Hearing the voice from outside, Tatsuma pushed the door open to find Minato already in his shoes, his ninja pouch securely fastened to his waist. Minato looked up and noted, "You're a bit late today."
Seeing Minato prepared to head out for their usual training, Tatsuma waved a hand dismissively. "We're not going to the training ground this afternoon. Jiraiya gave me the scrolls for those two ninjutsu. Let's transcribe them first."
"Really?"
Minato's face lit up with a brilliant smile. Tatsuma pulled out the two scrolls and headed toward the study. Minato followed, quickly gathering two brushes and two blank scrolls.
Minato's home was just as tidy as Tatsuma's, though it felt much more "lived-in." His study, in particular, was a contrast to Tatsuma's sparse shelves; Minato had a significant collection of books.
They ranged from Academy textbooks to literary works, and he had almost a complete set of biographies and "Tales of Gutsy Ninjas" featuring famous shinobi. Standard books like these only cost about a hundred to a hundred and fifty ryo—affordable enough even for a student on a stipend.
Tatsuma could have afforded them too, but he chose not to. Given his current talent levels, he couldn't afford to be distracted. He preferred to save every spare ryo; the feeling of having a growing bank account gave him a sense of security that books couldn't provide.
Minato pulled a chair from the dining room so they could sit together. He even set out some drinks and crackers before sitting down across from Tatsuma. Tatsuma handed the Needle Jizo scroll to Minato.
"Minato, you're far too hospitable," Tatsuma said. "It's just a transcription session, and yet you've prepared a whole spread. I suppose I should bring a little sense of ceremony to this too."
Taking the scroll, Minato smiled. "A race to see who can finish transcribing first?"
"As expected of you. You know me too well."
Tatsuma grinned. They unrolled the scrolls simultaneously. Beyond the basic jutsu descriptions and hand seal diagrams, the scrolls were packed with personal insights written in tiny, meticulous script.
Jiraiya had been incredibly thorough, explaining the logic behind every single seal. For example, in the Needle Jizo scroll Minato held, Jiraiya explained exactly why the final seal was Snake.
Part of the Needle Jizo effect involved driving hair into the ground before erupting outward—a mechanic Jiraiya had adapted from Earth Style principles. Many Earth Style jutsu end with the Snake seal because it allows chakra to resonate more easily with the earth, just as the Tiger seal assists a caster in harmonizing Fire Style chakra within the body.
The Wild Lion's Mane scroll in Tatsuma's hand was the same. It didn't just explain the seals; it recorded Jiraiya's tactical understanding of the jutsu's applications and how to combo it with other techniques.
Jiraiya had even included several abstract little diagrams of stick figures. Although his artistic skills were mediocre at best, it was clear he had poured his heart into ensuring every detail was explained perfectly.
Looking at these meticulous notes, Tatsuma finally understood why it had taken Jiraiya three days to produce a single set of scrolls. When it came to teaching, Jiraiya was anything but sloppy.
Minato skimmed his scroll and then glanced at the one in Tatsuma's hand. It was clear that Tatsuma's scroll had significantly more text. In a race, this was a clear disadvantage.
Knowing Tatsuma's bizarre yet bottomless competitive streak, Minato offered, "Tatsuma, do you want to swap halfway through to keep it fair?"
"No! I will prove to you that I am the ninja most suited for transcription!"
Tatsuma refused flatly. Betting on the hand speed and endurance he had spent twelve years cultivating while "copying homework" before his university days in his previous life, he was confident he could win.
Tatsuma began stretching his fingers, wrists, and elbows. Minato filled his inkstone. After sharing a quick drink, they both dipped their brushes in unison and began the frantic process of copying the text onto the blank scrolls.
Initially, Minato matched Tatsuma's pace. But as time went on, the strain began to tell. Holding his arm in the traditional "suspended" writing posture made his elbow and forearm throb with fatigue.
He glanced at Tatsuma. His friend wasn't using the formal brush-holding technique taught by their teachers. Instead, he was holding the brush like a pair of chopsticks, his fingers close to the tip and his wrist resting directly on the table for support.
Not only was Tatsuma faster, but his handwriting was cleaner and more legible. Seeing this, the competitive fire Tatsuma had spent months stoking in Minato began to flare up.
Minato wasn't stubborn. A second later, he abandoned the formal posture and mimicked Tatsuma's grip. With his wrist supported, he found the fatigue vanished, and his control over the brush became much smoother.
Since they weren't aiming to create works of fine calligraphy, this "pragmatic" style was undeniably more efficient.
The hours ticked by. Minato's vision began to blur into a haze of black ink and "gold stars." He realized for the first time that writing could be a form of physical torture.
Neither of them touched the crackers or the drinks after that first sip. This was a duel; a bathroom break would be a catastrophic loss of time.
It wasn't until dusk that Tatsuma finally set down his brush. He slumped back in his chair, closed his eyes, and took a series of deep breaths. He didn't even have the energy to declare his victory. Hours of high-intensity focus were genuinely draining.
Once he regained some mental clarity, he looked over at Minato. His friend hadn't even noticed he had finished; he was still writing with absolute concentration, nearing the end of his scroll.
Tatsuma didn't disturb him. He tiptoed out of the study and began rummaging through Minato's fridge to start dinner. This had become their normal routine—Minato often did the same at Tatsuma's place, so there was no awkwardness.
By the time the simple fried fish and miso soup were ready, Minato finally emerged from the room. Seeing that dinner was already served, Minato offered a weak, weary smile. "Tatsuma... this is the most convincing defeat I've ever taken."
"Haha! I might not match your talent in other areas, but when it comes to this, I won't lose to anyone."
[Ding!]
[Attributes Acquired: PHY +2, INT +2, NIN +6]
The rewards this time caught Tatsuma off guard. It wasn't that they were small—it was that they were incredibly generous. Specifically, gaining six points in his weakest category, Ninjutsu potential, was a rare find.
"While I was copying," Minato said, sitting down at the table, "I had a few thoughts. I think the Needle Jizo technique can actually be broken down into several separate training steps."
Tatsuma finally understood why the Ninjutsu reward had been so high. Minato hadn't just been mindlessly transcribing; he had been analyzing and deconstructing the jutsu as he wrote. Tatsuma's brow furrowed as he processed the idea.
"You're right," Tatsuma agreed. "Trying to learn those B-rank jutsu as a single unit is probably too much for us right now. But if we deconstruct them, the difficulty of each individual step drops significantly. We might actually be able to master them much faster."
"As expected of you, Minato," Tatsuma added, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "To think you figured that out so quickly."
Tatsuma's praise was entirely sincere this time. As expected of the man who drops 'Ninjutsu Development' talent like it's nothing. Minato's insight immediately made Tatsuma think of a very specific, legendary technique that was the hallmark of this "modular" learning style.
Rasengan!