He did not return to the Academy the next morning.
He reported as instructed.
He trained as usual.
He completed assigned tasks without deviation.
To anyone watching—and he knew many were—nothing had changed.
That illusion was necessary.
Power displayed too often becomes provocation.
Power concealed becomes leverage.
Yet beneath the routine, his thoughts moved elsewhere.
The fruit had not been created by Root.
That much was obvious.
Root was secretive, but it was not innovative in that way. It collected. It studied. It weaponized what already existed.
Which meant the fruit had been discovered.
Or acquired.
He began with records.
Not official archives—those would be monitored—but peripheral documentation. Logistics reports. Border seizures. Unclassified shipping manifests from smaller allied nations.
Patterns revealed themselves slowly.
Three months ago, a convoy returning from the eastern coastline had reported "unidentified relic containment." The file was partially redacted, but the timing aligned too closely to ignore.
The eastern coastline.
Far beyond standard shinobi trade routes.
Konoha had no naval dominance.
So who found it?
Or more importantly—
Who lost it?
That night, he moved again.
Not toward Root headquarters.
Toward the outer intelligence archive near the village's eastern perimeter—an auxiliary structure rarely used except for temporary document storage.
He entered without leaving damage behind.
Inside, the air smelled of parchment and oil.
He moved along the shelves carefully, scanning ledger entries until he located the relevant timeframe.
There.
A confiscation report filed under joint maritime cooperation.
Origin listed as "unidentified island territory."
Description:
Organic object. Spiral morphology. Unknown energy signature. Classified level red.
He read the final line twice.
"Energy classification incompatible with chakra system."
Incompatible.
That confirmed it.
The fruit was not a variation of chakra.
It was something external.
Which meant—
The shinobi world was not closed.
He stood still for several seconds, absorbing the implication.
If something like this could enter the world unnoticed, then the political structure built around chakra dominance was fragile.
And Root had attempted to study it quietly.
To monopolize it.
He closed the ledger and returned it precisely where it had been.
As he stepped outside, the night air felt heavier than usual, though not because of his power. It was the weight of realization.
This was not an isolated artifact.
It was evidence.
Of another system.
Another world.
Or another ocean.
Behind him, faint movement.
He did not turn immediately.
"You're digging where you shouldn't," a calm voice said.
He recognized it.
The same chūnin who had stood beside Root during the betrayal.
Interesting.
"You survived," the man continued.
"So did you," he replied.
The chūnin stepped into partial moonlight, expression composed.
"You think you're investigating us," the man said. "But you're walking toward something much larger."
"Explain."
The chūnin studied him carefully.
"There are regions beyond the known coasts where chakra does not function the same way," he said quietly. "Places the Five Great Nations prefer not to acknowledge."
His pulse did not change.
"So Root is not the first to encounter this."
"No."
The chūnin's gaze sharpened slightly.
"And if word spreads that something exists beyond chakra… the balance of power collapses."
There it was.
Fear.
Not of him.
Of instability.
He felt the quiet density within him respond faintly, as though acknowledging the truth.
The shinobi system relied on monopoly.
If another power existed—
Control fractured.
"Why tell me?" he asked.
The chūnin's expression did not soften.
"Because if you continue this path alone, you will force confrontation before you are ready."
Not warning.
Not threat.
Information.
He considered the words.
Then asked the only question that mattered.
"Where was it found?"
The chūnin hesitated.
Then answered.
"Far east. Beyond the Whirlpool remnants. Beyond maps."
An ocean.
He had never seen the ocean.
But something inside him responded at the word.
Pulling.
Not toward Root.
Not toward Konoha.
Toward something distant.
Something unfinished.
The chūnin stepped back into shadow.
"Be careful," he said quietly. "Not everything that devours energy can be controlled forever."
He left without waiting for a response.
Alone again beneath the night sky, he allowed himself a single steady breath.
The fruit was not anomaly.
It was intrusion.
And if one had crossed into this world—
There could be more.
For the first time since consuming it, his ambition shifted slightly.
Not toward rebellion.
Not yet.
Toward discovery.
Because if the shinobi world believed itself complete—
It was wrong.
And gravity, he understood now, did not care about borders.