The moment of breakthrough came at 3:47 AM on a Tuesday.
Yamamoto had been meditating for sixteen hours straight—a new record, even for him—when something clicked.
Not figuratively. Literally clicked. A sound like a lock opening echoed through his inner world, and suddenly everything was different.
The flames around him—the endless sea of fire that had defined his spiritual landscape—condensed. Compressed. Drew inward with terrifying speed until they formed a single point of absolute brightness.
And then they exploded outward in a wave of transformation.
Enbukenja stood before him, but not as the vague humanoid shape of living flame that Yamamoto had grown accustomed to. Now the spirit had definition. Form. Features.
It appeared as a figure clad in robes of shifting fire, with a face that was simultaneously ancient and ageless. Its eyes were still Amaterasu black, but now they held something beyond mere flames.
They held understanding.
"You've done it," Enbukenja said, and its voice no longer crackled like burning wood. It resonated like a struck bell, deep and clear.
"Bankai?" Yamamoto asked.
"The foundation for Bankai. You have achieved true harmony between us. Your flames and mine are no longer separate—they are one."
"What happens now?"
"Now?" The spirit smiled. "Now you speak the words."
"What words?"
"The words you've always known. The words that have been waiting inside you since the day you forged me in impossible fire." Enbukenja extended its hand toward him. "Speak, and become what you were meant to be."
Yamamoto closed his eyes.
The words rose up from somewhere deep—somewhere he hadn't known existed. They weren't Japanese. They weren't English. They weren't any language he had ever learned.
But he understood them perfectly.
"BANKAI."
Reality shattered.
Not metaphorically. The actual fabric of existence around Training Ground Seven—which had endured years of Yamamoto's increasingly destructive training—simply ceased to function properly for approximately 2.3 seconds.
In that moment of impossible wrongness, something emerged.
The physical world couldn't quite process what was happening. Trees didn't just burn—they unburned, their existence rewound and rewritten by flames that operated on levels beyond mere matter. The ground didn't just crack—it reorganized, stone and soil and earth remembering what they had been before they were formed.
And Yamamoto stood at the center of it all, transformed beyond recognition.
His sword—Kagutsuchi, Enbukenja, whatever name you chose—had become something else entirely. It was no longer a blade. It was a concept made manifest: the idea of "flame that creates through destruction" given physical form.
In his hands, he held what appeared to be a staff of crystallized fire, blazing white at the core and transitioning through every color of flame toward the edges. At its tip, a miniature sun burned with the intensity of a star.
His armor had evolved as well. No longer the flowing robes of his Shikai form, but something more structured. Plates of solidified flame covered his body, each one inscribed with patterns that seemed to move and shift when viewed directly. A cape of Amaterasu trailed behind him—not attached to his shoulders, but floating independently, as if it had its own will.
And his eyes...
His eyes were no longer Sharingan or Mangekyou.
They were something new. Something that contained fire in its purest form. Something that looked at the world and saw not objects and people but fuel and potential.
"Enbukenja Taiyō," he said, and the words echoed across dimensions. "The Flame Sage's Sun."
Perfect, Enbukenja's voice said, no longer from the sword but from everywhere at once. You have achieved Bankai.
The explosion of spiritual pressure was felt across the village.
In the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi dropped his pipe.
In the ANBU headquarters, a dozen operatives immediately began moving toward the source.
In his underground lair, Danzo felt something he hadn't experienced in decades: genuine, primal fear.
In Training Ground Three, Kakashi looked up from his book and said, "Huh. That's concerning."
In the Hyuuga compound, every Byakugan user simultaneously activated their eyes and then immediately deactivated them because looking directly at Yamamoto's chakra signature was causing physical pain.
And in a small apartment across the village, Naruto woke up from a dead sleep and said, "Why do I feel like something awesome just happened?"
Yamamoto held the Bankai for approximately thirty seconds before dismissing it.
This was not by choice.
The power was simply too much. His body—enhanced and modified and pushed beyond all reasonable limits—could barely contain what he had become. Every cell screamed in protest. Every chakra pathway burned with overload. His healing factor, which had kept him functioning through years of insane training, was working at maximum capacity just to keep him alive.
