Rinto wandered through the deep mountains for two whole days.
He wasn't evading pursuers. He simply kept getting distracted as he walked, his mind tangled up in the timing problems of the preactivation configuration. His feet carried him haphazardly over barren slopes, and by the time he came to his senses, he had long since strayed from the passable animal trails into dense, pathless forest. Thorns had slashed his coat full of holes, thick mud caked his trouser legs, and the materials case on his back dug painfully into him, but he paid none of it any mind. Every so often, he would squat down, pick up a stone chip, and draw anchor-point lines in the mud. He would stay there drawing for over half an hour, until the mountain wind left the back of his neck stiff. Only then would he curse himself for letting his mind run away, dust himself off, and keep walking.
His rations had run out long ago. All he had left in his pocket were two dry flatbreads Kabuto had stuffed in earlier, hard enough to chip a tooth. He would take a bite and chew for ages, his eyes still fixed on the lines on the ground. As he chewed, he would forget to swallow, until crumbs went down his windpipe. Then he would cough, curse, and gulp down a couple of mouthfuls of cold mountain water to catch his breath.
He never went anywhere near inhabited places, choosing only the most remote wilderness. The Land of Rivers had plenty of deep mountains, and the farther in he went, the fewer traces of people he found. Even wandering shinobi couldn't be bothered to venture here, which suited him perfectly-he wouldn't have to deal with those lunatics trying to recruit him or steal his technology, and could quietly wrestle with his four-nature configuration.
Only on the evening of the third day did he stumble upon somewhere to stay. Halfway up the mountain stood a mountain god's temple, mostly collapsed. The main hall's roof was long gone, but the walls of a side hall were still reasonably intact and could keep out the mountain rain. Inside lay rotted offering tables and broken statues, all reeking of mildew. It looked as though it had been abandoned for over a decade. Even wild animals rarely came here.
First, he circled the temple three times. Not just the entrance and corners, but even the tree trunks and cracks between rocks for dozens of meters around were covered in sensory anchors and triggered Explosion Release traps. If anything carrying chakra approached, he would detect it immediately. Anything that tried to force its way in would be blasted away. By the time he finished carving the last trap, all the daylight in the mountain hollow had drained away, and even the tree shadows had merged into black masses.
He kicked open the side hall's broken door, kicked all the rotten wood and shattered masonry into a corner, and found a flat stone offering platform. He swept off the dust and cobwebs, laid down two sheets of oilpaper, and finally had a makeshift workbench. Taking the pack off his back, he first pulled out his experimental records, core drawings, and the old draft notebooks he had salvaged from the fire, all wrapped in three layers of oilpaper. He carefully placed them at the back of the platform, adding a layer of dry leaves beneath them to keep out dampness. Only then did he open the materials case Kabuto had sent, pick out several pieces of the purest starfall iron to keep within reach, and shove everything else beneath the offering table, covering it tightly with a rag.
He lit a chakra lamp. Its warm yellow light had barely spread over the stone platform when his stomach let out a thunderous growl, reminding him that he hadn't eaten properly in almost a full day and night. He searched his entire pack without finding so much as a mouthful. Muttering a curse, he simply ignored it for now and spread out some rough paper to draw-the preactivation framework he had spent all of yesterday working through on the road needed to go on paper before he forgot the details again.
The root cause of the previous blowouts had been poor timing synchronization. Even a ten-thousandth of a second's difference between channel construction and anchor reconstruction left the chakra nowhere to go, making it explode inside. His revised preactivation logic used the most basic primer to scan the nature of the incoming chakra first, driving the anchors to complete their preliminary deformation ahead of time. The channels would be constructed in sync with the anchors' deformation. By the time the chakra actually flowed in, the entire structure would already be stable, with no timing gap whatsoever.
