of the village. A relic of the old Root organization. No longer in use.

A blank canvas where I could construct the perfect training environment.

I stand now in the center of the main chamber. The low hum of the ventilation system reverberates through the stone walls. I had to rebuild most of it by hand. The dim, artificial lighting was harsh and clinical, reflecting off the metallic surfaces and casting jagged shadows across the floor.

The first thing I addressed was the room's weight-training system. Chakra-enhanced physical conditioning is efficient, but limited. I needed a way to push the body beyond its natural limits. So, I created my own weight seals.

The process was delicate, but simple in principle. By modifying the standard storage seal formula, I adjusted the chakra matrix to mimic gravitational force rather than spatial compression. The ink patterns required precise layering-a base of carbon-infused liquid for conductivity, stabilized by a mixture of iron oxide to maintain structural integrity under chakra load. Each seal could increase mass proportionally to the amount of chakra I infused.

I applied them across weighted vests, wristbands, and even my shoes, ensuring constant strain on every muscle group. With these, every movement became resistance. A simple punch now required X times the effort. Even walking became an act of calculated exertion.

But static conditioning wasn't enough. For shinobi, endurance is as vital as strength.

That led to the treadmills. I cannot allow masked men running unsupervised through the forest.

Replicating modern exercise machines from my past life required reverse-engineering the basic principles of rotational energy. Using a combination of iron cogs scavenged from old Root storage and chakra-conductive copper coils, I constructed a kinetic transfer system. When I run, the movement powers a chakra battery, recycling energy to maintain continuous motion.

But this isn't some standard machine for civilian training.

I designed it to simulate battlefield conditions. Adjustable terrain modules beneath the belt create uneven surfaces-gravel, mud, even shifting sand. I can control the incline up to sixty degrees, and the speed can push well beyond human limits. At its highest setting, it matches the velocity of a Jonin in full sprint.

I moved to the far side of the chamber, where the fighting room was located. Unlike the cold efficiency of the main hall, this space was designed for a different purpose.

The walls were reinforced with tempered steel, layered beneath chakra-absorbing panels to prevent collateral damage. Six automated sparring units stood in the center, their frames sleek and predatory. Each one was equipped with chakra-responsive mechanisms, allowing them to adapt to my movements in real time.

I modeled them after the combat puppets of Sunagakure, but more advanced. With a blend of magnetic relay circuits and sensory seals, they could mimic various fighting styles from my previous world.

That made them ideal sparring partners.

At the rear of the chamber lies the water treadmill. Designing it required more effort. Water walking relies on the careful manipulation of chakra across the soles of the feet, maintaining surface tension against a fluid medium. To replicate these conditions, I built a deep, rotating tank.

Using the same kinetic principles as the treadmills, I modified the mechanism to generate rapid currents. The speed and turbulence can be adjusted to simulate anything from a calm lake to a raging river. Failure to maintain chakra control results in immediate submersion-a harsh, but effective feedback loop.

Above the water tank, I constructed the cliff-scaling wall.

The principle here was simple: vertical agility under pressure. The surface was lined with jagged rock formations, designed to mimic natural cliff faces. But the true challenge lay in its shifting panels. The wall moves unpredictably, forcing rapid chakra adjustments to maintain grip.

Falling from the upper sections would be enough to fracture bones.

Of course, these were only the foundation. I incorporated other machines inspired by the advanced training systems I once knew. A zero-visibility chamber, flooding with dense fog to train spatial awareness. Pressure-sealed resistance rooms where the very air thickened under increased gravity. High-velocity projectile simulators, firing kunai at randomized trajectories to hone reflexes.

The Bishops filed in, their footsteps echoing against the cold, reinforced walls. One by one, they spread out, their gazes shifting between the advanced equipment surrounding them. I could see the subtle flickers of curiosity in their otherwise trained, emotionless faces.

This was no longer a simple training ground. It was a crucible, built to forge weapons.

