STIN: Chapter 15/17

Chapter 15: Whetstone

Ryo almost sped back to his shabby house without his feet touching the ground. The door slammed shut behind him with a bang, shaking dust from the ceiling.

He leaned back against the cold door, running a hand through his striking red hair, coarse and rough like dry grass.

"What the hell," he cursed under his breath. The scene at the Senju main house entrance replayed in his mind. Tsunade's scrutinizing gaze, Mito's all-knowing gentle smile, Nawaki's idiotic face as if he'd seen a ghost, and… Kushina's small gesture of tugging his clothes.

That feeling was worse than being stripped naked and thrown into a marketplace.

He roughly scrubbed his face, trying to suppress the inexplicable heat and an unidentifiable irritation.

Wasn't it just carrying an injured little girl home?

What's the big deal. The key was what?

He actually ran away.

This was completely not Kamiyama Ryo's style.

Normally, he wouldn't even flinch at cracking the heads of classmates who dared disturb his sleep—yet this time, he'd run off in a panic.

Humiliating. Too humiliating.

The more Ryo thought about it, the more choked up he felt, a nameless fire rising in his chest.

No, he had to vent.

Grrrrumble.

Coinciding with his thoughts, his stomach let out a resounding protest.

Hungry. A hunger more intense than after training instantly washed away all other thoughts.

He also had to prepare for that little bandit Kushina's raid tomorrow.

Ryo sighed.

This little girl, once she latched on, she wouldn't let go. Ever since a piece of pork hock started it last time, he felt like he'd boarded a pirate ship, automatically adding a few extra ounces of meat to his lunch every day.

"Trouble." He squeezed these two words through his teeth, but his hand dutifully grabbed the old cloth bag hanging in the corner and a katana with a slightly worn edge.

No matter how troublesome, he couldn't starve himself.

The night was inky black, carrying the unique chill of late autumn and the rusty smell of soil mixed with decaying leaves.

Ryo, like a phantom merged with the night, silently scaled the outer wall of Konoha.

The patrolling ninja squad remained completely unaware of his deliberately suppressed presence.

He could find his way to the depths of the Forest of Death with his eyes closed.

At night, the Forest of Death's danger level escalated exponentially.

But for Ryo, this was his hunting ground, his refrigerator, and his training ground.

The air was filled with a strong wild scent, and the glowing beast eyes in the darkness outnumbered the stars in the sky.

His luck was good tonight. He didn't have to try too hard to encounter a lone adult wild boar.

This fellow was fat and strong, with gleaming white tusks, very fierce, and an excellent source of energy.

Swish.

Ryo didn't use a sharpened wooden stick this time. With a flick of his wrist, the katana at his waist unsheathed with a faint hum.

In the dim light, the blade reflected the cold moonlight, as intimidating as the sharp glint in his eyes.

The wild boar roared and charged.

Ryo stood firm, his feet unmoving. The instant the tusks were almost about to pierce his lower abdomen, his body slid sideways at an incredibly strange yet fluid angle, as if practiced a thousand times.

At the same time, the katana transformed into a white line, difficult to discern with the naked eye, slashing upward diagonally.

Shing!

A soft sound, like a sharp knife cutting through thick leather.

A line of blood shot out into the air, carrying a scorching heat.

The massive wild boar didn't even have time to let out a dying squeal before it slammed heavily to the ground, maintaining its charging posture. Its limbs twitched a few times, then it stopped moving.

The entire hunt was swift, precise, and deadly.

Ryo flicked off a few drops of hot blood from the tip of his blade and emotionlessly sheathed his sword.

Only the smell of blood rapidly permeated the air.

Just as he habitually dragged his prey, preparing to process it on the spot, an extremely subtle yet unusual sensation, like an ice needle piercing bone, suddenly shot up his spine to the back of his head.

Not a beast. It was a human, carrying a hidden killing intent.

In a flash of lightning, Ryo didn't even have time to fully turn around.

Swish.

A blade of water, carrying a fierce wind pressure, tore through the air without warning, precisely slicing toward the joint of his right arm, which was dragging the prey.

The speed was incredible, the angle so tricky, definitely a master.

