It was common knowledge that the Sage of Six Paths was regarded as the forefather of all shinobi.

But in truth, that legacy began even earlier—with his mother, Ōtsutsuki Kaguya.

The Ōtsutsuki Clan stood at the very peak of all bloodlines—no, the origin of them.

Senju, Uchiha, Hyūga… every famed lineage of the shinobi world could ultimately trace its source back to them.

So when Kitazawa felt the surge of newly awakened power, his first thought was instinctive:

The Tenseigan… might no longer be just a distant theory.

Toneri Ōtsutsuki had awakened the Tenseigan by merging Hyūga Byakugan with Ōtsutsuki chakra. And even without evolving the eye, the Ōtsutsuki Byakugan itself possessed frightening abilities.

Even Kinshiki’s Byakugan could pierce space—similar to Kamui.

But that was for later.

Right now, Kitazawa could feel his chakra flooding through him—swelling, doubling in density.

Leaving the Hokage building, he made his way alone into the Forest of Death. The air was still and quiet.

He stopped, inhaled, and activated his Byakugan.

In an instant, the world unfolded. Every leaf vein, every ant’s movement under the soil, every faint chakra thread in the air—all became crisp and clear.

“…So this is the Ōtsutsuki bloodline at work.”

There was a noticeable change—about a ten percent increase in eye acuity.

A small adjustment, but unmistakable. An improvement, not a transformation.

Yet the real boon was different.

His chakra reserves—a single tail worth of chakra—had been added in one stroke.

Kitazawa exhaled softly.

He had once labored through countless missions till now just to gain that much.

Now, a single technique—limb regeneration—had yielded it effortlessly.

Convenient… almost too convenient.

But then another realization followed—single tail was much for him, yet almost negligible for the Ōtsutsuki.

In theory, their clan held limitless chakra.

He tapped his finger against his chin.

So the answer was simple—this was not a pure Ōtsutsuki bloodline.

Just like his Senju bloodline had required time and growth to reach full potency, the Ōtsutsuki line would need to develop toward 100% to reveal its true scale.

Not to mention—those who consumed the Divine Tree’s fruit were leagues beyond the rest.

Clearly, the system had granted him the latter, not the former.

Still—single tail worth of chakra was significant. Now he had chakra equivalent to Matatabi, the Two-Tails.

His Senju Chakra Mode could now last a full 30 minutes.

That alone was enough to shift battles.

Kitazawa unsealed the humanoid puppet Konan had delivered earlier.

With only a thought, it sprang to life and moved as he willed.

He couldn’t help but admire the sheer absurdity of the Byakugan: Puppet Manipulation technique.

If his ocular power was strong enough, there was theoretically no limit to the number of puppets he could command—

And unlike traditional puppet masters, he didn’t require chakra threads or constant hand control.

Once given an instruction, the puppet could act autonomously.

Ordinary puppet users were bound by fingers and mental strain—ten puppets at once was already considered legendary.

In history, only Chiyo and Sasori had ever surpassed that limit—and Sasori had ceased to be human to achieve it.

Yet Kitazawa could now exceed that level with ease.

He closed his eyes, deactivated his Byakugan, and headed back toward the Anbu base—quietly, calmly, as though nothing extraordinary had just occurred.

But the forest behind him still trembled faintly…

as if it understood that a new force had just taken one step closer to the realm of gods.

—

Instead of returning to his office, Kitazawa stepped into an unused room.

“Konan.”

The moment he called, Konan appeared—silent, waiting.

She already knew why she had been summoned.

Kitazawa unrolled a summoning storage scroll, and medical apparatus began to appear in organized rows—equipment borrowed from Konoha Hospital. Then came the bundles of medicinal herbs Konan had obtained.

He began mixing and refining them on the spot.

Konan watched quietly.

She was no medical-nin, and only half understood the process, but understanding wasn’t the point.

What mattered was that Kitazawa worked carefully—methodically—and that alone eased her worries.

Her amber eyes reflected his silhouette.

…And yet her thoughts drifted again to money.

The Akatsuki had always earned funds through the black market—bounties, assassination missions, covert operations.

With White Zetsu everywhere, their efficiency had always been unmatched.

But high-paying missions were rare. And now that she was stationed in Konoha as Anbu, she couldn’t even participate.