I turned my attention back to the Bishops. Their expressions ranged from mild intrigue to cautious unease, though none spoke. They had long since been conditioned to suppress their emotions. That didn't mean I couldn't see them.

"Start moving," I said.

Some hesitated, expecting further instructions. Others obeyed instantly, spreading out to examine the devices. I watched carefully.

I observed as they began the first phase-assessing their base stamina and chakra control. Each was assigned to a different set of machines, forced into an unnatural state of exhaustion before they could even react.

Genin-level Bishops were placed on the treadmills-set to 50 kilometers, no stops. No healing allowed.Chunin-level Bishops climbed vertical surfaces-5 kilometers upward, the gravity shifting every half-kilometer.Jonin-level Bishops were instructed to fight-not to win, but to endure. The puppets would attack continuously. Their job was to take every hit, bones shattering, muscles tearing, until their bodies adapted.

I put the gravity seals on each of them, their weight multiplying exponentially.

5x gravity for the Genin-level.15x for the Chunin-level.50x for the Jonin-level.

The reactions were immediate. Muscles screamed in resistance. Their movements became sluggish, sweat forming on brows that rarely showed signs of strain. For the first time, even the most hardened Root operatives felt the creeping sensation of defeat.

I noted each of them in my mind, refining their ranking based on their performance.

High Jonin: Bishops 2-4. Efficient, minimally affected by the initial gravity adjustment.
Low Jonin: Bishops 5-10. Slower reactions, but competent.
High Chunin: Bishops 10-19 (excluding 13). Endurance-based fighters with gaps in adaptability.
Low Chunin: Bishops 22-28. Struggling. Easily broken.

Even before their first task was completed, their limits were already being reached.

One of the Low Chunin-level Bishops collapsed first, his arms trembling as he failed to maintain his chakra flow on the climbing panel. He plummeted, barely managing to catch himself before impact.

Sai coughed onto the treadmill, his breathing ragged.

The next phase began.

Genin-level operatives sparred-10 consecutive matches, no healing.Chunin-level operatives endured physical trauma training-standing still as the puppets attacked. No counterattacks allowed. They had to endure.Jonin-level operatives took it further. Chakra output was restricted to 5%. They fought until their bones shattered, then healed themselves using nothing but medical chakra. Then, they fought again.

The Zero Point Chakra Fighting exercise began. No chakra. No ninjutsu. Pure instinct and physical control.

Hours passed. Sweat turned to blood. The sound of breaking bones became rhythmic.

One by one, even the strongest among them began to falter.

I leaned against the wall, my arms crossed as I watched the scene unfold.

They were not enough.

Even among the most elite remnants of Root, I saw cracks in the foundation. If they struggled now, how could they face real threats?

If they could not become more than this, then I would have to discard them and replace them.

Another Bishop collapsed, his face smashing against the steel floor. A brief flicker of pain crossed his face before he forced himself up again. His body screamed at him to stop. I could see it in the way his hands trembled as he wiped the blood from his lips.

The early morning sun filtered through the academy windows, casting faint beams of light across the polished wooden floor. The classroom was already half-filled with students-some chatting loudly, others leaning against their desks, lost in their thoughts. I stepped inside, letting my gaze sweep across the room, absorbing everything in a moment.

The air was filled with the usual noise: whispers about upcoming sparring matches, complaints about homework, idle gossip that meant little to me. I took my seat.

"Morning, Kiyotaka."

The voice came from my right. Yamanaka Ino.

Blonde hair tied back in a high ponytail, bright blue eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and confidence. She always carried herself with a sense of self-assurance, as if she already knew her place in the world.

"Morning," I replied, turning slightly toward her.

She leaned forward, tapping her pencil against her desk. "You're always so quiet. Don't you ever get bored sitting here without talking to anyone?"

A meaningless question.

"I am just bad at expressing myself." I said simply.

