Naruto: Reborn with Kaguya Powers-Chapter 55: Stick Duty

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Aki unclasped the straps across his back and drew one of the swords.

The blacksmith's expression shifted the moment the blade caught the light.

Jagged cracks ran all along the surface, thin and branching like veins, carved deep into the metal.

He took the sword from Aki without a word, turning it slowly, checking the spine, the edge, the balance.

It wobbled slightly near the middle.

That shouldn't even be possible in a chakra-forged blade.

"Second one too?" the blacksmith asked, glancing toward Aki's other sheath.

Aki nodded.

He drew the second sword and handed it over.

The damage on this one was worse.

Cracks splintered all the way to the guard, with signs of internal strain that made the blade look warped at the core.

"These can't be repaired," the blacksmith said simply. His voice carried a heavy finality, like he'd already accepted their death sentence.

Aki stared down at the blades.

He hadn't planned to push them this far. In fact, he'd planned not to.

His whole training plan was structured, controlled growth, starting with fundamentals. He was going to practice swings, balance drills, and elemental coating layer by layer.

Instead, he got ahead of himself and went on to do a full power swing which reduced both weapons to glorified shrapnel.

"They barely held together," he muttered.

"You're lucky they didn't fall apart mid-swing," the blacksmith said. "Or worse—snap, rebound, and take a piece of you with them."

Aki didn't argue. He'd felt it too.

The blacksmith handed the swords back and pointed toward the tree line. "You're benched. No swords until I forge replacements."

Aki raised an eyebrow. "And until then?"

"Find a couple of strong branches," the man said. "You'll practice with those."

Aki stared. "You're actually putting me on stick duty?"

'What is this demon slayer? Sent on to practice as my sword gets forged.' Aki thought to himself.

The blacksmith shrugged. "You can't use a real sword with that kind of reckless output. So yeah. Until you figure out control, wood will have to survive you."

Aki grumbled but didn't push back. He knew better. The outburst had been his own fault.

He turned, adjusted the ruined swords back onto his straps, and started walking. Then paused as if he remembered something.

"One condition," he said without turning back. "Let me watch you forge the new ones."

The blacksmith blinked. He hadn't expected that. "Watch?"

Aki turned his head slightly. "One day I'm going to forge swords myself. Not ordinary ones—special material."

"What kind of material?"

"Ash Bones," Aki replied. "Only two people in the world can touch it without turning to ash. I'm one of them."

The blacksmith stared at him for a long moment. He didn't laugh. He didn't scoff. He just studied Aki's face.

"And you want to know how the process works now," he said slowly, "so when the time comes, you don't make a mistake you can't undo."

"Exactly."

Another pause. Then the blacksmith nodded.

"You saved my boy. That counts for something," he said. "I'll allow it."

"But you keep your hands off everything unless I say otherwise," the blacksmith warned Aki in a serious tone, "I'm not burning my workshop down because you get curious."

Aki smirked faintly. "Deal."

"Good." The blacksmith turned away and headed back toward the forge.

"I'll let you know when I'm ready to begin," he called over his shoulder.

Aki glanced down at his ruined swords one more time, then at the trees ahead. Back to basics. Stick training until further notice.

This was totally out of whatever he planned and written in the scroll, but something he had to do.

Aki broke a stick and started swinging aimlessly at first, after all, adding in that level of chakra would burn it to a crisp.

Later, he thought of reinforcing it with chakra while also controlling chakra output to a bare minimum. Aki gradually started to increase output.

Even then, the sticks barely lasted a few seconds before he had to replace them. Frustrated, Aki closed his eyes when holding his thousandth stick (not literally one thousandth could be more or less).

He focused, still holding the stick, he activated LCM and encased the stick with a wind blade, while gently encasing it with lightning.

Lightning still crackled, but Aki focused even more, and stray bolts eventually tamed. Immediately, Aki felt his hand burning and opened his eyes.

Aki was now holding onto the ash as his chakra was already dispelled upon sensing. "I'm done, but sticks are too damn weak to hold that much energy, what should I do?"

He thought for a while until, "Idea, Ice-release"

Suddenly, he felt like he should do it, and using it, he made himself a rough, almost-not-looking-like-one sword. "Not bad for a first try."

