Naruto: Reborn with Kaguya Powers-Chapter 56: The Twin Blades: Kurahane and Gekkō

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A/N:

There was a slight error during the race with Raikage; Aki was already 14. I kinda forgot the passage of time till then and incorrectly wrote 13 in a previous Chapter.

Time passed when Chunin exams for his students arrived.

I'm considering making him reach Akatsuki when he turns 15(the year cannon starts) or 16.

Anyone got some cool names? gimme.

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LET THE Chapter BEGIN.

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"Oi. Wake up."

Something poked Aki's shoulder—twice. Not hard, but firm enough to be annoying.

Aki's eyes fluttered open.

Sunlight filtered through the thick leaves overhead, casting shifting shadows over his face. For a moment, he just lay there, blinking. The grass beneath him was strangely warm. Comfortable.

Then the voice came again, louder.

"Hey. You alive or just pretending?"

Aki sat up in one smooth motion. No grogginess. No aches. He felt... clear. Awake. Rested.

That didn't make sense.

He turned, still brushing away sleep, and spotted the blacksmith's son standing nearby with his hands on his hips and a half-eaten apple in one hand.

"You always nap in the middle of a forest clearing like this?" the boy asked, glancing around. "Weird spot to pick."

Aki followed his gaze—then froze.

"...What the actual fuck."

The roots cradling him moments ago had twisted into the shape of a shallow bed. Behind him stood a massive tree with a thick trunk and broad canopy. Its roots curled outward like it had been part of the landscape for decades.

"Was this here yesterday?" Aki asked cautiously.

"Nope," the boy said, taking another bite. "That's why I'm staring at it. I came to wake you up and—boom. Tree."

Aki narrowed his eyes. The wood looked exactly like the branch he'd been holding when he collapsed.

"...Weird," he muttered.

"Anyway, Dad says the forge is ready. He's heating the core now and wants you there before he starts folding anything."

That snapped Aki back to reality. The swords.

"I'll be there." He vanished with a flicker.

"And he disappears again," the boy sighed, walking off.

The forge hissed and spat embers as Aki stepped inside, the heat wrapping around him like a blanket. The blacksmith stood near the furnace, rolling his shoulders while he worked a thick bar of steel with calm, rhythmic strikes.

"Finally," the man muttered, not even looking up. "Tongs are on the shelf. Move those blanks to the cooling rack. Even spacing."

Aki nodded and got to it. The work was strangely peaceful—no chakra, no training posts trying to kill him. Just honest labor.

The blacksmith's kid trailed in behind him, now quiet, watching wide-eyed like the inside of the forge was a dragon's den.

Aki could relate.

Once the last blank was set, Aki turned to the blacksmith.

"Before we start—can I show you something?"

"If it's some new-fangled sword style, I don't care."

"It's not."

"Some kind of weird training move?"

"No."

"Then no."

"...It might be a new material."

That gave the man pause.

He turned slowly, eyebrow raised. "What kind of material?"

"Something flexible. Powerful. You've probably never worked with anything like it," Aki said.

"If you say 'dreams' or 'hope,' I'm kicking you out."

"Not dreams," Aki said. "Chakra."

The forge went silent.

Even the kid paused mid-bite.

"Chakra?" the blacksmith repeated. "You mean that monk crap?"

"Not exactly." Aki held out a hand and focused.

Lightning crackled across his fingers, bright arcs dancing from knuckle to knuckle. He clenched his fist. The arcs collapsed inward—then expanded into a humming sphere of spinning chakra.

Rasengan.

The light from it pulsed off the walls. Tools rattled.

Aki let it hover a moment, then gently dispersed it into the air.

The blacksmith stared.

"...What the hell kind of ninjutsu nonsense was that?"

"Exactly what I said. Chakra. And I think we can forge with it."

The blacksmith looked personally offended.

"You think I need a glowing magic ball to teach me how to bind steel?"

"Kind of. That magic ball split a boulder yesterday."

The man opened his mouth, closed it again, then groaned.

"...I hate that I'm even considering this."

"But you are considering it."

"Shut up."

He sighed, then pointed to the bench. "Fine. You want to treat chakra like forging material? Watch how a blade is born first. Every strike. Every fold. Then we talk. You tell me where and how to add your... lightning yogurt."

"Lightning yogurt. That's a new one."

"Quiet."

The next hour passed in silence.

The blacksmith moved like a maestro. Every strike was precise. Every fold, deliberate. The forge pulsed with rhythm.

Aki activated his Byakugan. Best eyes for research.

He watched. Memorized. Not just the technique, but when the steel flexed. Where chakra might merge without rejection.

In his mind, a blueprint formed.

Six months.

That's how long it took to go from "let's try it" to "they might not explode this time."

They lost count of failed prototypes. By sword seven, the blacksmith stopped giving them names and just labeled the cause of death.

Cracked core. Chakra rot. Overload. Spontaneous combustion. Chakra-induced sword suicide.

"Boomstick Mk III" exploded so violently it knocked the kid into a wall and torched half the forge.

No one talked about "Boomstick Mk IV."

By month three, the forge had a permanent black scorch mark, the blacksmith had a nervous twitch, and the kid wore a helmet indoors like it was normal. fɾeewebnoveℓ.co๓

So when the final swords were finished—wrapped in thick cloth and laid on the bench—nobody spoke.

Not out of reverence.

Out of sheer paranoia.

"You paid in full," the blacksmith muttered, arms folded like he was bracing for impact. "So if this explodes, it's your fault."

"Fair," Aki said.

The kid shuffled to the back wall, just far enough to be probably safe.