Ino blinked, processing my words. Then she laughed softly. "So you are like the male version fo Hinata?"

Hinata overheard us and made a small sound. She wanted to say something but couldn't take the action to the end,

I didn't respond. Despite my attempts to maintain a low profile, Ino continued to engage with me almost daily.

"You know," Ino said, pulling my attention back. "You should hang out with us sometime. Sitting alone can't be that fun."

A social invitation.

Before I could respond, the classroom door slid open again, and Shikamaru Nara strolled in, wearing his usual expression of boredom. His eyes scanned the room lazily before he made his way toward the back, collapsing into a seat with all the energy of someone who had already decided life was too troublesome to bother with.

The Nara clan was known for their high intelligence but limitless laziness.

"Hey," Ino said,tracing my gaze and leaning closer. "You like strategy games?"

I shifted my gaze back to her. "I don't dislike them."

"Shikamaru's really good at shōgi," she said, nodding toward the back. "I bet he'd give you a challenge."

This was actually a good opportunity. Shogi is also known as Japanese chess. I haven't played a game of chess in the last 7 years. And also... this could be useful if the future will look how i imagine it.

"Maybe I'll play sometime," I said.

Ino's smile widened as if she'd accomplished something significant, though from my perspective, nothing had changed.

By the time the lunch bell rang, most students rushed outside to the training yard or the food stalls nearby. I remained seated, watching the room gradually empty until only a few students remained-one of whom was Shikamaru.

I stood and approached the back row, where he had a shōgi board already set up-a habit, it seemed. He tilted his head slightly as I pulled out the chair across from him.

"Mind if I play?" I asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Huh. You don't look like the type who plays much."

His tone was casual, but his eyes sharpened slightly. This was more than just idle curiosity-he was measuring me.

"I learn quickly," I said, sitting down.

"Alright, your move," he said, gesturing toward the board.

I studied the layout for a moment before moving my first piece. Simple, methodical openings often revealed more about the opponent than aggressive tactics.

Shikamaru played lazily at first, his moves slow and deliberate. On the surface, it seemed like he wasn't paying attention-but that was a front. Every move he made was designed to limit my options while keeping his own open.

"You're pretty good," he admitted after a few more turns. "Most people don't get this far against me."

Compliments served as social lubrication.

I advanced my rook, cutting off his potential escape routes. He frowned slightly, his fingers hovering over his next piece as the realization sank in. He was cornered.

"You planned this three moves ago," he muttered.

"Five," I corrected him.

I could say that his information processing is exceptional. Even compared to Sakayangi, in pure calculations he could probably beat her in the future. However, if he would actually win is another thing, in psychological warfare he would lose before he can win. I would say he is at 15% of my chess skills right now.

"Not bad," he said after a long pause. "You're different from the others."

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Nah. Just... interesting."

"My name is Kiyotaka."

"The new guy.. right. I am Shikamaru."

A faint compliment-but I registered the shift in his demeanor. I had his attention now.

The game ended a few moves later, with my victory sealed. Shikamaru sighed, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head.

"You don't play like a beginner," he said. "Guess I can't slack off when you're around."

I stood up, pushing the chair back under the table. "You should try harder next time."

Shikamaru chuckled, a low, lazy sound. "Troublesome. But maybe I will."

As I walked back to my desk, I noticed Ino watching from the doorway. She smiled faintly, clearly having observed the match.

"You really are full of surprises," she said as I passed her.

The academy day ended without much fanfare. The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the village streets. Most of the other students had already scattered-some to the training grounds, others to the comfort of their homes. I moved quietly through the crowd, blending into the background as I always did.

The sparring match against Kiba yesterday had drawn more attention than I intended. Losing wasn't an accident, but it seemed some students-Naruto specifically-had taken it personally.

I stepped into a small corner shop, the kind most people overlooked. A faded sign hung above the door, the smell of sweet syrup and chilled milk drifting from within. The shopkeeper barely paid attention as I walked past the counter, his eyes focused on counting bills.

