The days flew by under relentless pressure. Ling turned four.
To outsiders, he was still a quiet, somewhat withdrawn gray-haired child, perhaps a little sturdier and faster than the others, with an occasional fondness for staring at water jars. Only Ling knew what inhuman tempering was taking place beneath that seemingly ordinary exterior.
The "metal sensing and simulated energy oscillation" training Tobirama had devised was far more painful and tedious than anything before it. Every day, Ling had to spend hours clutching that cold half of a ruined kunai, sinking his entire awareness into it and straining to drive his chakra into the nearly impossible process of "generating heat through microscopic friction."
Failure was the only constant.
His chakra either lay utterly still like stagnant water or ran wild like an unbridled horse, heating the kunai until it scorched his hands without channeling that heat precisely into its core. The excessive mental strain often left him with splitting headaches. Even after he fell asleep at night, countless tiny drills seemed to buzz inside his mind.
[Useless! The frequency! Pay attention to the frequency of your chakra oscillations! Faster isn't always better. Find the point that resonates with the metal's internal structure!]
[Energy loss exceeded ninety-five percent again! Is your chakra a sieve?!]
[Focus! Your concentration is as scattered as an eighty-year-old woman's!]
Tobirama's scolding continued without pause, like background noise.
Yet amid this hellish torment, Ling's chakra control was undergoing a qualitative transformation at a speed even he had not noticed. His grasp of the flow, strength, and frequency of every thread of his chakra grew increasingly precise. That improvement carried over into his Water Blade training, with striking results-the blade formed faster, lasted longer, and had a sharper, more solid edge.
Late one night, all was silent.
Ling gripped the kunai in both hands again, repeating the same failed exercise he practiced day after day. Sweat slid down his temples and dripped onto the cold floor. Extreme exhaustion had left him dazed. He maintained his chakra output mechanically, trying to catch that elusive "resonant frequency."
Just as his awareness was about to dissolve, a strange intuition suddenly seized him. In a flash of inspiration, he stopped trying to force "friction." Instead, he compressed his chakra to the utmost, imitating the cutting and heating effects produced by water molecules spinning at high speed-a curious fusion of his hazy memories of "waterjet" technology from his previous life and the theory Tobirama had taught him.
Bzz!
An exceedingly faint yet distinctly different hum came from inside the kunai!
Then the fingertips gripping it felt a weak but unmistakable heat rising from within the metal!
Did it work?! Though it lasted only an instant before his surging emotions abruptly extinguished the heat, there was no mistaking that sensation!
Ling's eyes snapped open. His heart pounded as he stared in disbelief at the kunai in his hands, already cold again.
[...What was that just now?] Even Tobirama's voice carried a rare note of startled uncertainty. [It wasn't pure fire nature transformation. It was more like...a heating effect simulated through extreme shape transformation? Using the inherent flow and cutting properties of water nature chakra?]
Tobirama immediately sank into analysis.
[Interesting...very interesting!] His tone suddenly grew excited. [By sheer accident, you seem to have found an unconventional way to simulate high temperatures that is unique to the "Pure Water" constitution! The efficiency is still pitifully low, but its feasibility has been proven! Keep going! Remember what you just felt!]
Ling's spirits soared, sweeping away his exhaustion, and he immediately tried again. Though he could no longer easily reproduce that fleeting miracle, he finally had a clear direction and the experience of success. He was no longer stumbling blindly.
The flame of hope, however faint, had been lit.
Yet the shadow of danger had never been far away.
A few days later, Ling was doing his usual weighted running in the afternoon. He deliberately made himself look clumsy, breathing hard and trudging heavily, like a thickheaded child who knew nothing but mindless running.
As he rounded the corner of the courtyard, he "stumbled" and nearly collided with someone.
The man reached out to steady him. His palm was broad and calloused, his grip firm and controlled.
Ling hurriedly took two "panicked" steps back and lowered his head. "S-sorry!"
He darted a quick glance upward. It was a balding, middle-aged man with a kindly face, dressed in ordinary work clothes like a village repairman.
"It's all right, little one. Be careful when you're running," the man said with a smile, his gaze gentle.
But in the instant their eyes met, Ling clearly saw an exceedingly faint, cold, appraising glint flash deep within those seemingly gentle eyes, like a venomous snake lying in wait.
Ling's heart tightened. He quickly lowered his head, mumbled an apology, and continued running "clumsily" away.
Even after he had put some distance between them, that icy chill still clung to his spine.
[It's him.] Tobirama's cold voice rang out. [His clothes may be different, but those eyes and that lingering, sinister chakra feel are unmistakable. He's the "villager" from last time.]
[He was observing you at close range. He may even have used an extremely covert technique to sense your physical condition.] Tobirama's voice was utterly grave. [Your disguise...there's no telling how much of it fooled him.]
Ling's heart sank. Root's people were so persistent, and their disguises were flawless!
That night, Ling finished training and returned to the crowded dormitory. Just as he was about to climb into his bed, he stopped dead.
Someone had tampered with his bed.
Although his blanket was still folded and his pillow seemed to be in the same position, the half-kunai wrapped in rags and hidden deep inside his pillow had been moved!
It had been wrapped almost exactly as before, but its angle was ever so slightly different. Had Ling not spent every day with it, becoming intimately familiar with it, he would never have noticed that tiny discrepancy.
Someone had searched his bed! And whoever had done it was an extremely careful veteran!
A chill flooded him from head to toe, leaving his limbs ice-cold.
What had they found? Did they know the kunai's secret? Or was this just a routine inspection?
[Calm down!] Tobirama's voice pierced his panic like an icicle. [They only suspect. They aren't certain yet. Otherwise, they wouldn't have searched in secret-they would have arrested you outright.]
[It seems your performance of "mediocrity" didn't entirely fool that venomous snake.] Tobirama's tone was chilling. [They've taken an interest in you, Ling. Real trouble will soon come knocking.]
Ling clenched his fists, his nails nearly digging into his palms.
After the fear came fierce anger and defiance.
He hid and disguised himself like a rat in a sewer, training with everything he had, yet those eyes lurking in the darkness still watched him relentlessly. He did not have even a shred of privacy or security.
That half-kunai seemed to warn him silently: beneath Konoha's shadows, there had never been a truly safe haven.
The blade of faint light had yet to be forged, but the cold blade of reality had already settled silently against his neck.
His desire to grow stronger had never been so fierce or so urgent.
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