Santoryu stared into the empty air and spoke clearly, "System, show me my character panel."
A moment later, a glowing display appeared in front of his eyes, floating in the air like a digital projection only he could see.
––––
[Character Panel]
Name: Santoryu Hatake
Age: 9 → 10
Rank: Chunin
Power Level: 1010 → 2250 (Chunin Range: 1,001–5,000)
Abilities:
• One-Sword Style: Sword Drawing Technique — Mastered
• Two-Sword Style: Rashomon — Intermediate
• One-Sword Style: 36 Pound Phoenix — Intermediate
• Two-Sword Style: 72 Pound Phoenix — Beginner
• Three-Sword Style: Oni Giri — Intermediate
• Observation Haki — Beginner (Range: 100 meters)
Evaluation: You are now strong enough to fight on equal footing with a Chunin.
––––
Santoryu nodded slowly. It wasn't overwhelming power, but it was solid—enough to stand his ground. At the very least, with these stats, he wouldn't be crushed by Kakashi. He might not win, but he could fight—and make it count.
He clenched his fists and thought to himself, Tomorrow's the day. I'm going to fight Kakashi—and I need real swords for that. I can't take him on using wooden ones.
Without wasting another moment, he addressed the system again. "System, what materials do I need to forge three proper swords—ones I can use long-term in real battles?"
The system responded instantly, its voice crisp and measured.
"Materials required for forging high-grade ninja-compatible swords:
— Adamant Steel x3
— Refined Leather Grip Wrap x3
— Ironwood Sheath x3"
After receiving the material list from the system, Santoryu didn't waste a second. He left the house and moved through the village, going from shop to shop, checking inventory and asking for prices. He haggled, negotiated, and compared every option.
By the end of the day, he had a final number.
20,000 ryo.
It was the best price he could get for all the materials—adamant steel, leather wraps, and ironwood sheaths. Nothing fancy, but built to last.
The problem was, that amount was no small matter.
From bits and pieces of his parents' conversations over the past year, he knew the family's savings hovered around 30,000 ryo. This single purchase would wipe out two-thirds of it.
As he walked slowly back toward home, Santoryu felt the weight settle on his shoulders. The hesitation grew heavier with every step.
He didn't like asking for help—especially not help that came at this kind of cost.
But he also knew the truth: without proper swords, he wouldn't be able to fight Kakashi at full strength. And this wasn't just any fight. This was the one he had trained for over two years to face.
He stopped just outside his house, took a breath, and muttered to himself with quiet conviction, "This will be the last time I ask them for money. Once I finish the fight with Kakashi, I'll apply to become a full ninja. If I can prove my strength in combat, especially during wartime, I'll be accepted for sure."
Mind made up, he stepped inside.
His father was in the main hall, reclining in a chair with his eyes closed, the soft crackle of a radio filling the room with low background noise.
Santoryu stood silently for a moment, steadying himself.
Then he walked forward.
It was time to ask.
"Father," Santoryu said quietly, stepping into the room, "I need to talk to you about something important."
His father opened his eyes slowly and turned to look at him. After studying Santoryu's expression for a moment, he gave a small smile—half amused, half knowing.
"You need to buy something. And you need money, don't you?"
Santoryu froze for a second, then nodded. He always tried to hide the hesitation when it came to asking for money, but somehow, his parents always saw through him.
"Yes," he admitted. "I need to buy real swords. Metal ones. You probably remember… two years ago, I made a promise—to fight Young Lord Kakashi. I told you I'd do everything I could to defeat him or, at the very least, earn his recognition as a ninja."
He took a breath, then continued.
"I've trained for this day nonstop. I've already decided on the type of swords I need. All three together will cost about 20,000 ryo."
He paused, watching his father's face carefully.
"I know I'm already two months late on that promise, but Kakashi was away on a mission. Now that he's back in Konoha… I want to fulfill it."
There was a moment of silence as the radio crackled softly in the background. Santoryu stood still, heart steady, waiting for his father's response.
Santoryu's father sat quietly, listening. He hadn't forgotten the promise. In fact, he remembered it clearly—even a few months ago, when the original deadline came and passed. But he hadn't brought it up.
In these two years, he had watched his son change—watched him train with unwavering discipline, pushing himself every single day. He might not have been a ninja himself, but that didn't mean he was blind. He knew how strong ninjas were. And he could tell that Santoryu had come a long way since the day he first made that promise.
Still, despite his pride, there was a storm of conflicting emotions inside him.
He and his wife had talked about it often—sometimes with words, other times just through shared silences. Which parent didn't want their child to make something of themselves? In this world, recognition, respect, and safety often came only through power. And the path of the ninja was the clearest—and most dangerous—way to achieve it.
As parents, they wanted to see Santoryu succeed. They wanted to see him become someone strong and capable, someone who could protect himself and make a name in this unforgiving world.
But at the same time, a part of them wished he would choose a different life. A safer life. One where war wasn't a daily threat. Where every mission didn't come with the risk of never returning home.
And now, with war brewing just beyond the borders of Konoha, that fear had only grown deeper.
Santoryu's father opened his mouth to speak, then paused, eyes studying his son.
There was no doubt in his heart—his boy had grown. He was no longer just a child swinging wooden swords. He was someone chasing a dream. Someone ready to put his training to the test.
He let out a long breath.
----
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