Chapter XXI

I treaded lightly, my steps as quiet as a whisper, and minimized my presence, hoping to avoid encountering that person.

In the near distance, I spotted a house with a veranda. There, a girl lounged lazily, holding what appeared to be a Gameboy in her hands. I prayed she hadn't noticed me.

The road stretched straight ahead, and she hadn't been there when I passed by earlier, I swore.

"Yo, Nobuyuki!" A sweet voice called out, shattering my hopes of remaining unnoticed. I clenched my teeth, realizing she had spotted me.

Reluctantly, I turned around and greeted her, "G-good evening, Haguro. It's a nice weather, isn't it... hahaha..." I pretended as though nothing was amiss while nervously rubbing the back of my head.

"Well, don't just stand there, come inside," she beckoned.

With no better excuse in mind, and my thoughts in disarray, I simply nodded and followed her, taking a seat beside her on the veranda.

"What brings you here, Nobuyuki?" she inquired.

"Um... just delivering some mail, that's all," I replied truthfully.

"Wait here, I'll bring some refreshments. I'm sure you're tired after running errands," she offered, rising to her feet and heading indoors.

"Yes..." My eyes caught sight of the electronic device she had left behind. I took a closer look and confirmed that it was indeed a Gameboy.

Since awakening in this world, I had lost interest in video games. There was simply too much to process. Besides, the thrill of mastering jutsu far surpassed the allure of the fantasy games I used to indulge in.

"Here you go," Haguro returned, carrying a tray adorned with sliced watermelon and cup of cold teas.

...

A silence settled between us, though Haguro seemed perfectly at ease, engrossed in her Gameboy.

"So, how's it going?" I ventured.

"How's what going?" she asked, still engrossed in her game.

"You know, the funding for our project," I clarified.

"Ah, that. I was going to discuss it with you tomorrow, but since you brought it up..." she began.

She explained that she had managed to secure some side gigs at a nearby printing factory and publishing firm.

"It's nothing too demanding. Mostly disposing of old newspapers and waste. Though the pay won't be enough..." she trailed off, then continued, "But it's an opportunity for us to make connections."

"I see..." I remained skeptical. My gaze shifted to the satchel I held tightly. I hadn't considered it before, but could I sell my seals? Although I knew a license from the village was required, perhaps there was a way around it.

"Haguro..."

"Yes?" Her eyes remained fixed on her Gameboy.

"Can I sell my seals?"

"Hmm... it depends. As you know, unlicensed seal users are prohibited from peddling their crafts... at least, legally," she responded with a mischievous tone, emphasizing the last part.

"If you're confident, we can check it out tomorrow, once we're finished at the factory. I might have a way," she teased, her eyes gleaming. "I've always wanted to say this, but..."

I couldn't help but chuckle at her playful mockery. "We'll pretend this conversation never happened, right?"

.

I returned to my room, brimming with excitement. Magoroku-ojii-san had kept his promise and given me his set of armor.

With some time before Naruto woke up from his nap, I had a chance to experiment.

As I entered, the soft wind whispered through the veranda, accompanied by the faint scampering of Kintarou, the little hamster, on his wheel.

With focused determination, I began assembling the armor. Performing a series of hand signs, I struck the surface of my hand against the torso piece, hoping for a positive outcome.

A puff of smoke emerged, raising my hopes momentarily, only to dissipate quickly and shatter my expectations.

I knew deep down it was too good to be true.

Slumping onto the mattress, I let out a weary sigh.

What should I do now? My gaze shifted towards Naruto, peacefully sleeping in the warm daylight. His small chest rising and falling in a delightful rhythm, almost tempting me to coo.

A thought crossed my mind. I glanced at the armor scattered haphazardly on the floor. It was empty. Perhaps there was still a chance.

I left the room and hurried to the market, purchasing spare burlap sacks and an abundance of straw wheat from my storage scrolls. Optimism fueled my approach, despite uncertainty looming.

