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The campfire crackled softly, casting long, restless shadows across the ruined clearing. The forest still looked wrong. Trees were split like kindling, the dirt was scarred with fresh craters, and the air itself felt unsettled, as if it still remembered the violent vibrations that had passed through it only hours ago.
Kurenai sat stiffly at the edge of a fallen log, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her crimson eyes stayed fixed on Gin, trying to reconcile the small boy in front of her with the devastation surrounding them. Gin, meanwhile, was doing something far more unsettling than fighting. He was eating.
He didn't eat like a typical child. He ate like a machine refueling after a long war. He tore through the roasted boar meat with a rhythmic, intense focus, his jaw working steadily as if every bite was the only thing keeping his bones from collapsing under their own weight.
"You're staring again, Red," Gin muttered, not even looking up from his meal.
"It's hard not to," Kurenai whispered, her voice barely audible over the popping of the fire. Her gaze flicked toward a shattered stump nearby. "That was… one tap. My father, Shinku, says the mind and body have to be in perfect sync for power like that. But you don't even use hand signs. Where does that… weight come from?"
Gin paused mid-bite, the grease glistening on his chin. He couldn't exactly explain synchronization percentages or the ghost of a legendary pirate captain strong enough to split the very sea.
I'm at 4.8%, he thought, his internal assessment staying cold and clinical. The more I use the Quake, the lighter the rest of the world feels… and the heavier I become. If I want to survive what's coming, I need to push this body until it stops trembling.
"I'm just… dense," he said finally, lying with practiced ease. "Some people are born flashy. I was born like a rock someone forgot to move." He shrugged, the movement looking far too heavy for a child of his age. "The world pushes. I push back."
Kurenai frowned, clearly unconvinced, but she didn't press further. She could tell he wasn't ready to give up his secrets. Instead, she reached into her pouch and pulled out a small tin of sea salt. With careful, quiet seriousness, she sprinkled it onto the meat in Gin's hand.
"My father says a shinobi should always be prepared," she said softly. "Even for food. He says if you can't handle the small things… you'll die when the big things happen."
Gin took a bite, the flavor blooming across his tongue, and he smirked. "Not bad, Red. Your old man raised a smart one."
For a moment, the clearing was almost peaceful. Two children sitting beside a fire, surrounded by a level of destruction that simply shouldn't exist.
The Root's Recoil
Deep beneath Konoha, in a room that smelled of damp stone and absolute discipline, Danzo Shimura stared at a broken porcelain mask resting on his desk. A Root operative stood before him, his arm held in a sling and his voice stripped of all human emotion.
"Subject Dojima Gin displayed abnormal kinetic phenomena. A Chunin-level squad was neutralized in under twelve seconds."
Danzo's fingers tapped slowly, rhythmically, against the head of his cane. "No chakra signatures consistent with ninjutsu?"
"None, Lord Danzo." A brief pause followed. "He threatened the Foundation directly."
Normally, Danzo would have already dispatched a Jonin unit to retrieve the boy by force, regardless of the cost. But the scrolls on his desk spoke of something much worse than a rebellious orphan. Mobilization was happening across the borders. Border pressure was mounting. War was approaching like distant, inevitable thunder.
"Postpone the recruitment," Danzo continued coldly. "A weapon that cannot be leashed is dangerous, but a weapon pointed at the enemy is… useful. Let the boy remain in the Academy for now." His voice dropped to a low, dangerous hiss. "If he survives the first wave… we will revisit his loyalty."
The Afternoon Encounter
The next day, the sun hung high over the jungle canopy, casting golden spears of light through the leaves. Gin had returned to the clearing—partly because his surging metabolism was screaming for more protein, and partly because Kurenai had shown up again, pretending she wasn't intentionally following him.
"This is how you track a passing scout," Kurenai explained, pointing at a subtly broken twig.
Gin poked the dirt with a stick, his expression bored. "I already know someone's coming."
Kurenai blinked in frustration. "Gin, that's not how tracking—"
"It's still shaking," Gin interrupted flatly.
