The evening light filtered through the windows of the Senju residence, painting the walls in shades of orange. In the dining room, a small celebration was taking place: rice cake, miso soup, and Noah's favorite dishes adorned the table.
—Nine years —Mito said with a warm smile, pouring more tea into Noah's cup—. How time flies. It feels like yesterday when you arrived at this house.
Tsunade, sitting across from him, looked at him with a complaining expression.
—The thing is, he's barely ever around —she protested, crossing her arms—. He's always out doing missions. How many have you done this month? Five? Six?
Noah shrugged, bringing a piece of fish to his mouth.
—Three. And they're nothing special. Escorts, deliveries, simple things.
—Simple or not, you could spend more time at home. Grandma misses you.
Mito shook her head, amused.
—Don't blame grandma, Tsunade. You miss him too. Don't act tough.
Tsunade huffed, but her cheeks flushed slightly. She quickly changed the subject.
—Well, since it's your birthday… —She stood up and walked around the table until she was behind Noah. She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in to look at him with a warm smile—. Tell me, Nawaki, what do you want to be when you grow up?
Noah glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a piece of cake halfway to his mouth.
—Hm? —He thought for a moment—. I hadn't thought about it until now, but I suppose I'll settle for just staying alive.
Tsunade wrinkled her nose.
—What a bland answer. Don't you have any aspirations? Like becoming the new Hokage or something? All kids want that.
—Why? —Noah chewed his cake slowly—. The only thing that would do is keep me stuck in an office doing paperwork all day. No, thanks. I prefer my current freedom. I can do missions whenever I want and go anywhere.
Tsunade sighed, but a smile appeared on her lips. She shook her head, as if she had expected exactly that kind of answer from her overly intelligent little brother.
—You're a lost cause, Nawaki.
She stepped away from him and walked toward a small box she had left on a shelf. She took it carefully and returned to the table.
—Well, if you don't have any aspirations, at least you'll have a keepsake.
She opened the box. Inside, on a silk cloth, rested a necklace. It was a rough-looking green jade pendant hanging from a black leather cord.
—This necklace belonged to Grandpa —Tsunade said, her voice softer as she remembered her grandfather Hashirama.
Noah's eyes widened for a moment.
In his memories of the original canon, this necklace was famous for its supposed bad luck. Tsunade had given it to several people throughout her life —to the original Nawaki, to her boyfriend Dan— and all of them had ended up dead. The only exception had been Naruto.
But Noah did not believe in unfounded superstitions. Besides, he knew the true nature of the necklace.
It had the ability to contain tailed beasts. In the canon, it had helped Naruto control Kurama. It was a powerful object, created by Hashirama himself, imbued with his chakra and his will.
Tsunade took it carefully and placed it around Noah's neck. The jade fell against his chest, cool against his skin.
—I hope it brings you luck on your travels —she said, with a genuine smile.
Noah looked at it for a moment. Then he looked up at his sister.
—Thank you —he said, and this time his voice did not have its usual casual tone—. It's a good gift.
Tsunade ruffled his hair affectionately and returned to her seat.
—Alright, let's finish the cake! It'll get cold.
When dinner was over and the house fell silent, Noah retired to his secret lair.
Closing the laboratory door behind him, he entered an austere meditation room. There was nothing but a cushion placed in the center.
He sat cross-legged and let his breathing settle. Little by little, his mind sank into his own spiritual sea.
There, suspended above a dense mist that represented his spiritual strength, floated an intricate magical pentagram.
That pentagram was the result of merging the two runic circles that formed upon advancing through the apprentice mage ranks. Once completed, it marked successful access to the third apprentice rank.
Now, he stood on the verge of taking the next step: becoming an official Magus.
—The requirement to advance is a spiritual strength of twenty… I have already surpassed that threshold. Only the final step remains.
Without altering his serene expression, he took out a spirit-stabilizing potion.
It was a key element described in the soul cultivation technique, essential for breaking the barrier between the third apprentice rank and the first magus rank. The original ingredients were impossible for Noah to obtain for obvious reasons, but he had never been one to follow manuals to the letter. As long as the effects were equivalent, substitutes were acceptable.
Over the past few years, beyond completing missions, part of his time had been consumed by collecting and testing ingredients capable of reproducing this potion.
The bottle in his hands was made of dark red glass. Inside swirled a thick liquid, speckled with tiny golden flecks that glowed faintly. When he shook it gently, small sparks flickered on and off within.
Noah placed the bottle in front of him and closed his eyes.
He had to prepare himself mentally before consuming it; any emotional fluctuation could cause his spiritual strength to spiral out of control, ruining the process.
For several hours, he remained in absolute silence. Finally, he exhaled heavily and opened his eyes.
—Alright. —His fingers closed around the bottle—. It's now or never.
He removed the stopper, and the metallic, warm aroma of the liquid filled the air. Without hesitation, he brought the bottle to his lips and drank it in one gulp.
The taste was surprisingly fresh, almost sweet, but that sensation lasted only a few seconds.
A searing wave began to travel through his body from his stomach, spreading through his veins like lava.
His skin reddened, and thin lines of vapor began to rise from his pores.
Noah clenched his teeth as the heat increased until it became unbearable.
It was as if thousands of burning needles were piercing his flesh.
—Damn it! —he growled in a hoarse voice—. And I have to enter a deep meditative state under this condition!
Sweat began to trickle down his forehead. He forced himself to remain calm, squeezing his eyes shut.
Little by little, his breathing slowed, and his pulse decreased.
The chaotic energy enveloping him began to settle, and his consciousness gradually sank into his spiritual sea.
There, everything was darkness and blue mist.
Noah looked up and contemplated the pentagram floating before him.
Slowly, the pentagram began to spin until it formed a tornado that started drawing the surrounding mist toward it.
A layer of red light began to seep slowly through the thick blue mist of the sea of consciousness.
At first it was a faint glow, like a distant dawn, but soon the reddish hue intensified until all the mist was devoured by a crimson blaze.
The environment became suffocating and scorching, as if a hidden sun had been born inside his mind.
Noah narrowed his eyes, his consciousness trembling under the pressure.
The sensation was overwhelming: every thought, every spark of his spirit seemed to burn.