Hidden Leaf, Hidden Talents 41

AN: btw if anyone was confused, the demon thing is actually the main antagonist from naruto shippuden the movie. figured i should mention it in case not everyone’s seen it lol.

The forest clearing smelled like blood and piss. A young man in a black jacket was crouched next to his patient, humming some random tune while he poked around at the guy's body.

The sensor was still breathing, though he definitely wasn't having a good time. Shinji had been careful about that part, the guy had to stay conscious for any of this to be useful. You can't learn much about how someone's brain handles sensory input when they're knocked out or bleeding to death.

This wasn't some sick hobby of his. Shinji was good at plenty of things, chakra control, hand-to-hand fighting, cooking something that didn't taste like garbage, bullshitting his way out of trouble—but sensing? Absolutely nothing. Most ninja never picked up that skill anyway, but it really got under his skin. Especially since he kept bumping into enemy sensors during missions, getting caught off guard because he couldn't spot them coming, and having to scramble for backup plans instead of just sensing them right back.

But this wasn’t just about getting the upper hand in a fight. Anyone who knew their way around medical stuff would look at sensing abilities and start wondering about the obvious things. How does that information actually make it to someone's brain? Is this something people are just born with, or can you actually train yourself to do it? Any researcher worth their salt would be pushing for real anatomical studies and proper experiments. He'd never asked the medical people in Konoha for their opinion, but he had a pretty good feeling they weren't doing much actual investigating.

Crouching next to the squirming sensor, he wiped blood off his scalpel—well, kunai—like he was just cleaning up after dinner prep. His old surgical instructors would probably be horrified, assuming they could get past the whole "torturing people in the woods instead of helping them in a hospital" thing.

The sensor was tied to a tree trunk with enough ninja wire to restrain a bear. Both his eyes were gone, blood streaming down his face in thick red lines. The guy was still breathing though, which was what mattered. Dead people don't have active chakra networks to study.

He pulled out another kunai and tested how sharp it was against his thumb. His theory was pretty basic, really. Chakra sensing had to work through the brain somehow—probably the sensory cortex, maybe the temporal lobe if he got lucky. But the signals had to come from actual physical receptors first. You can't just magically detect energy without some kind of biological hardware to pick it up.

His best guess was that it happened in nerve-heavy spots where chakra naturally pooled. The spinal cord looked promising—those cervical and thoracic sections were crammed with nerve clusters that could potentially relay chakra data straight up to the brain.

He made a careful cut along the sensor's neck, going just deep enough to get through to the muscle. The man's muffled screams came through the gag as he thrashed against the restraints like he was having a seizure.

"Relax, buddy," he said, like he was talking to a nervous patient. "I used to be a doctor. Well, kind of." He pushed the kunai tip deeper, working through the tissue like he'd done a thousand times before on actual patients who weren't tied to trees. "I mean, sure, those people were usually unconscious and I was trying to help them, but the anatomy's the same, right?"

Behind him, one of his fellow clones let out this long, dramatic sigh that sounded like he was about ready to die of boredom. "Are you seriously going to keep him all to yourself the whole time? Some of us want to try stuff too."

"Get in line," he said without bothering to look up. He'd found what he was looking for—a bunch of nerve fibers running right next to the guy's spine. "Besides, this takes some actual skill. Can't have you screwing around and ruining our poor patient."

"Screwing around?" The clone's voice shot up like a teenager whose mom just embarrassed him in front of his friends. "I'll show you screwing around, you stuck-up piece of—"

"Guys," another clone interrupted from where he'd been leaning against a nearby tree. "I've got to get back and fill the boss in on what happened. This whole thing with the bandits attacking us is probably something he needs to hear about."

The complaining clone pointed right at the one hogging their prisoner. "Fine, but when you get back there, make sure you tell him that his precious research clone over here won't let anybody else have a turn. This was supposed to be a team project."

"Oh, it absolutely is a team project," he said, carefully cutting away a piece of flesh to get a better look at the nerve cluster underneath. "I'm doing all the actual work while you guys stand around complaining. Really pulling your weight there, team."

The sensor tied to the tree made this gross, wet choking noise that was probably him trying to beg for his life. The clone doing the cutting paused to check the man's pulse—still going pretty good, though the guy was definitely starting to go into shock. He'd have to finish up pretty soon.

