Kiyohara stood still, watching the ninja blade hovering in midair, hand thoughtfully stroking his chin.
What should I even call this jutsu?
Could this technique—beyond just sword control—extend to other weapons too?
Deactivating the magnetic grip, he caught the ninja blade as it dropped back into his hand.
"Streamlined blade shapes don't face too much air resistance… but they're hardly the most stable or efficient for flight."
If pure flight speed and stability were the goals, a spindle-shaped throwing knife or ring-blade would be far better for aerodynamics. Circular structures, especially, offered better spin control and balance.
As for the ninja blade itself—
Kiyohara weighed the weapon in his palm, feeling its familiar heft.
He ultimately decided not to alter its design—not yet.
'This blade was still his main melee weapon. Sacrificing its cutting edge for flight stability would defeat the purpose.'
Still, the idea of designing a new set of magnetism-friendly weapons lingered in his mind…
Sleeker, lighter, aerodynamic blades—dedicated solely for remote control.
Testing this theory, he pulled out a handful of shuriken from his tool pouch.
Carefully, he wrapped a spinning magnetic field around the edge of one.
This rotating magnetic field interacted with the embedded magnetic charge within the shuriken.
From what he inherited, Kiyohara knew it would generate a propulsion force—perpendicular to both the rotation axis and magnetic vector.
By adjusting the axis and speed of the magnetic rotation, he could theoretically control direction and velocity.
It sounded ridiculous—but it worked.
Just like chakra, it wasn't bound by conventional physics.
Slowly, the shuriken began to float.
First rising, then—
Forward.
Slight left.
Accelerate.
Several shuriken drew wobbly, chaotic trails through the air—zigzagging, circling, sometimes hurtling wildly off-course.
More than once, one shrieked past his face with a hair's breadth to spare.
Kiyohara was drenched in cold sweat, but his eyes were gleaming.
Each mistake sharpened his micro-level control over magnetism.
By the time twilight began to fade into dusk, Kiyohara finally halted his training.
He gave this experimental—but promising—technique a tentative name:
Magnet Release: Art of Object Control
Rasa, Gaara… I bet they could do something similar.
He pictured them commanding entire oceans of gold dust or iron sand.
Maybe one day he'd earn his own title like "Sandstorm Kiyohara"—except instead of sand, it would be Iron Sand and Gold Dust.
Of course, matching Orochimaru's effortless airborne swordplay was still a distant dream.
Many of Kiyohara's ideas still existed only on paper.
Chakra control and chakra capacity were the twin mountains every shinobi had to scale.
Just then, a familiar voice chimed in behind him.
"I knew you'd be out here training again."
Yūhi Kurenai appeared, one hand on her hip, wearing that 'I've figured you out' smirk.
"No wonder you keep pulling off new tricks—you're actually seeing 4 a.m. in the ninja world every day, huh?"
She had thought Kiyohara was joking before, but now she realized—he might've been dead serious.
The guy was clearly gifted… and now she knew he was also a total grinder.
"Of course. All my strength comes from hard work."
…Plus a generous helping of support from his future selves.
That last part, of course, remained unsaid.
Outside of missions, he spent every waking moment refining techniques, waiting for his next Will & Urn to arrive.
Still half a month to go.
He just needed to hold out.
"From now on, you're not allowed to secretly out-grind me!"
"If you're training, I'm training with you!"
Kurenai huffed.
She was already picturing the stunned face of Genma once she and Kiyohara left him in the dust.
This… this was what it felt like to get rich in silence.
She was going all in from today onward.
"Sure," Kiyohara agreed with a smile. "Next time, I'll call you."
He didn't mind having her around—training next to a pretty girl did make the whole thing more pleasant.
Still, there were some techniques—like Leaf Style: Willow—that had to remain secret.
Not everything could be shared.
"Just next time?"
Kurenai leaned in, eyes rising to meet his.
"I think I'll head back and rest."
"My stamina's drained. Chakra too."
Recovery was important.
Only the likes of Guy and Lee could brute-force past fatigue with sheer physical resilience.
"Fine, fine."
Kurenai pouted, noticing the sweat on his brow and the damp, clinging strands of hair—
Even wet like this, he looks pretty good…
Kurenai shook the thought from her head.
They'd only gone a few steps when a voice interrupted them.
A teen in a trendy jacket approached—casually flicking his hair, a plastic lollipop stick between his lips.
Sarutobi Asuma.
Kiyohara raised a brow.
He wasn't puffing a cigarette yet… just sucking on candy.
At this stage, Asuma hadn't become the infamous chain-smoker like his father.
"Asuma? What brings you here?"
Kurenai blinked.
"Had a mission that passed through this zone. Figured I'd swing by."
Even as the Hokage's son, Asuma had to complete missions…
Though his mother—Sarutobi Biwako, head of Konoha's medical corps—often secured him less dangerous postings with a single communication jutsu.
After all, who would dare argue with Lady Biwako?
March up to the Hokage to complain?
Didn't think so.
"You two just finished training?" Asuma asked, feigning calm.
But inside, his alarms were blaring.
Genma hanging around Kurenai was one thing.
But now this new guy—better-looking than him?!
That he could not allow.
From academy days, Asuma had quietly made up his mind: Kurenai would be his girl.
And this new "genius," clearly, was competition.