"Too... strong..." he gasped, collapsing to his knees as the transformation faded.
Yes, Enbukenja agreed. Bankai at full power would destroy you in your current state. You need more training before you can wield it properly.
"More... training..."
I know. You're excited. Try not to die from enthusiasm.
Yamamoto laughed weakly.
Then he passed out.
He woke up in the hospital.
This was unusual. Yamamoto hadn't been to a hospital since he was three years old and had accidentally set his nursery on fire. His healing factor usually handled everything.
But apparently, achieving Bankai and then immediately collapsing from spiritual exhaustion warranted professional medical attention.
"You're awake," a tired voice said.
Yamamoto turned his head to find the Hokage sitting beside his bed, looking approximately a thousand years old.
"Lord Hokage."
"Don't 'Lord Hokage' me. What did you do?"
"I achieved Bankai."
"I don't know what that means, but half my sensor corps is still recovering from the feedback. Three of them are crying. One won't stop muttering about 'the sun that wasn't a sun.' What happened?"
Yamamoto considered how to explain.
"My sword has a second transformation beyond Shikai," he said slowly. "Bankai is the ultimate release. It grants power proportional to the wielder's spiritual development."
"And how much power did it grant you?"
"I'm not entirely sure. I could only hold it for thirty seconds before my body started failing."
The Hokage was quiet for a long moment.
"In those thirty seconds," he said carefully, "our sensors detected a chakra signature larger than the Nine-Tails."
Yamamoto blinked.
"That seems excessive."
"THAT'S WHAT I SAID!" The Hokage's composure cracked for a moment before he forced himself to calm down. "You're restricted from using that technique within village limits. In fact, you're restricted from using it anywhere near civilization. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Lord Hokage."
"Good." He stood up, suddenly looking every one of his many years. "I'm too old for this. I was supposed to be retired. I was supposed to be enjoying my golden years. Instead, I'm dealing with jinchuuriki and Uchiha survivors who somehow achieve power levels that shouldn't exist."
"I apologize for the inconvenience."
"No, you don't."
"...No, I don't."
The Hokage left, muttering under his breath about "impossible children" and "early retirement."
Yamamoto was released from the hospital the next day.
He immediately went back to training.
Not Bankai—he wasn't suicidal—but refinement of his existing abilities. His Shikai was now even more powerful, influenced by his deeper connection to Enbukenja. His base techniques had improved dramatically. And he had new insights into fire manipulation that he was eager to explore.
But before he could properly settle into his training routine, Naruto arrived.
With news.
"WE GOT A C-RANK MISSION!" the orange genin shouted, practically vibrating with excitement. "A REAL ONE! Not catching cats or pulling weeds! An actual important mission!"
"Congratulations."
"We're escorting this bridge builder guy to the Land of Waves! He needs protection from bandits or something! Kakashi-sensei says it'll take a few weeks!"
"That sounds like valuable experience."
"And here's the best part—Kakashi-sensei talked to the Hokage, and the Hokage said you should come with us!"
Yamamoto paused.
"What?"
"Yeah! Something about 'keeping you under observation' and 'preventing unsupervised power testing' and 'for the love of all that is holy, get him out of the village before he accidentally creates another canyon.' I think it means he wants us to have extra protection!"
Yamamoto processed this.
The Hokage wanted him out of the village. Specifically, he wanted Yamamoto somewhere that his training wouldn't cause property damage or sensor-corps trauma. And apparently, he had decided that attaching Yamamoto to a genin team's C-rank mission was the solution.
"When do we leave?" Yamamoto asked.
"Tomorrow morning! Seven AM! Don't be late!"
Kakashi was, predictably, three hours late.
Yamamoto used the time productively, meditating while standing perfectly still at the village gates. Naruto paced impatiently. Sasuke brooded. Sakura alternated between sneaking glances at Sasuke and complaining about their sensei's tardiness.
And Tazuna—the bridge builder they were escorting—sat on his luggage and drank from a bottle that definitely didn't contain water.
"Is that one okay?" he asked, pointing at Yamamoto. "He hasn't moved in two hours. I think he might be dead."