The annoyed clone just stared at him for a few seconds, then threw his hands up. "I hate you so much."

"Feeling's mutual," he called back happily as the guy started stomping off toward the town. "Try not to trip over your own feet on the way back!"

The third clone shook his head and started toward the caravan. "Oh, the boss is going to absolutely love hearing about this mess."

"Make sure you tell him I'm getting some really good results," he said, turning back to what he was doing.

Now that it was just him and his lovely patient, he could really get down to some serious experimenting. After all, you couldn't buy this kind of hands-on learning experience.

Even if all the screaming was starting to get on his nerves.

……

The clone followed the ANBU operative down a hallway that screamed "old money". The wooden floors were so polished you could probably see your reflection in them, and everything looked like it had been maintained by generations of people who were way too obsessed with keeping their house perfect. Traditional sliding doors lined both sides of the corridor, and each one probably cost more than most people made in a year.

They stopped in front of a door that looked exactly like all the other doors they'd passed, except this one had so many sealing marks around the frame it would've made a fuinjutsu master cry tears of pure joy. The ANBU gestured toward the entrance with a gloved hand.

The clone nodded, straightened his jacket, and stepped inside. The door slid open without making any noise at all.

The room on the other side was pretty impressive. And also kind of scary.

Sealing marks were everywhere—covering the walls, the ceiling, even parts of the floor. They formed these complicated patterns that seemed to glow a little bit, creating this whole network of chakra containment that probably cost more than a small village's entire yearly budget. Right in the middle of it all was a simple stone slab that looked way too much like something you'd find in a morgue.

Two people were waiting inside. One of them he recognized right away, Hiruzen Sarutobi was standing near the stone slab. The other was an elderly woman with bright red hair that immediately reminded him of Kushina.

"Hokage-sama," the clone said, offering a respectful bow. Not too deep—he wasn't a civilian—but enough to show proper deference to the man who could probably erase him from existence with a strongly worded memo.

A moment of silence stretched out between them, and the clone felt his stomach start to twist up in knots. The quiet, all those sealing marks covering the walls, the way Hiruzen was looking at him with those sharp eyes of his... He cleared his throat, feeling awkward.

"Am I... am I in trouble?" he asked, and immediately wanted to kick himself for how lame he sounded. Like some little kid who'd been caught stealing cookies and was asking his dad if he was about to get grounded.

Seeing his response, Hiruzen's expression softened slightly. "While your recent... activities have certainly caused quite a stir among the ANBU, that particular discussion can wait. We have more pressing matters to address first.”

Part of him relaxed. The rest tensed even more. Whatever this was about, it was apparently more important than his village-wide spying operation. He turned his attention to the elderly woman with striking red hair.

"Lady Mito," he said, bowing deeper this time. "It's an honor."

The elderly woman's eyebrows rose slightly, and she glanced at Hiruzen with what might have been amusement. "My, my. Kushina wasn't exaggerating when she mentioned this particular boy had manners."

"She mentioned me?" he asked, then immediately regretted how eager he sounded.

Lady Mito's smile grew more pronounced. "Oh yes. Quite extensively, actually. Though I have to say, you’ve certainly made an impression on her." Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "She went on this whole rant about how it’s totally unfair that you can cook better than most chefs, and that you're ridiculously good at everything for no good reason. I think the word 'show-off' might have gotten thrown around a few times too."

The clone felt heat creep up his neck. 'Kushina, what exactly have you been telling people?'

Hiruzen cleared his throat, and suddenly the room felt all serious again. "Shinji, do you understand how the Shadow Clone jutsu works?"

"Yes, sir." The clone nodded. "I've got the technique down pretty well. You split your chakra evenly, transform it into solid constructs that can think and act on their own. When they get destroyed, all their memories come back to the original."

"And have you changed the jutsu at all? Modified the hand seals, messed with the chakra flow patterns, anything like that?"

The clone shook his head. "No changes at all. I followed the scroll exactly like it was written. Just regular old Kage Bunshin." He paused, looking at Hiruzen's face. "Is there something wrong with the jutsu?"

Hiruzen and Lady Mito looked at each other in a way that made the clone's stomach drop.