Aki stepped forward.

Unwrapped the blades.

Twin swords. Elegant. Silent. No chakra hum. No unnatural glow. Just... stillness.

He picked one up. No vibration. No warmth. It felt like a real sword.

So far, so good.

He drew it slowly. The steel caught the forge light. Perfectly balanced. Solid.

Then, without warning—

The blade shimmered.

And shrunk.

It folded in on itself, like chakra-powered origami. In moments, it went from full-length katana to a kunai-sized blade. Compact. Smooth. Silent.

No explosion.

Aki blinked.

The blacksmith winced—then realized he was still alive. His shoulders relaxed by maybe 3%.

"...Did it just shrink?" he asked cautiously.

"I think..." Aki frowned, turning the blade in his hand. "It's reacting to chakra. Compressing itself."

He pushed more chakra in.

he blade elongated—smoothly. Silently.

Then shrank again.

And grew again.

"...Huh."

Aki stared at the sword in his hand. He wasn't sure what this meant yet.

But it wasn't a normal weapon. And for now, that was enough.

He sheathed both blades across his back. The hilts, now attached to shrunken blades, locked easily into their scabbards—solving a problem he hadn't even realized until the first time he tried drawing swords from behind his shoulders.

His arms weren't long enough to draw standard-length blades from his back. He'd been managing with ultra-short ninja swords, the only size he could safely handle.

But sheathing them? That was a different challenge altogether. Without the Byakugan, he'd have still been fumbling, stabbing his clones, and practicing endlessly just to get the angles right.

Back-mounted swords, without vision-enhancing jutsu, were about as impractical as it got.

And he was doing it with two.

Now, the shrunken swords solved that problem entirely. No more needing to activate the Byakugan just to arm himself.

Back-mounted swords.

Functional.

Real.

Explosively not exploding.

The man snorted. "You're not my first customer. But you are the first one walking out with blades like those."

Aki turned to look at him. "Legendary."

The man snorted. "You're the first customer. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Aki simply strapped the blades down and stepped toward the door.

"Give it time," he said over his shoulder. "They'll ask who made swords for Seiken Katsuki."

He paused, fingers brushing the twin hilts across his back. They weren't ordinary weapons. Not anymore. They moved when he willed it. Shrinking, growing and resonating as if a part of him.

"They deserve names," he muttered.

His left hand touched the darker of the two—sleek, with an edge that shimmered like starlight. "You'll be Kurahane," he said. "Black Wing. A blade meant to cut through the dark."

Then his right hand shifted to the other—lighter in hue, faster in feel. "And you... Gekkō," he said. "Moonlight. Swift and silent."

The chakra within both swords stirred in response, faint pulses echoing his words—like breath. Shrinking and expanding were just the beginning. He could feel it. These blades had more to show him. They weren't just tools. They were partners.

"But before I live give me two standard swords, I can strap to my hips. I won't use these swords on unworthy opponents."

The blacksmith raised a brow. "Practical. Wall rack's over there."

Aki walked over, fingers brushing along the row of blades until he found a pair—sturdy, balanced, clean steel. Simple, but dependable.

He tied them to his belt, adjusting the angle for a quick draw.

"You naming those too?" the blacksmith asked.

Aki smirked. "Let them survive first. I might be replacing them quiet frequently"

The old man chuckled, arms crossed. "Come back alive, kid."

Aki gave a nod. "I always do."

Then he vanished in a blur, leaving the shop silent except for the quiet hum of chakra still clinging to the air.

Aki reappeared deep in the Land of Rice Paddies.

The wind was soft here. No village in sight—just tall grass swaying in long, slow waves and the sound of distant birds. On the far horizon, faint silhouettes moved—farmers maybe, or travelers—but they were nothing more than dots, too far to matter.

Aki's goal to join Akatsuki did not change, even though more than half an year had past since he left Kumogakure, he did not forget what he was out to do.

"But, before that," He took in a deep breath than exhaled it in a sight, "Shadow Clone Jutsu"

Seven identical copies of himself appeared in his sights. Before he could even order anything, "Transformation Jutsu."

In moments, the clones shifted into different forms—some old, some young, male and female, rough and refined. Different hair. Different eyes. Travelers, merchants, shinobi. Each now unrecognizable.

"While I live my life as Seiken, you guys have some tasks to do."

He looked at three of the transformed clones and pointed.

"You, the smooth-talking merchant type—you're going to start a business. Something clean, scalable, and boring enough that no one asks questions."

The clone nodded. "Tea shop?"

"Too common. Make it a traveling ink stall. Sell brushes, paper, and 'ancient' sealing scrolls to gullible genin. You'll figure it out."

He turned to the second.

"You're gonna sell stories. I don't care how, but the manga from our past life? Make people obsessed. Start with One Piece or Bleach. Change the names, mess with the art style, just make it good."

"That's illegal," the clone replied dryly.

"That's illegal," the clone replied dryly.

Aki raised a brow. "We're in a different world altogether, so it doesn't matter. But if you're so concerned, just put in the original authors' names. Let's make them famous in the Naruto world too."

The clone blinked. "...You want me to credit Oda?"

"And Kubo. And whoever else you rip off. Give 'em a legacy."

"Right. Rogue ninja with copyright morals. Got it."

Aki smirked. "I'm complicated."

Finally, he pointed at the third.

"You? Gambling. Smart, subtle, non-obvious cheating only. If I find out you got caught using the Byakugan to peek at dice again, I'll pop you myself."

The third clone disappeared the moment he heard the command.

"As for the rest of you..."