Kakuzu and the others could still operate, but those profits went entirely to Akatsuki’s greater plan—the Eye of the Moon.

Meanwhile, her own Anbu assignments earned far less, limited mostly to protecting Kitazawa.

Her brows lowered slightly, but she said nothing.

By midday, Kitazawa removed his gloves.

“That’ll do for today. We’ve used about a fifth of the herbs—three or four more days should finish the batch.”

“…Thank you.”

Konan’s voice was quiet, but sincere.

Kitazawa gave her a brief glance, though he didn’t comment.

He packed away the equipment, locked the room, and walked toward the Hokage Building.

It was lunchtime.

Normally he ate with Sasuke and the others at the Academy—but since he was nearby, he decided to try Hokage food.

Of course, the real appeal wasn’t the food—it was that Tsunade would be there.

He knocked politely.

“Come in,” Tsunade called.

He entered to see Tsunade and Shizune seated at the low table, mid-meal.

“Mind if I join?” Kitazawa asked casually.

“Please,” Shizune smiled. “Which side will you sit on?”

The two women sat opposite each other.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He sat beside Tsunade.

“Why the sudden visit?” Tsunade asked, leaning forward slightly as she picked up a fried shrimp.

His gaze flickered—just briefly.

Tsunade noticed, arched a brow… and kicked him lightly under the table.

“No reason,” he replied smoothly. “Just thought I’d try the Hokage food for once.”

“It’s not nearly as good as what you cook,” Shizune admitted kindly.

Kitazawa opened his boxed meal and tasted it.

It was… acceptable. Not memorable.

While eating, he spoke up:

“I’ve improved the limb regeneration technique.”

Shizune blinked. “Improved? I thought it was already at its peak—did you reduce the side effects?”

Tsunade paused mid-bite. “Or—does it work on regenerating Bloodline Limit organs?”

“No.” Kitazawa shook his head. “The improvement allows it to be used on the user themselves. Even in battle.”

Shizune froze.

Tsunade’s expression sharpened.

“…In combat?” she repeated, voice low. “Are you certain?”

Kitazawa slid a scroll across the table.

Medical Forbidden Technique—Body Regeneration.

Tsunade set down her food immediately.

Shizune leaned close, eyes widening as she skimmed through the technique’s structure.

Kitazawa continued eating calmly.

He already knew—Tsunade was probably the only one in the village capable of mastering it.

With her Yin Seal as a foundation, this would grant her near-immortality in battle.

But regeneration alone wasn’t enough.

Tsunade’s offensive style was still limited—brutal strength and nothing more.

Which was why Kitazawa was already working on another formula—modifying Shinnō’s Cellular Activation to create a Yang Release Chakra Mode, akin to Lightning Chakra Mode.

If it worked, both he and Tsunade would gain a massive leap in speed, durability, and raw combat force.

It would just… take time.

“…This is unbelievable,” Shizune whispered, stunned.

“This isn’t a modification—it’s practically an entirely new medical jutsu.”

Compared to the standard limb regeneration technique, Body Regeneration was on a completely different level—it could reconstruct a body even after being torn into pieces.

“You’re the second person I’ve seen with talent this outrageous in ninjutsu creation,” Tsunade said solemnly as she rolled up the scroll.

The first person, of course, was Senju Tobirama, the genius who created countless techniques for Konoha—many of them forbidden and terrifyingly effective.

“If Limb Regeneration qualifies as an S-rank Medical Technique,” Tsunade continued, “then this Body Regeneration is undoubtedly an S-rank Forbidden Technique. The complexity and side effects are far greater…”

“But the payoff is equally tremendous,” Shizune added as she sat back down. “And most importantly—it can be used in actual combat.”

In real fights, when one’s life hangs by a thread, side effects were nothing more than footnotes.

“That’s true.” Tsunade nodded, her golden eyes settling on Kitazawa.

She had originally believed his medical talent to be equal to hers at best—but now, she realized she had underestimated him.

These two techniques alone would leave a legacy in medical history.

If he continued at this pace, surpassing her name and accomplishments was not only possible, it was likely.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Kitazawa waved a hand in front of her eyes.

“I’m thinking about what reward to give you,” Tsunade replied, putting the scroll away.