"He's meditating," Sasuke said flatly.
"While standing?"
"While standing. It's a thing he does."
"Kids these days are weird."
"You have no idea."
When Kakashi finally arrived—with an excuse about getting lost on the road of life—the group set out.
Yamamoto fell into step at the rear of the formation, watching and waiting.
Something felt off about this mission.
He couldn't quite identify what it was. Just a sense of wrongness, a feeling that things weren't as simple as they appeared.
Trouble is coming, Enbukenja murmured.
"I know."
Are you going to warn them?
"And say what? 'My sword spirit thinks something bad might happen'? They already think I'm strange enough."
Fair point. But be ready.
"I'm always ready."
The Demon Brothers attacked on the second day.
They emerged from a puddle—an obvious hiding spot that Yamamoto had noticed hours ago but hadn't bothered to mention because he wanted to see how the genin would react—and lunged at Kakashi with chains connecting their gauntlets.
"SENSEI!" Sakura screamed as the chains wrapped around the jounin and apparently shredded him into bloody chunks.
Naruto froze.
Sasuke moved, drawing a kunai and preparing to intercept.
And Yamamoto sighed.
"Reduce all creation to ash, Enbukenja."
The transformation happened instantly. Flames erupted around him as his Shikai activated, his sword elongating into its enhanced form, his appearance shifting to the fire-wreathed warrior configuration.
The Demon Brothers—Gozu and Meizu, according to his vague memories of the anime—had approximately half a second to register what was happening before Yamamoto was between them.
One slash.
Two slashes.
Their chains shattered. Their gauntlets melted. Their cloaks caught fire with flames that wouldn't extinguish.
"AAAAHHH!" they screamed, rolling on the ground as Amaterasu consumed their clothing.
Yamamoto dismissed the flames before they could cause permanent injury.
"Those were chunin-level ninja," he observed calmly. "This is not a C-rank mission."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then Kakashi emerged from a nearby tree, completely unharmed.
"Substitution," he explained, seeing Naruto's confused expression. "I wanted to see how you'd react."
"How WE'D react?!" Sakura shrieked. "Yamamoto-san just... he just..."
"Handled it," Kakashi finished. "Very efficiently, I might add."
He turned to Tazuna, his one visible eye suddenly hard.
"Now then. I think you have some explaining to do."
The explanation was about what Yamamoto expected.
Tazuna had lied about the mission difficulty because the Land of Waves couldn't afford the higher-ranked assignment. A shipping magnate named Gato had taken over the country and was bleeding it dry. The bridge Tazuna was building would break Gato's stranglehold, which was why the businessman had hired ninja to kill him.
"I'm sorry," Tazuna said, and he actually looked genuinely remorseful. "I didn't have a choice. If the bridge isn't completed, my country dies. My family dies. Everything dies."
Kakashi looked at his team.
"This is beyond what we signed up for. We should go back and request proper support."
"No," Naruto said immediately. "We can't abandon him! That's not what ninja do!"
"Naruto—"
"He's right," Sasuke said quietly. "Abandoning the mission because it got harder is coward's logic."
Sakura hesitated, then nodded. "I... I agree. We should continue."
Kakashi turned to Yamamoto.
"And you?"
Yamamoto shrugged. "I'm here as 'observation.' Where you go, I go. But for what it's worth—" he gestured at the Demon Brothers, who were still whimpering on the ground "—I don't think the threat level is particularly concerning."
"You just defeated two chunin in less than a second."
"Yes. And?"
Kakashi stared at him for a long moment.
"Fine," he said finally. "We continue. But everyone stays alert. If there are more ninja after Tazuna, they'll be stronger than these two."
The mist rolled in on day four.
Thick, unnatural mist that reduced visibility to almost nothing. Yamamoto could feel the chakra woven through it—a skilled technique, designed to disorient and confuse.
He could have burned it away instantly. But he wanted to see what came next.
What came next was Zabuza Momochi.
The Demon of the Hidden Mist emerged from the fog like a nightmare, his massive blade gleaming, his killing intent washing over the group like a physical force.
Naruto stumbled. Sakura screamed. Even Sasuke went pale.