Buzz.

Ryo's body, driven by instinct, erupted with its maximum potential. The hand holding the sword moved almost at the same instant he perceived the danger.

It wasn't a block, nor was it an evade. Instead, his body's center of gravity inexplicably sank, his arm muscles instantly tensed like steel cables, and he spun back fiercely, using the heavy wild boar corpse as leverage.

Puff.

A large chunk of the wild boar's hind leg was grazed and cut off by the water blade, splattering foul blood and taking what should have been a fatal blow for him.

"Damn it."

Ryo cursed angrily, his internal alarm bells ringing wildly.

This was an ambush.

Where did this master come from?

Could it be Danzo's old cunning Root ninja? Or an enemy spy?

He had no time to think. He pushed with his left hand, kicking away the obstructive wild boar carcass. His right hand unsheathed the katana with a clang, and he twisted like a predatory leopard, the cold blade tip pointing directly at the attacker's blurry figure.

The moonlight fell sparingly, revealing the attacker dressed in standard Konoha Anbu attire, wearing a featureless animal mask. Only a pair of eyes, hidden in the shadows, were sharp as an owl's, coldly locked onto him.

No words, no explanation.

The Anbu flickered, charging forward again, even faster than before.

This time it wasn't an ambush, but a full-on frontal assault.

He quickly formed hand seals, moving so fast that he left afterimages.

"Suiton: Mizurappa (Water Release: Wild Water Wave)."

Splash.

A massive torrent of water seemed to be summoned from thin air, forming several high-speed swirling currents that fiercely crashed into Ryo.

Ryo's pupils constricted. Instead of retreating, he advanced. The 30 percent combat experience inherited from Shanks erupted with brilliant light at this moment.

He pushed off with his feet, creating a shallow pit in the ground, and charged head-on into the roaring water currents.

A flash of sword light. So fast that only a flowing silver streak remained.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

The katana became an afterimage in Ryo's hands. Every slash, every block, precisely struck the core or weakest point of the water currents.

The immense impact made his arm muscles bulge. Every collision caused his blood to churn, but his steps remained exceptionally steady. He forcefully shattered the Mizurappa, which could have sent an ordinary chūnin flying, inch by inch.

Amidst the splashing water, Ryo's eyes grew brighter and brighter. A long-lost, exhilarating battle spirit burned in his chest.

This pressure—this oppressive feeling—was exactly what he needed to break through his limit.

"Again." Ryo let out a suppressed growl from his throat, his battle intent boiling.

He cast aside his initial surprise. Whoever you are, if you're going to throw yourself in my way, don't blame me for cutting you down to hone my edge

(To be continued.)


Chapter 16: The Mask Comes Off

The "Anbu" showed a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but his movements became even faster.

Hand seals changed again!

"Suiton: Suijinheki! (Water Release: Water Formation Wall)"

A thick, diamond-shaped water wall rose from the ground, blocking Ryo's sword strike. At the same time, several thinner, sharper arrows of water shot out silently from behind the wall, aiming straight at his vitals.

Clang, clang, clang!

Ryo's sword spun like a wheel, shredding every water arrow. At the same moment, he ducked low and lunged forward.

The tip of his sword instantly pierced the core node of the water wall.

Pop!

With a crisp sound, the Suijinheki shattered into fragments of water.

A slight frown appeared beneath the mask.

The "Anbu" was clearly surprised that Ryo could so easily find the weakness of Suiton techniques. This wasn't just brute strength—it required sharp insight and combat intuition.

"He" decisively changed strategy. No more Suiton, which consumed chakra and was proving ineffective. His body flickered as he switched to taijutsu.

Fists, elbows, knees, and legs… every strike carried heavy wind pressure, forceful and vicious, each coming from cunning, unpredictable angles.

Ryo met him head-on without flinching.

With Shanks' battle experience fused into him, close-quarters was exactly his territory.

His katana chopped, hacked, parried, and thrust in sweeping arcs, while his fists and feet slipped in counterstrikes that came out of nowhere.

There was no fixed pattern to his movements, only the wild unpredictability of a death match. Every impact rang out with a dull, powerful thud.