First, I fashioned a sack into a humanoid shape, carefully measuring its size to match the armor. Then, I filled it with tightly packed wheat straws.

Would this be enough? I wondered. The straw man was then adorned with the armor, requiring a few sticks for support to stand upright.

Something felt off. The joints didn't seem designed for fluid movement. I disassembled the makeshift figure and started anew.

This time, I separated the limbs, contemplating how to address the issue of joints.

Heading to the storage shed at the back, I found some logs usually stored for winter.

They seemed suitable for the task. Equipped with the necessary tools, including chisels and carving knives, I carefully shaped the logs.

Creating spherical sockets on one end and corresponding ball-shaped protrusions on the other, I aimed to achieve a functional ball-and-socket joint.

Considering the proportions of the doll and the desired range of motion, I meticulously carved the wooden pieces, ensuring their surfaces were smooth and rounded for optimal movement.

Once the joint pieces were ready, I returned to the straw man and attached the wooden balls to their corresponding joints, securing them firmly with adhesive.

Satisfied with the new ball-and-socket joints, I reassembled the straw man, connecting the limbs to the torso.

Testing the joints by gently moving the arms and legs, I was pleased to discover a satisfactory range of motion. However, I realized the joint connections between the limbs and torso required reinforcement for stability.

To address this, I decided to insert small metal pins through the wooden balls and into the straw body, creating a more secure attachment.

Carefully drilling holes into the wooden balls and corresponding areas of the torso, I inserted the metal pins, ensuring they fit snugly. This additional reinforcement provided the necessary stability for the doll's movements.

With everything in place, I adorned the straw man with the Armor. I exhaled a satisfied breath, placing my hands on my hips as I admired my work.

Although it was only halfway done, I thought it could serve as a charming decoration if my plan didn't work.

Shaking my head, I circled around the armor until I faced its back.

Forming the hand seal once again, I struck the front of my hand, causing a puff of smoke to burst forth. But my shoulders slumped in disappointment. Once again, it had failed.

Why couldn't there be an easier way? I needed to step back and reassess everything I had done thus far.

I pondered the limitations of using the armor and straw man as conduits for chakra. It seemed unlikely that they would effectively channel or even hold the chakra. If that was the case...

Once again, I dismantled the straw man and tore open its chest, wracking my brain for ideas, drawing upon the creative knowledge from my past life.

Sometimes, a doll requires a core, right? Perhaps establishing a connection would be possible if I had a catalyst that could attract my chakra.

But what could serve as such a catalyst? I didn't possess anything of great personal value. It wouldn't work.

However, there was an alternative. Plucking out a few strands of my hair, I bundled them into an Ofuda using old cloth, then inserted it into the straw man.

Next, I needed an intermediary, a path for the jutsu to settle within the vessel. A seal was the perfect solution to this puzzle.

It didn't seem overly complicated to make. I crafted two seals—one for the exterior and another to be affixed inside.

With everything reassembled, I anxiously awaited, forming the necessary hand seal once more. The puff of smoke, even though it quickly dissipated, irritated me as I longed to see the result without delay.

It... didn't move.

Wait.

There was a slight twitch in its fingers—or at least the area where the fingers should be. The hand resembled more of a pad than precise human digits.

A rosy smile spread across my face as the audible clanking of the armor confirmed that the method was indeed working.

The clone within the straw man swiftly stood up, then turned around to face me.

The visage behind the faceplate appeared ominous, but it only served to amplify my joyous grin.

"Hello, can you speak?" I asked, but there was no reaction. I raised my voice slightly, hoping for a response.

It promptly shook its head, and a fleeting frown crossed my face. However, it vanished just as quickly when I realized, "That makes sense. I didn't grant you any specific senses, after all."

"How about olfactory senses? Hearing? Vision?" I inquired further, and again it shook its head.

I sighed once more, feeling deflated as I slumped onto the bed, facing the armored figure. To my surprise, it moved its hand, albeit clumsily, as if trying to convey something.

