Chapter 43.1- One Thousand Hands

Dividing the flying thunder god into its components and trying to get each one to work separately had done wonders for his progress. In another week after his conversation with Uzume, he had managed to figure out the seal for creating a network that would allow him to sense the tags anywhere thy were in the world. That alone was a fucking unit of the seal. It had taken three days of work and manpower from over a dozen shadow clones to create his own language and another four to create the seal in that language. At least to create a working prototype of a seal. Working was a generous word for it. It was all theoretical. He still had to bind his language into reality and that was what brought him here.

He’d sent letters to Grandmother Mito and received replies that gave him some guidance but this was something he would have to do on his own. The Uzumaki sealing language was something known as a universal sealing language. That meant that anything written in that language could be use by anyone with the right training. It could also be read by anyone. What he was trying to create here was an Individual sealing language. Something bound to him by blood. He stared at the script he’d chosen.

He had to write down every letter of his sealing alphabet ahead of time if he wanted it to work and that meant he had to essentially completely invent a language. Or rather he would have had to invent a language and then have it mean something to hum, but he had a cheat code for that- Arabic. The Orphanage matron had taught him the language as a child and she’d made damn sure that every one of the kids in her care could recite as damn near the whole Quran in Arabic. He’d hated the lessons in his first life, but at least they ended up paying some dividends.

He stared at the giant scroll. It would be the center of his sealing language, if it was destroyed, the language would stop working until he could create it again. He waited until the moon was directly overhead and then began to cut his hand open. He dipped his brush in the bowl that he collected his blood within once there was enough for him to work with. He left his right hand suspended above the bowl as he traced every letter of the arabic alphabet with his blood. It was tedious, painful work, made even more annoying that he could only work on it with the dim moonlight for guidance. Fuinjutsu worked well with concepts. He was in a hidden grove within the forest, he was doing this at night, he was working to make sure his chakra was suppressed. All these things spoke to the concept of secrecy which he needed to bake into his sealing language.

The purpose of that wasn’t just to make his language harder to figure out, but it was needed to create it in the first place.