#33 - Mikoto: Seiji's muscles are better than Fugaku's (Please read it again, let's p
“The spiritual change is… in the left eye.”
Kiyoshi could feel a power gestating inside, just a hair's breadth away from sprouting.
He didn't put on a shirt, and then began to refine chakra within his body, gathering it and directing it along the meridian pathways of 'Lightning Release: Iron Skin'.
Invisible currents of electricity spread throughout Kiyoshi's body.
“Haa…”
Kiyoshi exhaled.
This ninjutsu, being only D-rank, had a minimal effect on his current body; in a while, it probably wouldn't work at all.
He needed to acquire more and better ninjutsu.
“Kiyoshi.”
Suddenly, a familiar voice came from outside the door.
Kiyoshi called out, “Coming.”
Then, he crossed the dilapidated courtyard and opened the door.
“Mikoto-nee, what brings you here?”
Kiyoshi asked.
Her black hair was draped over her back, a stark contrast to the clearly defined lines of his muscles.
“Kiyoshi, this is this month's allowance.”
Mikoto had a cloth bag slung over her shoulder; she pulled out a stack of paper money, printed with the Konoha emblem.
“Kiyoshi, you're…”
Just as Mikoto was about to hand the money to Kiyoshi, she was stunned to discover that Kiyoshi was currently shirtless.
Such firm and aesthetically pleasing muscles were a first for Mikoto, causing her to take a second look.
Fugaku had been injured on the battlefield, and Mikoto had seen him shirtless.
He wasn't as well-proportioned and handsome as Kiyoshi.
Could this be the Night Clan's natural talent?
The shape of muscles is largely innate, like how some people can't align their abdominal muscles no matter how much they exercise.
Some people even have eight-pack abs, while others can only have six.
Mikoto finally understood why Tsunade had said that Kiyoshi was suited to be a taijutsu ninja.
“Sorry, Mikoto-nee, I was just training and was too hasty; I forgot to put on a shirt.”
Mikoto was still a bit taller than Kiyoshi, who looked up, his tone apologetic.
“Ah, it's nothing, you're just a kid.”
Mikoto quickly shook her head.
Why was she bothering with a child?
She handed the money to Kiyoshi, telling him to be frugal and not waste it.
“Got it, Mikoto-nee.”
Kiyoshi nodded.
This money was essentially his living expenses.
Kiyoshi's daily expenses came from this, partly from Konoha's subsidy and partly from the Uchiha clan's internal subsidy.
It was enough for an ordinary person's life, but a bit tight for a ninja.
“I've also made plans with Fugaku; I'll come see you next time.”
Mikoto waved goodbye.
Kiyoshi responded politely, and only closed the door when Mikoto's shadow was out of sight.
“It's about the same as before; I still need to make money as soon as possible.”
Kiyoshi counted how many ryo these bills amounted to, then carefully stored them.
He could squeeze some out of Yuhi Kurenai, but that wasn't a long-term solution.
Buying an ordinary katana was the limit.
He and Kakashi had sparred once last time, and his blade had chipped, needing maintenance.
When doing missions on the battlefield, there would be no mid-game time for Kiyoshi to send it for maintenance.
“I still need a chakra blade made of special metal.”
Kiyoshi thought to himself.
A chakra blade can absorb the user's chakra nature; chakra transmission has extremely low resistance; possessing such a weapon would yield twice the result with half the effort.
Then, Kiyoshi took out 'Lightning Release: Lightning Finger,' which he hadn't practiced since his initial training, to deepen his understanding of Lightning Release ninjutsu.
……
“Mikoto, you're here.”
Fugaku was covered in sweat, taking off his green ninja flak jacket.
He had just been training.
As a ninja, the most important thing was to hone oneself, otherwise one would regress.
“Did you give Kiyoshi the allowance already?”
Fugaku asked casually.
“I gave it to him.”
Mikoto nodded, suddenly noticing a hole in Fugaku's upper body armor, which looked like a fishing net chainmail.
Ninjas basically wore a type of armor resembling a fishing net; this was called chainmail.
“There's a hole in your clothes.”
Mikoto pointed to the spot.
Fugaku followed Mikoto's gaze and saw a two-centimeter-sized hole, revealing the skin underneath.
“It must have been burned by fire when practicing Fire Release just now.”
Fugaku boldly took off his shirt, revealing his muscular upper body.
“What's wrong, Mikoto?”
Fugaku saw Mikoto staring at his body and assumed she was embarrassed.
“No, it's nothing.”
Mikoto's delicate face flickered slightly.
Upon reconfirmation, Fugaku's figure was indeed not as aesthetically pleasing as Kiyoshi's.
“I really don't know how a child trains like that.”
Mikoto thought to herself.
Although Fugaku looked taller than Kiyoshi, his overall proportions weren't that great.
“Is that so.”
Fugaku smiled, taking out a new set of chainmail from home and putting it on.
He was somewhat confident in his figure; after all, he had been through so much on the battlefield for so many years, experiencing numerous hardships.
“The gathering is about to start; let's go.”
Fugaku said.
“Yeah.”
Mikoto nodded.
The gathering that occurred every so often was a place that Uchihas had to go to after becoming 'ninjas'.
The upper part of the Nanga Shrine was where matters were discussed during the day; even Uchiha clansmen who were not ninjas could go.
But the secret room below was where the Uchihas held internal meetings; to maintain secrecy, ordinary Uchihas were not qualified to enter or know about it.
…………
The Hatake Residence.
The evening sun hung slanted in the sky, and Kakashi, as usual, returned home quickly after finishing his training.
But when he opened the door, the air was filled with an indescribable sense of oppression, as well as a fishy and foul smell.
He frowned, took off his shoes, and said, “Father, I’m home.”
However, there was no answer from the house.
Kakashi’s heart sank slightly as he walked towards his father’s room.
Since being accused by his rescued comrade on the street, his father had never left the house again.
As he passed through the living room, he noticed several yellowed letters placed on the coffee table that his father usually used for guests. They were densely filled with writing, the ink not yet completely dry.
Kakashi glanced at them and noticed words like “regret” and “dereliction of duty” among the writing. The words conveyed a strong sense of despair.
“Father?”
Kakashi felt uneasy and almost ran as he pushed open the door.
The scene inside struck Kakashi like a thunderbolt.
Sakumo Hatake was lying on the tatami mat, and a sharp short sword was stabbed into his chest. Blood had already stained his clothes red and even seeped into the texture of the tatami mat.
The bright red liquid had congealed into dark marks, emitting a suffocating, rusty smell.
Kakashi stood there, his eyes wide, as if his brain could not process the scene before him for a moment.
“Why…” he finally squeezed out a hoarse voice, staggering towards Sakumo’s body and kneeling on the ground.
Kakashi’s hand trembled as he gently touched his father’s cold hand, only to touch his already stiff skin.
The grief of losing his father, the anger towards the rules, and the self-blame for his helplessness surged into his heart, almost drowning him.