In theory, it couldn't have been smoother, but the details were full of pitfalls. How should he set the primer's threshold? Too high, and preactivation would be slow, delaying the switch; too low, and even a slight chakra fluctuation would trigger it by mistake, deforming the anchors at random and causing another explosion. Then there were the limits of preliminary deformation. The anchor structures for the four natures were worlds apart. Set the boundaries too wide, and the anchors would be too spread out to support the structure; too narrow, and they couldn't accommodate the differences between natures, and it would still collapse.
He hunched over the stone platform, his pen racing across the rough paper, drawing and crossing things out over and over. Before long, the whole sheet was covered in black blotches, while he muttered incessantly, "Fuck, set the threshold to 0.3? No, too sensitive. One twitch of the hand and everything goes to hell... 0.5? Too slow. What fucking use is it with that much delay..."
As he drew, he lost all sense of time. Only when the chakra lamp suddenly dimmed and went out, its oil exhausted, did he curse and fish out a fresh lamp to replace it. When he looked up, the sky outside the window was already turning pale.
After staying up the entire night, he had finally worked most of the framework into shape. He stretched, every joint in his body cracking. His stomach was so empty that acid rose in his throat, and only then did he remember to find food. Pocketing a Wind Release ring and taking his short blade for protection, he went outside. Within ten minutes, he returned carrying a plump wild rabbit.
He built a fire at the temple entrance, cleaned the rabbit, and skewered it on a branch over the flames. Squatting beside the fire, he stared at the dancing flames, his mind filled with the boundaries of the anchors' preliminary deformation. He picked up a charred twig and began drawing lines on the ground. As he drew, he forgot the rabbit over the fire, until the burnt smell made him cough. Only then did he come to his senses and discover that half the rabbit had roasted into charcoal.
"Fuck!" he cursed, hurriedly turning the spit, but it was too late. The blackened sections crumbled at a touch, scattering fragments all over the ground. He didn't care. He tore off the unburnt portions and gnawed on the dry rabbit meat, his eyes still fixed on the lines on the ground. Even as he chewed, he was calculating threshold parameters. He finished an entire rabbit leg without tasting the meat at all.
After putting out the fire and returning to the side hall, he washed his hands, grabbed a piece of starfall iron, and secured it in his miniature vise with a click. He fitted a new engraving tip and leaned beneath the lamp, his cuts perfectly steady. Even after staying up all night, his hand didn't tremble in the slightest. This preactivation configuration was more than twice as complex as the previous three-nature version. The primers and preliminary-deformation anchors alone numbered over a hundred, and every position and angle had to be precise to the extreme. The slightest error meant a blowout.
Halfway through the engraving, his hand grew too numb to hold the tool. He shook it out for a long time, the old splits on his fingertips aching as they pulled open again. The gauze he had wrapped around them earlier had long since worn through and fallen apart. He tossed the scraps into a corner and gritted his teeth as he continued engraving. When he cut one anchor at the wrong angle, he cursed, flung the half-engraved iron into the scrap pile, and started again with a fresh piece.
By the time he finished the final stroke, the sun was already overhead, heating the ruined temple's roof until dust kept falling from it. He removed the starfall iron, stretched his neck, which was stiff enough to feel ready to snap, and walked to the thick earthen wall at the back of the side hall. Taking a deep breath, he injected chakra.
The first shot: Lava Release. The primer instantly detected the water- and earth-nature chakra. The anchors' preliminary deformation and channel construction completed in sync, and acid sprayed out steadily, dissolving a deep hole in the earthen wall without the slightest hitch.
Rinto felt a little of his tension ease. His fingertip pressed the trigger point, switching to Explosion Release.
The instant fire- and wind-nature chakra entered, the primer responded and the anchors rapidly reconstructed. Explosion Release's shock wave slammed into the wall, shaking dust down from the temple roof. That worked too. All residue cleared away completely, without the slightest hitch.
He switched to Lightning Release. Still smooth. Lightning struck the wall and carved a deep gash, with almost no delay in the anchors' switch.
The first three rounds were absurdly stable. Rinto's heartbeat quickened a little, and his fingertip pressed the trigger point again, switching to Wind Release-this was the step most prone to blowouts before.
