Kiyohara's eyes lit up with a sudden realization.
Having a Jonin-level combatant—even a ghostly one—help out at a crucial moment might just be the difference between life and death. But that was a one-time use. The knowledge, however... that could last forever.
"Then let's hurry up."
Kiyohara returned to his room. Under the confused gaze of the spirit, he retrieved a blank scroll and a brush pen.
"What are you doing? Are you studying hard now, hoping to become a straight-A student at the Academy?" Missing-nin Kiyohara asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No, that would be too slow. I only received one Ninjutsu directly from your essence," Kiyohara said seriously, dipping the brush in ink. "I can't learn everything instantly through a spiritual transfer, but if I write them down, I can learn them the old-fashioned way."
This was his plan. If a future self appeared, he would drain them of their knowledge. Over time, he would build a vast library of Ninjutsu from different timelines.
If he didn't do this, how could he maximize his harvest?
Exploiting others is called capitalism. Exploiting myself? That's just efficiency.
It was like taking an exam where everyone was cheating, but he was the only one copying answers from his own future answer sheet.
"..."
The Missing-nin's weathered face showed a hint of surprise. His past self seemed to be a bit more... calculating than he remembered.
"Fine."
After thinking about it, the spirit agreed. After all, helping his past self was technically self-preservation.
He began to dictate the details of his techniques. However, after describing a second Wind Release jutsu, the spirit suddenly froze.
"What's wrong?"
Kiyohara paused, thinking the spirit needed time to recall the details.
"Someone is coming."
Even as a Spirit Body, he retained the sharp sensory instincts of a Jonin. Without those instincts, he wouldn't have survived as a Missing-nin until middle age.
Hearing this, Kiyohara immediately rolled up the scroll and cleared the table.
"Kiyohara-kun!"
Sure enough, a moment later, a voice called out from outside the gate.
Kiyohara went to open the door. Standing there was a young woman with distinctive crimson eyes that looked like rubies.
It was Kurenai Yuhi.
"Kurenai," Kiyohara greeted her.
Kurenai Yuhi was his teammate. Their third member was Genma Shiranui. Together, they formed a standard three-man Genin squad.
"Here are the Food Pills (Hyōrōgan) you asked me to buy," Kurenai said, handing a small pouch to Kiyohara.
"Thank you, Kurenai. I appreciate it." Kiyohara took the pouch.
"How are your other preparations coming along?" she asked, leaning against the doorframe.
In a few days, they were going to execute a confidential mission alongside Team Minato. It was so classified that they didn't even know the specifics, only that they were heading toward the Kannabi Bridge sector.
Were they going there to gather intelligence? Launch an ambush? The details would only be revealed by the Commanding Jonin once they were in the field.
"I'm almost ready," Kiyohara nodded.
He didn't have much to bring. The most important item was the urn of Missing-nin Kiyohara. At the critical moment, that ash-filled jar would be his strongest shield.
"I really hope the war ends soon," Kurenai sighed. She was only in her teens, dressed in her practical ninja mesh and red-patterned outfit, but worry was already etched between her brows.
The Third Great Shinobi War hung like a dark cloud over everyone. Ninjas were already a high-risk profession; war just turned them into statistics.
"It won't last much longer," Kiyohara said quietly.
He knew the history.
Konohagakure would bleed, forcing even young children onto the battlefield.
Kumogakure would lose their indomitable Third Raikage against an army of ten thousand.
Kirigakure would lose the Three-Tails when Rin Nohara died.
Iwagakure and Sunagakure were running out of bodies to throw at the front lines.
When the Great Nations bled this much, peace was inevitable—not out of kindness, but out of exhaustion.
"How long is 'not much longer'?" Kurenai asked.
"Just a few years, I guess. When there's no one left to fight, the war has to stop, right?"
"That's terrible," Kurenai shuddered at the dark humor. "Won't all our comrades be dead by then?"
"We should worry about ourselves first," Kiyohara said, shaking his head.
"Isn't Minato-sensei going to be there? Everything should be fine."
Like most of the village, Kurenai trusted Minato Namikaze implicitly. The Yellow Flash was a guarantee of victory.
"Anyone can die in war. Don't be careless, Kurenai," Kiyohara warned her, his tone serious.
He recalled his knowledge of the future. Even a god-tier Uchiha like Sasuke could have his Rinnegan stabbed out by a Kunai if he let his guard down. In the Shinobi World, there was no such thing as immortality.
"Alright, I'll be careful," Kurenai nodded, sensing his seriousness. "I'll see you at the briefing."
She turned and left. Kiyohara watched her retreating figure until she disappeared around the corner.
The spirit of Missing-nin Kiyohara floated out of the urn.
"You have good teammates," the spirit observed. "Treasure them while they're still breathing."
"How is your Genjutsu level?" Kiyohara asked, changing the subject abruptly. He remembered Kurenai was a Genjutsu specialist.
"Terrible," the spirit replied instantly.
"Makes sense."
Kiyohara sighed. Unless a "Kurama Kiyohara" or "Uchiha Kiyohara" appeared in the future, his Genjutsu would always be mediocre.
This damned world was biased toward bloodlines. If you didn't have red eyes or white eyes, Genjutsu was an uphill battle.
"Come on, continue."
Kiyohara sat back down, picking up his brush. "Teach me the hand seals for that second jutsu. Without strength, I can't gain Merit Points, and without Merit, I can't buy new jutsu from the village archives."
Konoha had long set a vicious cycle for ordinary ninjas.
For the next several days, Kiyohara locked himself in his home, practicing.
He found that his affinity for Wind and Lightning Release had increased significantly. The fusion with his future self hadn't just given him a jutsu; it had upgraded his "software."
Is this what stacking talent feels like?
I love it!
In the courtyard, Kiyohara stood before a wooden training stump.
He formed the hand seals.
Horse. Dragon.
He clasped his hands together and slammed them forward.
"Wind Release: Gale Palm (Fūton: Reppūshō)!"
He gathered Wind Release Chakra in his palms and compressed the pressure.
Swoosh!
A semi-transparent blade of compressed air shot out, striking the tree stump with a dull thud, leaving a deep gash in the wood.
"Hoo..."
Kiyohara leaned on his knees, panting heavily.
There was no helping it. Even the Missing-nin's Chakra reserves were, frankly, less than One Kakashi.
If the Chakra reserves of an Elite Jonin like Kakashi were the gold standard unit of measurement, the Missing-nin—who had only recently reached Jonin level before dying—was average at best.
And the current Kiyohara? He was still just a Genin.
Even though his reserves had grown slightly from the fusion, firing off C-rank Ninjutsu repeatedly drained him fast.
"A ninja's battle is a battle of Chakra economy," Kiyohara muttered, wiping sweat from his forehead.
Until he completed the Missing-nin's second dying wish—becoming a Chunin—he had to use his Chakra sparingly.
The next day.
Kiyohara, still sore from training, received the summon.
He arrived at the designated meeting point at the village gate. Minato Namikaze was already there, flanked by his students: Obito Uchiha, Rin Nohara, and the newly promoted Jonin, Kakashi Hatake.
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