Born To Rise In Konoha Chapter 87

"Sometimes, I really don’t think Saitama is just an eight-year-old child," Mori said as he set down his teacup.

"Then don’t treat me like a child. Is that so hard?" Saitama shrugged casually, as if nothing had happened.

In the ninja world, children matured early, both mentally and physically. Judging by Saitama’s height and demeanor alone, no one would have guessed he was under ten.

"Well then, I’ll be off," Saitama said as he stood and waved.

"Alright," Mori nodded, remaining seated and sipping his tea in silence.

...

As Saitama stepped out of the office, his pace quickened. He was looking forward to the evening more than anyone. After all, it would be his first time meeting all the elders and core members of the clan.

"Saitama, what did Mori want with you?" Shisui asked as Saitama emerged.

"Nothing much. Just told me to come by tonight," Saitama replied, not revealing the meeting’s true nature. Since it was a private clan gathering, there was no reason to mention it.

"Oh, let’s go practice. I came up with a new move last night. I want to try it out," Shisui said cheerfully, motioning toward the training ground.

"Sure," Saitama agreed. Though there was a notable gap between their abilities, sparring with Shisui often gave him inspiration. He didn’t mind training with him at all.

After a while, as the two traded blows, Nagisa arrived. Once she saw Shisui’s new technique, Saitama stepped aside to watch the two spar.

Time flew by, and before long, it was noon. Saitama rushed home for lunch. He had no plans to return to the Guard training ground that afternoon.

Instead, he had arranged to meet Kakashi in the Konoha forest.

The thought of Kakashi made Saitama chuckle. Ever since their encounter at the yakiniku restaurant, they hadn’t crossed paths again—despite Saitama’s desire to speak with him.

That changed two days ago. After training, Saitama had gone to the market district in search of fresh fish. There, he unexpectedly spotted Kakashi standing awkwardly outside a shop.

Apparently, Kakashi had finished his meal only to realize he hadn’t brought any money. He wasn’t the type to ask for help easily, and the newly opened shop didn’t recognize him. Unable to leave without paying and too shy to explain himself, he was stuck.

Naturally, Saitama paid for him. Kakashi was grateful, though not overly expressive, and promised to repay him. As Kakashi was about to leave, Saitama stopped him and said he wanted to talk sometime.

Word of Saitama’s rapid growth had reached even the circles around Minato and Lord Hiruzen. Kakashi, briefed by Minato, had already heard whispers: that Saitama’s talent might rival—or even surpass—his own.

Though they parted without much discussion that day, they agreed to meet again. Saitama didn’t get his fish, but running into Kakashi had made the trip worthwhile.

They’d arranged to meet at two o’clock in the Konoha forest. Saitama headed out early, arriving by 1:30. He wasn’t in a rush—Kakashi was famously unpunctual.

Kakashi was due for promotion soon, and "Chidori" should’ve been developed by now. It was the perfect time to learn from the source.

A warm breeze rustled the forest leaves, and small animals darted through the underbrush. Saitama leaned against a tree, relaxed, and waited.

Time passed. It was already 2:15, and still no sign of Kakashi.

Saitama sighed, bored, and idly cracked his knuckles. He stared toward the forest path.

Crunch.

At 2:30 sharp, Kakashi finally arrived.

"Lost on the path of life again?" Saitama asked, standing up with a smirk.

"Heh..." Kakashi scratched the back of his head, clearly embarrassed. His mask hid his face, but the gesture said it all.

"No, no... Anyway, here’s the money I owe you," Kakashi said, handing over a small wad of bills.

"Thanks." Saitama accepted it and stuffed it into his pocket without a second glance.

"So... how do you want to ’talk’? Sparring?" Kakashi asked, seeing Saitama put away the money.

"Maybe later. First, let me show you something."

"Alright."

Kakashi stepped back a few meters, assuming Saitama just wanted to demonstrate something simple.

Instead, Saitama stepped aside, then began forming hand seals.

Crackle!

Bright lightning gathered in his palm. He crouched slightly, focusing entirely on the jutsu. This wasn’t just for show—this was a statement.

Lightning chirped and danced around Saitama’s hand. Kakashi’s eyes narrowed. The technique felt... familiar.

"Kakashi, I heard you developed a new jutsu," Saitama said calmly, maintaining the chakra flow in his hand.

Without answering, Kakashi formed hand seals of his own. A similar current sparked to life in his palm—blue and white electricity crackled, the sound of a thousand birds chirping.

In the forest clearing, the two shinobi stood across from each other, holding nearly identical jutsu.

Kakashi’s version was rougher, more forceful—like a blade half-forged. Saitama’s felt refined, fluid. Mature.

When did he come up with this? Kakashi thought. His control is better than mine...

"I got the idea a while back," Saitama said, as if reading his thoughts. "I refined it little by little during missions."

"I only just created mine. I haven’t even used it outside of training," Kakashi muttered, slightly stunned that Saitama already knew about it.

"Haha. I heard things," Saitama replied, eyes amused.

"Hmph." Kakashi exhaled, struggling to maintain his chakra control. With a final grunt, he let the lightning fade.

...

They didn’t end up sparring. Instead, they discussed the theory and nuances of Chidori together. Saitama gained valuable insights from Kakashi, who—despite his surprise—was still the original creator.

As the sun began to set, they parted ways.

Back home, the smell of fish wafted through the air.

"Fish tonight?" Saitama said in surprise as he stepped inside.

"You said you were craving it, right?" Uchiha Kaka called from the kitchen. "I told the fishmonger to save one for me. Come eat."

"Nice!" Saitama grinned. After an intense afternoon of training and discussion, he was starving.

He sat down, stomach rumbling, eager to dig in.

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