Hand signs. I quickly deciphered its intended message.

"Blur. Make-believe?" I ventured.

It nodded, then shook its head. Ah, so it could still see and hear to some extent, but the sensations were heavily muffled.

The armored helmet swiveled left and right, searching for something in the room. Slowly, it reached out and grabbed the paper that lay on the table.

"Paper? Seal?" I guessed.

With much enthusiasm, it nodded.

"Make-believe... seal," I mused aloud.

Then its hand turned toward the sleeping form of Naruto. Despite the noise, the baby remained a heavy sleeper.

The armor pointed to the seal I had temporarily engraved to conceal Naruto's physical traits.

"Transformation? Ah, you mean a transformation seal?" I deduced.

The armor nodded happily, then pointed to the back of its own armor, where other intermediate seals were connected.

"I suppose it could work. Make-believe, huh?"

There was a grain of truth in that statement. In the end, imagination was the driving force behind every creation. It was the shape and relief that a craftsman envisioned as their hands meticulously shaped the clay, or the hammer and tongs of a blacksmith that brought a sword to life according to their mental image.

This concept applied equally to the discipline of seal crafting.

Wishcraft... the thought crossed my mind, but I quickly grabbed a quill and ink to create the desired seal. A slight modification to the transformation technique should suffice. It shouldn't require an excessive amount of chakra, lest the clone inside destabilize due to chakra depletion.

With a wide grin stretching across my face, I brought the seal to life, swiftly slapping it onto the back of the armor. To kickstart its activation, I infused a small burst of chakra.

"Can you speak?" I inquired, putting it to the test.

It shook its head, leaving me puzzled. "Huh... it didn't work?"

But before despair could consume me once more, the armor leaned closer and pointed to the faceplate, where the eyes would normally be. Though empty, except for the visible straw man within, there was a clear understanding in its gaze.

"You can see clearly now?" I questioned.

It nodded.

"How much is this?" I gestured with my fingers.

The armor raised two hands, then lowered one, indicating the number three.

"That's right, it's three," I confirmed. It nodded happily. "So, your hearing and visual senses are normal now."

"Alright, close your eyes or disable your visual perception," I commanded, and it obeyed with a nod.

"What is this on your hand?" I asked, taking the object from its grip and hiding it.

It moved its hand and formed another hand sign.

"A book. That's right, it's a book," I said, pride welling up within me. The jutsu, despite a few hiccups, was proving to be a success.

"Now, I'll dispel you," I declared.

Surprisingly, it made another hand sign instead of immediately complying. Shadow clones had their own ego, after all.

"A name?" I questioned, genuinely perplexed. "Why would you want a name?" The concept puzzled me. Could the same clone be summoned twice and retain its memories?

I paused, considering the matter. Perhaps because the clone possessed all of my memories, it could filter a certain subset from which its experiences were drawn.

It offered some explanations. Well, it's not like I can summon dozens of clones like Naruto, so granting a name to one or two clones should be fine, I supposed.

Deciding to humor it, I said, "Fine. From now on, you're..." Another pause followed as I searched for a suitable name. Since the clone was a carbon copy of myself, it didn't feel right to assign something unusual.

Eventually, I settled on one. "You're Ranmaru," I announced. "From now on, you're Ranmaru Mk. I."

It nodded eagerly, resembling a happy puppy wagging its tail.

A strange feeling washed over me. After all, the clone was, in a way, a mirror of myself. Had I always acted like this?

Shaking off the thought, I said, "Well, see you next time, Ranmaru. I'll dispel you right away."

It nodded, and with a puff of smoke, it vanished. However, I had forgotten that the armor and its contents were physical, not a clone.

I cringed as the armor, like a puppet cut from its strings, promptly fell to the floor. The noise startled Naruto from his peaceful slumber, and he began wailing in surprise at the sudden intrusion.

I realized there was much more work to be done on the technique. It was clear that numerous improvements were needed.

Nevertheless, it was a small step forward. And for now, I found solace in that.