Chapter 383: 383 – New Plans!!

“I’ve just realized something,” Tsunade said, her tone tinged with surprise. “You’ve already signed alliances with quite a few countries.”

Aside from the Land of Snow, there were the Land of Grass and the Land of Demons.

If one counted carefully, Takumi Village and Otogakure were effectively included as well.

“And is that a problem?”

Kitazawa stepped closer, smiling faintly as he asked.

“Of course not.”

Tsunade shook her head. “Thanks to you, Konoha is receiving more missions than ever.”

Her thoughts drifted to Danzō.

His schemes across the Ninja World had produced the exact opposite effect of Kitazawa’s efforts, earning him the ominous title ’Darkness of Konoha.’

The name sounded impressive, but in truth it symbolized failure—destruction without results.

“There’s also this.”

Kitazawa produced a scroll and handed it to her.

Tsunade opened it and began reading. Before long, a look of genuine astonishment appeared on her face.

“I never imagined technology like this would come from such a remote place as the Land of Snow.”

She looked up at him. “Are you planning to implement it in Konoha?”

“Konoha’s large, but not large enough to require railways or airships,” Kitazawa replied, shaking his head. “I plan to use these technologies for Ocean Heart Jewelry instead. It’ll drastically cut transportation time.”

The store’s main market lay in the Land of Fire, while its mining operations were deep in the seas of the Land of Water.

The distance alone wasted enormous time and resources.

“With railways and airships, logistics become far more efficient.”

“That’s a smart move.”

Tsunade rolled the scroll closed. “These technologies are better suited for the Land of Fire as a whole than for Konoha itself.”

“Exactly.”

Kitazawa smiled. “Konoha doesn’t need them—but the Land of Fire does.”

Tsunade nodded. “If the opportunity arises, I’ll bring it up with the Daimyō.”

“Make sure he understands one thing,” Kitazawa added calmly. “I didn’t bring this back for free.”

Tsunade’s lips curved upward. “Don’t worry. The Daimyō will be increasing the budget.”

Kitazawa didn’t press the matter further.

If the Land of Fire funded the railways, all the better—those projects consumed staggering resources.

More importantly, his vision extended beyond Konoha.

The Land of Fire… perhaps even the entire Ninja World.

Provided he attained absolute, unquestioned strength.

He wasn’t an idealist like Hashirama—unifying the world only to give it away, dispersing the Tailed Beasts, and hoping goodwill would last.

History had already proven that path flawed. War returned the moment Hashirama died.

Others had tried their own answers.

Jiraiya believed in the Child of Prophecy.

Obito sought salvation through Infinite Tsukuyomi.

Nagato believed true peace would come only when the world understood pain—ending war through overwhelming fear.

From a purely pragmatic standpoint, Kitazawa found Nagato’s philosophy the most realistic.

Yet it shared the same fatal weakness as Hashirama’s idealism.

Peace ended when its creator died.

What the world truly needed was an immortal, invincible presence—one that could never fade…

Kitazawa smiled and handed Tsunade another scroll.

This one detailed Dotō Kazahana’s Chakra Armor technology.

“From a technological standpoint,” Tsunade remarked after reading, “Snow Country is ahead of us.”

“Not quite,”

Kitazawa corrected. “Orochimaru’s research surpasses theirs by far.”

“Ah… that’s true.”

Tsunade laughed softly. “I almost forgot about him.”

Since returning to Konoha, Orochimaru had practically sealed himself inside his laboratory.

She saw him so rarely that he’d slipped her mind entirely.

“In terms of performance,” Kitazawa continued, “the Chakra Armor is decent, but it can’t match the enhancement provided by the Cursed Seal.”

“And it’s expensive,” Tsunade added, frowning slightly.

“Which is why I suggest establishing a Scientific Ninja Tools Department,” Kitazawa said thoughtfully. “Have Lord Orochimaru lead it, and bring in craftsmen from Takumi Village.”

