NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 8: Moving Forward
Isamu blinked in surprise, looking up at Might Duy—who appeared as though he'd stepped directly out of the anime itself. Tall and powerfully built, Duy wore his familiar green jumpsuit, complete with orange leg warmers. His dark hair was styled in a perfectly neat bowl cut, and beneath thick, bushy eyebrows, his eyes sparkled with bright, unwavering enthusiasm. His strong jawline and broad, confident smile gave him an aura of unstoppable positivity.
"Well now," Duy began, his voice booming cheerfully, hands resting casually on his hips. "I've noticed you've been here watching us for quite some time, little one! I must say, your youthful passion is impressive!"
Isamu immediately straightened up and gave a polite, respectful greeting—the kind traditionally offered to elders in Konoha. The formal gesture clearly amused Duy, who responded with a gentle, affectionate smile. Nearby, Guy continued his exercises, entirely unconcerned that his father was busy conversing with the small child who'd been mimicking their training.
"Yes," Isamu admitted openly, lifting his chin slightly. "I've been inspired watching you."
Duy's thick eyebrows rose curiously, clearly surprised by Isamu's statement. "Inspired, you say?" he asked warmly. "Why's that, my youthful friend?"
Isamu blinked thoughtfully, then answered plainly, "I don't know... I like your energy, and I think you're strong. I want to be just like you."
At that, Duy blinked once, momentarily stunned, before suddenly throwing his head back and letting out a hearty, booming laugh. He laughed freely, joyfully, clearly entertained by the idea—knowing well that most shinobi dismissed him as weak, labeling him an "Eternal Genin."
Duy's laughter echoed warmly across the training grounds, rich and genuine enough to draw even Guy's curious gaze for a fleeting moment. Guy quickly shrugged it off, returning to his push-ups, his energetic counting resuming almost immediately. Isamu, meanwhile, stood utterly still, watching patiently with a serious, unwavering expression, completely unaffected by Duy's reaction.
Eventually, Duy's hearty laugh settled into a quieter chuckle as he crouched down, bringing himself closer to Isamu's level. Up close, Isamu could clearly see the weathered lines of effort etched onto Duy's face, a testament to the countless hours spent in rigorous training. "You really mean that, little one?" he asked gently, his voice softer now but still brimming with warmth. He flexed an arm humorously, the green sleeve tightening around muscle clearly earned through sheer persistence. "Not many shinobi share your opinion, you know. Most people see me as nothing more than an Eternal Genin. Knowing that, do you still want to train like me?"
Isamu met his eyes without hesitation, nodding seriously. "Yes. They just don't know any better yet," he replied calmly, sincerity evident in every word.
Duy blinked, momentarily caught off guard by Isamu's earnest, unwavering confidence. Slowly, his face softened, shifting from surprise to quiet admiration, and then finally to amusement. He shook his head again, eyes gleaming with gentle warmth. "You certainly have guts, young one. Guts and sincerity. Both important qualities for a shinobi." He glanced fondly toward Guy, who was now energetically sprinting laps around the field, shouting out his count with unstoppable enthusiasm. Turning back to Isamu, Duy offered him a bright, welcoming smile. "If you're truly inspired, then by all means, train with us. We would gladly welcome another youthful spirit!"
Relief and excitement flooded Isamu's chest, breaking through his calm exterior in the form of a small but heartfelt smile. Duy straightened back up, resuming his iconic, enthusiastic stance—hands confidently placed on his hips as he boomed loudly, voice full of renewed vigor:
"Then let your flames of youth burn brighter than ever before! Let's go!"
Isamu couldn't help but quietly laugh under his breath as he eagerly jogged to catch up with Guy, finally feeling a genuine sense of belonging—and certainty that he'd found exactly what he'd been seeking all along.
And just like that, Isamu began training with Duy and Guy every morning. Duy thoughtfully created a routine suitable for a three-year-old, though even that left Isamu completely exhausted. By the time he returned home after their morning sessions, he barely had the strength left to make it to breakfast. He would devour his food ravenously, barely managing to stay awake long enough to finish before collapsing for a much-needed nap.
Eventually, they even invited him to their afternoon taijutsu training sessions. There, Isamu demonstrated very basic techniques while Duy and Guy carefully watched, occasionally offering gentle corrections and advice. Even in his young, small body, Isamu could sense he was impressing them. It wasn't that his form was perfect or polished—his movements were still those of a small child—but something deeper in his technique clearly stood out.