Before she could argue, three figures emerged from the foliage. They weren't sneaking; they walked with the casual, absolute confidence of people who owned the forest. One was tall and wild-haired, laughing loudly at some private joke. Another was pale and snake-like, his golden eyes gleaming with a quiet, unsettling hunger. And between them walked a blonde woman with a warrior's shoulders and the undeniable presence of an impending storm.
Behind them, a young boy ran ahead, his eyes bright with excitement. "Whoa! Sis!" Nawaki shouted. "Look at this crater! Did someone blow up the forest?"
Tsunade's gaze sharpened immediately. No violet diamond marked her forehead yet, but the raw power in her stance was undeniable. Her eyes swept over the shattered trees and the deep cracks in the earth, then landed on Gin—who was casually chewing on a strip of jerky like a bored king on his throne.
"You," she said slowly, her voice carrying a heavy weight. "Aren't you a bit young for this kind of damage?"
Gin stood up, wiped his greasy hands on his pants, and looked her dead in the eye. Then, with the sincerity of a five-year-old menace, he gave a low, appreciative whistle.
"Wow. You're even more of a boss than the rumors say." He tilted his head, scanning her. "You look like you could punch a mountain into pebbles."
Jiraiya instantly choked on his own breath, exploding into wheezing laughter. Orochimaru's lips curved into a thin, amused smile, his interest piqued. Kurenai, meanwhile, looked like she wanted the earth to open up and swallow her whole.
"I heard that, brat!" Tsunade snapped, a flush of red creeping up her cheeks. "Do you have any idea who I am? I could flick you into the next country!"
Gin's grin turned chaotic, almost predatory. "I like the energy. But talk is cheap. You look like the strongest person in this forest." He spread his arms wide. "Want to see if you can move a real anchor?"
The Finger Test
Tsunade's annoyance shifted into something much sharper: interest. She stepped forward, her boots cracking the dry dirt. "Alright, pocket earthquake. One test. If you can make me move even an inch, I'll buy you the biggest steak in the village. If you fail, I'm hauling you back to the Academy by your ear for some much-needed discipline."
"Deal," Gin rasped.
He planted his feet, digging them into the soil. His small body began to feel heavier, denser, as if he were turning into solid lead. The vibration centered deep in his core, but his hands began to tremble violently—his control was still a flickering candle in a hurricane. He drew back his fist, ignoring the dull ache building in his joints. He didn't punch her finger; he punched the very air just before it.
CRACK.
Space itself seemed to buckle. A visible ripple of distorted air slammed into Tsunade's arm. Her eyes widened—not in pain, but in sheer recognition of the power. The ground beneath her groaned under the pressure. To everyone's shock, her heel slid back. Not a foot, not a yard, but a single, distinct inch—a furrow carved clearly into the dirt.
Silence fell over the jungle. Then, Gin staggered, coughing hard as blood spotted the ground. His arm spasmed violently, his muscles screaming from the feedback. He was shaking, but he was still smirking.
[Template Status Update]
Template: Whitebeard Synchronization: 4.8% → 6.2%
Tsunade didn't look at the furrow in the dirt. She looked at the boy. Then, she reached out and ruffled his hair hard enough to nearly topple him. "You've got something real inside you, brat," she said, her grin turning genuine and rough. "But you're going to break yourself if you swing it wrong."
"I won," Gin scowled, clutching his shaking arm.
Tsunade laughed loudly, the sound echoing through the trees. "Yeah, you did. Nawaki! We're buying steak! This little monster is going to eat the village out of house and home."
As they began walking back toward Konoha, Kurenai fell into step beside Gin, her voice low and awestruck. "You're actually insane."
Gin's grin turned crooked. "Maybe. But I'm insane with steak. You coming, or are you just going to keep 'tracking' me from the bushes?"
Kurenai's cheeks warmed. "Idiot."
Gin chuckled, feeling the strain in his muscles begin to fade into a dull hum. Ahead of them, Tsunade was still laughing, her presence like a shield. Behind them, the forest was quiet once more, but far underground, Danzo Shimura was already recalculating his moves. Konoha had just met something it wasn't prepared to contain, and the war hadn't even truly begun.
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The journey is only getting started. If you're enjoying the story so far, don't forget to vote with Power Stones, leave a review, and stay tuned—next chapter is going to be even crazier!