Following the immediate upgrade to his dynamic vision, a profound sense of solidity settled deep within Sengoku's marrow.
It wasn't an explosive surge of muscle mass or brute strength, but a fundamental structural shift. His bone density was rapidly increasing. The underlying framework of his body felt heavier, denser, and firmly anchored, suddenly capable of withstanding far greater kinetic impact and physical stress.
Simultaneously, the chakra naturally circulating through his coils gave a violent shudder. The energy became hyper-reactive. With a mere thought, Sengoku spiked his chakra. It surged through his meridian pathways with unprecedented ferocity and speed—a massive, instant leap in his chakra output rate.
Paired with this accelerated chakra flow was a terrifying sharpening of his neural pathways. Instinctively, Sengoku twitched his fingers. In an imperceptible blur, his hands formed a basic seal and released it before a normal eye could have even registered the movement. His hand-seal weaving speed had skyrocketed, drastically reducing the time it would take to deploy ninjutsu in a live combat scenario.
The transformation was absolute, and the results were paradigm-shifting.
Sengoku slowly opened his eyes, exhaling a quiet, measured breath. The central plaza had mostly emptied out, leaving only a few scattered stragglers and merchants packing up their stalls. The festival was over.
Slipping out of the dark shadows, he merged with the sparse crowd and headed home.
Back in his stone house, Sengoku unwrapped the hot meal he had purchased from one of the festival stalls earlier. Thanks to the steady income from his sandstone carving business, he was no longer utterly destitute. While he still couldn't afford luxury materials, he had enough disposable income to completely abandon the Academy's nutrient-dense but soul-crushing military rations. Real, properly seasoned food felt like a revelation.
After finishing his meal and clearing the table, he sat cross-legged on his bed, actively acclimating to his upgraded physique.
'So 'Agility' governs movement speed, neural reflexes, and chakra flow efficiency,' he concluded, analyzing the precise feedback his body was giving him. 'It's a comprehensive combat enhancement. Perfect for high-speed maneuvering and rapid ninjutsu deployment.'
With his baseline capabilities elevated, his strategy for the coming year crystallized.
The Academy had nothing left to offer him. The repetitive physical drills and the blatantly obvious loyalty indoctrination sessions were a massive drain on his most valuable resource: time. To survive the looming threat of the First Shinobi World War, he needed to graduate early. He needed the brutal crucible of real combat experience, and he needed the heavy payouts of official missions to mass-produce his puppet arsenal.
His new physical baseline gave him the leverage to make that jump. The question was how to navigate the bureaucratic red tape of an early graduation.
'Monzaemon…'
The image of the white-haired elite Jonin surfaced in his mind, along with the home address the man had casually left him. It was time to use that connection.
Approaching an elite Jonin to bluntly ask for permission to graduate early would raise too many red flags; it was too eager, too suspicious. But approaching him as a dedicated student seeking advice on fine chakra thread control, or asking about the structural integrity of non-humanoid puppets? That was the perfect Trojan horse. By framing the visit around advanced puppetry theory, Sengoku could subtly steer the conversation to extract the exact criteria and procedures for an early graduation.
He mentally reviewed his immediate to-do list: The Pursuer required internal mechanism optimization, his explosive tag reserves needed restocking, the Rasengan demanded further rotational stability training, and he still needed to completely conquer the Wind Release: Wind Cutter jutsu.
There was a mountain of work ahead. Sengoku blew out the oil lamp and lay back on his cold mattress, letting sleep claim him.
---
The next morning, the Academy training grounds were bathed in the usual dry, biting desert wind.
"Today's curriculum covers the final technique of the Three Basic Jutsu," Instructor Sunada Hayato announced, his voice cutting clearly through the blowing sand. "The Body Replacement Jutsu."
Within the rigid ranks of standing students, Sengoku's eyes sharpened.
He had already refined the Clone and Transformation techniques through grueling, obsessive repetition, stripping away all wasted movement until he could execute both without forming a single hand seal. But the Body Replacement—Kawarimi—was entirely different. It was the fundamental cornerstone of a shinobi's survival, the ultimate tool for evading lethal blows.
He had been waiting for this.