The seasons quickly passed in Konoha. The Third Shinobi World War was over, the economy was stabilizing, and the village was entering a golden age of peace under Minato's leadership.
Everyone was looking forward to a prosperous future. I was the only one counting the days to a tragedy.
By the time summer arrived, I was approaching my fifth birthday. My body had developed steadily with my training. I continued my katas and maintained my snares in the forest, ensuring my protein intake remained consistent.
The brief, desperate climb I had made on the tree during the inauguration had proven that the theory of surface adhesion worked.
But a tree with low branches and a height of ten feet was highly forgiving. If I wanted to survive the night of October 10th, I needed a hideout, and getting there would require a much more demanding climb.
The village was essentially a bowl, surrounded by walls. When Kurama materialized, it would rampage the streets, destroying buildings. The civilian shelters were underground, designed to withstand invasions. But they could essentially be mass graves if a building collapsed on top of the entrance. I refused to place my life on that.
The only place secure enough was a high ground, the perfect one being the Hokage Mountain.
It overlooked the village, keeping me above the destruction. But I couldn't just walk up the mountain's stairs since it didn't have any.
I needed a spot there. I needed to scale the monument and find a spot to hide in during the attack.
Which meant I had to perfect my vertical climbing.
I spent the summer afternoon at the base of a secluded cliff near the training grounds.
When you climb a tree you can rest your weight on a branch if your concentration wavers. On a mountain, there is no rest. Every step requires concentration to detach the vacuum on your back foot, shift your center of mass upward, and re-engage the vacuum on your front foot before you fall.
My first week of attempts was just pain.
I would place my foot on the rock, engage the chakra, and walk upward. I would make it fifteen feet into the air before the exertion caused my focus to stutter. The vacuum would shatter, and I would plummet downward, slowing my fall by carving my kunai on the surface of the rock while descending.
In result, I accumulated a collection of bruises on my body. I learned quickly that, upon reaching the floor, I had to tuck my chin and roll to disperse the impact of a fall.
An average child would've given up already. However, I wouldn't accept defeat that easily.
I stopped trying to rush the climb. Step. Stick. Shift. Step. Stick. Shift. I synchronized the chakra bursts with my exhales, locking my mind into the steps.
The day I finally scaled the entire cliff, I cheered.
I was eighty feet in the air, my body parallel to the ground. I didn't look down. I kept my eyes locked on the stone inches from my nose.
My fingers curled over the top ledge and I hauled my body onto the surface. I lay flat on the warm stone, staring at the blue sky, waiting for my heart to calm down.
I had made it.
Over the next few weeks, I spent my afternoons cautiously scouting the western edge of the Hokage Mountain. I found exactly what I needed: a narrow fissure in the mountain, roughly eighty feet above the streets.
It was the perfect hideout place.
I had initially considered stockpiling it. I thought about hoarding scavenged food, and slowly moving resources up the cliff over the course of the next few months.
However, I quickly dismissed this plan.
If I disappeared from the orphanage, the matrons would notice. Furthermore, if I was reported missing before the attack, and then mysteriously turned up alive and well in the aftermath, it would invite questions I could not answer.
Furthermore, timing the escape was critical. If I waited until the beast showed up to make my run to the mountain, I would be dead. When the Nine-Tails appeared, the village would descend into chaos.
I couldn't wait for the attack. I had to be in position before it started.
I would maintain my routine right up until the afternoon of October 10th. I would skip the evening rations and slip away quietly before sunset. I didn't need supplies, I only needed a safe place to sit in the few hours the Fourth Hokage died to save the village.
With my plan mapped and my route secured, I shifted my focus elsewhere. I still had months before the attack, and sitting idle was a mistake.
I needed to expand my chakra control beyond wall-walking.
If the Leaf Practice and Tree Walking were based on creating a vacuum to anchor the body to a surface, then Water Walking was the exact opposite application of that.
I found a slow-moving stream near the forest of the training ground. The water was clear, cold, and roughly four feet deep.
You cannot create a vacuum against a fluid, the water would simply be sucked upward into the chakra, providing no solid foothold. To walk on water, I had to emit a constant, steady stream of chakra from the soles of my feet, balancing the outward pressure against my weight.
I had to essentially manipulate the surface tension. If the output was too weak, I would sink. If the output was too strong, I would blast the water away, breaking the surface tension, and fall through the water.
Water is never perfectly still. The current moves, the volume shifts, and the pressure changes every second.
I took off my sandals, leaving them on the shore. I stepped to the edge of the stream. I drew the chakra from my core to my feet, focusing on a downward expulsion of the energy from my soles.
I placed my right foot onto the surface of the stream.
I pushed the chakra out, attempting to create a platform between my skin and the water. I felt a brief resistance.
Encouraged, I shifted my weight forward and lifted my left foot off the ground.
The moment my body weight transferred, the balance collapsed. The water rippled, the surface tension shattered, and my right foot plunged straight through the surface.
I lost my balance completely, falling forward and splashing face-first into the freezing stream.
I came up sputtering, wiping the water from my eyes, my clothes soaked.
It was frustrating. The encounter with Itachi and the aura of Minato at the inauguration day had reminded me of the scale of power in this world. I was a transmigrator who had to earn my progress only through effort.
I spent the rest of the summer afternoons falling into that stream.
I would stand on the shore, focus my output, take one step, and immediately plunge into the water. Again and again. My chakra control was improving slowly, but the unpredictability of the water was difficult to manage.
The most annoying part of this training was drying up. I couldn't return to the orphanage soaking wet. The matrons would question me.
After every training session, I was forced to sit shivering in the sunlight of the forest for an hour, waiting for the summer heat to dry the clothes.
I used that hour to meditate, forcing my chakra coils to expand, widening the pathways to accommodate larger volumes of energy.
By the time autumn arrived, I could take four consecutive steps on the surface of the stream before the tension broke and I fell in.
It was nowhere near what I wanted, but it was undeniable progress.
As the days grew shorter, my focus on the stream began to wane.
The village was in high spirits. The shinobi relaxed, their faces unburdened by the shadow of the war.
They didn't know.
I sat on the bank of the stream, waiting for my clothes to dry, watching the water flow smoothly over the stream.
It was late September.
Kushina's pregnancy was a secret, but she had to be nearing her final term.
I pulled my knees to my chest, staring at the running water. The preparation was over.
There was nothing left to do but wait for tragedy to fall upon this place.
The weight of my foreknowledge settled over me once again, heavier than it had ever been.
I closed my eyes, taking a slow, steadying breath, mentally reviewing the path up the western cliff one last time.
I was ready.