"Your clones," Hiruzen said slowly, "have been seen regenerating chakra. That shouldn't be possible."

The clone blinked. "Wait, it shouldn't?" He sounded genuinely confused, like someone had just told him that breathing wasn't supposed to be automatic. "But mine do it all the time. I just figured that was how the jutsu worked.”

"Shadow clones don't regenerate chakra," Lady Mito said, her voice gentle but serious. "They're made out of chakra, not actually alive. They can't make new energy any more than a rock can start growing like a plant."

The clone's face scrunched up as he tried to process this. "Huh. Well, that's weird because..." He trailed off, then let out a long breath. "Actually, now that you mention it, I've had some questions about stuff that didn't really add up. Guess this explains a few things."

Hiruzen’s expression grew more serious. "What I'm about to tell you is an S-rank secret. You're not to repeat this information to anyone. Understood?"

The clone straightened. "Yes, sir."

"There's something sealed inside your body," Hiruzen said. "Lady Mito is here to examine whether that seal might be failing."

The clone's eyebrows shot up. "Something sealed inside me? But I'm just a clone. Can you even examine a seal through a copy?"

Lady Mito nodded. "Examining the seal is possible, yes. However, if repairs are needed, I'll have to work on the original." She gestured toward the stone slab. "Please remove your jacket and shirt, then lie down."

The clone shrugged out of his jacket, folded it up nice and neat, and set it aside. His shirt came off next, and he settled down onto the stone slab.

Lady Mito put her hand on his stomach, and right away the clone felt something change. Chakra started flowing from her palm in these complicated patterns, spreading across his skin like someone was drawing on him with black ink. Dark markings appeared all over his stomach, forming these complex geometric shapes.

The feeling was... strange. It didn't exactly hurt, but it was like having someone mess around with his insides while he was still conscious and using them.

Lady Mito's eyes widened as the last of the markings materialized across the clone's skin. "Well, I'll be damned," she murmured, leaning back in her chair. "Now that's something you don't see every day."

"Is that your way of saying we're screwed?" the clone asked, trying to crane his neck to get a better look at the patterns sprawling across his chest.

"Quite the opposite, actually." Mito bent for a closer examination. "This is some seriously impressive work. I've been dealing with seals for longer than most people have been alive, and I can tell you right now—whoever put this together knew exactly what they were doing. The seal isn't malfunctioning at all. It's operating precisely the way it was designed to."

Hiruzen leaned closer. "So there's nothing wrong with it?"

"Nothing at all. In fact, it's working perfectly. The ten-year renewal cycle prevents the host's chakra pathways from suffering permanent damage. It's actually brilliant—taking an already remarkable piece of seal work and making it sustainable." Mito ran her finger along one of the intricate patterns. "Whoever modified this was a true master."

"But if it's all working like it should," Hiruzen said, "then why are his clones pulling chakra out of thin air? Is there a problem?"

"Well," Mito said, glancing between them with a slight smile, "that depends on what you consider a problem." She paused. "Tell me, have you ever been in a state where you were running low on chakra?"

The clone nodded. "Sure. During training, missions, that kind of thing."

"And what happens when you reach that state?"

"Well..." The clone frowned, thinking back. "Whenever I get close to being completely drained, I start feeling better almost immediately. Like I said, I thought it was just natural talent."

Lady Mito nodded slowly. "That's because there's an entity sealed inside you that's been feeding you energy this whole time. Its power mixes with your natural chakra and gets converted into something you can actually use. In that sense, you're not too different from other jinchuriki—they all function along similar lines."

"Uh, did you just say entity? What the hell kind of entity are we talking about here?"

But Mito was already moving on, turning to address Hiruzen instead. "Here's where things get interesting, though. Most jinchuriki can't share their tailed beast's chakra with clones over long distances, the connection just doesn't work that way. But whatever's sealed inside this boy has the ability to send energy to his clones no matter how far away they are. That's not normal, even by jinchuriki standards."

His head was pounding like hell. "Okay, seriously, what the hell is living inside me? Because you're making it sound like it's not exactly your run-of-the-mill chakra battery."

Hiruzen had gone completely still, staring down at the floor like he was trying to see through the planet’s core. When he finally looked up, there was something resigned in his expression that made the clone’s stomach drop.