Scientific ninja tools, after all, weren’t inherently flawed.

They were simply specialized ninja tools—no different in principle from the Thunder God Sword, Chakra Armor, or the four bows he had forged.

For ordinary ninja, such tools could bridge enormous gaps in power.

In that sense, the Four Celestials of Takumi Village were pioneers.

“You want them to analyze the armor and reduce production costs?” Tsunade asked.

“Not just the armor,” Kitazawa nodded. “All forms of scientific ninja tools.”

“Alright.”

Tsunade agreed without hesitation. “Handle it when you have time.”

Kitazawa inclined his head.

It wouldn’t be troublesome—Takumi Village was already under Konoha’s control.

One order would suffice.

The rest would simply take time.

If the results were worthwhile, the investment would pay for itself.

“You’ve been busy all week,” Tsunade said at last, waving him off. “Go get some rest.”

“Tsunade-sensei.”

Kitazawa cleared his throat. “According to village regulations, when a mission exceeds expectations, shouldn’t there be an additional reward?”

“And what kind of reward are you asking for?”

Tsunade narrowed her eyes, already suspicious.

“After traveling nonstop for days,” Kitazawa said solemnly, “I require a lap to rest my weary head.”

Tsunade burst out laughing, equal parts amused and exasperated.

Only Kitazawa could make such an outrageous request sound completely justified.

His shamelessness was on par with her own.

She shot him a glare, stood up, and snapped, “Sit!”

Ignoring the tone entirely, Kitazawa obediently plopped himself down—in the Hokage’s chair.

Tsunade stepped forward and pressed his head firmly into her chest.

Before he could react, his vision was swallowed by softness.

Instinctively, he inhaled. A faint, warm fragrance filled his senses.

Tsunade’s body stiffened.

That unfamiliar warmth against her chest made her heart skip a beat.

Suppressing the strange sensation, she looked down at him, a rare softness flickering across her expression.

But it vanished just as quickly.

She frowned and shoved him away.

Kitazawa coughed lightly as he straightened up.

She’d reacted too fast—he hadn’t even had the chance to reduce the burden of her clothing.

“I’ll head out then. See you tomorrow.”

Kitazawa stood, perfectly composed.

Tsunade kicked him on his way past before collapsing back into the Hokage’s chair.

—

Three days passed in the blink of an eye.

February was drawing to a close.

Normally, this period would be dedicated to final exam preparation, but with missions now integrated into the curriculum, the Monthly Exams had stretched far longer than before.

What once took two days could now drag on for a week, half a month, or even longer.

Kitazawa frowned as he considered the schedule.

Each term had originally consisted of two monthly exams and one final—three terms a year, nine exams total.

Before, nine exams took less than three weeks.

Now? The time cost was excessive.

After some thought, he decided to reduce the number of monthly exams.

At the academy, he discussed the matter with Hiruzen and the others.

“I think it’s reasonable,” Kosuke agreed.

Chen, Kurenai, and Kakashi all nodded.

“In that case,” Hiruzen said, “we’ll remove one monthly exam per term.”

The matter was settled.

Nine in the morning.

Every student of the Genius Class was present.

“First, an announcement,” Kitazawa said. “Due to the length of mission-based assessments, we’ll be reducing exams to two per term.”

After a moment of stunned silence, excitement rippled through the class.

Aside from Naruto—and a few others—no one truly liked exams.

Even Naruto only enjoyed practicals; theory still made his head hurt.

“Next, I’ll announce this month’s practical rankings.”

Kitazawa paused deliberately. “The top six will serve as temporary captains during the final exam and will have priority in team selection.”

The classroom fell silent.

Some students secretly hoped to place high enough to form their own squads.

Others already knew their limits and just wanted to see who their captain would be.

“First place,” Kitazawa announced, “Uzumaki Naruto.”

“Yes!”

Naruto pumped his fist, grinning ear to ear.