In the forest, two figures fought at blistering speed, each clash stirring up gusts of wind, metal ringing, and a flurry of leaves scattering into the night.

Bang!

After blocking a heavy punch, Ryo seized the opening and whipped his leg around like a steel lash, striking the opponent's waist. The impact felt like kicking a steel ingot wrapped in rubber.

"Ugh!"

The "Anbu" grunted, forced several steps back by the blow. Under the mask, his eyes widened slightly.

This kid's strength… it's rising? The recoil left a subtle numbness in his waist and abdomen.

Ryo, sensing the advantage, was about to press forward when suddenly, a profound, mystical sensation erupted deep inside him. It was like a dam finally cracking under floodwaters.

In his mind, the system prompt that had been stuck at [Shanks' Legacy Integration: 30%] burst into radiant light.

A cold, mechanical voice rang out:

[Host detected breaking through bottleneck under extreme pressure. Shanks' Legacy Integration increased to: 30%!]

[Legacy continues to unlock…]

[Shanks' Legacy unlocked to: 60%!]

[Shanks' Legacy Integration increased to: 35%!]

Buzz—

A torrent of power surged through his limbs and bones, vaster than ever before.

Shanks' advanced combat wisdom, refined swordsmanship, mastery of Haki and body control, all of it poured into his mind and muscle memory like a flood.

It was like a metamorphosis from within, breaking free of a cocoon. Power surged, bones resonated, dormant cells rejoiced.

[Legacy unlocked! Current Integration: 35%]

[Integration 30%-60% corresponds to: Jōnin-Kage level (potential)]

Ryo's movements stilled for a fraction of a second. His silver-gray eyes blazed brilliantly in the dark.

So that's it.

The bottleneck wasn't going to move with easy training. He needed this kind of brutal, life-or-death pressure.

"So… you were a big help!" Ryo's lips curved into a grin filled with fighting spirit and a touch of bloodlust. His voice was low but sharp with excitement. "Thanks."

This time, he charged first. His movements turned crisp, fluid, and lethal.

Every step was ghostlike. The katana in his hand was no longer clumsy hacking—it now carried an indescribable "spirit" and weight.

The sword had become part of his body.

The "Anbu" immediately sensed the difference.

Ryo's speed, strength, technique, and even aura all surged to a new level.

If before, he could maintain a slight edge with experience and stronger chakra, now a crushing pressure pressed down on him.

It was as if his opponent was no longer a child, but a veteran swordsman forged through a thousand battles.

They clashed again, but the tide had shifted.

Ryo's swordsmanship grew sharper, each strike carrying an invisible cutting edge that tore the air with piercing shrieks. Even stray leaves were sliced apart by the passing blade.

Bang!

After another fierce collision, the "Anbu" retreated with the force, then clapped his hands and aimed toward a hanging waterfall nearby.

"Suiton: Suiryūdan no Jutsu! (Water Release: Water Dragon Bullet Technique)"

Boom!!!

A deafening roar shook the forest.

The waterfall surged as if seized by an unseen giant hand, forming into a massive, ferocious water dragon that barreled forward, jaws wide with crushing force.

Even before it reached him, the gale whipped at Ryo's face.

His eyes lit up. He didn't retreat. He stepped forward instead, katana raised high. His arm swelled with explosive strength.

Slash!!!

Buzz!

The blade cut an arc brighter than moonlight, tearing the air itself apart.

A visible crescent-shaped shockwave erupted from the swing. No ornamentation, no tricks—just pure cutting intent.

Chhh—!

The shockwave sliced through the massive water dragon like tofu.

The dragon exploded into a downpour of scattered rain.

The slash didn't stop. It tore into the ground behind the "Anbu."

Rumble!!!

Dirt and stone blasted apart. A trench several feet deep and ten meters long appeared in the darkness.

The "Anbu's" pupils shrank beneath the mask.

Ryo's chest surged with battle spirit, ready to press the advantage, squeezing every drop of value out of this opponent.

But then, the flood of newly integrated power abruptly cooled.

An overwhelming wave of fatigue and weakness crashed through his body.

The intense limit breakthrough and battle had wrung out every ounce of strength.

