Chapter 13: The Recommendation Letter
The Senju estate's garden was steeped in the dim yellow of twilight.
The evening wind rustled the leaves of the old trees. The lanterns under the eaves cast a soft, warm glow. Tōka-bā-chan sat like a silent, unmoving rock. When she saw Shūji slide open the door, her eyelids merely twitched.
"You're back?" Her voice was flat, betraying no emotion. But her weathered gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than usual.
"Yes, Bā-chan." Shūji sat down on the edge of the veranda, his posture relaxed. "The Sandaime summoned me. It was about my squad arrangement, and also about a promotion to Special Jōnin."
He deliberately left out the part about Itachi. He was worried she would be concerned. After all, he had agreed to be Itachi's captain, and then the Sandaime had offered him a promotion. It felt too much like an exchange.
No, looking at the process, it was an exchange.
Tōka-bā-chan's fingers, holding her teacup, paused for an imperceptible instant. She remained silent, her gaze drifting to a corner of the garden that had already been swallowed by shadow.
"It requires two letters of recommendation from a Chūnin or Jōnin," Shūji continued, his tone like a formal report, "plus one specialized skill assessment."
"About the letters... I'm afraid I'll have to trouble you."
"Recommendation letters?" Tōka-bā-chan slowly turned her head back, her eyes landing on Shūji. The word seemed to make the very air on the veranda freeze. She lifted her cup and took a sip, but the scalding tea couldn't quite hide the deep, complex meaning that flashed in her eyes.
Those who could write the letters... naturally meant those people.
In the fragments of memory Shūji had integrated, "those people" were like distant, estranged relatives.
At specific times of the year, they would set foot in this somewhat desolate old estate, bearing respectable, but not extravagant, gifts—an exquisite box of sweets, seasonal fruits, or some small, rare item from outside the village.
The memories were hazy: some faces held a deep respect for the past, their words to Tōka-bā-chan clearly reverent.
They would look at the young Shūji with complex eyes, as if studying a keepsake that connected the past to the future. They'd pat his head or shoulder, ask a few mundane questions like "How is the Academy going?" or "My, you've gotten tall," in a gentle, elder-like tone that still carried a certain distance.
To the current Shūji, these were relatives he only saw for brief holiday greetings. The emotional bond was thin, the connection weak. But he needed them now, so his only recourse was to ask Tōka-bā-chan, the family matriarch, to coordinate.
From his adult way of thinking, this was undoubtedly the most appropriate, tactful, and efficient path. It was far more natural and effective for an elder to make the request than for a fourteen-year-old boy to personally seek out these vaguely-remembered, distant uncles and aunts for a favor.
Tōka-bā-chan set her cup down, the clink of it meeting the saucer was soft, but sharp in the quiet.
Her gaze rested on Shūji's still-youthful face. Fourteen. It wasn't young, not in the shinobi world. It was an age where one could already bear heavy responsibilities.
But to Tōka-bā-chan, it was still far too young.
A recommendation letter was a statement. A parent writing one meant they acknowledged the child as their representative. A Chūnin writing one meant they accepted that Jōnin's leadership. A Jōnin writing one meant they acknowledged that person's skill in a certain field, recognizing them as a comrade-in-arms.
So, to have those people write the letters... Should she let him make contact?
Let him step into that circle... now?
After Hashirama-sama and Tobirama-sama had both passed, "those people" had used any excuse to gather at the old estate. It was, without a doubt, an attempt to maintain a bond, a network, that they could rely on in a crisis.
Behind that bond was expectation, burden, and perhaps... calculation. This water was far too deep and murky for the Shūji of today.
"About the letters..." Tōka-bā-chan finally said, relenting. "This old woman will handle it."
"Is there anything I need to prepare?"
"You only need to focus on your exam." Tōka-bā-chan casually pushed a ceramic cup of freshly steeped hot tea in front of him. "You don't need to worry about the rest yet."
Shūji accepted the cup, the warmth spreading from his palm. "Yes, Bā-chan."
He agreed readily. If she was going to handle it personally, he was happy to save the trouble.
"The letters will be sent directly to the Hokage's office," Tōka-bā-chan added flatly.
Shūji held the warm cup, his mind immediately drifting.
The foundation his original body had left him was extremely solid: he could wield all five nature transformations, and his chakra reserves were exceptional. (Abundant chakra also meant a strong body, so his taijutsu was naturally not weak.) As for genjutsu? In the chaos of the Warring States, Senju Tōka had been a famed genjutsu master who'd faced the Uchiha.
Shūji had been raised by her. Even if genjutsu wasn't his specialty, it was by no means a weak link.
And that wasn't even mentioning his current state, where the quantity and quality of his chakra had leaped to an entirely new level.
His spiritual senses were sharper, and his five physical senses were greatly enhanced.
A targeted exam for Special Jōnin? Whether for the current Shūji or the old one, it wasn't a problem.
For the current Shūji, it was more of a test of his control—how to precisely gauge his power, display the proper Jōnin-level skill to pass, but not act so differently from his past self as to attract unnecessary scrutiny.
What truly occupied his mind was his training to sense nature energy.
From his recent, meticulous practice, Shūji could now vaguely perceive the strange ripple in the air when his Wood Style trees attempted to draw in nature energy.
While it was still faint and hard to grasp, and he was far from being able to actively absorb it, it was positive feedback. It gave him more confidence that he was on the correct path. He just needed to continue.
At the same time, he couldn't neglect the deeper development of his Wood Style.
His previous attempt to guide it to absorb nature energy had ended in petrification, but failure itself was a form of data. The trees he created were simply too weak. So, did he need to focus on increasing the strength of the trees, or on developing new types?
These were problems that needed solving.
He had to understand the essence of Mokuton on a deeper level, to explore its fundamental connection to nature energy. Senju Hashirama had blazed the trail, but there was no reason Shūji couldn't find his own path.
Power. Only real, tangible power, held in his own hands, would allow him to stand firm in the chaotic, unpredictable tide of the era he knew was coming. The exam was just a ripple. Getting stronger was the only pillar.
The night deepened. The light from the old house cast a hazy glow on the paper windows. Tōka-bā-chan watched the boy holding his teacup, his gaze distant, clearly lost once again in thoughts of his training. The tense line of her shoulders relaxed, almost imperceptibly. She picked up her own cup, the tea now cool, and took a slow, quiet sip.