Naruto: Faint Smile - CH 104

[Takeshi POV.]

My legs trembled slightly as I leapt out of the water, barely managing to stick the landing on the narrow canal that led away from the massive underground pond.

My feet slipped a little as I crouched, but I caught myself before I fell back into the water below. Slowly, I leaned against the cool, damp wall of the sewer, sliding down to sit.

The faint smell of waste and stagnant water lingered in the air, the kind of smell that clings to you even after you’ve left. I glanced down at my soaked clothes, wrinkling my nose slightly.

“Great,” I muttered, chuckling tiredly to myself. “Now I smell like a sewer rat. That’s going to be fun to explain later.”

I rested my head against the wall, closing my eyes for a moment as I tried to catch my breath. My chakra reserves were dangerously low, lower than I’d ever let them get before. Every cell in my body felt drained, like I was running on fumes, and the steady beat of exhaustion was starting to pull me under.

Creating a new technique had proven to be more taxing than I’d ever imagined. Much more taxing. Perhaps it was the fact I had come with the idea on the flight.

I sighed, the sound echoing faintly in the dark, damp tunnel.

This was... a learning experience. That’s one way to put it.

Now that I think about it… it made sense I had wasted so much chakra on this experiment of mine. Each technique I had learned thus far, came with years, sometimes decades, of trial and error behind it. The mistakes had already been made, the inefficiencies ironed out. All the others had to do was learn to execute it.

This, though? This was something entirely different.

I had underestimated the sheer toll it would take to create something from scratch.

Chakra wasn’t the issue, it had never been, my reserves were massive, and that was without counting sage arts. And my control was excellent, more than that even, if I’m being honest. But creating a technique wasn’t just about control or raw power. It was about testing, failing, and adjusting over and over again, until the end result is as perfect as it can be.

“Oh well, at least I won,” I said quietly.

The fight hadn’t been pretty, but the result was what mattered. I didn’t like sloppy victories, but I suppose that in a way… survival was enough of a win.

I opened my eyes, staring up at the uneven ceiling of the sewer. The place smelled terrible, but not terrible enough for a sewer, was that weird?

I let out another tired chuckle. Today was quite the day… But if nothing else, it was... enlightening.

I flexed my fingers, feeling the faint tingle of chakra still lingering in my fingertips. It wasn’t much—barely enough to light a match—but it was there. I would probably pass out soon.

But all and all, I was happy, or as happy as I can be. My technique was almost complete. I could feel it, like the edge of a puzzle just starting to come together. I just needed more time—more attempts—to smooth out the rough edges.

And then, maybe, I’d have something worth calling my own. Not something Teresa taught me, or Jiraiya-sensei, something mine to rub on Shisui’s face.

For now, though, I needed to rest.

I let my eyes close again, the coolness of the wall against my back lulling me into a state of near-sleep. My breaths slowed, each one feeling heavier than the last.

The fight was over. I’d done what I needed to do. And there was no one around to finish me off, not that I could feel at least.

I could afford to let go for a little while.

Just a little while.

I was sure Jiraiya-sensei would find me.

—-------------------------------------------------------

[A few days later.]

The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the faint smell of antiseptic mixed with... ink? I blinked a few times, my vision adjusting to the warm glow of sunlight filtering through a window. I was lying in a bed—an actual bed—with a clean blanket draped over me and a pillow that wasn’t half-bad.

The second thing I noticed was Jiraiya-sensei sitting at a desk in the corner of the room, scribbling furiously into a notebook. He muttered to himself as he wrote, occasionally scratching his head like whatever he was working on was just out of reach.

“Finally!” he exclaimed, noticing I was awake. He slammed his notebook shut and swiveled in his chair to face me. “Do you have any idea how bad it looks for me to be carrying around an unconscious kid for an entire week? A week, Takeshi!”

I tilted my head slightly, my voice calm as always. “A week? I see.”

Jiraiya groaned, throwing his hands up. “People thought I was kidnapping you! Or worse!”

“That wasn’t my intention,” I replied, adjusting the blanket slightly as I sat up. “But it’s a welcome side effect.”

Jiraiya froze, his mouth hanging open for a moment before he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I even bother?” he muttered under his breath.