Wind-nature chakra poured in instantly, and the primer responded normally. But just as the channels formed, the preliminarily deformed anchors collided with the newly constructed channels. The chakra instantly went haywire. With a sharp crack, the starfall iron shattered right in his hand. Scalding fragments splashed his face, and several more red blisters burned onto his palm.
"Fuck!" He jerked his hand open and hurled the remaining fragments to the ground, his anger surging.
What happened? The first three natures worked fine. Why did it explode as soon as I switched to Wind Release?
He crouched, picked up the shattered fragments, and examined them beneath the lamp. The fracture lay precisely at the preliminary-deformation boundary of the Wind Release anchors-the wind-nature chakra flowed too fast. The preliminary deformation hadn't kept up, and the channels had finished first. The chakra surged in and shattered the unfinished anchors outright.
So that's the root of it. The flow speeds of the four chakra natures were worlds apart. Water and earth were slow, fire and wind were fast, and Lightning Release pushed sharpness to the limit. One preactivation threshold simply couldn't accommodate them all. If the slow ones worked smoothly, it couldn't keep up with the fast ones. It would be stranger if it didn't explode.
Clutching the iron shards, he cursed and flung them into the scrap pile in the corner, sending small stones on the floor rolling far away. He dropped back down at the stone platform, grabbed a charcoal pencil, and jammed it against the paper. He needed tiered thresholds, with different primer response speeds and anchor-deformation boundaries for different natures to accommodate their different flow speeds. But would that change throw the anchor timing into chaos? Would it cause the natures to be misidentified?
By the time he worked the tiered-response logic into shape, the sun had already sunk behind the mountain. A thick stack of discarded rough paper covered the stone platform, all filled with crossed-out threshold parameters. It was pitch-black again. Mountain wind swept dead leaves through the broken window, making the papers rustle, but he paid no attention. Only when his stomach growled fiercely did he remember he hadn't eaten all day. He searched his pack, found half a leftover dry flatbread, and ate it with cold mountain water. Then he grabbed a fresh piece of starfall iron and kept engraving.
After another long stretch of the night, the second version of the four-nature configuration was finally finished. He rubbed his red, bloodshot eyes and flexed his stiff, numb wrists. Just as he was about to walk over to the earthen wall to test it, the sensory anchors outside the temple suddenly hammered into his mind like mad-not just one group. More than a dozen chakra signatures collided, making even the ground tremble. They were rushing toward the temple, less than two hundred meters away.
Rinto's face instantly darkened, and he nearly crushed the starfall iron out of shape in his hand. Fuck, they can still come knocking when I've hidden in this godforsaken place? They just won't leave me alone, will they?
He swiftly stuffed the drawings, experimental records, and draft notebooks into his pack and locked it inside the iron box beneath the offering table. Then he secured his engraving tools and spare materials, his fingertips tightening around the rings engraved with Kekkei Genkai configurations, his gaze frighteningly cold. He didn't want to fight, but these people had blocked his doorstep and were keeping him from testing his newly engraved configuration. Did they really think he was a pushover?
The fighting outside drew closer and closer. He could clearly hear the explosions of colliding ninjutsu, curses, and screams. Even the temple walls shook. Then two figures were flung over by a shock wave and slammed into the temple's courtyard wall, knocking an entire section down.
One wore Konoha Anbu gear, while the other wore an Iwagakure forehead protector. Both were wounded, but even after hitting the ground, they kept fighting. Earth Release collided with Lightning Release, spraying shattered stone and blasting the already battered temple gate into splinters.
Rinto stood at the side hall's entrance, anger practically spilling from his entire body.
"Go fight somewhere else." His voice was cold as ice, rough from two sleepless nights. "If you want to fight, get down the mountain. Don't bother me here."
Both shinobi froze, clearly not expecting anyone to be inside this abandoned temple. When the Konoha Anbu saw Rinto's face clearly, his eyes instantly lit up. Abandoning his fight with the Iwagakure shinobi, he immediately shouted into his communicator, "Captain! I've found Rinto! He's here!"
