Chương 125: The Three Steps of Space-Time

The summer sun was a furnace, casting a shimmering, inexorable heat across the land. Time flowed like an unceasing tide, drifting quietly into August of Konoha Year 51. If the date of Naruto's birth remained unchanged, exactly seventy days remained until the fated Night of the Nine-Tails. In late July, Sasuke Uchiha was born. Zhen Dongye hadn't been actively monitoring the Uchiha estate, yet he received the news that very evening.

The reason was simple: the midwife in charge of the delivery was Megumi Dongye—his own mother. Fugaku Uchiha had personally requested her, operating under the logic that a woman capable of raising a polymath like Zhen must surely possess peerless medical expertise. While the sentiment held weight, it was equally likely a calculated move to tighten the bond between the Uchiha and the Dongye household.

During dinner, Megumi mentioned that Fugaku had named his second son Sasuke, a tribute to Sasuke Sarutobi, the deceased father of the Third Hokage. In the tradition of the shinobi world, adopting the name of another's ancestor was a profound gesture of reverence, not an infringement. Fugaku was clearly going to great lengths to bridge the political chasm between his clan and the Hokage's lineage. A few days later, during a rare afternoon off, Zhen crossed paths with Itachi in the village.

The boy was out purchasing diapers, and for the first time, Zhen saw a genuine smile break through that stoic, stone-faced facade. Itachi told him that having a brother was a... miraculous sensation. Looking at a sibling born of the same flesh and blood felt like witnessing his own rebirth. From that moment, Itachi's obsessive fraternal devotion—his "brother complex"—awakened, surging forth like the waters of the Naka River, unrestrained and eternal.

He swore a silent oath to cherish and protect this child with his life. Zhen, however, was less concerned with Sasuke's name than with a grim realization. On the night of Naruto's birth, the medical team assisting Biwako Sarutobi had included another female medic—one who was summarily executed by Obito. He wondered if that "expendable" ninja could be Megumi. In the original timeline, such minor characters appeared only to die; their names were lost to history.

But after a cold analysis of the current situation, Zhen concluded that Megumi was unlikely to be summoned for the task. Kushina's pregnancy was a state secret of the highest order. Since the conception, her prenatal care had been handled by a closed, elite circle. Even the hospital staff, Megumi included, were kept in total darkness. The only notable event Megumi recalled was a single afternoon shortly after the New Year when the hospital was a hive of activity.

Tsunade had made a fleeting appearance, only to vanish again. She hadn't been seen in the Konoha Hospital since. The Flying Thunder God—a Space-Time Ninjutsu birthed by the Second Hokage, Tobirama Senju. His eternal rival, Izuna Uchiha, had met his end at the edge of this very blade. Tobirama had developed the art to its first phase: translocating to a moving marker, a technique known as the Flying Thunder God Slash. It relied heavily on physical weaponry for lethality.

It was Minato Namikaze who perfected it, pairing the jump with the Rasengan to create the Flying Thunder God: Level 2. Beyond that, he had integrated Fuinjutsu to create Guiding Thunder, a defensive marvel capable of warping away catastrophic threats like Tailed Beast Bombs. It was a divine technique—an all-in-one system for travel, escape, offense, and defense. Under Minato's refinement, the path to mastery had been paved and smoothed for those who followed.

So, how many steps did it take to manifest the Flying Thunder God? Only three. First: Place a marker anchored to one's own chakra frequency. Second: Sense the marker and ignite the formula. Third: Summon oneself to the marker's coordinates. Simple, in theory. Minato's internal logic was blunt: Surely no one is so dim-witted as to reach their teens without mastering a three-step jump? Genma Shiranui and the others had a different answer: Lord Hokage, we simply cannot.

In the training grounds that afternoon, the Fourth Hokage took a moment from his duties to inspect his Guard's progress. It had been six months; he expected something more than the silence of previous evaluations. The five members of the Guard stood in a row, each drawing a kunai and hurling it forward. Like Minato's specialized blades, their weapons were wrapped in paper charms inscribed with the Hiraishin formula. The designs were personalized, as there was no standardized requirement for the visual seal.

At this stage, none of them possessed Minato's ability to "print" a seal with a mere touch. They couldn't even weave the patterns with raw chakra. They were forced to use ink infused with their own chakra to pre-draw the markings. The kunais thudded into the dirt and went still. The five shinobi performed their hand seals, straining to activate the formula. Silence followed. Nothing moved. Hayate and Yugao looked utterly lost.

