The wind whispered through the quiet forest clearing behind the house—far from Mikay’s kitchen hums or Zack’s hammering forge. Here, Kagami stood alone, surrounded by dozens of embedded kunai glinting from rocks, stumps, and trees, each etched with identical three-pronged marks and the same complex seal near their base.

  Sweat clung to his brow, but his eyes—those crimson orbs of his Sharingan—glowed with unwavering focus.

  He inhaled deeply.

  “Again.”

  He hurled a kunai at the moss-covered boulder ahead. The instant it struck, he weaved the signs—boar, rat, dog, bird—and vanished in a ripple of reality.

  His body flickered—then reappeared two meters short of the mark, stumbling hard.

  Kagami fell to one knee, panting, fists clenched.

  Still unstable… the blend of chakra and mana disrupts the anchor point.

  I’m forcing it. I need to feel it—like I once did under Tobirama-sensei’s eyes.

  He closed his eyes.

  The forest melted into memory.

  ---

  A memory of war…

  Kunai cttered against stone as a younger Kagami stared at a wounded comrade surrounded by Iwagakure assassins. In a fsh, Tobirama stood beside him, hand on his shoulder.

  "Distance is an illusion to those who understand space. Remember—it's not about speed. It's about intent. Feel your destination, not the path."

  In a heartbeat, Tobirama disappeared—reappearing behind the enemy. One ssh. One instant. Victory.

  ---

  Back in the clearing…

  Kagami opened his eyes. The Sharingan swirled, the tomoe aligning. He threw another kunai—this time into a tall pine on the far side of the gde.

  He steadied his breath.

  “Not the path… the destination.”

  His chakra surged—and with it, the mana that flowed like a second heart.

  A ripple. A shift. A snap.

  He vanished—and reappeared perfectly beside the pine. No stumble. No backsh.

  Kagami let out a breathless ugh.

  He raised his hand and caught another kunai mid-air, thrown earlier by hand as a test.

  “Two-point transfer complete,” he muttered. “It works.”

  He dropped to a sitting position, the excitement dulling slightly as exhaustion took over. His body ached—not from the movement, but from the strain of bancing space-time chakra with ether-mana.

  And yet, there was more.

  He looked at a single kunai nearby, driven into a ft stone altar he’d carved earlier. It was ringed with twelve other kunai forming a rge circur seal.

  This was not just for jumping between locations—but for combat chains. Kagami could feel it.

  If he could yer these seals—mark battlefield points, enemies’ weapons, or allies' gear—he could control flow, surprise, and death.

  He stood again.

  But this time, he tapped his fingers together and activated his Sharingan. The red glint returned, its vision sharp enough to trace the minute chakra threads of the jutsu.

  Through the eyes of the Uchiha, the entire battlefield became a web—and he stood at its center.

  “Hiraishin… perfected with these eyes… I can become a ghost,” he whispered. “Untouchable.”

  He hurled five kunai—each to a tree in the far corners of the gde.

  Then, in a blur, he leapt—and began chaining teleports in mid-air, vanishing and reappearing faster than the eye could follow, his Sharingan tracking everything.

  By the end of it, the trees were scarred, the grass torn, and a trail of cracked earth ran through the field.

  Kagami fell to one knee again.

  But this time, he smiled.

  “I’m close now. The old me… and the new me… are finally becoming one.”

  In the distance, a shadow moved silently behind the trees—unnoticed.

  Someone—or something—had watched his entire session.

  ---