The Iwagakure shinobi reacted at once as well, immediately retreating two steps and signaling behind him. Clearly, he had come for Rinto too.
Rinto's face darkened further. So these two groups weren't fighting here by coincidence-they were chasing me?
Within half a minute, more than a dozen shinobi surrounded him. Half were Konoha Anbu, half Iwagakure scouts. They had been fighting to the death moments earlier, but now all their eyes were fixed on Rinto, greed mingling in their gazes as they remained wary of each other.
"Rinto, come back to Konoha with us." The Konoha Anbu captain stepped forward. His kunai pointed at the Iwagakure shinobi, but his words were directed at Rinto. "Iwagakure has no good intentions. As long as you return with us, Lord Hokage's earlier promises still stand. Your past offenses will be forgiven, and we'll build you the best laboratory in Konoha."
"Bullshit." Iwagakure's leader sneered. "Konoha hunted him as a rogue ninja, and now you're playing the good guys? Mr. Rinto, our Lord Tsuchikage said that as long as you come to Iwagakure, you can have whatever you want. Top-grade materials, an exclusive, closed laboratory, and no one will dare disturb you in the slightest. A hundred times better than being mistreated in Konoha."
"All of you, get the hell out." Rinto had no interest in listening to their empty promises. Lightning instantly lit up the ring on his finger. "I'll say it one more time. Don't bother me here. Anyone who takes another step forward won't be leaving."
"Mr. Rinto, don't refuse a favor when it's offered." The Iwagakure leader's expression darkened. "The entire Shinobi World is searching for you. You can hide for a while, but you can't hide forever. Today, either you come with us, or we'll have to 'invite' you back."
The moment he finished speaking, both sides moved at once. Rather than attacking each other first, they surrounded Rinto, each wanting to secure him first—even if they started fighting, they absolutely couldn't let Rinto escape.
Rinto completely lost his temper.
The blowouts had already frustrated him to death. After two sleepless nights, he had finally revised the drawings and engraved a new configuration, only for these flies to disrupt him before he could even test it. He had a bellyful of anger and nowhere to vent it. He neither dodged nor retreated. The rings on his fingers lit up in succession. An Explosion Release shock wave blasted out first, flinging away the people at the front. Then Lava Release acid splashed toward Iwagakure's formation, while Lightning Release blade energy targeted the communicators in the Konoha Anbu's hands, cutting off their means of reporting back first.
Neither side had expected him to attack without warning, much less open with seamless switches between three Kekkei Genkai. Their formations instantly fell into disarray. Already wary of one another, they now descended into utter chaos. Some attacked Rinto, while others seized the chance to ambush the opposing side. Ninjutsu exploded everywhere, bringing down several more sections of the already ruined temple's walls.
He had no time to waste on these people. All he could think about was the newly engraved iron he still hadn't tested, and every extra minute of delay irritated him. Every attack aimed to cripple their mobility. Lightning blades targeted wrists forming hand seals, while Explosion Release blasted the ground beneath their feet, without the slightest wasted movement. In less than ten minutes, more than half the dozen-plus shinobi were down. The few remaining were wounded too, their eyes full of apprehension as they looked at Rinto.
"Still not leaving?" Rinto stepped forward, his gaze frighteningly cold. "Waiting for me to take every one of you apart right here?"
The Konoha Anbu and Iwagakure scouts exchanged looks. Both knew they couldn't capture him today. Dragging this out would only leave both sides badly hurt, with neither gaining anything. The Konoha captain gritted his teeth, shot the Iwagakure shinobi a vicious glare, and left them with, "We won't give up." Then his men helped their wounded and retreated in disgrace. The Iwagakure shinobi didn't linger either. They offered a parting boast, then turned and vanished into the dense forest.