"Your mother was a priestess from the Land of Demons, the entity that's been sealed inside you is called Mōryō. It's an ancient demon that tried to wipe out the entire world—this was long before the Warring States period. Your mother's family line has been responsible for keeping it contained for more generations than anyone can count."

The clone stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, trying to wrap his head around what he'd just heard. "So let me get this straight. I'm basically a walking, talking prison for some ancient apocalypse demon. That's just... that's absolutely wonderful."

"The seal is stable," Lady Mito assured him. "Mōryō can only passively send out small amounts of energy and attempt to influence the host. Nothing more."

"Influence?" Hiruzen asked, his tone suddenly becoming sharp.

"The original version of him should be fine when it comes to resisting any mental interference," she explained. "His natural mental defenses are strong enough to handle whatever whispers Mōryō might try to send his way. But clones are a different story. They're more vulnerable to the demon's influence, they could end up becoming more aggressive, more prone to violence than they normally would be."

The clone was already nodding before she finished. "And that influence comes through the same energy transfer that lets my clones recover chakra. They're getting energy from this Mōryō thing, but they're also getting a dose of whatever nastiness comes with it."

"Exactly right." Mito looked pleased that he'd connected the dots so quickly. "What the sensors picked up wasn't actually chakra regeneration at all—it was energy being funneled directly from Mōryō. The good news is that the seal itself isn't going anywhere. You don't need to worry about it suddenly failing and releasing an ancient demon into the world." She glanced toward Hiruzen. "But I would strongly recommend putting some limits on how many clones you create. And under no circumstances should your clones ever be allowed to make copies of themselves."

"Why's that?" the clone asked.

"Because each generation would have even less resistance to Mōryō's corruption. The malicious energy would build up with every layer of clones you add. A clone of a clone would be significantly more susceptible to the demon's influence than a first-generation copy. By the time you get to fourth-generation clones and beyond, they could be downright dangerous."

The clone pushed himself up to sit properly, processing what she'd told him. "So I can still use shadow clones, I just need to be smart about it. Keep the numbers reasonable and make sure they don't go making more of themselves."

"That's the idea," Mito confirmed. "Now, as for the seal maintenance—you're going to need it handled within the next few years. I could try to work on it myself, but there's a problem. This particular seal was designed specifically to work with the priestess bloodline's unique bloodline. If you need it done quickly and safely, your best bet would be to make a trip to the Land of Demons and find someone from your mother's family line."

"You really can't do it yourself?" Hiruzen asked, though there was something in his tone that suggested he already suspected what the answer would be.

Mito let out a long breath. "I could probably cobble together a replacement seal that would do the job, but it wouldn't be the same thing at all. The original was crafted specifically to work with the bloodline traits that get passed down through the priestess families. Anything I put together would be a pale imitation at best, and honestly, I have no idea how Mōryō might react to having its prison suddenly renovated by someone who's never dealt with it before."

The clone tugged his shirt back over his head. "So let me see if I've got this right. I'm carrying around an ancient demon that wants to destroy the world, my clones might lose their minds if I'm not careful with them, and every ten years I need to take a little vacation to the Land of Demons for some supernatural maintenance."

"Unfortunately, that about covers it," Hiruzen said. "But right now, what I need from you is to make absolutely certain the original understands what we've discussed here. No clones creating additional clones, period. This isn't a suggestion."

The clone straightened up and gave him a proper nod. "No clones making clones. Got it. The original will comply."

"Good." Some of the tension seemed to leave Hiruzen's shoulders. "And Shinji? Everything we've talked about in this room stays between us. The fewer people who know about Mōryō, the better."

"You don't have to worry about that, Hokage-sama. I'm not exactly eager to spread the word that I'm a walking demon container."

The clone took one final look around the room, taking in all the seal work covering the walls and the serious expressions on both their faces. He committed every detail of the conversation to memory, then closed his eyes and let himself dissolve in a small cloud of smoke.

Halfway across Fire Country, the original Shinji was perched in the canopy of a tall pine, keeping watch over the merchant caravan winding its way through the forest below. He'd grown accustomed to the sensation of memories flooding back from dispelled clones, so when the familiar rush of information hit him, he barely shifted his position on the branch.

