Slug Sage's Trial

That was an existence difficult to describe accurately with words.

Calling it a slug was technically correct—its entire body was pearly white and soft, with patterns on its back that gleamed like pearls, resembling a slowly flowing star map beneath the light of fluorescent tree roots. But calling it "as tall as a person" was not quite accurate either, because its size seemed to be constantly changing. Sometimes it curled into a ball no taller than an adult's knee; other times, it stretched out and extended most of its body from the tree hollow, its eyes alone as large as Shinichi's fists. A pair of antennae extended from its head. They were not the thin feelers of an insect, but more like two glowing soft whips, each tipped with a tiny point of light that swayed gently in the air, carrying an ancient composure not of this mortal world.

Its chakra was exactly as Shinichi had sensed—Yang Release, as pure as freshly melted snowwater, without a trace of impurity. Deep within the Death Forest, where sunlight never reached year-round, that pure Yang Release felt like a stove wrapped in cotton. It did not burn, but its gentle pulse could be felt from far away.

The slug's split body had awakened.

Not because the centipede's screams had disturbed it—it had slept throughout the entire ordeal, and even the centipede turning the outside upside down had failed to interrupt its hibernation. It had awakened the moment Shinichi stepped into the edge of this area, but it had not moved because it was observing him. When it slid out of the tree hollow, fully unfurled its body, raised its head, and looked directly at him, Shinichi realized that its eyes were very black, very deep—deep enough to see stars within them.

Then it spoke. It had no mouth; its voice rang directly in Shinichi's mind. Gentle and slow, with drawn-out endings, it sounded like an elderly grandmother who never hurried as she read a long handwritten letter.

"Child of the Senju Clan. Your chakra smells like Hashirama."

Shinichi gave a slight bow. He had originally prepared an introduction in his head, including his name, background, purpose, and why he had stepped on several patches of moss. But after hearing the name "Hashirama," he discarded every word of it. The Slug Sage knew Hashirama Senju—this meant it was no ordinary split body, but an ancient manifestation of consciousness from the Wet Bone Forest left in the mortal world, one that had seen the First Hokage in person. The rules for dealing with such an existence were completely different from reporting to one's boss in his previous life—he could neither pretend nor conceal anything. He had to be sincere, while also not revealing his true intentions too quickly.

"I want to undergo the Wet Bone Forest's trial."

The slug's antennae slowly swayed once, and the point of light at the end of its left antenna drew a small circle through the air. After a moment, it replied calmly, "A trial is not an examination. A trial is an exchange. What are you willing to offer in return?"

Shinichi fell silent for a moment. It was not that he did not know how to answer; he simply had nothing valuable. But saying, "I have nothing, but let me try first," would probably have been impolite. After thinking it over, he took out his water flask, ration pills, bandages, and kunai from his ninja tool pouch and lined them up before him. Then he pointed to the flask. "If refined with my chakra, it can continuously purify water for use as the base broth when brewing medicinal herbs. I can already produce a stable output of Water Release chakra." Then he picked up a ration pill. "The recipe uses an old folk formula from the orphanage matron. It keeps about thirty percent longer than those on the market."

The slug looked at the pile on the ground, its antennae gently swaying from side to side as if examining the aura of each item. After a while of silence, it spoke again in that cloud-like tone. "The trial is simple. I will show you some things. Keep what you think is right, and return what you think is wrong."

The moment it finished speaking, the scene before Shinichi changed.

He was no longer a six-year-old child crouching inside a tree hollow. He stood on an empty battlefield beneath a scorched-red sky, with the stench of blood and gunpowder filling the air. At his feet lay a massive crater. The rocks along its walls had melted under extreme heat into glass-like crystals, while countless ninja corpses lay at its bottom. He lowered his head to look at his hands—not the hands of a six-year-old child, but an adult's hands, with thick knuckles and calluses from gripping a sword for years. The Uchiha Clan's fan crest was tattooed on the back of his hand.

The next second, he stood atop Hokage Rock, gripping a blood-dripping kunai. A deep crack had split the stone portraits of the Hokage, running from the First all the way to the Third. A voice came from behind him—his own, cold and weary. "There is no peace in this world. You all lied to me." He turned and saw Naruto Uzumaki lying on the ground, a wound pierced through his chest. His blue eyes remained open, but they no longer blinked. Sasuke stood beside Naruto, bloody tears streaming from his Sharingan as he held a sword dripping with blood.

The scene changed again. He stood beneath a boundless starry sky, surrounded by countless floating mirrors. Every mirror reflected a different scene, a different world, a different ending—one showed him becoming Hokage and receiving the cheers of thousands; another showed him kneeling before Danzo in submission; another showed him covered in chains within a sunless dungeon. Yet none of the mirrors contained the real him. Every reflection was another Senju Shinichi, dressed in clothes of different colors, standing beneath skies of different colors, with different lights reflected in their pupils.

From the depths of the void, the slug's voice slowly sounded, gentle yet powerful. "What did you see?"

Shinichi remained silent for a long time.

It was not because he had been frightened—the visions had indeed been shocking, but he had watched Naruto for more than ten years in his previous life. He had seen dozens of even more heartbreaking versions of such scenes in forum posts. What truly made him silent were those final mirrors. None of them held what he wanted, yet every one reflected the loneliness of another "Senju Shinichi."

"I saw many paths," he said. "Not one of them is what I want."

The illusion shattered like broken glass. He opened his eyes in the tree hollow, and the slug's antennae were right before him. His sweat-covered face was reflected in those profound eyes. A tear ran down his cheek, though he did not know when it had begun to fall. His lips moved slightly. After tasting the salt at the corner of his eye, he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

The slug's voice sounded in his mind once more, calm and ancient. "You have passed the trial."

Shinichi lowered his head and pushed the water flask and ration pills he had laid out earlier forward. "An exchange is an exchange."

The slug gently touched the water flask, then tapped Shinichi's forehead with an antenna. An extremely faint warm current seeped in through his brow, completely unlike chakra—cooler and finer, like a drop of dew falling onto a dried-up riverbed.

"A seed of senjutsu chakra. It is not a gift to make you stronger. It is the beginning of allowing you to hear nature's voice."

Shinichi felt that drop of "dew" sink into his lower abdomen. Warmth spread from his belly to his limbs. It was not hot, but steady and dense. The shallow wound the centipede had cut across the back of his left hand healed on its own—not with the rapid scabbing of Seal-less Self-Healing, but with his skin naturally returning to exactly how it had been before the injury. Even the fine hairs that had been brushed crooked by the slash returned to their original positions.

He bent down and packed all his equipment back into his ninja tool pouch. As he left the underground cavern, he looked back once. The slug had already shrunk into the tree hollow to continue hibernating, leaving only half its tail outside. The tip of its tail swayed gently, as though bidding him farewell. When he stepped out of the tree hollow, the silvery-white moss shimmered in the morning light with the iridescent sheen of mother-of-pearl, while the herbal fragrance in the air had faded until only a faint lingering trace remained. The old centipede in the distance seemed to still be resting where it lay. Its compound eyes could vaguely be seen turning slightly.

Shinichi looked up. Dawn had only just begun to break. His blond-haired companion was still waiting for him at the forest's edge, and he also had an entrance ceremony to rush back for. There probably would not be any time left for sleep.

(End of Chapter 25)