The mountains finally fell quiet. Only the mountain wind blowing through the broken windows rustled the dead leaves. Rinto looked at the courtyard wall, now mostly collapsed, and the side hall, left a complete mess by shattered stones and shock waves. A thick layer of dust covered the stone platform, and even the newly engraved starfall iron was dirty. His anger flared higher. He kicked a broken brick beside him and cursed, "Fuck, a bunch of lunatics. They follow me everywhere. Can a man do his research or not!"
Cursing aside, he still crouched and picked up the things scattered on the ground, swept the dust off the stone platform, and took out his pack and drawings again. He spent ages wiping before he finally got the dust off them. By the time he finished, dawn was nearly here. After two sleepless nights and a hard fight, every bone in his body felt heavy. But when his gaze fell on the freshly engraved second-version starfall iron in his hand, that exhaustion was instantly pushed down-he still hadn't tested whether the revised tiered thresholds actually worked.
He walked to the earthen wall, took a deep breath, and injected chakra.
Lava Release, Explosion Release, Lightning Release, Wind Release. The whole cycle went smoothly, without a blowout or a hitch. Even the iron only grew slightly warm.
Rinto paused, then immediately switched repeatedly again. Lava Release → Wind Release → Lightning Release → Explosion Release. Whether he switched in sequence or skipped around, it stayed stable every time. He switched over fifty times in a row without a single problem. None of the four natures lost any power, and the switching delay was almost imperceptible.
It worked.
The four-nature dynamic reconstruction that had held him up for nearly half a month had actually worked.
He gripped the piece of black iron and stared at it for a long time before suddenly letting out a huge breath. All the strength drained from his body at once, and he sat down on a broken wooden chair beside him, nearly collapsing into it. After so many sleepless nights, dozens of exploded pieces of material, and being chased from hiding place to hiding place without even somewhere peaceful to stay, it had finally worked.
But he hadn't been happy for even two minutes before his brow furrowed again.
The four natures worked, so what about the five basic natures? Wind, lightning, water, fire, earth-could all five of the most basic natures fit inside the same medium? And what about Kekkei Tōta, something with dismantling properties like Dust Release? Could that be created using this same dynamic reconstruction logic?
The moment the thought arose, most of his exhaustion instantly vanished. He was just about to straighten up and grab a pen when his stomach suddenly growled thunderously. It was painfully empty, and only then did he remember that all he had eaten these past two days was half a burnt rabbit and half a dry flatbread.
He cursed, carefully wrapped the starfall iron in oilpaper, and placed it in an inner pocket. First, he needed food. More importantly, he couldn't stay in this ruined temple anymore. Konoha and Iwagakure's people had left, but before long, scouts from Sunagakure, Amegakure, and even Orochimaru's men would follow the scent here. If he stayed, he wouldn't have a moment's peace.
He didn't rush to pack. First, he went out with his blade and caught two plump pheasants. He brought them back and roasted them in a sheltered mountain hollow until they were crisp outside and tender inside. Only after eating and drinking his fill did he leisurely return to the temple to pack. He stuffed his core drawings, experimental records, and materials into his pack. He hid the remaining bulk materials in a crevice behind the mountain god's temple and set a concealed sensory trap. If he needed them someday, he could come back for them.
By the time he finished packing, it was broad daylight. He shouldered his pack, gave the ruined temple where he had spent only three days one final glance, spat, and turned into the deeper forest, heading toward a more remote mountain hollow where no one could find him.
He had no intention of going to any hidden village or putting himself under anyone's protection. Konoha, Iwagakure, Sunagakure-they were all the same. They all wanted to seize his technology and turn it into a weapon of war, a tool in their struggles for power. He only wanted to find somewhere not even a ghost could find and quietly unravel the essence of chakra.
He pulled his hat brim lower to shield himself from the mountain wind blowing toward him. His steps never stopped, and his fingertips still unconsciously traced the arrangement of five-nature anchors. As for those people chasing his heels, however many more came, it would only take a little more effort to drive them off. Anyone who dared delay his research would pay the price.