The Seven-Tails, wrapped in wind and frost, cut across Konoha's skies and slowly descended onto the plaza.
The ninjas atop its armored shell leapt down one after another, stretching out their weary bodies.
This delivery trip around Konoha had allowed them to personally experience the magnificent scenery of the Shinobi World.
The howling sandstorms that filled the skies of the Land of Wind, the vast snowfields of the Land of Snow that chilled one to the bone, the endless mountain ranges of the Land of Earth, and the thunderous roars amid the towering peaks of the Land of Lightning left them in endless admiration. It was just far too cold up in the sky.
Tobirama, dusty from the journey, gazed at the familiar village as an idea surfaced in his mind. He recalled the natural landscapes still etched in his memory.
They could discard the crude old textbooks and print new editions for the other schools in the village, which had already begun taking shape.
His firsthand experiences and the local customs he had encountered along the way could all serve as exam material.
This was not slipping in personal preferences. It was allowing students to experience the sights of the Shinobi World through words.
"Kaimi, take the clan members to rest," Tobirama said to the red-haired man beside him. "Make preparations in advance for our trip to the Otsutsuki Clan."
The rhythm of conversation in the plaza abruptly slowed. The Uzumaki Clan ninjas present silently activated their sensory abilities, listening in on the two of them.
Kaimi glanced sideways at his clansmen, who were pretending to remain calm. Naturally, he knew what they were thinking, and he slung an arm over Tobirama's shoulder.
Tobirama looked at him in confusion. What was so mysterious that it needed to be whispered?