Aki continued swinging the rough ice blades, refining the shape and responsiveness. The structure held beautifully, better than any stick could manage.

Wind layered cleanly over the frozen edge. Even lightning responded, crackling along the smooth blade without destroying it.

He adjusted the shape as he worked. Refined the grip. Sharpened the edges.

The twin ice swords glowed faintly in the moonlight. They weren't perfect, but they were stable.

He struck a training post with one. It carved a shallow groove into the wood, dispersing the chakra with precision.

"Perfect," Aki muttered. "These are way better than those stupid branches."

But as he stood there, admiring his own craftsmanship, a thought crept in. A memory of the blacksmith's blunt words. "You'll practice with sticks."

Sticks.

Aki stared at his ice blades for a long moment. Then, slowly lowered them, sighing like a man about to walk into his own funeral.

"Right... he did say that."

"This doesn't count."

The moment the ice swords proved stable, they also became disqualified. He wasn't here to win with shortcuts—he was supposed to master control through limitation.

He glanced at the pile of discarded, charred branches. One last look at the elegant weapons in his hands... and then he dispelled them.

The ice shattered into dust and scattered into the grass.

"Back to sticks, then," he muttered bitterly.

He grabbed another branch.

Snapped it cleanly from a tree, tested the weight, and began again.

This time, he approached it like forging a weapon.

He started with wind, as always, forming a clean outer edge.

Then, instead of layering lightning directly, he constructed a soft buffer.

Neutral chakra, smooth and steady, like an invisible sheath.

Then he wove in the lightning.

Fine threads, barely a whisper, resting on top of the chakra layer like silk on cloth.

The branch hummed.

It sparked. Then steadied.

Aki blinked.

It wasn't burning.

He struck the air once, twice—then followed with a clean horizontal slash.

The lightning pulsed, but the stick held firm.

"No way..." he whispered.

"It actually worked."

He tried again, repeating the process.

Each time, the result grew cleaner, more stable.

The stick stopped turning to ash.

The chakra stopped leaking.

Wind, buffer, lightning—each one in perfect control.

The stick wasn't just surviving. It was working with him. fгeewebnovёl.com

Aki stepped forward and aimed a blow at the old training post.

The strike landed with a loud crack, slicing a clean gash through the surface.

He froze for a second, then lowered the branch.

Chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

He looked around. Broken wood littered the field. Cracked branches. Scorch marks.

And above him, light.

Aki turned toward the sky. The dark of night had faded into soft blue and pale orange.

Dawn had broken. He had trained from sundown until morning.

The cold air brushed against his skin, making the silence feel heavier.

Everything was still. Quiet. Peaceful.

Aki stared down at the stick in his hand, intact, glowing faintly with his controlled chakra.

It had survived. And so had he.

He smiled. 'Finally.' He had done it.

His chakra reserves were still full. He hadn't run dry, not even close.

But the weight of the night—the mental exhaustion, the relentless focus—finally settled in. His body moved on instinct, knees giving way as he dropped backward.

As his back touched the cool grass, Aki fell asleep, still clutching the branch gently wrapped in chakra.

For the first time since his reincarnation, he slept right before sunrise.

A faint, peaceful smile touched his face. He didn't resist the sleep this time.

The chakra around the stick began to fade...

But something inside the wood stirred.

The branch, warmed by his energy and cradled in his hand, responded. Two tiny green leaves unfurled from its side.

On the other end, a slender root reached downward and quietly sank into the earth.

As if pulled by purpose.

Then more roots followed, twisting and curling, silently spreading beneath him. One thick root coiled gently beneath his head, raising it like a pillow.

It held him there, cradled softly, as sunlight crept over the treetops. The night had ended, and something else had begun.

A massive tree now stood over Aki, risen without a sound. Its trunk, still thickening with time, already surpassed the waist of a grown man.

Its branches stretched wide in all directions, forming a canopy so broad that no sunlight would ever reach the center, where Aki lay. Light filtered down at the edges throughout the day, but never touched him directly.

Brighter. Fresher.

Alive in a way no other tree in the clearing seemed to be.

A quiet miracle stood watch.

And beneath it, Aki slept, smiling, unaware that the roots of a tree born from his chakra now held him gently in its arms.