Kitazawa returned ho—or more accurately, to Kurenai’s house.
Instead of heading inside imdiately, he circled around to the backyard. This was the sa secluded spot where Kurenai had once practiced Rasengan with him.
’Eight Gates Formation... First Gate: Opening!’
A surge of energy rippled through him. His body trembled as his chakra roared to life, and for an instant, it felt as if a haze had been lifted from his mind. The world seed sharper, brighter—almost like waking from a vivid dream.
He flexed his arms and approached a nearby boulder. With a casual fist strike—
Bang!
The stone exploded into shards.
Kitazawa raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t even felt like he was using his full strength, yet the rock disintegrated under his punch.
In truth, it wasn’t that he hadn’t used force. It was that, with the First Gate open, he could finally unleash his body’s full potential—one hundred percent efficiency without the brain’s usual restraints.
’So this is the First Gate’s power...’
Satisfied with the sensation, he released the Eight Gates. Fatigue hit him imdiately, like a heavy blanket thrown over his shoulders.
Even the so-called "safe" gates still carried a cost.
"No wonder Gai tortures himself with that training every day," he muttered, leaning against the fence. "Without a monster-level body, you can’t even endure the first gate."
He recalled that most shinobi couldn’t get past this stage. Even soone as skilled as Kakashi Hatake had only opened the First Gate in the original tiline.
Rubbing his chin, Kitazawa thought, ’With the First Gate cos the Front Lotus... Maybe I should drop by and learn it from Gai soday.’
"What are you doing back here?"
A familiar voice startled him.
He turned to see Kurenai standing there in a flowing red dress, one hand on her hip.
"You made too much noise," she said, eyeing the shattered stones. "Rough day at school? Did your students fail the exam?"
Kitazawa chuckled. "On the contrary—they did great. I was just... practicing so Taijutsu."
"Practicing the mont you get ho?" Her tone was teasing, but her eyes sparkled with surprise.
"Let’s not talk about that," he said, strolling over and taking her hand. "When are you going to teach Genjutsu?"
"Anyti," she replied easily. "It depends more on your focus than mine."
"Then let’s start the day after tomorrow in the afternoon," Kitazawa decided after a brief thought.
"What about tomorrow morning?" she asked, slipping off her shoes as they entered the house. Her body bent in a smooth curve, pushing her ass towards him, and Kitazawa’s eyes betrayed a mont of appreciation before he answered.
"Special training for my students," he said, fighting the smirk tugging at his lips.
"During sumr break?" Kurenai shot him a look. "We never had it that tough when I was in the Academy."
"It’s not the school—it’s by their own request."
"I see." Her expression softened into a smile. "You really are a good teacher."
There was no pay for voluntary sumr training. In the shinobi world, that kind of dedication was rare.
"Anyway, I have nothing else pressing this break," he said lightly.
"Nothing?" she raised an eyebrow. "You’re juggling dical ninjutsu, genjutsu lessons, and extra classes, and you call that ’nothing’?"
Kitazawa waved a hand lazily. "I can always let a few Shadow Clones do the heavy lifting."
"Just don’t overdo it," she warned. "Too many clones can backfire."
He nodded, then grinned. "By the way... when you teach , you should show so real teacher authority. It’ll make the lessons more effective."
"Authority?" Kurenai tilted her head, amused.
"Yes. Maybe... a professional suit dress to set the mood."
She blinked, actually considering it.
Kitazawa had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Convincing his girlfriend to wear a formal suit for "teacher authority" might earn him a stomp or two—but for the sake of the view, it was a worthy risk.
Professional attire existed even in the ninja world; he thought of Mabui from the Hidden Cloud, the perfect example.
"I should start on dinner," Kurenai said suddenly, glancing at the clock. "Lady Tsunade and the others will be back soon."
"Need a hand?" Kitazawa asked hopefully.
"No need," she said, brushing his hair lightly with her fingers. "You’ve been running around all day. Sit on the couch and rest."
Watching her walk into the kitchen, Kitazawa felt a warmth spread in his chest. A kunoichi like her—competent, caring, and beautiful—could truly be a perfect wife.
Settling into the sofa, he closed his eyes and focused on the Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu. Compared to the regular Shadow Clone Jutsu, this version removed the limit on the number of clones—but the chakra and ntal risks were far greater.
He ford the hand seal.
Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu!
Smoke puffed, and three identical Kitazawas appeared in the living room.
"First try success," he murmured, satisfied. It wasn’t surprising—he had already mastered the basic technique, and his chakra control was precise.
He pushed further, summoning ten clones before stopping. A heavy wave of chakra drain rolled over him. He could make more, but the risk wasn’t worth it.
Ten was enough.
When these clones dispersed and their experiences returned, his mind would already take a heavy hit. He had ti—and he had the system—so there was no need to gamble recklessly.
The front door creaked open.
Tsunade and Shizune stepped in, carrying the faint scent of the outside breeze with them.
Kitazawa glanced over and imdiately dispelled all his Shadow Clones with a soft poof.