Two ice creams-one vanilla, one chocolate.

With a casual flick of my wrist, I slipped them into my pocket while keeping my expression calm.

I left the shop without a second glance and made my way toward the outskirts of the village, where I knew I would find him.

He was exactly where I thought he would be-sitting on the worn wooden railing near the training grounds, legs swinging lazily as he muttered to himself. Even from a distance, I could sense his frustration.

I approached without announcing myself, stopping a few feet away. He noticed me almost immediately, turning his head sharply. His face lit up for a moment before he schooled his expression into something resembling annoyance.

"Oi, Kiyotaka!" he called out, folding his arms. "Took you long enough."

His tone was playful, but beneath it, there was a trace of genuine irritation. As expected.

"You're still sulking about the match," I said, pulling the ice creams from my pocket.

Naruto's eyes widened as I held one out. "What? Is that for me?"

I nodded and extended the vanilla one. His irritation evaporated instantly as he snatched it from my hand, peeling back the wrapper with a speed that suggested he hadn't eaten much today.

"Heh, I guess you're not that bad after all," he muttered, already licking the ice cream.

I leaned against the railing beside him, unwrapping my own. The chocolate flavor was smooth and cold on my tongue-a small indulgence .

"I still can't believe you lost to Kiba," Naruto said suddenly, his mouth full. "After all the times we've trained together, there's no way that guy should've beaten you."

His words were casual, but the curiosity behind them wasn't. .

"It's not that I couldn't win," I said quietly.

Naruto blinked, tilting his head. "Huh? Then why'd you lose on purpose?"

I took another bite of my ice cream, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him impatient.

"If I had your skills, I'd be flexing on everyone," he continued, puffing his chest out. "Man, you're at least on Sasuke's level-maybe better! Why hide it?"

"Because sometimes," I said finally, "it's better to stay under the radar."

He furrowed his brow. "What does that even mean?"

I shifted my gaze toward the distant Hokage Monument, watching the sunlight glint off the stone faces. "If you had the choice," I asked, "would you rather be unnoticed by the village... or have everyone glaring at you the way they do now?"

The answer came faster than I anticipated.

"I'd stay under the radar!" Naruto blurted out without hesitation.

I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. "And that," I said quietly, "is why I lost."

For a moment, there was only the sound of the wind and the distant voices from the training fields. Naruto's expression shifted between confusion and contemplation, his brain working to piece together my logic.

"But..." he started, his voice softer, "I still don't get it. If you're strong, why not show it?"

"Strength only matters if you can use it when it counts," I replied. "Being noticed too early makes you a target. It's easier to move freely when no one sees you as a threat."

Naruto fell silent, licking his ice cream absentmindedly. I could tell he didn't fully understand-but that was fine.

"Man, you're weird," he said finally, shaking his head. "But hey, free ice cream, so I guess I'll let it slide."

I didn't respond, taking another bite instead. Conversations with Naruto often flowed this way-chaotic and disjointed, but not without value.

"So," he said, leaning back on the railing, "how'd you even know where to find me, anyway?"

"You always come here after class," I said matter-of-factly. "You're predictable."

"Predictable?!" Naruto squawked, almost dropping his ice cream. "I'm totally unpredictable!"

I raised an eyebrow. "You sit in the same spot every day."

"Yeah, well... maybe I like the view," he grumbled, glancing away. "And it's not like anyone else beside you hangs out with me, y'know?"

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, softer this time. "So... thanks. For this."

"Don't overthink it," I said, pushing off the railing.

Without turning my head, I broke the silence. "Do you know who your parents are?"

The question hung heavy in the air. I could feel the ripple it sent through him immediately. His casual posture stiffened, and for a brief moment, his hand froze mid-bite.

"What?" Naruto turned toward me, his voice unusually quiet. The confusion in his eyes was genuine, but underneath it lay something else-longstanding