Chapter 23 - Could He Be the Child of Prophecy?

Two days later.

[Under your wise leadership, the "Early Training Program for Medical-nin" has been approved and will enter the trial phase.]
[Reward: Monster Strength Jutsu has leveled up by one.]

“…Huh?”

Tsunade moved that fast?

And more importantly—

It actually went through so smoothly?

Kyōhiko was genuinely surprised.

But then, after a moment of thought, he understood.

It probably hadn't gone that smoothly.

The other day, the focus of his suggestions had been combat effectiveness. Early specialization was just a minor sub-point buried within his ideas about tiered training and curriculum differentiation.

Yet in the notification, there was no mention of any combat training reforms at all.

Kyōhiko let out a quiet sigh.

When it came to medical-nin—

Tsunade’s influence was undeniable, and Konoha had a real need for them.

Medical ninja played a massive role. On battlefields and missions alike, they'd saved countless lives. So having Tsunade push the early training program made it an easy pass.

But the rest of the reforms—

Would take much longer to push through.

And indeed—

At that very moment, the Hokage office’s meeting room echoed with the sound of a loud crash.

In front of Tsunade, the massive meeting table had been shattered into wooden splinters.

She was furious.

“Do civilian genin really need all that useless theory?! On the battlefield, they can’t even survive! For many, becoming a genin is a death sentence!”

“Tsunade,” Danzo replied coldly. “You’re not the only one who’s seen war. We’ve all come through blood and fire.”

Koharu Mitokado added, “The Academy’s structure was designed by the Second Hokage himself—”

“Bullshit!” Tsunade snapped. “Didn’t the Second also say not to send children into war?! How many kids have been forced to graduate early these years?! Funny how you never mention his words then!”

“Tsunade!”

Koharu trembled with anger—but had no real counter.

“Enough,”

Hiruzen Sarutobi said, brushing away the splinters with a sigh. “Tsunade, Jiraiya—this medical-nin early training program can go to trial. But revamping the Academy curriculum is too big a change, especially right now. Let’s wait and see.”

Jiraiya looked frustrated, unable to hide his displeasure.

“We finally have a moment of peace. If we don’t push for progress now, what—are we supposed to wait for another war before we act?”

He was on Tsunade’s side now.

The old guard… they were far too stuck in their ways. Stability mattered more to them than necessary change—and they refused to listen.

Hiruzen fell silent for a moment.

Eventually, he shook his head. “There won’t be another major war for a few years. Let’s maintain stability and observe. We can revisit this later.”

All the Hidden Villages had suffered tremendous losses in the last war. They all needed time to recover and rebuild.

He believed no village would dare launch another war anytime soon.

“Then that’s that,”

Tsunade stood, saying no more.

But her heart sank with disappointment.

“Tsunade, stop drinking already. You and I both know—nothing’s ever resolved in the first meeting. Getting the medical-nin plan approved at all? That’s already a big win.”

Jiraiya tried to console her.

Tsunade shook her head.

She downed another cup, her expression heavy.

“That’s not it. What hurts… is seeing a teacher I once admired for his wisdom and strength… becoming rigid and cautious. He’s lost his edge.”

Jiraiya fell silent.

He poured himself a drink as well.

After a while, he asked, “So what now?”

“I’ll become Hokage.”

Tsunade’s eyes burned with resolve.

She slammed her cup down and stood up.

“If things keep going under these old men, the village will only rot from within.”

Her tone regained its passion and conviction.

Then she turned to Jiraiya, speaking solemnly.

“Jiraiya… you need to step up and run for Hokage. I’ll back you with everything I’ve got.”

Jiraiya rolled his eyes.

Without a word, he got up and left.

“I’ll go check on Kyōhiko instead. That kid just learned the Shadow Clone Technique. If he gets reckless and trains himself to death, I’ll lose a damn good student.”

After he was gone, Tsunade sat quietly with her cup.