Genma seemed to catch a flicker of a spark, his face tight with effort, but it led nowhere. Raido and Iwashi shared the same vacant result, though Iwashi's body gave a slight, spasmodic jerk before he remained rooted to the spot. The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Minato didn't look disappointed, exactly. This was an S-rank Space-Time art. Even optimized, it remained a pinnacle of difficulty. Expecting mastery in half a year was unrealistic. Still...

their progress compared to his own at that age was abysmal.

"Tell me what you felt," Minato said.

"How does it differ from the last attempt?"

"The sensation is blurred," Hayate admitted.

"I can't lock onto the coordinates."

"It's the same for me," Yugao added, frustrated.

"It's like trying to grab smoke."

"I can sense the marker," Raido countered, "but the ignition fails every time."

"I'm in the same boat," Genma grunted.

"It feels like something is missing right at the moment of the pull." Only Iwashi offered a variation.

"Lord Hokage, I can ignite the formula, but the jump itself collapses instantly." Minato fell into deep thought. Where was the bottleneck? There were several. First was the Fuinjutsu foundation; they could draw a seal, but they couldn't manifest it spontaneously. Second was sensory talent. A shinobi's innate ability to perceive the weave of space was largely immutable. Hayate and Yugao were failing here. Third was the "summoning" trigger—the bridge that pulled the body through the rift.

Genma and Raido were failing the ignition. But Iwashi? He was succeeding at the trigger but failing the transit. Minato realized that his own peerless affinity for space was an anomaly. He had sensed it when teaching Kakashi, and today confirmed it. Iwashi had a spark, but it was a guttering candle compared to a sun. The others were effectively blind. It made sense why the technique had never been popularized. If it were easy, Jiraiya or the Third would have mastered it decades ago.

He turned his gaze to the final member of the group. If anyone in Konoha possessed the raw talent to bridge this gap, it was Zhen Dongye. He knew the boy's sensory capabilities were already in a league of their own.

"Zhen, your turn."

"Right, Senior Minato." Zhen drew a kunai. The charm wrapped around the handle bore a mark identical to the sigil on his brow in Sage Mode. Having mastered the higher tiers of Fuinjutsu, he didn't need ink; he could manifest the seal with a thought. The blade flew, biting deep into a distant oak. Zhen performed a single-handed seal. Flicker. He vanished, reappearing instantly at the tree—except his balance was skewed. He had launched upright but arrived prone, stumbling into the grass.

He corrected himself in a heartbeat, standing and brushing off his vest. He threw the kunai back to his original spot and jumped again, arriving with the same awkward, horizontal momentum. Despite the ungraceful landing, the eyes of the other five nearly popped out of their heads.

"He actually did it?"

"Incredible..." Genma and his peers finally grasped the true weight of the "Number One Genius" title. Minato was equally stunned.

"Zhen... when did you manage this?"

"About five days ago," Zhen replied.

"The sensation finally clicked during a drill. It's not quite perfect yet—if I couldn't fly, I'd be eating dirt every time I jumped."

"The posture doesn't matter," Minato said, his voice rising with excitement.

"You've crossed the threshold far faster than I did. With practice, the spatial orientation will become instinct. Beyond the balance, did you notice any other issues?"

"The activation speed is sluggish," Zhen noted.

"That's a matter of muscle memory. Within a year, a talent like yours will be performing it seal-less and instantaneous."

"Then there is the final problem," Zhen said, looking at his hands.

"The transit isn't smooth. The chakra consumption is massive—too high for a practical skirmish."

"How massive?"

"Using one of your Rasengans as a metric? It costs about five of them for a single jump." Minato blinked. Perhaps his own talent was even more of an outlier than he thought; his first successful jump hadn't cost a fraction of that. Now that he was a master, the cost was negligible, allowing him to dance across a battlefield indefinitely. If Zhen was burning five Rasengans per flicker, he'd be exhausted after a handful of moves. That wasn't a "Yellow Flash"—it was a "Short Circuit."

"The consumption issue is yours to solve," Minato advised.

"My experience suggests that as your affinity for space grows through repetition, the cost will plummet. You are essentially forcing the door open right now; eventually, you will simply slide through."

"I see. Thank you, Senior Minato." Seeing Zhen's success, Genma grew anxious.

"Lord Hokage, what about us? Is there any way forward, or should we abandon the pursuit?"

"Continue your training," Minato said, a strange idea beginning to take root in his mind.

"I will find a solution." He had a sudden, radical thought. If they couldn't master the individual jump, could he adapt the Hiraishin into a collective art? A formation where they linked their chakra—one sensing the target, one anchoring the formula, and the others providing the raw power to force the transit? A Flying Thunder Formation for a three-man squad. Even if it wasn't suitable for high-speed combat, it would allow a team to provide instantaneous support across the village.

Yes, there was significant potential there.