In his previous life, Isamu had been a skilled fighter—a true monster in MMA, disciplined, lethal, and deeply experienced. Now, though he lacked physical maturity and the refined coordination that came only with time and repetition, he retained a clear understanding of the essence behind each move. Even in simple punches or straightforward kicks, he instinctively knew how to position his body, transfer weight effectively, and maintain proper balance.
Yet, despite this innate knowledge, he was fully aware there were no shortcuts to mastery. True expertise required repetition—countless repetitions. It was often said you needed to perform a movement ten thousand times to become proficient, a hundred thousand to master it, and a million to truly make it your own. He had done it once before in his past life, and he was determined to do it again, no matter how long it took or how grueling the process became.
For Isamu, each exhausting repetition was another step closer to reclaiming his identity as a true master of combat.
His parents still insisted that Isamu attend the clan's evening training sessions, despite his newfound dedication to Duy and Guy's training regimen. Initially, they'd gently tried to convince him to return to the clan's morning and afternoon sessions as well, but he'd straightforwardly refused—a reaction that drew surprised looks from both of them, given he was normally their easiest, most agreeable child.
Eventually, his father folded his arms seriously and asked why he'd suddenly changed his routine. Standing firmly before his father, Isamu looked up with sincere determination shining in his eyes and answered without hesitation:
"Because I'm going to become the greatest taijutsu fighter ever."
At that particular moment, Isamu had been proudly wearing his own green jumpsuit, a gift from Duy himself. His mother cast a worried glance toward his father, clearly uncertain about this new training arrangement. However, his father simply chuckled quietly, clearly amused.
"I know exactly who he's training with," his father reassured her with confidence. "Duy is trustworthy—I would let that man watch over Ayumi without hesitation." Then, looking down at Isamu with affectionate seriousness, he added, "As long as you continue attending the clan's evening training, the mornings and afternoons can be yours."
Isamu immediately burst into an enthusiastic victory dance, spinning and punching the air in joyful triumph. He grinned widely at his parents, then ran forward and hugged them both, thanking them with genuine warmth before running off again, green jumpsuit proudly displayed.
Truthfully, Isamu knew the jumpsuit probably wouldn't remain his permanent style, but it wasn't that bad—really, it wasn't! And when Duy had handed it to him with such earnest pride and sincerity, he hadn't been able to refuse. Matching them just felt right, and the jumpsuit itself had begun to grow on him anyway.
And so time moved forward. Isamu trained every single day without fail. Duy and Guy turned out to be ideal companions, their relentless enthusiasm perfectly matching his own determination. Over the next year, Isamu never once stopped pushing himself—hand signs, chakra-control exercises, and intense taijutsu practice became his daily ritual, performed with unwavering dedication.
His training sessions were so demanding that daily naps became essential to restore his small body's energy. Yet each time he awoke, he felt refreshed and eager, always determined to improve further. One morning, as Isamu stared thoughtfully at himself in the mirror—his build still naturally pudgy but increasingly firm and toned, clearly reflecting his Akimichi lineage—he felt genuine satisfaction. He was proud of who he was becoming.
By this time, Guy had practically become another older brother to him; Isamu constantly shadowed him, learning everything he possibly could, from his rigorous physical routines to his sincere, optimistic attitude. Occasionally, their paths crossed with Guy's self-proclaimed eternal rival, Kakashi Hatake. At this point, Kakashi was around twelve years old, roughly Guy's age, with both eyes still intact since the war had not yet begun. His appearance was calm and collected, with spiky silver hair framing his face, and both eyes watching the world with a quiet, almost bored intelligence. Even at twelve, Kakashi carried himself with exceptional composure, his posture relaxed yet subtly alert, radiating natural skill and confidence.
Watching Kakashi and Guy interact always amused Isamu. Once, during a brief lull in their playful rivalry, Kakashi had quietly approached Isamu and asked him directly why he insisted on following Guy everywhere.
"Because Guy is going to become the second-best taijutsu fighter in the world," Isamu responded immediately, meeting Kakashi's calm, slightly skeptical stare without hesitation.
Kakashi's eyebrows lifted faintly, a hint of mild curiosity in his eyes. In his usual casual, indifferent manner, he asked, "So then, who's going to be number one?"
Without missing a beat, Isamu pointed firmly at himself.
For a brief second, Kakashi just stared at him, momentarily taken aback, before a voice suddenly erupted from nearby. Guy rushed over energetically, loudly challenging Kakashi to another spontaneous competition—this time, a race across the training grounds.