I leaned back against the headboard, taking a moment to assess how I felt. My chakra reserves were still low, but they’d recovered enough for basic functionality. Physically, I was sore, but nothing too severe. All in all, better than I expected.

I estimated I would be back to full function within a week or so.

Jiraiya gave me a pointed look, crossing his arms. “So, are you going to tell me what that was all about, or do I have to guess?”

I tilted my head again. “What do you mean?”

He grumbled something under his breath before pointing a finger at me. “Don’t play dumb. I know you tried something new.”

I raised an eyebrow, keeping my faint smile in place. “And how do you know that?”

“First off,” Jiraiya began, holding up a finger, “I had a talk with Zabuza. The guy looked like he’d been put through a blender. I was honestly impressed he survived, seeing that almost every inch of his body was bleeding.”

“Interesting,” I said, nodding slightly.

“Second,” he continued, holding up another finger, “I picked you up after the fight. The place looked like it had been hit by a tornado. Cracks everywhere, chunks of ground missing, it was a mess.”

“That does sound messy,” I agreed.

“And third,” Jiraiya said, his voice growing more exasperated, “you were suffering from chakra exhaustion. You. Of all people. Mr. ‘I Use My Chakra Like an Efficient Machine.’ There’s no way that happens unless you were experimenting.”

I considered his words for a moment before nodding. “Your logic is sound.”

Jiraiya leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “So? What are you calling this new technique of yours?”

I met his gaze evenly. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Tempest was the runner up for the name, but I still wasn’t sure… so I would wait until I was sure before giving it an official name.

“You haven’t—” He groaned again, dragging a hand down his face. “Takeshi, come on! You can’t just invent some crazy technique, nearly kill yourself in the process, and not have a name for it.”

“Why not?” I asked, tilting my head.

“Because it’s disrespectful to the art of ninjutsu!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide for emphasis.

I blinked. “I see.”

Jiraiya sighed, slumping back in his chair. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

I didn’t respond, letting the silence stretch for a moment as I thought about his question. What would I call it? Tempest was fine, but was it too much? I didn’t want to be the guy that has stupid names for his techniques, those people felt like they were overcompensating.

But… am I overcompensating by trying not to overcompensate?

“Did Zabuza mention anything about my technique?” I asked, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Jiraiya sat up again, scratching his chin. “Yeah, actually. He said your chakra moved like a storm, fast, unpredictable, and impossible to pin down. Something about slashes coming from everywhere at once.”

I nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a fair description.”

Jiraiya leaned forward again, his expression brightening. “There you go! Call it something storm-related. Like... uh... Skyborne Cyclone Blade Tempest Slash Formation! Or Infinite Vortex Shredder - Gale of Heaven's Wrath!”

I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds... excessive.”

“It’s supposed to be excessive!” Jiraiya shot back. “You’re naming a technique, not filing a tax form!”

I couldn’t help but chuckle softly, shaking my head. “I’ll take it under advisement.” I would not.

Jiraiya groaned again, slumping forward until his forehead hit the desk. “This is what I get for training geniuses. I should’ve stuck with regular kids. At least they appreciate flair. Then again, Minato did appreciate this, so maybe it's just a you thing.”

I leaned back against the headboard, letting my faint smile return. “Thank you for bringing me back, Sensei. And for taking care of me while I was unconscious, despite the bad reputation it might bring to you.”

He peeked up from the desk, one eye narrowing suspiciously. “Are you actually being sincere, or is this one of your weirdly polite ways of mocking me?”

“Both,” I replied evenly.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. I’ll take it. But seriously, brat, next time you try something that insane, let me be there to help you.”

“I’ll consider it,” I said, though we both knew that wasn’t likely. Besides, I didn’t create the technique because I wanted a dramatic finish, it was either that, dying or using my power… which I still have some reservations about ever since my awakening.

Jiraiya sighed, pushing himself to his feet. “Well, you’re awake now, and that’s what matters. Get some rest, though. You’re not fully recovered yet.”

I nodded, watching as he shuffled back to his desk and opened his notebook again. He muttered something about “this stupid chapter” before diving back into his work.

As the room fell into a comfortable silence, I leaned back against the pillows, my mind drifting. There was still a lot to refine about the technique, but for now, I was content to rest.

After all, there was always tomorrow.