Minato and Kushina had both been ninja skilled in Wind Release, so from a hereditary standpoint, Mirai had a high probability of being born with wind-natured chakra.
In reality, she did possess Wind Release.
However, natural talent sometimes lost to brutal postnatal training.
After all—did anyone really think she had endured five straight years of electrical stimulation for nothing?
Compared to Wind Release, Mirai's affinity for Lightning Release was stronger, and her level of proficiency was noticeably higher. This was only natural. Hagoromo specialized in Lightning Release, and a student trained by him would inevitably follow the same path.
From the perspective of bodily adaptation, Lightning Release suited Mirai better.
She held Hagoromo's long blade at a slanted angle and charged the first enemy.
Faced with such an "overconfident" opponent, the two shinobi found it laughable—but they showed no mercy. On missions, people were divided into only two categories: those who must be killed, and those who must not. Age and gender had no place in that distinction.
As Mirai reached the first enemy, she flipped her wrist and slashed upward, the blade cutting from below toward his chest.
The enemy casually blocked with a kunai, knocking her attack aside with ease.
The gap in physical strength alone—regardless of gender—was overwhelming.
But this outcome seemed to be within Mirai's expectations.
Using the rebound force, she shifted her body sideways. In that same instant, she clamped the blade between her palms and formed the Ox (丑) hand seal.
Using Lightning Release at Hagoromo's level without hand seals was extraordinarily difficult. Even Mirai—who had been "trained" since infancy—couldn't do that yet.
But this didn't diminish her talent.
In fact, she had already reached a remarkable level: by reducing the technique to a single hand seal, she could activate Chidori Nagashi.
This modified version could properly be called:
Chidori Nagashi – Hagoromo Style 3.0 (MKK)
Mirai bypassed the first enemy and lunged at the second.
With Lightning Release stimulating her body, her speed, strength, and lethality surged, becoming completely different from before. The sudden acceleration threw the opponent off rhythm, preventing an immediate response.
However, Mirai was still a child, and she shared the same flaw Kakashi once had when using Chidori—
an overemphasis on linear thrusting.
Or rather, this was an inherent drawback of high-speed Lightning Release itself. During execution, Mirai's movements lacked flexibility. At her current age, she couldn't yet precisely track or land fatal blows.
This wasn't due to poor instruction. Some lessons could only be engraved through real experience.
Moreover, this was her first real battle. She had no combat experience whatsoever and was mechanically executing everything Hagoromo had taught her.
Thanks to the suddenness of Chidori, she did manage to slash her enemy—
—but the cut was shallow, and off target.
The searing pain snapped the shinobi back to awareness. The short blade in his hand shot toward Mirai's neck.
At the same time, the first enemy had already turned back, Water Release chakra prepared.
Then—
Both men slammed face-first into the snow.
What were they doing—were they shut-ins?
You're watching a little girl fight and completely ignoring the S-rank, capture-level, white-haired danger standing right behind her?
Even using genjutsu, Hagoromo's weakest field, he could drop them effortlessly.
Mirai seemed to realize she hadn't done well. She had cut someone, and the sight and smell of blood overwhelmed her senses. At such a young age, she simply couldn't adapt.
Dragging Hagoromo's sword along the ground with one hand, rubbing her eyes with the other, she ran back in a small panic.
Clumsy. Uneasy. Afraid.
She instinctively returned to the safest place she knew—
Hagoromo's side.
One look and Hagoromo knew.
Damn. She's about to cry.
"Mirai," he said quickly, crouching down.
"You did very well for your first battle. Much better than I did back then. The first time I fought an enemy, I got stabbed with two holes."
He had no idea what his own first battle had really been like—but comforting her came first.
"Really?" she asked, eyes trembling.
"Of course," he replied without hesitation.
In a way, it was self-deprecation—but it worked.
Hagoromo took the sword from her, wiped the trace of blood from her cheek with his sleeve, and gently ruffled her hair. Between the reassurance and his casual tone, her emotions finally stabilized.
Truthfully, this was never something a child should have been doing in the first place.
"What about the enemies?" Mirai asked after calming down, still not looking back.
Hagoromo hesitated.
He had originally planned—very melodramatically—to let her finish them off. But now… better not. Let those two lie there. If they didn't freeze to death, it was their luck.
So was Hagoromo soft-hearted?
Considering what he'd done in the past, saying that felt dishonest—but in moments like this, he truly couldn't be ruthless.
For Mirai, things she couldn't do at this age could wait until later. There was no need to force it.
That was how he justified it to himself.
"I've already dealt with them," he said instead.
"Let's take a look at that special chakra you sensed."
He smoothly changed the subject.
Mirai had slashed the second man's thigh; the fellow was now enthusiastically bleeding into the snow. Hagoromo didn't finish him off—but saving him wasn't happening either.
The two Kirigakure shinobi had been hunting a filthy, barefoot child, about seven or eight years old, wearing thin, dirty clothes.
Strangely, the child hadn't tried to flee earlier—he'd stood completely still.
Partly because everything happened too fast.
Partly because children's instincts were sometimes frighteningly accurate.
Faced with a smiling white-haired man who doted on a red-haired girl, the boy felt—very simply—that running would be a bad idea.
"What's special about him?" Hagoromo asked.
"It's just… his chakra feels different," Mirai insisted.
Hagoromo still didn't see it, so she checked again.
He gestured politely toward the boy.
"Please. Begin your performance."
Hagoromo's words carried an odd authority.
Without hand seals, the boy raised his hands. Between his palms, a crystal of ice formed in midair.
A kekkei genkai.
That explained everything.
It also explained why Kirigakure ninja had been chasing him.
Those born with bloodline limits were often feared and envied, branded as monsters. In Kirigakure, hostility toward bloodline clans had a long history.
Terumī Mei had taken power only seven years ago. At that time, this child had likely just been born.
The Ice Release clan had already been wiped out during the Third Mizukage's era.
The Fourth Mizukage sought reform, but public perception could only be changed gradually. Even a Kage couldn't undo history with a single decree.
In truth, ascending to the position of Mizukage didn't mean absolute control. Mei still lacked full authority over Kirigakure.
Assassinating bloodline users ran contrary to her current policies—making it unlikely these ninja were acting under her orders.
Ice Release…
Hagoromo saw the potential hidden within this child.
Perhaps one day, he might wield techniques on the level of Great Red Lotus Ice Wheel.
A ninja with talent and growth.
Hagoromo didn't need this child to do anything for him—
but he needed him to do something for Mirai.
"What's your name?"
"Haku."
"Just Haku?"
He nodded. Only Haku.
"Then how about Yuki Haku?" Hagoromo suggested.
"Hagoromo, don't name people randomly," Mirai said seriously.
"It's Kannazuki right now."
She looked like she had figured out Hagoromo's naming habits entirely.
Apparently, she had already forgotten the earlier fight. This child would definitely grow up carefree.
Hagoromo had named him randomly.
Yuki (Snow) referred to June, but this was October—Kannazuki, the Month Without Gods. That explained why snow falling now felt strange.
"…That's odd," Hagoromo muttered.
"Why did 'Yuki' come out of my mouth so naturally?"
He should probably consider whether, in a previous life, he'd once compared Aokiji to someone in the ninja world.
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