"Ancient demon sealed inside me," he murmured, watching as one of the merchants below adjusted his pack straps. "And here I thought having bandits pestering us was going to be my biggest problem today."

He ran through the memories again, sorting through everything grandma Mito had explained. Ancient demon, energy transfers, clones being more susceptible to influence—it was like finding out your whole life had been sponsored by some cosmic horror entity. But it did explain why his clones could keep regenerating chakra and spawning more copies like some kind of ninja pyramid scheme while everyone else had to actually, you know, manage their resources like responsible adults.

"No wonder the old man doesn't spam shadow clones," Shinji muttered, watching another merchant stumble over a perfectly visible root. "Here I was thinking he just lacked imagination. Turns out he's just not powered by an apocalypse demon."

The restriction on second-generation clones was going to completely torpedo his entire combat strategy. No more exponential clone multiplication, no more drowning his problems in sheer numbers until they went away. It was like being told his favorite cheat code had been permanently banned from the game.

Then another part of the conversation came back to him, and his face twisted into an expression that could have curdled milk. Hiruzen had been very specific about needing to dispel any existing clones immediately, something about not wanting them marinating in demonic influence like some kind of evil chakra marinade.

"Oh, come on," Shinji groaned, staring up at the sky. He had some clones spread out around the caravan's perimeter and so many more outside in the World Map, probably having a grand time not dealing with ancient demon revelations. Now he was going to have to recall them and handle his mission solo like some kind of peasant.

……

Jiraiya leaned against the rooftop's edge, watching the usual market madness playing out below. Merchants haggled over prices while porters hauled goods between warehouses, and somewhere in that mess of everyday business, enemy agents were quietly working to screw over the Leaf Village. It was always the way—the most dangerous stuff happened right out in the open, disguised as nothing more than people going about their lives.

His contact shifted around beside him, clearly wound up about something. The kid was good at his job precisely because he looked like every other twenty-something you'd pass on the street, but right now his nerves were showing.

"Alright, what've you got for me?" Jiraiya asked, still keeping his eyes on a particularly heated argument between a spice trader and some official who was probably getting paid off by three different people.

"It's the Cloud Village, just like we suspected," the operative said, pulling out a worn notebook that had seen better days. "Three of their people have been making friends with the local bigwigs all week. Nothing obvious, mind you—they're way too smart for that."

(AN: Can't decide if I should use Japanese village names or English ones (Kumo vs Cloud?) Sometimes I literally forget which is which between Kumo and Iwa and end up googling the map while writing. What do you guys prefer reading?)

Jiraiya finally glanced over. "Friends, huh? What kind of friends are we talking about?"

"The expensive kind. They've been taking city council members out for fancy dinners, showing up at the same tea houses as the trade officials, sending gifts to people's wives and kids." The kid flipped through his notes, and Jiraiya could see the guy had been thorough. "They're not just throwing money around randomly either. They did their homework first, found out who's got gambling debts, whose daughter needs a dowry, which officials have been skimming a little off the top and might be worried about getting caught."

"Course they did." Jiraiya scratched his chin, thinking it over. The Cloud Village didn't mess around when it came to this kind of operation. "Let me guess—they want these guys to start making life difficult for Fire Country merchants. Maybe jack up the tariffs, slow down the inspections, find excuses to reject our goods at the border."

The operative nodded. "That's what it looks like. And with us tied up dealing with that mess on the western border, they figure now's the perfect time to choke off our trade routes through here."

Jiraiya took the notebook and flipped through it himself, scanning the details. Three names, all specialists in exactly this kind of political manipulation. He'd heard of at least two of them from previous incidents in smaller countries. "These same guys pulled similar stunts in the Land of Tea a couple years back, didn't they? And that business in the Land of Waves before that."

"Yeah, they're practically running a playbook at this point," the operative confirmed. "Question is, what do we do about it?"

"Mm." Jiraiya rubbed his chin, feeling the stubble that had been accumulating since last week. He'd meant to shave this morning, but then the reports started coming in and somehow the day had gotten away from him. "And they think nobody's watching them?"

"They're being careful, but not paranoid," his operative replied. "Seems like they figure their cover story's holding up just fine."

