"This scroll contains some relatively basic sealing techniques. Your mother likely brought them from the Land of Whirlpools back in the day."
"When her illness worsened, she specifically had someone deliver it to me."
Ichii Kei spoke candidly. "I've already read through the contents and made a copy for the village. So when you use it in the future, you needn't have any concerns."
Although the current timeline was still nearly twenty years before the original story began—
Unfortunately, the Land of Whirlpools had already been destroyed six or seven years ago by a joint assault from Kirigakure, Kumogakure, and several other great villages.
The Uzumaki clan members were left homeless, scattered across the world.
Ayane didn't know much about her mother's past.
But judging by the timing, her mother must have left the Land of Whirlpools early and married into the Land of Rain, avoiding the clan's tragic end.
This scroll…
It was probably the token her mother entrusted to Ichii in exchange for looking after her daughter before she died.
Ayane pressed her lips together and accepted the scroll. She opened it and gave it a brief glance.
…Wonderful.
Dense tadpole-like formulas and symbols filled the parchment. Just one look was enough to make her dizzy.
It radiated the suffocating aura of higher knowledge.
If the C-rank ninjutsu she practiced daily were like middle school geometry—
Then this was at least university-level advanced calculus.
That geniuses like Namikaze Minato could master it made sense.
But Uzumaki Kushina, who seemed so brash and straightforward…
It was hard to imagine her being proficient in something like this.
The art style just didn't match.
"Study it when you return," Ichii waved. "Sealing techniques are notoriously difficult. Among all the ninja the village has trained, only a handful are proficient. But with Uzumaki blood flowing in you, you should find it easier than most."
Ayane nodded silently.
Outwardly obedient.
Inwardly, she had already given up.
If I have to self-study this, I'm doomed.
Better grind out a Sealing Technique Trait later and let the system carry me…
But hey—Achievement Points are earned through my own blood and sweat. So it still counts as hard work!
"As for what your father left behind…"
Ichii lifted the remaining item with both hands and presented it to her.
"A chakra blade."
It was an exceptionally sharp ninja sword.
The blade was slender, around sixty to seventy centimeters long, with a pale cyan guard.
When Ayane accepted it and drew it slightly—
A flash of white light swept across the room.
She lowered her gaze, carefully observing the intricate patterns etched along the edge.
She didn't know their purpose.
But merely looking at them inspired a sense of awe.
"Forged from high-grade chakra-conductive metal, hammered and refined over three years by a master smith from the Land of Iron," Ichii said with faint nostalgia. "Far superior to those mass-produced pieces from Takumi Village."
Such blades were becoming increasingly rare.
Perhaps one day, none would remain.
A year ago, news of the Land of Iron's defeat had spread.
For the younger generation, it meant little.
For elders like Ichii, it carried weight.
Hanzō himself had once trained in swordsmanship there in his youth.
Now, he had personally driven the final nail into the coffin of the samurai's legacy.
Ayane felt no particular melancholy.
She gripped the sword and gave it a few testing swings.
At 160 centimeters tall, she was slightly short for the blade. It didn't sit perfectly in her hands.
But she would still grow.
And honestly—
Before reaching the "clap hands and summon anything" level of power, having a weapon felt infinitely better than going barehanded.
Satisfied, she sheathed it.
"What's its name?"
"The smith called it Kogitsunemaru—Little Fox," Ichii replied. "But since it has a new master, you may rename it."
Ayane pondered, eyeing the cyan guard.
An idea struck.
She patted the sheath lightly and smiled.
"Then from now on… your name is Arankiri—Stormcutter."
Ichii rolled the name on his tongue.
"Arankiri… Arankiri… A fine name. No wonder you earned an S in cultural studies, writing something as imaginative as 'a kunai striking down Ōnoki.'"
Ayane's lips twitched.
Can we please never bring that up again?
——————
During wartime—
Everything served the front lines.
Amegakure's administrative efficiency was terrifyingly high.
That very morning, the graduates had received their assignments.
By afternoon, they were already being escorted away by ninja from various departments, dispatched to their respective battlefields.
Nagano Takayuki—the chubby boy—waited eagerly for Ayane to return from the principal's office.
Before departing, he teared up slightly to bid her farewell.
He had been assigned to reconnaissance.
According to Ichii, that unit had the highest casualty rate on the battlefield.
How someone with such a round physique made it into recon was a mystery.
Still, Ayane sincerely wished him luck.
Her tone was solemn.
"Nagano… take care of yourself at the front."
"Amamiya… you too!"
After two and a half years of one-sided devotion, receiving her first earnest response left him ecstatic.
"When I earn merits on the battlefield… I'll treat you to peach wine at the izakaya!"
Though one of the Three Shinobi Taboos prohibited underage drinking—
For ninja who lived on the edge of death, breaking rules was commonplace.
The peach wine he mentioned was more like a low-alcohol cocktail.
Many underage ninja secretly tried it.
Ayane remained silent.
Seeing this, Nagano quickly sobered.
He wanted to say more—
But the ninja supervising them had grown impatient.
"Kid, enough chatter. Move out! If you have more to say, save it for when you survive the battlefield!"
Nagano lowered his head immediately.
"Sumimasen!"
The ninja sighed, then glanced at Ayane.
"Foolish brat. Once Lord Hanzō leads us into the Land of Fire, you'll have your pick of women. Don't know what's so special about this bean sprout…"
Nagano, who had just been meek moments ago, suddenly flared up.
"Hey, senpai! Even if you're older than me, my feelings for Amamiya are true love!"
"Please don't use such vulgar words to insult my feelings!"
He was dragged out mid-protest, his voice fading down the corridor.
Ayane remained seated, watching him leave.
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
And a trace of sorrow lingered in her chest.
The supervising ninja's attitude had been poor—
But he was right about one thing.
No matter what the future held—
She had to survive the battlefield first.