Chương 121: I Teach Mine, You Teach Yours

The Rasenshuriken spun with a violent velocity, emitting a screeching, high-frequency wail that tore through the air. The four protruding fins of wind-natured chakra, initially straight and rigid, curved into wicked, scythe-like blades under the sheer force of the rotation. The technique had transformed into something far more predatory. Minato Namikaze squinted against the stinging air, ignoring the slight ache in his eardrums as he memorized every micro-adjustment in the jutsu's formation.

While he could observe the mechanics, the tactile essence of the technique remained elusive as long as it wasn't formed by his own hand. Suddenly, Zhen Dongye cut the chakra supply. The vortex collapsed, and the screaming wind vanished into a dull hum before fading entirely.

"Was the drain too significant, Zhen?" Minato asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Not quite. The initial formation demands a massive surge, but maintenance only requires a steady trickle. However, Senior Minato, I've identified two critical flaws." Zhen rolled up his sleeve. His pale forearm was flushed a deep, angry crimson, peppered with thousands of tiny red pinpricks—as if he had been flayed by a microscopic swarm of needles. Minato stepped closer, examining the limb.

"This... is this damage from the wind chakra itself?"

"Yes," Zhen replied, beginning a self-healing jutsu.

"The technique is a double-edged sword. The ambient, razor-thin chakra is so volatile that it lacerates the caster. If it strikes a foe, the backlash is inevitable. It's a classic case of winning the battle but losing the arm—a Pyrrhic victory at best." Minato, ever the tactical mind, immediately grasped the implications. If the caster's body wasn't reinforced, they would effectively be digging their own grave the moment they ignited the spark.

Zhen's constitution was comparable to an Uzumaki's; for a shinobi with average physical limits, the technique wouldn't just wound—it would likely result in permanent amputation. Of course, Zhen was only presenting the "unrefined" version. He had mastered the stabilization long ago, but a little dramatic flair went a long way in managing expectations. Minato pondered for a moment.

"It seems the only way to safeguard the caster is to release the jutsu the instant it reaches completion."

"And that leads to the second issue," Zhen countered.

"The chakra density is so high that the sphere carries a leaden weight. Without immense physical strength, you can't throw it far, and its flight speed is sluggish. A capable enemy would have more than enough time to sidestep the reaper."

"I see. A mountain of obstacles to climb." Minato's mind raced through possible solutions, but the path forward remained obscured.

"Regardless, I must learn to form it first. I cannot solve problems I haven't touched."

"Where exactly are you hitting the wall, Senior?"

"The severing property of the wind chakra is too chaotic," Minato admitted.

"It refuses to harmonize with the Rasengan's containment. It fights the rotation rather than becoming a part of it." Zhen noticed he had finally abandoned that absurdly long name. Perhaps he realized that a title requiring a deep breath just to finish isn't conducive to battlefield communication. Small mercies.

"That wall, then?" Zhen stooped to retrieve a stone from the dirt. He pulsed his chakra through it, and the pebble disintegrated into a fine, grey powder.

"Can you manage this level of refinement?" Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

"Let me try." Minato mimicked the gesture. He didn't quite turn the stone to powder, but it shattered into tiny, sand-like grains. For a shinobi who had been 'brute-forcing' his way through nature transformation, his progress was already exceptional.

"That level of sharpness should be sufficient," Zhen noted.

"Try it again. I'll keep a close eye on the process and see if I can pinpoint the dissonance."

"Very well." Minato manifested a Rasengan in an instant. But as he began to bleed Wind Nature into the sphere, the stable orb began to throb and swell, its internal logic collapsing toward a violent surge. Minato's brow was slick with sweat as he fought to rein in the chaos, but with a sharp pop, the jutsu imploded. A shockwave of wind swept through the training ground, kicking up a veil of dust around them. Zhen, having walked this path before, knew the secret.

"Senior Minato, even though the chakra streams within the Rasengan appear chaotic, the technique possesses a singular, overarching rotation—like a cyclone."

"Go on."

"If you want to enter the heart of a storm, fighting the gale will only get you thrown. You have to ride the current. Protect yourself by moving with the flow, and only then can you reach the eye."

"Ride the current..." Minato's eyes lit up. He wasn't a man who needed to be told twice. He immediately began a second attempt. This time, he didn't rush the infusion. He felt for the underlying rhythm of the Rasengan, sensing the macro-rotation hidden within the micro-chaos. Once he found the pulse, he introduced the wind chakra drop by drop, letting it slide into the existing orbit. The sphere began to grow. The translucent "fins" began to sprout.

"Relax. The speed and direction will shift as the wind takes hold. Don't resist the change. Adapt to the new rhythm."

"I have it!" The Rasenshuriken roared to life. It held for several breathtaking seconds before eventually destabilizing and bursting, but Minato didn't look defeated. He was grinning. He had felt the threshold. Success was now a matter of "when," not "if." The development of high-level ninjutsu was a grueling, intellectual labor. In the original timeline, Naruto had only succeeded through sheer, unadulterated brute force—using thousands of clones to compress years of trial and error into days.

It was a method unique to a monster of stamina; for anyone else, the "tuition" for such a learning curve would be their very life. After another series of trials, Minato sat on the grass, his chest heaving but his spirit buoyant. He was closer than he had ever been. He gestured for his Guard to gather around him.

"Tell me," Minato asked, his tone shifting to something more casual.

"What do you consider to be my most formidable technique?"

"The Yellow Flash!" Genma blurted out. Zhen and the others rolled their eyes. That was a title, a reputation earned through blood—not a jutsu. Minato laughed.

"Hahaha! Actually, it's the Flying Thunder God. A legacy of the Second Hokage. It is an S-rank technique with a difficulty curve that borders on the impossible."

"S-rank?" Yugao whispered, her eyes wide.

"Incredible." Genma seemed to sense the direction of the wind.

"Lord Hokage... why bring this up now? Are you suggesting...?"

"Precisely. I intend to teach it to you. It is a demanding art—so much so that I am currently the only one in the village who has mastered it. I'm curious to see if any of you can grasp the spark." Hayate beamed. The Fourth truly was as generous as the rumors suggested.

"We won't let you down, Lord Hokage! we'll give it everything we've got!" Minato had always felt that having such a powerful technique limited to one man was a strategic weakness for Konoha. He had tried to teach his own students, but fate had been cruel. Obito and Rin were gone, and while Kakashi was a genius of the highest order, his talents leaned toward the five elemental natures. He was more suited to follow in the Third's footsteps than his own. Zhen smiled politely, though he harbored no illusions.

The Flying Thunder God was more than just a sequence of hand signs; without Minato's superhuman neural reflexes, it was a death trap in active combat. At best, most would use it as a glorified escape button—a "Flash" to get away from trouble. In the world of gaming, some players used Flash to dodge a fatal blow and turn the tide of a fight; most, however, just used it to die slightly further away from their teammates.

Fortunately, Zhen's body had been tempered by natural energy, and his reaction speed was in a league of its own. If he could bridge the gap of the technique itself, he could integrate the Flying Thunder God into a combat style that would make the original Yellow Flash look stagnant. But first, he had to master the "how."