Kakashi stepped forward, pulling up his headband to reveal the Sharingan underneath.
"Zabuza Momochi," he said. "A-rank missing ninja. Former member of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist."
"Kakashi of the Sharingan," Zabuza replied. "This should be interesting."
"It really won't be," Yamamoto said.
Everyone turned to look at him.
Yamamoto was still standing casually at the back of the group, Kagutsuchi undrawn, expression bored.
"What did you say?" Zabuza demanded.
"I said it won't be interesting. You're strong—maybe A-rank, possibly low S-rank if the rumors are accurate. But I've sparred with Might Guy at full power. You're not in the same category."
Zabuza's eyes narrowed.
"You're either very confident or very stupid."
"Both, actually. But mostly confident."
"Kid, I don't know who you think you are—"
"Uchiha Yamamoto. The one with the fire sword. You may have heard of me."
Zabuza went still.
He had heard. Everyone had heard. The Uchiha survivor who had manifested a complete Susanoo during the massacre. The teenager who had created a canyon by accident. The wielder of a weapon that channeled Amaterasu.
And more recently, the source of that impossible spiritual pressure that had been felt even in the Land of Waves.
"You're the one," Zabuza said slowly. "The anomaly."
"I prefer 'dedicated.'"
"Anomalies are dangerous. Unpredictable. They disrupt the natural order."
"So I've been told."
Zabuza was quiet for a moment, calculating.
Then he made his decision.
"Haku," he called into the mist. "Change of plans. We're leaving."
A figure materialized beside him—a young person in a hunter-nin mask, gender ambiguous, moving with the grace of falling water.
"Zabuza-sama?"
"This isn't worth the money Gato is paying. Let the old man build his bridge."
"But—"
"I said we're leaving."
Haku hesitated, then nodded. "Understood."
They vanished into the mist.
There was a very long silence.
Then Naruto exploded.
"WHAT WAS THAT?! They just LEFT?! We didn't even get to fight! I was ready to kick that guy's ass and he just RAN AWAY!"
"He retreated," Kakashi corrected, though he looked almost as confused as Naruto felt. "There's a difference."
"It's still not fair! I wanted to prove myself!"
"You'll have other opportunities," Yamamoto said. "Though I admit I was hoping for more of a challenge."
"YOU were hoping for a challenge?! YOU scared away an A-rank missing ninja by just STANDING THERE!"
"My reputation precedes me."
"THAT'S SO COOL AND ALSO SO FRUSTRATING!"
Sakura, who had been quiet throughout this exchange, was staring at Yamamoto with wide eyes.
Something had shifted in her expression.
Something that looked suspiciously like the way she usually stared at Sasuke.
Oh no, Yamamoto thought.
Oh yes, Enbukenja replied, sounding far too amused.
The rest of the journey to the Land of Waves was uneventful.
Zabuza didn't reappear. Neither did Haku. Gato, apparently informed of the failed assassination, went into hiding. The bridge construction continued without interference.
Yamamoto used the free time to train.
And to avoid Sakura.
This proved difficult.
"Yamamoto-san," she said on the third day, appearing beside him with a bento box. "I made lunch."
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten since yesterday."
"I don't need to eat as often as normal people."
"That's not healthy."
"I have a healing factor."
"That doesn't mean you should skip meals!"
Tenten had been persistent, but Sakura was relentless. She found excuses to be near him constantly—asking questions about his sword, requesting demonstrations of his techniques, volunteering to help with his training in ways that were definitely not helpful.
"Why is she following you?" Sasuke asked during one of their meditation sessions.
"I don't know."
"She used to follow me."
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"...Is that sarcasm?"
"I'm honestly not sure."
She likes you, Enbukenja observed, because the sword never missed an opportunity to state the obvious.
"I've noticed."
Are you going to do anything about it?
"I'm going to continue training and hope she loses interest."
That hasn't worked with Tenten.
Yamamoto didn't have a response to that.
On day seven, Gato made a mistake.
A big mistake.
He sent mercenaries to the bridge.