No matter how many times he took first place, the thrill never faded.

“Naruto! Pick me!” Lee gave a thumbs-up, eyes blazing. “Let’s form the Youth Squad and charge straight to victory!”

There were no team restrictions for the first team battle.

“Of course!” Naruto returned the gesture. “This is the power of youth!”

Sasuke sighed inwardly.

He hadn’t known about the new rules beforehand and had lost to Naruto by a razor-thin margin.

Still, he wasn’t discouraged.

It wasn’t his first loss.

And Naruto taking first meant he’d almost certainly choose Lee.

Since picks were made in rounds—one teammate per round, three rounds total—first and second place weren’t all that different.

“Second place: Kurama Yakumo.”

Kitazawa continued.

Kiba’s eyes widened. “That’s insane. One genjutsu, and three people are locked down instantly.”

At that, Sasuke and Neji frowned.

Kiba wasn’t exaggerating.

“Not necessarily,” Shikamaru countered lazily. “The battlefields are complex. As long as teams don’t cluster, that won’t happen.”

“Right,” Tenten chimed in. “Ultra-long-range attacks could suppress her.”

“In a team fight,” Shino adjusted his glasses, “genjutsu can be dispelled by allies. It’s troublesome one-on-one, but manageable in groups.”

Hearing this, Kiba brightened. “For the first time, I feel like I might actually have a chance.”

Every previous encounter with Yakumo had ended in instant defeat.

Sasuke and the others felt a spark of hope as well.

“It’s not that simple,” Ino shook her head.

As a genjutsu specialist herself, she understood exactly how terrifying Yakumo’s illusions were.

Before you could help an ally break free, you might already be caught yourself.

Still, Tenten’s long-range strategy wasn’t without merit.

Meanwhile, Yakumo listened quietly, smiling.

She suddenly realized—she’d become the final boss in everyone’s minds.

“Third place: Uchiha Sasuke. Fourth: Hyuga Hinata.”

Kitazawa continued smoothly. “Fifth: Hyuga Neji. Sixth: Shino Aburame.”

“No Kimimaro?!”

Tayuya’s eyes widened immediately.

Kimimaro clenched his fists.

After mastering Shikotsumyaku: Dance of the Larch, his strength had skyrocketed—he usually placed fifth or sixth.

This time, sheer bad luck had dropped him to seventh.

Just outside the captain line.

“Captain or not doesn’t matter,” Jugo said calmly. “The one who earns the most captain points is the real leader.”

“Then isn’t picking Kimimaro a massive advantage?”

Choji asked between mouthfuls of chips.

By now, everyone in the Genius Class understood one thing clearly.

The top seven stood in a tier of their own.

True monsters.

“In theory, yes—but none of us know the exact format of the team battles yet.”

Shikamaru shook his head. “We’ll only find out during the final exam.”

“The six students listed above will serve as provisional captains for the upcoming team battle.”

Kitazawa paused briefly before continuing through the rankings, stopping only after announcing eighteenth place.

“Students ranked seventh through eighteenth,” he added, “will be selected by the captains. The top six have one month to finalize their teams.”

A thoughtful silence fell over the class.

Kitazawa’s gaze briefly swept over Kimimaro.

At present, the Genius Class could technically form seven teams—but Shion and a few others were still slightly below the threshold. Given more time, they would catch up easily.

By next year, seven squads wouldn’t be a problem. For now, six would suffice.

“All right,” Kitazawa concluded, “dismissed. Go train.”

With the practical, theoretical, and overall rankings fully announced, the students scattered to their respective instructors.

[Current Mission: Lead your team to first place in the final exam.]

[Mission Reward: Featureless activation of the Byakugan.]

[Accept?]

Kitazawa halted mid-step, brows knitting together.

Was the system deliberately trying to make things difficult for him?

But after rereading the mission, a loophole quickly became apparent.

The system only required him to lead a team to first place.

Temporary captains led teams—but so did advisory instructors.

