Naruto : Infinite Buff

Amatsu sat still, his gaze unfocused, lost somewhere beyond the walls of the quiet grove. The weight of his thoughts was a heavy mist around him, obscured, yet precise. Higanbana observed him in silence, knowing better than to disturb the stillness that seemed to anchor him, to tether his spirit to something far deeper than the surface. She could sense the sharpness of his presence—like the edge of a blade honed to perfection. It was fleeting, however—an intensity that passed as quickly as it arrived, like a storm cloud swallowed by the horizon.

Should I speak? Should I tell him? She watched her fingers twitch nervously, uncertain how to voice what she had learned. The process of controlling her chakra had been a small, private victory, but a victory nonetheless. Her heart swelled with a quiet pride, the kind that comes not from external approval but from knowing you've taken one step closer to mastering yourself.

The silence between them stretched like a vast expanse, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was a moment of stillness—a delicate pause before the world would inevitably shift. Slowly, Higanbana's voice, soft as the first breath of dawn, broke through the quiet.

"I've learned to control my chakra, though it's still...small."

Her words, faint and tentative, hung in the air for a moment before Amatsu's sharp, indifferent gaze flickered to her. He said nothing, merely acknowledging her with a single word.

"Good."

The word was brief—barely a gesture—but it was enough. It was enough for her to feel something warm, a quiet spark of connection. Despite the cool distance that often defined his presence, there was an acknowledgment there, something subtle yet profound.

Encouraged, Higanbana shifted closer, sitting beside him. She closed her eyes for a moment, grounding herself. The pulse of chakra within her was faint, yet persistent, like a heartbeat that no longer required conscious thought. Slowly, she extended her hans, a delicate flower of crystalized red began to form in her palm, wrapped in a mist of deep crimson.

Amatsu, ever the observer, glanced at it for the first time with interest. His indifference faded, replaced by a quiet curiosity that flickered in his eyes. Higanbana's voice broke the quiet once more, this time tinged with uncertainty.

"I...I don't know what it's for, maybe...I could use it as a shuriken?"

Amatsu's response was measured, his voice like the hum of a distant storm.

"You didn't need hand signs?"

Higanbana's brow furrowed. "No. It just...came to me. I just knew how to control it, a little."

"Interesting," he murmured.

Amatsu's mind, sharp as ever, was already turning, digesting the possibility. There are still things I don't know. The thought lingered in his mind—humbling, unsettling. He had long since abandoned the arrogance that many of his peers held so dearly. Now, he recognized the vast expanse of knowledge that lay before him, the vastness of the world's mysteries. He would learn. He would uncover the unknown.

For a brief moment, his gaze softened. It was an imperceptible shift, a barely-there change in the air as he looked at Higanbana.

"You're doing well," he said, his voice quieter now, with something more than simple acknowledgment. "Keep learning."

The words, though brief, hit Higanbana like the first rays of sunlight after a long night. Her heart stirred with something close to joy. He's noticed me. It was a small thing, but it was enough to fuel her determination. She nodded silently, her focus returning to the delicate higanbana flower of chakra in her palm. The red mist swirled around it, vibrant and alive with potential.

Amatsu, deep in thought, shifted his gaze back to the world beyond. The rain had grown heavier, the thunder louder, echoing through the branches above them. The air was thick with the promise of change. Something was coming. Whether it was in the world, or in their hearts, neither of them could yet say.

"How many wires do we have left?" His voice was calm and cold even, as if the question had no weight to it.

Higanbana hesitated, her fingers twitching slightly at her sides. "A handful... but my chakra control—"

"Don't worry about that," Amatsu interrupted, his gaze never leaving the wires as he expertly assessed them. "Just hand them over. I'll use what I need."

With a slow, deliberate movement, she passed him the coils of wire. Small but useful, he thought, running his fingers through them, calculating.

Amatsu's eyes narrowed slightly as he reached for the small pouch at his side. It had been a reliable vessel, but now it no longer served its purpose. The snake inside had outgrown it—its body no longer contained by the cramped space, its form stretching beyond the confines of the pouch. When he unfastened it, the creature slowly slithered free, its length now reaching over two meters (about two-hundreds cm). Its dark, obsidian scales shimmered with a faint, almost imperceptible glow in the dim light, its crimson eyes still alive with an unsettling awareness.