Not ninja—he had apparently decided that hiring more after Zabuza's failure was too expensive—but regular mercenaries. Hundreds of them. Armed with swords and crossbows and clubs, swarming onto the incomplete bridge with the intention of killing everyone present.
The workers fled.
Team Seven prepared to defend.
And Yamamoto sighed.
"This is beneath me," he said.
"There are hundreds of them!" Sakura protested.
"Exactly."
He drew Kagutsuchi.
"Reduce all creation to ash, Enbukenja."
The transformation happened. Flames wreathed his body, his sword elongated, his appearance shifted to the warrior of fire.
The mercenaries faltered, seeing the display.
Yamamoto raised his blade.
"Third Form: Solar Flare."
The attack was controlled—more controlled than he'd ever managed before. A concentrated beam of heat that swept across the bridge, carefully angled to strike only the mercenaries' weapons.
Every sword melted.
Every crossbow caught fire.
Every club turned to ash.
In the span of three seconds, an army of several hundred became an army of several hundred unarmed, terrified, completely helpless men.
"Leave," Yamamoto said, his voice carrying across the bridge. "Or the next attack won't target your weapons."
They left.
Very, very quickly.
"That was AMAZING!" Naruto shouted when it was over. "You just—and they—and the swords—SO COOL!"
"It was efficient," Yamamoto said, dismissing his Shikai.
"Efficient AND cool! Both things! At the same time!"
Kakashi was staring at Yamamoto with his one visible eye, expression unreadable.
"The control," he said slowly. "You hit every weapon without touching a single person. At that distance, with that many targets..."
"I've been training."
"That's not training. That's something else entirely."
Yamamoto shrugged. "I have a good sword."
Flattery will get you everywhere, Enbukenja murmured.
Gato himself appeared an hour later.
He arrived in a carriage, surrounded by his last remaining guards, clearly intending to make some kind of dramatic entrance.
What he found was Team Seven, standing calmly on the bridge, with Yamamoto at the front looking profoundly bored.
"You!" Gato snarled, pointing at Tazuna. "You think you can defy me?! I own this country! I own everyone in it!"
"You own nothing," Yamamoto said. "You're a small man with delusions of significance. Your mercenaries have fled. Your assassins have abandoned you. All that remains is you and—" he counted quickly "—eight guards."
"These guards are my elite! The best money can buy!"
"Money can't buy what you actually need."
Gato's face twisted with rage.
"Kill them! Kill them all!"
The guards charged.
Yamamoto didn't bother with Shikai this time.
He didn't even bother with the sword.
He simply moved.
Eight guards. Eight strikes. Eight unconscious bodies hitting the ground.
It took less than two seconds.
Gato stumbled backward, his face going pale.
"What—what ARE you—"
"I'm the person deciding whether you live or die," Yamamoto said flatly. "Normally, I wouldn't bother with someone like you. You're not a threat. You're barely an inconvenience. But you've caused suffering here. Genuine suffering to innocent people."
He stepped forward.
"And I've recently decided that I want to create a world where that kind of suffering is less common."
Gato fell to his knees.
"Please! I'll pay you! Whatever you want! Money, power, influence—anything!"
"I don't want anything you have." Yamamoto looked down at the cowering businessman. "Here's what's going to happen. You're going to release all financial holdings related to the Land of Waves. You're going to compensate the people you've exploited. And then you're going to leave and never return."
"And if I refuse?"
Yamamoto's eyes shifted—just for a moment—to the burning intensity of his Mangekyou.
"Then I won't kill you. I'll just make you watch as I burn everything you've ever built. Every business. Every asset. Every scrap of wealth you've accumulated. All of it reduced to ash while you live long enough to see yourself become nothing."
Gato made a sound that might have been a whimper.
"Do we have an understanding?"
"Yes! Yes, anything you say! Just please—"
"Good."
The liberation of the Land of Waves happened quickly after that.
Gato, true to his terrified word, released his holdings. The people, no longer under his thumb, began the slow process of rebuilding. The bridge—which they decided to name "The Great Naruto Bridge" after the enthusiastic genin who had been vocally supportive throughout—was completed without further incident.
Team Seven prepared to return to Konoha.
