Lacking any elemental affinity would have been a fatal flaw for most.
For Senju Mayū, it was simply… inconvenient.
Fortunately, he had been born into the Senju.
In this world, there existed techniques that did not rely on elemental transformation at all. Among them, one stood above the rest for someone like him.
The Chakra Scalpel.
Beyond Wood Release, the Senju were equally renowned for medical ninjutsu. The Chakra Scalpel was a cornerstone of that legacy. It required no elemental nature, could be shaped purely through control, and even beginners could activate it with enough precision.
It was not meant for healing at first.
But it was sharp.
Lethally so.
Training in medical ninjutsu also opened doors. Working alongside Minato in the future would be far more likely with such a skillset. More importantly, it suited Mayū's circumstances perfectly.
That said, the technique had two harsh requirements.
First, consumption.
The Chakra Scalpel demanded a constant, high-output flow of chakra, condensed and rotated into a cutting edge around the hand. Even for a genin, sustaining it for two minutes without accounting for movement or combat strain was already pushing limits.
Second, control.
Without absolute precision, the technique would shred its user before it ever reached an enemy.
For Mayū, neither condition was a problem.
In terms of raw reserves alone, even setting aside his age, he already rivaled an average chūnin. As for control…
Based on Minaki's explanations and the Senju records he had read, chakra control underwent a qualitative leap only at the Kage level. Below that threshold, Mayū was confident he stood unmatched.
Why his chakra training progressed so quickly, and why control came so naturally, remained unanswered.
But every time he trained, he felt it.
A strange sensation.
As chakra flowed through his pathways, it was as if he already knew where it would hesitate, where it would smooth out, how density would shift. Even the faint inertia of movement never surprised him.
It was not sight. Not sound.
Just certainty.
Uzumaki vitality and Senju blood had given him an exceptional body. But what truly set him apart was this subtle sense, bordering on foresight.
Not true vision of the future. Nothing so dramatic.
More like instinct refined to an unreasonable degree.
When every choice already carried its answer, control became effortless.
This was why, during kunai practice, Mayū used such an unremarkable style. Before every throw, he carved a nearly invisible spiral of chakra along the handle. Over time, each kunai became layered with ordered patterns. The throw itself mattered far less than the preparation.
Daytime training honed that sense.
Nighttime was for something else entirely.
The lights were long extinguished.
In the quiet darkness, Mayū lay still, eyes open, listening to the slow rhythm of breathing beside him. Once certain no one was watching, he carefully shifted toward the edge of the bed where moonlight slipped through the corridor.
From beneath his blanket, he retrieved a thin, worn book.
A relic.
Taken quietly from the clan library.
According to its contents, Senju Hashirama's unparalleled regenerative ability had allowed the clan's medical arts to flourish. To support such techniques, the Senju developed specialized methods for mental focus and spiritual endurance.
This book recorded those methods.
Mayū studied it not just to improve his medical ninjutsu, but to test a suspicion he had carried for years.
Minato's talent for space was undeniable. No one mastered techniques like Flying Thunder God without an innate gift.
So what was his?
If Minato bent space… then what did Mayū touch?
Time?
The thought had lingered since his rebirth. No blessings. No obvious gifts. Only this quiet certainty that guided his movements.
If it truly was time, even in the smallest sense, then it explained everything.
Compared to space, was time not just as terrifying?
Wrapped in moonlight and silence, Mayū turned another page.
Tonight, he would begin testing that answer.
Somewhere beside him, Minato shifted in his sleep and pulled the blanket tighter.
Mayū smiled faintly and continued reading.