The arm holding his katana trembled with soreness, each breath burned in his chest, his legs felt like lead, and even standing upright was a struggle.

He braced himself with the tip of his sword, panting heavily, sweat dripping down his face.

"Damn it. Eight-year-old body really can't handle this?" he cursed inwardly. The strain had completely drained his still-developing body.

The power was real, but his body needed time to adapt.

Rain fell, soaking his hair, blurring his vision.

The forest lay in ruins, the only sounds the rushing waterfall and his ragged breathing.

The "Anbu" stood not far away, watching him through the rain. There were signs of exhaustion as well, his uniform torn from the backlash of his own Suiton techniques.

Bang!

A puff of white smoke burst out.

The "Anbu" vanished.

In his place stood a tall woman.

Golden hair glistened in the moonlight, clinging to her temples and slender neck. Her soaked uniform outlined a strong, curving figure.

Her striking face carried the lingering sharpness of battle.

It was none other than the princess of Konoha, Senju Tsunade—the same woman Ryo had been desperately trying to avoid earlier.

Ryo's head snapped up, his mind buzzing at the sight.

Tsunade?!

Absurdity and irritation spiked through him.

He had come into the forest to blow off steam, specifically to avoid her and the circus-like atmosphere around her. And instead, he got nearly beaten to death by her?

"Hahahaha!"

Tsunade let out an unrestrained laugh, echoing through the wrecked forest, startling a few night birds.

"Kid!" She strode forward, a mischievous grin on her beautiful face, drawing out her words. "Didn't expect it was me, did you? Fun fight?"

(To be continued.)

Chapter 17: Aftermath


Ryo silently looked at the smiling face in front of him, then at the deep, long trench his slash had carved into the ground, and the wild boar carcass in the distance with half its hind leg cut off. A heavy sense of bewilderment washed over him.

What is this supposed to mean?

Just because I did not go to the Senju house for tea, you disguised yourself as Anbu, chased me into the Forest of Death, and "taught me a lesson"?

Is her brain wired wrong?

Ryo felt a herd of curses stampeding through his chest, but only squeezed out a dry line: "…Tsunade-sama?"

Tsunade seemed to completely miss the storm in his chest, or rather, she caught it and did not care.

She ignored the curves traced by her drenched combat uniform as she walked a few steps to stand before Ryo. She looked down at him, but her eyes were much gentler than during the fight, carrying the pickiness of someone satisfied with an inspection.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" She raised an eyebrow. A soft green light bloomed at her fingertips as she pressed precisely on his shoulder and arm grazed by a water blade.

Warm life energy poured in, and the small wounds visibly closed and scabbed. His sore, weak muscles felt as if a warm current had been injected, and his fatigue quickly receded.

Ryo's body recognized the technique at once, A-rank ninjutsu, Shōsen Jutsu (Mystical Palm Technique).

His tensed muscles relaxed a little on their own, but his guard and confusion did not drop at all.

"Tsk. Not badly injured, just too much consumption. This small body is still a bit weak." Tsunade finished the treatment, withdrew her hand, and patted it clean. Her movements were swift and decisive.

"Do not look at me like that, kid." She finally put away her mischievous smile, though a hint of teasing still lingered in her eyes. "You think I am so bored I ran over here just to beat you up and vent?"

Ryo pursed his lips and stared at her in silence.

The meaning in his eyes was clear. Otherwise?

"Phew." Tsunade wiped the rain from her face, then jerked her thumb at the boar carcass lying behind them. "Let's get this big guy back. I'm starving, and that fight took more out of me than I expected."

Her words carried the casual authority of someone used to giving orders, but there was no real malice in them—just straightforward bluntness.

Ryo: "…"

She raised a brow when he didn't immediately move. "Well? The rain's not letting up anytime soon. You planning to stand here until we're both drenched?"

Ryo took a steady breath, suppressing the urge to argue. He wasn't in top shape, and the last thing he needed was a drawn-out spat with a woman like Tsunade. Better to save his strength for something that actually mattered.

He stood up, forced down his body's protests, walked to the boar carcass, and hefted it up roughly.

