At first glance, the scroll was packed with seals and formulae, line after line of intricate markings. To anyone without the right foundation, it might as well have been written in the language of gods.
Uchiha Gen, however, wasn't starting from nothing.
Raised in a clan with elite training, he could make sense of the script though it was still difficult.
He didn't force himself to master it all at once. There was no rush. Gen approached it with patience, calmly breaking things down step by step.
In truth, the techniques themselves weren't the greatest hurdle. Even a student from the Academy could eventually grasp them, given the right teacher and time.
What truly limited the spread of the Flying Thunder God Technique were its brutal requirements; lightning-fast reflexes and an innate talent for space–time chakra.
Minato Namikaze had both in abundance, and through relentless practice, he had even surpassed the technique's creator, Senju Tobirama.
Others, like Shiranui Genma and the rest of Minato's guard unit, barely scratched the threshold.
Without extraordinary luck or some unique opportunity, they would never wield the jutsu in their lifetimes.
For Gen, the question was simple; did he have the necessary space–time affinity?
After dinner, with the first portion of the Flying Thunder God scroll behind him, Gen already had his answer. He felt it clearly—his grasp of spatial concepts was strong enough. With time and practice, he would learn this technique.
The 'talent' for space–time wasn't mystical at all. It was the ability to comprehend space and time as concepts, the deeper your understanding, the higher your talent.
The tragedy of the shinobi world was that knowledge was deliberately limited. The Academy only taught what was needed to produce functional soldiers; how to fight, how to survive, how to obey and nothing more.
In this world, a ninja was expected to be a tool.
And tools didn't need to ponder time and space.
That was where Gen differed. In his previous life, he had lived in an age of information, surrounded by media, science fiction, and ideas. Even without reading academic texts, he'd absorbed enough to have a foundation.
That foundation now made the Flying Thunder God far less alien.
He wasn't arrogant enough to think he'd reach Minato's level, but he was confident he would not fall far behind.
Satisfied, Gen leaned back and let his dishes and chopsticks wash themselves. A faint glow ran across the utensils as he imbued them with a sliver of life. The homies happily hopped from the table into the sink, scrubbing themselves clean before stacking neatly in the cupboard.
Shuryu and Shizukamaru oversaw them with all the seriousness of generals. Gen chuckled and praised their effort.
With that handled, he returned to the scroll.
Thanks to the chaos of the Nine-Tails' attack, the Hokage's residence had been left unguarded. His shadow clone had taken the opportunity to copy the entire Book of Seals.
Unlike the techniques stored in Konoha's library, everything here was dangerous, either life-threatening to the user or catastrophic if misapplied.
The Multiple Shadow Clone Technique came next. Gen skimmed it and moved on. He had no use for it.
That jutsu was only viable for those with monstrous chakra reserves, like jinchūriki or a handful of freaks like Hoshigaki Kisame with Samehada.
For most shinobi, it was nothing but suicide.
It was only because of Naruto's lineage as an Uzumaki and Nine-Tails host that such reckless use of clones became possible. Anyone else would burn out.
Gen's eyes brightened when he reached the sealing techniques, the Four Symbols Seal, the Eight Trigrams Seal.
High-level fūinjutsu, now these were worth his time. Even if he never needed them immediately, mastery of such arts could only make him stronger.
Impure World Reincarnation. Gen shook his head. Best to leave that to someone like Orochimaru.
He didn't have the heart or the lack of one to pursue such a jutsu. Without his current gifts, perhaps he'd think differently, but power without restraint only bred monsters.
Mutually Multiplying Explosive Tags, a brutal technique, better suited for the undead pawns of Edo Tensei. He dismissed it after a moment. Too costly, too limiting.
The Eight Gates drew a faint smile. A body-strengthening method. Hard, but not impossible. That one he could work on.
Page after page flipped past; Spirit Transformation, the Dead Demon Consuming Seal, and more. When he reached Shiki Fūjin, he paused.
A thought struck him, if he could substitute the souls of his homies as sacrifices, could he bypass the technique's fatal drawback? To use the Reaper's power again and again, without cost… terrifying, and yet tempting.
Still, even that technique had limits.
Against someone on the level of the Sage of Six Paths, the so-called Death God would be powerless. Perhaps even vulnerable.
By the time he finished, nothing else caught his interest.
"Shuryu. Burn it."
"Yes, Master."
The little dragon darted forward, snatching the scroll with his claws. He dropped it into the sink, then exhaled a jet of flame. The parchment went up in an instant, reduced to ash. A twist of the faucet washed the remains down the drain.
Gen had already recorded everything with his Sharingan, storing the pages like a film reel in his mind. He could replay them whenever he wished.
That was the true advantage of his eyes—not just illusions, but memory itself.
"Out."
At his word, Shuryu and Shizukamaru scurried back to their places, falling in step as Gen left the house.