"Thank you," Tazuna said, tears in his eyes. "All of you. You've saved my country."
"It was a team effort," Kakashi said diplomatically.
"Mostly it was the scary fire guy," Tazuna's daughter Tsunami added, glancing at Yamamoto with a mixture of gratitude and fear.
"I helped!" Naruto protested.
"You did," Tsunami agreed. "You were very enthusiastic."
The journey back was peaceful.
Too peaceful, in Yamamoto's opinion. He had been hoping for more opportunities to test his Shikai's new capabilities. But the Land of Waves was apparently fresh out of villains.
Instead, he spent the travel time meditating and avoiding Sakura.
The latter was becoming increasingly difficult.
"Yamamoto-san," she said on the second day of travel, falling into step beside him. "Can I ask you something?"
"You can ask."
"How did you get so strong?"
"Training."
"That's what you always say, but there has to be more to it. You're only a few years older than us, but you're like... a completely different level."
Yamamoto considered the question.
"I train eighteen hours a day," he said. "I have since I was old enough to walk. I've pushed my body past every limit, recovered from injuries that should have killed me, developed techniques that shouldn't exist. I've sacrificed social connections, personal comfort, and basic human experiences—all in pursuit of strength."
Sakura was quiet for a moment.
"That sounds lonely."
"It was. For a long time. But I'm learning that strength without purpose is meaningless." He glanced at her. "Why do you want to know?"
"Because..." She hesitated. "Because I felt useless on this mission. You and Kakashi-sensei and even Sasuke-kun—everyone was contributing. Fighting. Making a difference. And I just... stood there."
"You stayed calm. Protected Tazuna. Provided medical assistance when the workers were injured. Those aren't useless contributions."
"But they're not strong contributions."
"Strong and useful aren't the same thing. But if you want to be stronger..." He thought about it. "Train your chakra control. You have excellent precision—better than Naruto or Sasuke. That's a foundation you can build on."
Sakura's eyes lit up. "Really? You think so?"
"I know so. I have the Sharingan. I can see your chakra pathways. They're remarkably well-organized for someone your age."
She blushed furiously.
"I—thank you, Yamamoto-san! That means a lot coming from you!"
Careful, Enbukenja warned. You're being nice to her. That'll only make things worse.
Yamamoto ignored the sword.
He was trying to be supportive. That was what normal people did, right?
Normal people don't have two teenage girls developing crushes on them because they're oblivious to social cues.
That wasn't his problem. He was focused on training. Romance was a distraction.
Sure it is. Keep telling yourself that.
They arrived back in Konoha to a hero's welcome.
Or rather, Yamamoto arrived to a hero's welcome. Team Seven arrived to confused questions about why their C-rank mission had apparently turned into an A-rank rescue of an entire country.
The Hokage, upon hearing the full report, looked like he wanted to cry.
"So let me understand this," he said slowly. "You encountered A-rank missing ninja, who fled rather than fight. You then defeated an army of mercenaries single-handedly. And finally, you forced a wealthy businessman to divest his entire criminal empire through intimidation alone."
"That's accurate," Yamamoto said.
"And you did all of this in Shikai? Without using Bankai?"
"Bankai seemed excessive."
"EXCESSIVE?!"
"The mercenaries weren't threats. Gato wasn't a threat. There was no need for excessive force."
The Hokage stared at him for a very long time.
"You're telling me," he said finally, "that liberating an entire country was not worth using your full power."
"Correct."
"Then what, exactly, would warrant your full power?"
Yamamoto considered the question.
"A Kage-level threat, probably. Or multiple S-rank opponents simultaneously. Something that actually challenges me."
The Hokage's eye twitched.
"I need to retire," he muttered. "I really, truly need to retire."
Life in Konoha returned to something approaching normal.
Yamamoto resumed his training routine—now incorporating the new insights from his Bankai achievement. He continued his meditation sessions with Sasuke, his team exercises with Team Fifteen, and his increasingly awkward interactions with Tenten (who had heard about the Wave mission and was demanding full reports on every technique he had used).
And now he had Sakura to deal with too.
"Yamamoto-san!" she called out one morning, jogging to catch up with him. "I've been working on my chakra control like you suggested! Watch this!"