She didn’t drink from it again.

Her gaze turned to the window—eyes clouded, uncertain.

Kyōhiko didn’t immediately practice his upgraded Monster Strength.

Instead, he spent time understanding it—internalizing its mechanics.

With the skill at Proficient level, his chakra gathering and release became even more refined. Based on all the reading he’d done, he concluded:

At this level, small-scale use shouldn’t result in self-injury.

Of course, he still couldn’t casually unleash devastating power like Tsunade or Tobirama.

But that wasn’t the point.

Real strength wasn’t about flashy displays in battle.

Even though the skill had only improved by a single level, the accompanying insights, knowledge, and deep integration into his body’s instincts had been priceless.

Just like when he’d mastered the Body Flicker Technique.

The difference between Beginner and Proficient was huge.

Technically, his chakra reserves hadn’t changed—but his control had. He could now refine and gather physical and spiritual energy much faster.

This was the true core of Monster Strength.

"Once you master one principle, it opens the door to a hundred techniques."

These fundamentals applied to everything—from Suiton ninjutsu to high-speed movement techniques.

It was a more valuable improvement than any one specific jutsu.

“From Beginner to Proficient is a leap in chakra control. But my body’s still too fragile—I can’t handle repeated use.”

“I still need physical training.”

“And next… comes compression.”

Chakra compression.

This was a fundamental technique behind not just Monster Strength—but also Rasengan, Water Severing Wave, and others. Each used compression differently, but the core concept was shared.

That was what Kyōhiko was now studying.

Compression.

It also had tiers of mastery.

At the lowest level, someone like Naruto had to use Shadow Clones to assist with the process.

But that brute-force approach didn’t suit Kyōhiko.

He aimed for the high-level method.

Tobirama’s Water Severing Wave, for instance, was a perfect demonstration of chakra compression at its peak.

Still—

As effective as training was, nothing beat the speed of system rewards.

That morning, Kyōhiko trained his body in the courtyard. But after a while, he realized it wasn’t enough.

The exercise was too simple. It didn’t challenge his limits.

“Time to renovate the yard.”

He spent the rest of the morning doing exactly that.

By the time Jiraiya climbed up the wall to peek in, what he saw shocked him—

Kyōhiko had torn out all the wild grass and flowers. Wooden frames had been set up, each one holding multiple suspended sandbags.

“…What is he doing?”

Jiraiya was confused.

Then he saw it—

Kyōhiko threw a powerful punch—

WHAM!

The sandbags flew—

Then bounced back, slamming into him from multiple angles.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

He collapsed to the ground, groaning.

Fortunately, the sandbags had no sharp edges. Painful, but not fatal.

“He’s training his reflexes and combat instincts? Wait… he’s still wearing weighted gear on his arms and legs!”

Jiraiya was stunned.

This wasn’t just tough—it was brutal.

This kid was harsh on others, sure—but even harsher on himself.

“Seven years old…”

Most kids his age weren't even close to this level of discipline.

And inside the house, another Shadow Clone was quietly buried in books—studying with laser focus.

“People only see the glory of genius… never the blood, sweat, and tears behind it.”

Jiraiya couldn’t help but feel moved.

Even an average kid would rise to greatness with this kind of dedication.

But Kyōhiko had talent on top of it all.

“This kid will go far.”

And perhaps more impressively—

He had a depth of thought and maturity that far exceeded his years.

“Could he… be the Child of Prophecy?”

The idea was absurd.

Jiraiya felt like every promising kid started to look like the Child of Prophecy these days.

Kyōhiko was already the third candidate.

The first—Nagato.

With the Rinnegan, he certainly qualified.

The second—Minato.

Now among the strongest of the young jōnin, he’d already mastered the Flying Thunder God—one of the most forbidden space-time techniques.

And now, the third—

This seven-year-old boy.

Jiraiya stayed hidden in the shadows, watching in silence.

“Surely… there