Few could learn this technique, but its value was undeniable. An S-rank medical forbidden technique deserved nothing less than a generous reward.

“We can talk about that later.”

Kitazawa’s gaze lingered briefly on her lips.

Tsunade immediately noticed—and glared.

She lowered her eyes to the food on the table, biting her lip.

The more she thought about it, the clearer it became—Kitazawa hadn’t brought this technique out for Konoha’s sake.

He brought it out for her.

Because right now, she was likely the only one capable of mastering it.

“…Eat.”

Tsunade regained her composure with practiced swiftness.

After lunch, Kitazawa left to “practice the Yin Seal.”

That was what he told Tsunade, anyway.

In reality, he continued training the Five Release Great Combination Ball.

A week passed quietly.

Kitazawa spent most of his time training or refining medicinal compounds.

Konoha remained peaceful—only the negotiation team led by Shikaku continued discussions with Hidden Mist, with arguments dragging day after day.

But finally, the talks were nearing conclusion.

Monday.

Kitazawa gave Konan a day off to return to the Akatsuki base and deliver medicine.

She wouldn’t stay long before coming back.

Then Kitazawa arrived at the Academy.

Two weeks had passed since the last monthly exam; it was time to prepare the next practical assessment.

The theoretical side didn’t concern him—his task was to reorganize the eighteen students for field-team exercises.

Since Hiruzen would also be leading a team this time, Kitazawa adjusted the assignments:

Kitazawa and Hiruzen: one team each.

Kosuke and Kakashi: two teams each.

Kitazawa simply didn’t have the time to supervise two teams now—between the Genius Class, Medical Class, Wood Release training, the Five Release Combination, and the Cellular Activation project, his schedule was full.

Following Hiruzen’s suggestion, Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura were grouped together—forming the original Team 7, a balanced lineup.

As for Kitazawa’s team, he didn’t need to be picky.

He simply chose Ino, Kiba, and Tenten—because he hadn’t led them last time.

The rest he left to Kosuke and Kakashi to distribute.

He still hadn’t decided what mission to assign. The mission hall usually solved that problem—and sometimes, triggered system tasks.

Around noon, just as Kitazawa returned to his office intending to continue research on the Cellular Activation, a knock sounded at the door.

Shikaku entered.

“Negotiations ended?” Kitazawa asked.

“Mostly,” Shikaku replied. “However, the Fifth Mizukage added a new proposal. She wants to hold a Genin exchange match between our villages.”

“A Genin exchange match…” Kitazawa leaned back. “Sparring between the best young shinobi?”

Shikaku nodded. “Five matches, small scale.”

“What is she aiming for?” Kitazawa asked, though he already had a good idea.

“She wants to examine Konoha’s next generation,” Shikaku answered. “If there’s a gap, they’ll believe they can catch up. If not, they’ll accept the need to ally sincerely.”

In short, Mei wanted to measure the future—not the present.

[As the future Hokage, when challenged by Hidden Mist, you must respond with overwhelming strength.]

[Current Mission: Make Hidden Mist lose all five matches.]

[Reward: +10% Byakugan Purity]

[Accept?]

Kitazawa slightly raised an eyebrow.

A sudden mission—but it came at the perfect moment.

And +10% purity was a significant reward.

However… winning every match wouldn’t be easy.

Hidden Mist had talent too.

For example—Chōjūrō, the boy who would one day become the Sixth Mizukage.

“Konoha accepts,” Kitazawa said after a moment. “But we’ll add one rule.”

“Ninja Academy students are permitted to participate.”

Shikaku paused—then understood.

There were exceptions among students.

Namely, Naruto and Sasuke.

“And the prize for each match is this,” Kitazawa added. “The winner may choose a B-rank Jutsu from the opponent’s village.”

A fair and tempting reward.

“Treaty signing tomorrow morning,” he finished. “Then the exchange begins.”

Shikaku immediately went to inform the Fifth Mizukage.

Mei, upon hearing it, was surprised.

Academy students?

She nearly thought Kitazawa was insulting her forces—

until she remembered who he was:

The sensei of Konoha’s prodigies.

She accepted enthusiastically.

After all, pressure created growth.

And she certainly did not expect Hidden Mist to lose.

At least… not all five matches.

——————

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