Kakashi sighed softly, shaking his head in mild resignation as he turned to follow Guy, leaving Isamu smiling contentedly to himself behind them.
He even had the chance to meet Obito Uchiha and Rin Nohara one time. Poor Obito had clearly been friend-zoned by Rin, though he didn't seem to realize it yet, fumbling cheerfully through every interaction with determined optimism. Watching Obito—the goofy, clumsy kid who would one day shake the very foundations of the ninja world—gave Isamu quiet yet firm confidence that he, too, could accomplish something extraordinary. Inspired by this realization, he pushed himself relentlessly, always giving a full hundred percent, refusing to ever slack or slow down.
MEANWHILE
Akimichi Renga, the clan elder who had first encountered Isamu in the library those years ago, was currently presiding over an important clan meeting. All the clan's jonin were present, alongside several promising chunin, seated attentively around him. They'd already discussed numerous routine clan matters—mission reports, resource management, and everyday clan business. Now, the conversation shifted toward identifying promising new seeds within the clan.
Unbeknownst to Isamu, his name had recently been elevated to genuine "person of interest" status in these internal discussions. The elder quietly noted Isamu's unmatched dedication and relentless pursuit of shinobi excellence, carefully highlighting these traits to the council. Several clan members nodded thoughtfully, clearly impressed, as his progress was summarized.
However, beyond the watchful eyes of his own clan, another, more secretive observer was silently at work. A Root agent had quietly submitted a detailed report directly to Danzo Shimura. The secretive organization was actively assembling a specialized team comprised of carefully selected young shinobi from the Nara, Akimichi, and Yamanaka clans—shinobi who displayed early potential and could be molded into loyal operatives within Root itself.
On this carefully compiled list of possible candidates, Isamu's name appeared prominently alongside roughly a dozen others. Danzo preferred to identify and recruit talent at a young age, long before the Hokage or regular shinobi administration took notice—giving him the crucial opportunity to shape their minds, loyalty, and skills entirely under Root's control.
By the time Isamu reached five years old, he'd become impressively proficient at the leaf exercise. He could comfortably keep a leaf attached to his palm for over half an hour at a time—an exceptional feat for someone his age. This achievement was only possible as long as his chakra lasted, but even thirty uninterrupted minutes of precise chakra control placed him notably ahead of most five-year-olds, who typically struggled to maintain it for even a few minutes.
Despite his growing skills, Isamu kept his success relatively low-key, preferring to avoid unnecessary attention. However, there was one person from whom he never hid his progress—his father, Hiroto. On one memorable occasion, his father had playfully asked him to demonstrate the exercise, and Isamu had done so without hesitation, fully displaying the extent of his chakra control. After all, his father was his greatest supporter, openly proud of his son's accomplishments. Seeing Hiroto's eyes widen slightly with genuine surprise and admiration filled Isamu with quiet pride, reaffirming the value of all his relentless practice.
His father, Hiroto, had given him permission to begin training with shuriken and kunai, and from there, Isamu had taken it upon himself to integrate throwing practice into his daily routine. Without hesitation, he created his own structured training regimen: thirty minutes throwing exclusively with his left hand, thirty minutes with his right, and finally thirty minutes using both hands simultaneously.
The routine was demanding and physically intense, but Isamu eagerly embraced it. While he trained entirely on his own initiative, he remained deeply appreciative of his father's support and trust in allowing him to pursue this new element independently. With each throw, he reminded himself there was always more to learn—always room for improvement.
A growing sense of excitement built within him each passing day. Soon, at age six, he would officially enter the Ninja Academy, marking the next major stage of his journey toward becoming a true shinobi.
Yet, at the same time, Isamu felt a quiet but persistent anxiety. War was clearly on the horizon—an inevitable reality casting a long shadow over Konoha. All he could realistically do was double down, training even harder to ensure he would be ready for whatever awaited him.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, he finally approached the unique, independent training space Mathias had created for him—a place separate from normal space and time. Isamu had always felt its presence, like a gentle tug in his consciousness, but until now, he'd chosen not to enter, unwilling to waste such a precious resource prematurely.
He already knew the rules: he couldn't spend more years training in the space than he'd lived outside of it, limiting him significantly at his current age. His plan had always been clear—to use the full span of available time right before he was sent off to war, maximizing his preparation. Yet today, he decided he needed to explore the training area thoroughly, understand every rule and limitation, and learn exactly how it operated before committing fully.
As he stepped carefully into the timeless space, anticipation surged through him. It was time to discover what this incredible gift could truly offer—and how it might help him face the uncertain future ahead.