"Alright then," Jiraiya said, his mind already working through half a dozen different approaches they could take. "Here's what we're going to do—"

The soft thud of someone landing on the rooftop cut him off mid-sentence. Both men spun around to see a shinobi crouched at the edge of the building, still catching his breath from what had obviously been a hard run across multiple rooftops. The messenger straightened up and approached them, pulling a scroll from his vest.

The operative's eyes went straight to the official seal on the scroll. "That's from the village."

Jiraiya untied the message and unrolled it, scanning the contents quickly. Whatever he read there made his whole expression change. "Shit."

He stared out over the town again, but this time he wasn't seeing the merchants or the trade negotiations or any of the careful political maneuvering they'd been tracking. Instead, he was thinking about a kid who'd grown up believing he was just another orphan, never knowing that his father had been one of the most important and handsome people in the village's history. A kid who was apparently walking around with something sealed inside him that could reshape the entire war if the wrong people got their hands on it.

"Ogiwara," he said, turning to face his operative.

"Yes, sir?"

"I need to leave. Tonight. While I'm gone, I want you to move on neutralizing the Cloud Village network. All the confirmed operatives we've identified, take them down."

Ogiwara's eyes went wide. "Sir, that's going to blow our cover. If we move that aggressively, any other agents they have in the area will know we're onto them and disappear."

"Yeah, there's definitely going to be more of them hiding out there," Jiraiya agreed, already moving toward the edge of the roof. "Just flush out the ones we can flush out. We'll deal with the rest later."

"What about you? Where are you going?"

He paused, looking back at Ogiwara. "I've got another assignment. Something that can't wait." He thought for a moment. "Team 7 and the other squads—they're still stationed around Kitaura, right?"

"Uh, yes, Team 7's one of the groups assigned to that area. Far as I know they should still be there, unless their mission parameters changed."

"Good." Jiraiya stepped up onto the edge of the building, then dropped over the side and by the time Ogiwara leaned over to look down, the white haired man had already vanished into the shadows.

…..

Several hours into the caravan’s crawl along the road, we finally got something more interesting than potholes and migrating deer. The clash of metal rang out from the forest floor—Miyabi’s team had just blundered into a group that was very clearly not your everyday bandits.

"Shouldn't we do something?" Mikoto asked, leaning on our branch as we watched Miyabi take on two attackers while her teammates each struggled with one of their own.

I watched the mess play out below us. The merchants had huddled together by their wagon, looking about as useful as you'd expect, while Miyabi's genin teammates tried not to embarrass themselves too badly.

"They're doing fine," I said.

Mikoto gave me one of those looks. "Fine? Noboru looks like he's about to piss his pants."

"Yeah, but he's scared smart, not scared stupid. See how he's keeping his distance? Making the guy chase him around instead of rushing in like an idiot." I flicked a piece of bark off the branch. "They need to figure this stuff out on their own anyway."

"That's pretty harsh, don't you think?"

"It's realistic. What happens when we're not around to save their asses every time?" I nodded toward the fight as Miyabi dodged a swing and drove her elbow into her opponent's ribs hard enough to make him stumble backward. "Look at that—she's already dropped one and she's working on another. Her teammates are still breathing. This is good for them."

Mikoto watched for another moment, then pointed at Noboru. "Alright, but if that kid actually goes down, I'm jumping in and you can lecture me about it later."

"Deal." I shifted my attention to the tree line on the opposite side of the clearing. "Though we might have bigger things to worry about."

"Like what?"

"My clones picked up some interesting intel before I dispelled them. These guys didn’t come alone." I kept my voice low. "At least two more groups somewhere in the area—probably more."

Mikoto's eyes narrowed. "So they're definitely not just missing-nin pretending to be bandits. What the hell are they thinking, being this obvious about it? Are they trying to pick a fight with Konoha?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, but yeah, things are heading in that direction." I rubbed the back of my neck. "Either way, we're about to get busy ourselves. Let Miyabi handle the genin scrubs down there, and help me deal with the chunin."

"Got it." She glanced back down at the clearing where the fight was wrapping up. Miyabi had finished off her second opponent while her teammates managed to actually stall their fights without dying. "You know what? They actually did better than I thought they would."

"Told you they could handle it."

"But can they handle more of these guys?"

"As long as it's more genin scrubs like these, they should be fine."