"Multiple Shadow Clone Jutsu?" Tsunade raised a brow, her golden eyes narrowing with interest. "Well, well... The old man actually gave you that forbidden technique? What did you do?"
"Nothing," Kitazawa replied simply, his tone almost casual. "I just... taught well."
Tsunade gave him a flat look, then dropped onto the sofa, stretching like a lazy cat.
"Do you really expect to believe that?" she asked, skeptical.
Kitazawa hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Let’s just say... my students are a bit special."
A flicker of realization passed through Tsunade’s eyes. She didn’t know all the nas in Kitazawa’s class, but she did know one of them—Uzumaki Naruto, the Nine-Tails’ vessel.
The thought of Naruto tugged at an old mory. She pictured Kushina, fiery and laughing, running through the village years ago. Tsunade had watched her grow up under Mito’s guidance... and now, only her son remained. A soft sigh slipped past her lips.
"Is everyone back?"
Kurenai erged from the kitchen carrying a basin of water. Her hair was tied into a casual ponytail, draped over her shoulder, and she wore a simple white apron over her dress—dostic yet elegant.
"Co wash your hands. Dinner’s almost ready," she said with a gentle smile.
"I think your hair looks better down your back," Kitazawa said as he approached, lightly brushing her ponytail behind her so it spilled across her back again.
Her cheeks tinted faintly, and she shot him a subtle glare. ’Not now—there are guests.’
He got the ssage and obediently washed his hands.
Of course, Tsunade and Shizune weren’t blind. Spending weeks together on Yakumo’s Ninjutsu project had already let them notice the quiet intimacy between the two.
Tsunade only smirked inwardly. Handso, capable, and young—of course a woman like Kurenai would fall for him.
Shizune, on the other hand, felt a small pang of envy. Traveling with Tsunade, she rarely t n—and when she did, the first thing they asked for was usually money.
Not long after, the four sat around the dining table.
"So, Lady Tsunade," Kitazawa began as they settled in, "what are your plans for this afternoon?"
"Casino," she said imdiately and without sha. "If you want to continue your dical ninjutsu studies, Shizune can take you to the hospital."
"Lady Tsunade, we’re broke," Shizune muttered in exasperation.
"What? Out of money again?" Tsunade’s eyes went wide in disbelief.
Shizune arched a brow. "Do I even need to answer that?"
Tsunade deflated instantly, slumping onto the table like a scolded child. Her generous chest pressed against the wood, and even Kurenai found herself glancing away in awkward surprise.
A sharp kick under the table brought Kitazawa back to his senses. He coughed into his hand.
"Since we’re low on funds, maybe we should focus on developing that new Ninjutsu sooner rather than later," Kitazawa suggested, tone now completely serious.
"Fine, fine..." Tsunade rubbed her temples. "Kurenai, call Yakumo over this afternoon. We’ll get started."
"Understood, Lady Tsunade," Kurenai replied with a nod.
anwhile, at the Uchiha compound...
"Sasuke, what’s with the long face?" Mikoto erged from the kitchen, apron tied around her waist, her gentle voice carrying a smile.
"I got second place," Sasuke muttered, crossing his arms.
Though Kitazawa had promised him special training, the sting of losing first place hadn’t faded.
"Second place is still impressive," Mikoto said, a little surprised.
"The Uchiha don’t settle for second," he grumbled. "Besides... Nii-san was always first."
"You are you. Your brother is your brother." Mikoto tapped his forehead with a finger. "Don’t live in his shadow."
"Then who am I supposed to imitate?" Sasuke tilted his head, genuinely confused.
Ever since Shisui’s death, the younger generation had only one role model—Itachi.
"That’s not the point," Mikoto said gently. "You don’t need to imitate anyone. Find yourself."
Sasuke frowned, thinking. "...I don’t get it."
"Then find your strongest suit," she explained.
His eyes lit up. "Kitazawa-sensei said sothing like that too! My strongest suit is obviously the Sharingan!"
Mikoto sighed inwardly. ’So that’s all he heard...’
The Uchiha Clan lived and breathed the Sharingan. Fugaku, Itachi, and now Sasuke—all obsessed with power. She couldn’t entirely bla them; this was the air the clan breathed.
"Mom, when will Dad be ho? I need to tell him sothing."
"Evening, probably," she replied. "Why not tell first?"
"I can tell you too." Sasuke hesitated. "I’m joining Kitazawa-sensei’s sumr special training. Next sester... I’ll definitely beat Naruto!"
Mikoto’s eyes flickered. "...Who?"
"Uzumaki Naruto. He only beat this ti because he was lucky," Sasuke said grudgingly.
Mikoto’s heart tightened. ’Kushina’s son...’
She forced a small smile. "I knew his parents."
"Were they strong?" Sasuke asked, curiosity piqued.
"Stronger than you can imagine," she said softly.
"Then why," Sasuke frowned, "do people still dare to call him a monster?"
Mikoto’s lips parted, but no words ca.
"...Who were his parents?" he pressed.
"I—ah! The stew!" Mikoto suddenly jumped to her feet. "I need to check the kitchen before it burns!"
Sasuke stared after her, baffled. "...Huh?"
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