While I felt a surge of pride at my results, a nagging thought lingered in the back of my mind. I knew that this level of achievement wouldn't be enough to change the course of my journey. My growth had been commendable, but I was acutely aware that I needed to push myself even further if I wanted to stand out among my peers. However, the question loomed: how could I ramp up my training without sacrificing the precious moments I shared with my family?
It was a dilemma I wrestled with frequently. On one hand, I understood that every little bit of training contributed to my overall strength, but on the other hand, I didn't want to miss out on the joys of family life. The thought of getting stronger for the sake of protecting my loved ones felt hollow if it meant I was not truly enjoying the time spent with them. I wanted to cherish those moments, whether it was sharing a laugh over dinner, playing games, or simply enjoying each other's company in the quiet of the evening.
I came to realize that my desire for strength wasn't just about becoming the best ninja or proving my worth. It was deeply intertwined with my love for my family. The thought of being stronger was appealing, but not if it meant being distant or absent from their lives. I knew that even if it meant remaining a bit weaker than my peers, I would not compromise on the time I spent with them. After all, the essence of my journey was not just about power; it was about the bonds I forged and the memories I created along the way.
So, I made a conscious decision: I would continue my training, but I would do so in a way that allowed me to balance both my aspirations and my cherished family life. I understood that growth would take time, and I was prepared to embrace the journey, no matter how long it might take.
I'm not the main character of this story, and my plan has always been to use my knowledge to make the future better. I don't intend to solve every problem by myself. Living in this world has shown me some tough truths. People here can be very self-centered, with only a few exceptions of kind-hearted individuals.
It's not surprising, considering how the villagers treated an orphan boy like Naruto. Their lack of care has shaped how I see things. I don't plan on sacrificing myself for strangers, but I can't let the village be destroyed either. I've realized that changing one village isn't really an option; people of other villages are often treated just as poorly.
This connects to what I see in the Naruto world. No one has really changed villages, no matter how strong they are. Villages never offer citizenship to outsiders, and I doubt they would, because they know they will never be accepted.
So, my approach is to carefully navigate these social challenges and use my skills to make a difference from within, instead of taking on a hero's burden that might not work. I'm determined to make things better, but I want to do it in a way that respects my family and my own happiness.
Plus, I honestly don't think my body can handle any harsher training. Unlike some of my peers, I don't have the remarkable recovery abilities of the Nine-Tails, nor do I possess the extraordinary stamina and strength of fighters like Lee or Guy. Those two are absolute monsters in their own right, capable of pushing their bodies beyond normal limits. When I consider my past life, even my former self would probably describe me as a monster in terms of my abilities and skills. But now, in this world, I see myself as just an ordinary person trying to find my place.
Even so, I'm determined to bring about positive change. Over the past six months, I've been making significant progress in fuinjutsu. We've covered all the foundational concepts and have recently begun the intricate task of writing seals, which has proven to be an exceptionally difficult part of our training. I now understand why so few people choose to practice fuinjutsu, despite its immense potential for power and utility.
The complexity of this art is staggering, especially when you consider the endless variety of symbols we have to learn. Each symbol is composed of individual strokes of ink, and as I work on them, I've come to realize just how meticulous the process is. It's essential to be careful about the angle, length, and even the order of the strokes. A simple oversight can completely alter how a seal operates. No one has truly unraveled how variations in length, angle, or stroke order can affect the seal's function. For example, if I were to make even a slightly longer line than intended, the results could be drastically different—almost as if I were transforming an apple into a car.
To complicate matters further, each stroke we create requires the invocation of chakra, which can be incredibly exhausting. Fortunately, time isn't a factor when it comes to crafting seals; I can continue working on a seal even if I take breaks in between strokes. However, it's still a challenging endeavor, as even the spaces between symbols can influence the effectiveness of the seal itself.
Additionally, since we need to channel chakra while making each stroke, copying and pasting from an existing seal isn't an option. It's a unique challenge that tests both my patience and determination. But despite these difficulties, I have to admit that fuinjutsu holds the potential for incredible power. Take explosion paper, for example; it can cause significant damage, and anyone can use it by simply inserting their chakra. It's fascinating to think that the Sage of Six Paths utilized fuinjutsu to bring Naruto and others back from different dimensions. The ability to fly, too, is only possible because of the techniques within fuinjutsu.
As I reflect on my journey, I know I still have a long way to go. I've only just begun to scratch the surface of seal-making, and due to my limited chakra reserves, I can't practice as frequently as I would like. Not to mention, the costs associated with training can be quite steep. Chakra paper, for instance, is not only scarce but also very expensive, which adds another layer of difficulty to my learning process.
In recent years, I've had the opportunity to visit various places around the village, and I've begun to notice the differences in pricing for food and supplies. For example, at Ichiraku, the cheapest bowl of ramen is 150 ryo, while the most expensive one can go up to 500 ryo. A cup of instant ramen typically ranges between 30 to 50 ryo, depending on the flavor. With such a wide range of prices, it's no wonder that a BBQ restaurant tends to be quite costly; no one wants to share a meal there with Choji if they can help it!
Despite these challenges, I remain motivated and focused on my training. Each small step I take is part of my journey toward mastering fuinjutsu. I believe that with dedication and perseverance, I can hone my skills and make a significant impact, not only for myself but also for my family and my village. I'm determined to push through the obstacles in my path and emerge stronger, ready to face whatever challenges lie ahead.