In other words, he simply needed to choose the strongest squad and act as its guiding teacher.

In the past, he could have shamelessly stepped onto the field and crushed the students himself.

Now? That would be far too unbecoming of his status.

Fortunately, the system’s wording was vague enough to exploit.

That said—if he truly had to intervene, he wouldn’t hesitate.

The reward was simply too tempting.

Featureless Byakugan activation meant he could finally use the Byakugan openly without drawing suspicion.

While he could already activate the Sharingan without visible signs, the Byakugan operated differently—and in certain situations, it was far more practical.

After accepting the mission, Kitazawa called Jugo over.

Recently, Jugo had been training along the Konoha Whirlwind taijutsu line.

Having already mastered Leaf Strong Whirlwind, Kitazawa now taught him its advanced variant—

Violent: Leaf Hurricane Strong Whirlwind.

Once Jugo was settled, Kitazawa summoned Karin.

After extended training, she had successfully learned the Evil Sealing Method and Konoha-style taijutsu.

“Karin,” Kitazawa said after some thought, “you’ve reached a bottleneck in sealing jutsu for your age. It’s best to pause there for now.”

She had already grasped six low- to mid-level sealing techniques.

Further progress would require vastly improved Chakra control.

“Would you prefer to continue with taijutsu,” he asked, “or switch to medical ninjutsu?”

He deliberately left the choice to her.

“I… can learn medical ninjutsu?”

Karin blinked, stunned.

“You have the talent for it,” Kitazawa said, ruffling her hair.

After a long moment of consideration, Karin nodded. “Then I want to learn medical ninjutsu.”

The advantages were obvious.

Not only was medical ninjutsu invaluable, but both Kitazawa and Tsunade were medical ninja—people she deeply admired.

She could still train taijutsu on the side.

But she knew her limits.

She lacked the raw combat talent of the top students.

Becoming a Medical Ninja would make her indispensable.

Especially with team battles introduced, a healer could determine victory or defeat.

“If you’re serious,” Kitazawa said, “we’ll train at Konoha Hospital.”

In the original timeline, Karin had demonstrated remarkable medical talent—even self-teaching the Mystical Palm Technique.

Starting her training at the hospital would accelerate everything.

Yakushi Nono and the senior medics could guide her properly.

After explaining the situation, Nono and the others agreed without hesitation.

Previously, Sakura had interned there, but since focusing on Water Release, her attendance had dwindled.

Karin could easily take her place.

Kitazawa didn’t linger.

Karin had only just begun; she needed fundamentals before hands-on medical techniques.

That was something Nono could handle.

Leaving the hospital, Kitazawa headed straight for the Forest of Death.

His goal was clear—

Wood Release: Hobi Technique.

High-level Wood Release demanded vast open space.

Otherwise, it couldn’t be deployed at all.

Simply put, Hobi Technique summoned a massive wooden shield shaped like a demonic face—an absolute defense.

In legend, it was modeled after the barrier of the Thousand-Armed Avalokiteshvara.

As for Wood Style: Impalement, he had nearly mastered it already.

But that wasn’t enough.

He still needed to complete the Flying Thunder God.

Between teaching the Genius Class and training himself, there were barely enough hours in the day.

Fortunately, the Akatsuki’s Eye of the Moon Plan was still far in the future.

There was time.

March arrived—another graduation season for the Ninja Academy.

A handful of Genius Class students graduated early, but the true core—the future Konoha Eighteen—were still not ready.

Yet time was closing in.

Naruto and Sasuke would turn ten this year.

In just two more years, they would officially graduate.

Kitazawa had already told Tsunade that he would step down as the Genius Class instructor then.

Once he became Hokage, he simply wouldn’t have the time.

An occasional lecture, perhaps—but no more.

There was another, quieter reason as well.

Once Sasuke and the others graduated, only a few key characters from the original story would remain.

And that, inevitably, would make triggering system missions far more difficult.

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