Tsunade, meanwhile, casually carried the severed hind leg as if it weighed nothing.

She glanced at Ryo's strained movements, said nothing, and only raised her chin to indicate, "Lead the way."

Rain washed the forest path, leaving behind two silent sets of footprints.

Ryo carried the heavy boar, each step stamping deep into the mud.

The exhaustion in his body had been eased greatly by Tsunade's treatment, but the questions and frustration in his chest snowballed.

By the time they returned to his dilapidated house on the village outskirts, as simple as a shack, the rain had just stopped.

Ryo swung the boar off his shoulder with a clang onto the big bluestone in the yard that served as his chopping block, splashing mud and water.

He reversed his grip and stabbed the chipped, broken sword into the ground, then pushed open the creaking wooden door without a word.

Tsunade followed closely and walked in without ceremony.

The house was extremely simple, with almost no furniture. The most eye-catching things were a huge seasoning box, releasing all kinds of spice aromas, and a pile of homemade long meat skewers and baskets of smoked meat by the wall.

The air was full of firewood, dust, and spices. It was not pleasant, but for Ryo at that moment, it was the only place he could breathe. Though his safe haven had just been invaded.

"Tsk, poorer than I thought." Tsunade looked around without restraint, her gaze sweeping over a few yellowed ninja scrolls in the corner, then landing on the large seasoning box and the neatly stacked leaf-wrapped bundles beside it. "But you are pretty well equipped."

Ryo ignored her. He scooped a ladle of cold water from a chipped ceramic jar in the corner, tilted his head back, and gulped it down. Water slid down his increasingly defined jawline, washing off a trace of his ragged look.

The cold water pressed down the burn in his throat and the agitation in his chest.

He wiped his mouth, did not bother with greetings, and went straight to the big bluestone in the yard.

Konoha's night went quiet again.

Only the whistle of a blade through air and heavy chopping thuds broke the silence.

Moonlight slipped out from behind the clouds, illuminating the focused redhead in the yard.

Ryo rolled up his sleeves, revealing the clean muscle lines on his forearms. Young, but full of power.

The thick-backed cleaver felt weightless in his hands, driven with brutal efficiency.

Swish, swish, swish.

The blade flashed in the moonlight, flowing like water.

Thick hindquarter meat?

A swift chop, clean decomposition into stew-ready chunks, the crisp sound of bone separating from meat sharp and clear. Tough fascia was as fragile as paper under his knife.

Ribs with tender meat?

A precise slicing cut along the bone seam, the tip prying and turning, and evenly thick, snowflake-patterned slices scattered like petals into the rough ceramic basin.

Lean leg meat? Thin slices. The blade ran along the grain, each slice translucent and almost identical in size.

Tenderloin? Large cut. The knife swept in an arc to remove a complete strip.

Separating tendons. Deboning. Trimming fascia.

His movements were swift, precise, and dominant, every detail showing the skill of a seasoned butcher and a self-contained violent meat aesthetic.

The boar's massive body was systematically disassembled under his orderly hands, not an ounce wasted.

Sweat trickled from his forehead onto the cold stone slab. He did not seem to notice, his eyes fixed on the mountain of meat.

Tsunade leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, watching.

The scrutiny and playfulness in her gaze gradually faded, replaced by growing surprise and focus.

This kid's knife work, it is not just strength and speed. It is eyesight, prediction, an instinct in his bones, honed across countless cuts.

This is not cooking at all. It is another form of combat artistry.

The focus and confidence coming off his movements were more condensed and pure than many sword masters she had seen.

This kid had a terrifying sense of control.

When Ryo picked up the large ceramic basin, poured in a generous amount of coarse salt over the mountain of tender slices, then scattered dried chili flakes and various spice powders, and finally drizzled shimmering animal fat and thick miso, the dominant yet complex spicy aroma burst out at once.

Then he slipped on thick "gloves" made from bark and vines, and got to work.

Slap. Slap. Slap.

His powerful hands plunged into the meat, kneading, squeezing, and grabbing. Every motion carried raw power, making sure every piece was tightly coated with the thick spices and oil.

The air began to fill with a rich, mouthwatering aroma.

(To be continued.)