She demonstrated a technique—walking up a nearby wall with perfect precision.
"Good," Yamamoto said.
"Really?"
"Your form is better than Naruto's. Keep practicing."
She beamed at him.
Behind her, he could see Tenten approaching from the opposite direction, notebook in hand.
Behind Tenten, he could see Ino Yamanaka—one of Sakura's classmates—watching the interaction with poorly concealed interest.
Your life is about to get very complicated, Enbukenja observed.
"It was already complicated."
More complicated, then.
"Wonderful."
Yamamoto sighed and returned to his training.
Some problems couldn't be solved with fire.
Unfortunately.
That night, in his inner world, Enbukenja showed him something new.
"Your Bankai is stabilizing," the spirit said, gesturing at the flames around them. "With more practice, you'll be able to maintain it for longer periods without damaging yourself."
"How long until I can use it in actual combat?"
"Months, probably. Your body needs to adjust to channeling that much power. But in the meantime..." The spirit smiled. "You have other techniques to develop."
"Such as?"
"Your Shikai has grown stronger since achieving Bankai. The forms you developed before are now capable of much more than they were. And there are new forms waiting to be discovered."
"Show me."
The spirit extended its hand, and fire blossomed between them.
"The Eighth Form: Consuming Dawn. A technique that creates flames which spread across surfaces, burning everything they touch until nothing remains. Useful for area denial."
The flames demonstrated, spreading across an imaginary landscape.
"The Ninth Form: Solar Wind. A ranged attack that sends a wave of heat and force at opponents. Less destructive than your Third Form, but faster and more versatile."
The flames shifted, becoming a blast of pressure and heat.
"And the Tenth Form: Corona. A defensive technique that creates a sphere of flames around you, burning anything that attempts to enter."
The flames wrapped around an invisible figure, forming a perfect protective shell.
"These forms will help bridge the gap between your current power and your eventual Bankai mastery," Enbukenja concluded. "Practice them. Perfect them. And when the time comes, you'll be ready for whatever challenges await."
Yamamoto nodded.
"Thank you, Enbukenja."
"We are partners. Your growth is my growth."
"Still. Thank you."
The spirit smiled—warm and genuine and nothing like the terrifying fire god it had seemed to be when they first met.
"You've come far, Yamamoto. Further than I expected. Further than should be possible."
"I had good motivation."
"Fear?"
"At first. But now..." He thought about Naruto, about Sasuke, about his team, about the people he had started to care about. "Now it's something else."
"Purpose."
"Yes. Purpose."
The spirit nodded.
"That's the foundation of true strength. Not fear. Not anger. Purpose."
"I'm beginning to understand that."
"Good. Now wake up. Your pink-haired admirer is approaching the training ground."
Yamamoto groaned.
He emerged from his meditation to find Sakura standing at the edge of the training ground, holding what appeared to be a homemade bento.
"I brought breakfast!" she said cheerfully.
Behind her, barely visible in the pre-dawn light, Tenten was also approaching. Also carrying food.
They spotted each other at the same moment.
The temperature in the training ground dropped several degrees.
"Oh," Sakura said flatly. "It's you."
"Me?" Tenten replied, equally flat. "I've been bringing Yamamoto-san meals for months. Who are you?"
"I'm his teammate's teammate! We just completed a major mission together!"
"I'm his dedicated research partner! I've been documenting his techniques for over a year!"
"Research partner? Is that what we're calling stalking now?"
"Stalking?! I provide valuable scientific observation!"
"You take notes on how he moves! That's creepy!"
"It's ACADEMIC!"
Yamamoto quietly began to gather his things.
"Where do you think you're going?!" both girls demanded simultaneously.
"Training Ground Twelve. It's more isolated."
"I'll come with you!" Sakura said.
"I'll come too!" Tenten added.
They glared at each other.
Yamamoto looked up at the sky, wondering what he had done to deserve this.
You became strong and attractive while being completely oblivious to romantic attention, Enbukenja supplied helpfully. This is the natural consequence.
"I didn't ask to be attractive."
And yet, here we are.
End of Chapter 5