Well, now that he had the One-Tail's chakra, time to test out the kind of stuff he could do with it.
Taking some chakra from the beast... his version of the cloak, instead of gaining the red cloak, summoned sand to him, and half of his body reassembled Shukaku.
Hm, that would need some fixing.
With a simple wave of his hand, all of the metal that was around began levitating off the floor, just flying in the air.
The boy looked at it and smiled.
This would be his version of Magnet Release... was this just beautiful.
Instead of using sand, he would use this.
This would further add to the image he was trying to build.
That of an unkillable god, someone who could not be touched.
Fun fact, he could probably make a forcefield where nothing could truly ever come close to him, or just start controlling the iron in people's blood.
By the time he reached this level of OP, he would be strong enough to protect what he held dear—strong enough to find a way to bring some form of peace.
By giving humanity an ultimate villain that they must defeat. Someone that was worth every cent of the horror he would inflict on them.
This way, he could make sure some peace existed, for as long as he lived.
He did not wish to watch children die in pointless wars.
But until then, this was a pipe dream. His primary goal was still to unravel the secret that was chakra.
Looking at his progress, he felt good.
He focused, imagining the field—the polarization, the vector manipulation, the torque. He couldn't just wave his hand and expect Magnet Release to work like magic. He had to understand how it wanted to move.
"Metal is alive," he muttered, eyes gleaming with new obsession. "It remembers the pressure of the forge."
The metal scattered, then slammed down like a sudden rainstorm.
A thought struck him—he couldn't manipulate sand like Shukaku. But that didn't matter.
Kunai were everywhere. Wires. Tags. Even enemy weapons.
He could bend battlefields to his will.
Stretching out his hand, he focused his chakra through the One-Tail's influence, creating a dome of metal bits—scraps from old experiments, reinforced tags, anything he could lift—and forced them into a rotation.
The field shimmered, distorting light like heatwaves. A thrown scalpel bounced off the dome.
A defensive field made entirely of swirling micro-metal and magnetic force.
"Okay. This is better than sand."
Time for the serious stuff.
Entering Stage Two of the One-Tail's chakra, he felt his body get heavier. His skin took on an earthen undertone. His pupils thinned into vertical slits.
He didn't feel Shukaku's voice in his head—good, he could do this without going insane.
He looked down at his hands.
Then, Stage Two of the Seven-Tails.
Wings burst from his back—not actual wings, but Reibi chakra constructs shaped like insect wings, transparent and vibrating. They hummed with chakra frequency, dragging the air behind him like a vacuum pull.
He fused them. Painfully. Slowly.
"Kage Bunshin no Jutsu."
A singular clone formed.
Yes... using Stage Two Mode from both the Seven-Tails and One-Tail, he used all that chakra to create one tanky-ass clone. This clone wouldn't vanish unless it was actually killed or ran out of chakra. It had Bijū-level chakra—a complete monster.
Alongside Kyōka Suigetsu and Seijuro's current physical ability.
Physically, Seijuro was still Jōnin level—high Jōnin with the seal on... heh, the clone could reach Kage level, so it was fine. As long as he didn't run into Madara Uchiha himself, the clone would survive.
Seijuro was confident the clone could survive everything else.
Like a reflection of his darkest ambitions.
It opened its eyes. Spoke only once.
"I understand. I will assume the Aizen identity." Original content can be found at novel※fire.net
"Start building the network. Find what I asked. Leave no witnesses."
The clone nodded once, took a sealing scroll with a large stash of funds, and vanished in a whisper of wind.
Off to start the underground web that would someday make Seijuro more than just a shinobi.
BACK AT CAMP – NIGHTFALL
He flew slowly this time—tired. Worn. His chakra nearly gone. His body, despite holding out against two different Bijū at once, now screamed for rest.
By the time he got close to the Konoha camp, he landed and simply walked the rest of the way.
Clothes dusted. Hair slightly wind-tousled. No one questioned where he'd gone—they assumed he was still recovering. After all, his chakra was still low enough to fool sensors.
He passed a few guards, waved casually. Walked past the food tent. Past a group of genin trading stories.
He stopped briefly. Held up his hand to the stars.
Faint glimmers of light blinked back.
"...Reaching for the stars, huh?" he muttered, lips tugging upward.
He lowered his hand, walked back into the medic tent, collapsed onto his cot...
...and finally slept.
He would one day recreate the future of this world.
But until then, he shall rest.