When the last trace of killing intent faded from Fujimoto Tōma’s mind, nothing dramatic happened outside.
No thunder.
No shaking earth.
No ridiculous "chosen one" spectacle.
The shift happened quietly, like a lock finally giving way after years of pressure.
The mental state Tōma had been refining reached a new depth so smoothly it almost felt anticlimactic. It was as if he had already filled a reservoir to the brim, waiting for a gate to open. When the gate vanished, the water simply surged forward on its own.
And then his vision changed.
The world looked different. Not distorted, not brighter. Just... layered.
The nature chakra he used to sense faintly was now visible if he focused. It drifted through the air like invisible currents made barely tangible. If he ignored it, it vanished from awareness. If he looked, it was there.
Tōma lifted a hand and passed it through the flowing chakra. It scattered harmlessly, not rushing into his body.
But he could feel it.
If he wanted to, he could draw it in.
He didn’t.
Overconfidence killed faster than enemies. Even if he suspected he wouldn’t petrify from imbalance anymore, testing that theory with his own body was idiotic.
So that settled it. He would need to return to Mount Myōboku eventually.
Not now, though.
The third round of the exams was approaching fast. Orochimaru would already be moving. There was no time for extended training, and Sage Mode wasn’t something you picked up overnight. Naruto’s absurd speed with it wasn’t a benchmark. That was story convenience, not reality.
Jiraiya was the real example. Years of effort. Incomplete mastery. Brutal difficulty.
If Tōma wanted Sage Mode, he would do it properly, uninterrupted, later.
Decision made, he sat down cross-legged and continued exploring the changes.
First: sensory range.
The moment he fully settled into the state, he froze.
His perception expanded so far it startled him. If he’d had this range earlier, he wouldn’t have needed to go anywhere near the Forest of Death’s central tower. He could have stayed home and still picked up Ino’s signal.
That alone was worth the breakthrough.
Next, his body.
He turned his awareness inward and examined his chakra network. Everything was clearer now: flow, density, stability. His wind and lightning affinities were dominant as ever.
But there was something new.
A faint ember of fire chakra.
Tiny. Insignificant compared to the other two. A stream next to an ocean.
Still, it meant his fire-style training had left a mark. Not enough to fight with. Not even close. And bringing it anywhere near the level of wind or lightning would take years, maybe decades.
Which was exactly why he had never chased "all affinities" like an idiot.
He shifted focus again and frowned.
Damage.
Microfractures in muscle fibers. Stress scars. Areas his training had never properly conditioned.
So they’d been there all along.
No wonder medical ninjutsu hadn’t caught it. This was damage too fine to notice under normal inspection.
Lightning chakra crackled faintly across his skin. Carefully, he stimulated neglected areas while threading medical chakra into the damaged spots.
It took a long time.
But when he finished, the result was undeniable.
His body felt... flawless.
Even a newborn wasn’t this clean. Birth itself caused damage. Compression. Trauma.
This was better than that.
Perfect.
Tōma smiled. His coordination alone would improve from this, not to mention taijutsu efficiency.
He was about to pull out of the state when something stopped him.
A glow.
White, distant, impossible to place.
He focused on it, confusion tightening his chest.
"What is that...?"
Without hesitation, he moved his awareness toward it.
And froze.
He was looking at himself.
No. His soul.
And then he noticed something worse.
There were two.
Two identical soul forms, one slightly larger than the other.
For a moment, panic tried to claw its way up his spine. Two souls in one body? Was that even possible? Did that mean eventual conflict? Consumption?
Then understanding struck.
The larger soul was his own, carried over from another life.
The smaller one belonged to the original Fujimoto Tōma.
Or rather, what remained of him.
The truth surfaced naturally. The original child had never truly lived. Fujimoto Sana, devastated by her husband’s death, had suffered complications during pregnancy. The fetus lacked the strength to survive.
Only a blank soul remained. No consciousness. No will.
That fading soul had drawn him in.
When he arrived, it had already been dissolving. His presence anchored it, bound it to his own soul instead of letting it scatter.
Relief washed through him.
He hadn’t killed anyone.
What remained wasn’t a person anymore. Just raw soul energy, now imprinted by his existence.
It had no independent thought. No desires. No rebellion.
If his soul was the core, this was an extension. A mirror. An amplifier.
That explained everything.
His abnormally strong mental energy. His rapid growth. His ability to break limits that shouldn’t budge.
Two souls. One mind.
Growth multiplied.
Even his difficulty entering complete mental stillness finally made sense. Silencing one soul was hard enough. Two? Of course it took time.
At least now, it was no longer an obstacle.
Then he noticed something else.
A mark.
Etched into his soul’s forehead.
Strange. Ancient. Dense with meaning.
"What now...?"
He tried to touch it.
Nothing happened.
He didn’t know what it was. When it formed. Or what power it represented.
Only that it existed.
If the Nine-Tails were here, it would recognize it instantly. The same mark it had once glimpsed. Only now, clearer. Sharper.
Tōma stared at it for a long moment, then gave up.
Some answers weren’t meant to come early.
He withdrew from the state and opened his eyes, expression blank with disbelief.
Two souls.
A perfect body.
And a mark he couldn’t understand.
"...What kind of mess did I reincarnate into?"