The sun rose lazily over Tanzaku Town, spilling gold across its slanted rooftops and misted valleys. The markets were beginning to stir — merchants shouting, gamblers nursing hangovers, and stray cats prowling alleys.
Naruto was already awake. He stood at the edge of the town's outskirts, the open field stretching wide and silent before him. His arms were crossed, face drawn in quiet frustration.
Jiraiya leaned against a tree behind him, watching. "You've been standing there for ten minutes, brat. Gonna bore the grass to death before you do anything?"
Naruto didn't look back. "Something's bothering her."
"Yeah," Jiraiya said, scratching his chin. "And it's none of your business — for now."
"But Orochimaru's involved."
Jiraiya sighed. "Exactly why I'm not letting you interfere yet. You're strong, kid — but you're still just one step above a genin with too much guts and not enough chakra control."
Naruto turned, scowling. "Then teach me."
Jiraiya grinned, wolfish. "Already planned on it."
Jiraiya stepped forward, holding out his hand. Chakra whirled at his palm, shaping into a tight, spinning sphere of light — the air around it rippled with violent energy.
"This," he said, "is the Rasengan. Your father's masterpiece — a jutsu that needs no hand seals, no weapon, and no wasted motion. Pure chakra, shaped perfectly."
Naruto's eyes widened. "That's… the Fourth's jutsu, right?"
Jiraiya smirked. "Smart boy. The Rasengan's built on three steps — rotation, power, and containment. Master all three, and you'll have something no one else in your generation can match."
He let the sphere dissipate and handed Naruto a small water balloon. "Step one: spin it. Not with your hand — with your chakra."
Naruto frowned. "That's it?"
Jiraiya grinned wider. "Heh. You'll see."
It wasn't easy.
The first hour, Naruto popped balloons with brute force, flooding them with chakra until they exploded in his face. In the second hour, he tried too little, and nothing happened. By midday, his fingers were pruned from water, and frustration burned behind his eyes.
Jiraiya watched in amusement from a distance, scribbling notes in a notebook Naruto wasn't allowed to see.
"This is impossible," Naruto groaned. "It's like trying to wrestle the air."
"Good," Jiraiya called back. "Means you're learning. Control's about feel, not force. Use your instincts — you're good at those."
Naruto sat cross-legged, breathing slowly. He remembered the Root attack. The way he'd tried to copy everything perfectly and still nearly lost.
Copying wasn't enough. He needed to understand. To make it his own.
He closed his eyes and visualized the motion. Not just spinning chakra in one direction — but every direction at once. He remembered Zabuza's water techniques, Sasuke's precision, Kakashi's balance — and fused them into his movement.
The balloon trembled. Then, with a sharp hiss — popped.
Naruto blinked. Water splattered his face. "Ha! I did it!"
Jiraiya grinned. "Good. Step one down. Don't get cocky — you've still got two more."
The second stage was harder. Jiraiya gave him a thicker rubber ball, one that wouldn't pop easily. Naruto had to force chakra to spin faster, harder — until it felt like a storm trapped in his hand.
He practiced for hours. Days.
Each failure brought bruised palms and exhaustion, but he refused to stop. Whenever he faltered, memories filled him — of Hiruzen's last words echoing in the smoke, of Root masks in the dark, of Tsunade's scorn and Jiraiya's faith.
If I stop now, he thought, then everyone who believed in me was wrong.
The field around him became his world — wind, chakra, and silence. Slowly, his rotations grew stronger, his chakra sharper, tighter. Sparks of wind flickered around his palm.
Jiraiya approached on the fifth morning, watching him try again.
The ball spun — violently this time — and burst apart in a flare of air. Naruto grinned, panting. "That was it, wasn't it?"
Jiraiya nodded. "Closer than most ever get."
That night, under the silver light of the moon, Jiraiya found Naruto still practicing — except this time, his chakra glowed differently.
It wasn't just blue anymore. It shimmered faintly with gold, twisting in unpredictable currents.
Jiraiya frowned. "What are you doing, brat?"
Naruto looked up, sweat running down his face. "I'm using the Perfect Copy. I remembered how you spin the chakra — how the Fourth did it — and I'm trying to overlay it with my own pattern. Like two jutsu running parallel."
Jiraiya's eyes widened slightly. "That's… dangerous."
Naruto smiled faintly. "So was everything else I've ever done."
He raised his hand. The chakra sphere flickered — unstable, but distinct. The two currents clashed, fused, and for a moment, the air itself seemed to bend around it.
Then it burst, hurling him backward into a tree.
Jiraiya winced. "Still too raw."
Naruto laughed weakly. "Yeah, but I felt it. For a second — it worked."
Jiraiya crouched beside him, serious now. "You're walking a fine line, kid. That copy ability of yours — it's a gift, but it's not meant to replace who you are. If you let it take over, you'll forget how to fight your own way."
Naruto looked up at the night sky. "That's the thing, though. I'm not copying anymore. I'm learning what makes each jutsu theirs — and turning it into mine."
Jiraiya studied him for a moment, then smiled. "You sound like a real shinobi."
Far from the training field, in a shadowed forest clearing, Orochimaru watched a pond ripple beneath the moonlight. His arms hung limp at his sides, his breath still faintly labored from Hiruzen's sealing.
Kabuto knelt nearby. "Tsunade hasn't given an answer yet. But she's wavering."
"She'll come around," Orochimaru murmured, his tongue flicking briefly over his lip. "Grief is a powerful chain. She wants to believe in miracles again — I'll give her one."
"And the boy?"
Orochimaru's smile turned sharp. "He's learning fast. Faster than I expected. But power gained through emotion burns out just as quickly. Once Tsunade's heart breaks again… he'll crumble."
He looked up at the moon. "They all do."
Back in the field, dawn broke again. Naruto stood in silence, Jiraiya at his side. This was the moment — the final test.
"Alright, brat," Jiraiya said quietly. "Let's see it."
Naruto raised his hand. His chakra swirled into motion — spinning, roaring, colliding with itself. The Perfect Copy pulsed within him, guiding the rotation from every technique he'd ever seen: Zabuza's water flow, Sasuke's Chidori angle, Kakashi's focus, Jiraiya's stability.
But this time, the control was his.
The sphere solidified — silent at first, then singing with power. A clear, perfect spiral of light.
Naruto's breath caught. "I did it…"
He thrust it toward a nearby boulder.
The Rasengan hit — and the stone didn't just shatter. It imploded, the air sucking inward before exploding outward in a deafening roar. Dust filled the field, and when it cleared, only fragments remained.
Jiraiya whistled low. "Not bad. Looks like you've finally got it."
Naruto fell to his knees, laughing breathlessly, hands trembling from the chakra drain.
He looked up at Jiraiya, eyes bright with triumph. "I told you… I'd make it my own."
Jiraiya's grin softened into pride. "Yeah, kid. You did."
Meanwhile…
In a quiet inn not far from the training grounds, Tsunade sat alone, her sake untouched. The scroll Orochimaru had given her lay open before her — promises of resurrection written in cruel precision.
Outside, the wind carried the faint echo of Naruto's laughter.
She closed her eyes, the memories of Nawaki's grin and Dan's voice haunting her.
"Foolish dreams," she whispered. "But maybe… fools are what this world needs."
Her hand trembled over the seal. She had a decision to make.