Amatsu couldn't help but observe the transformation, a cold satisfaction settling in his chest. The snake had grown—grown stronger, more aware, more alive. It had started as a fragile thing, but now it pulsed with chakra, its every movement deliberate and measured. It was no longer the passive creature it once was. It had evolved, just as he had intended, though perhaps not in the way he had expected.

The snake uncoiled from the pouch, its obsidian scales gleaming faintly as it stretched its length. It was no longer the fragile creature it had been when Amatsu first found it. Now, its body had grown, sleek and powerful, nearly 2 meters in length. The crimson eyes watched him, unblinking, as if waiting for something.

Amatsu stood unmoving, his gaze fixed on the snake. The moment its fangs sank into his skin, the familiar drain of chakra began, but something was different this time. The serpent's movements, though subtle, seemed more deliberate. Its body coiled with purpose as it fed.

Amatsu's eyes narrowed slightly, his mind racing. It's not just feeding. It's sensing.

The realization struck him clearly, and in an instant, the answer became obvious. The snake wasn't just drawing chakra from him—it was attuned to the flow of energy itself. It wasn't merely taking what it needed from him; it was aware of the chakra around it.

He watched as the creature's body rippled with power, its form seeming to absorb the energy in a way that was almost natural. If it can siphon chakra… then it must be able to detect it.

Amatsu's voice, quiet and measured, cut through the silence of the room. "You know where it is," he murmured. "Where it moves. Where it lingers."

The snake's fangs remained embedded in his flesh, its eyes locked onto his as if acknowledging the truth of his words.

"There is no difference between feeding and sensing," he continued, his tone thoughtful. "You pull the energy toward you. You can feel it."

The snake's form shifted, tightening as it continued to feed, its awareness of the chakra around them growing. Amatsu could feel the connection deepen, the subtle hum of the serpent as it fed and sensed, growing sharper with each passing moment. It was no longer just a passive creature—it had become something else, something more precise.

He stood still, observing, the cold precision of his thoughts clear in his eyes. "You will be useful. Not just as a source of power, but as a way to find what others wish to hide."

Amatsu allowed a moment of quiet before his lips barely parted. "You'll be my eyes, Ryuu. My means to track what others try to conceal."

The snake's eyes flickered, but it did not break the connection. The bond between them was clear—founded in chakra, growing in purpose.

"Naga," Amatsu said, his voice measured and cold, though it held a faint undercurrent of something almost like approval. "You grow stronger with my chakra. And in time, you will be my instrument. My eyes."

The snake was drawn to his energy, dependent on it, and perhaps… in its own way, it had come to trust him.

Amatsu turned his gaze away from the serpent, his mind already calculating the next steps. The snake's ability to detect chakra would only grow sharper with time. With more feeding, more care, it would become a perfect tracker—an extension of his will, a living sensor that could locate chakra, trace its origins, and find those who hid in the shadows.

But for now, he would let it grow. Let it bond with him. He had no illusions—this connection, this dependency, could be exploited. It was a tool. A weapon.

Amatsu's gaze pierced through the shadows, his voice low and steady, like a blade waiting for its strike.

"Higanbana. We move now. Something's going to happends—prepare yourself."

Her voice was soft, like the whisper of silk brushing against skin, yet there was no hesitation. "Brother. I'll follow you."

---

Amatsu's mind was a razor's edge. His eyes flickered over the forest, calculating, dissecting. Every angle, every shift in the wind, a potential advantage or threat. The trees loomed like silent watchers, their gnarled branches twisting, hiding secrets and dangers alike. .

The uneven ground beneath his, creaked, sending a subtle tremor through his body—a reminder that nature, in all its beauty, was not to be trusted. It could betray, could turn on him without hesitation. But he had no illusions. He knew how to make nature his ally. A trap wasn't just a snare—it was a conversation with the world around him, a deliberate manipulation of the environment.

He moved with precision, a series of calculated actions that had already begun to shape the battlefield. The wires were first. Thin, taut, nearly invisible. At first glance, they seemed harmless. But Amatsu's traps weren't for immediate death—they were designed for pain, for confusion. The first wire tripped a foot, and the second—set just beyond—slashed into skin with brutal precision. The pursuit wouldn't stop at the first wound. They would press on, unaware that each step forward led them deeper into his design.

Amatsu's fingers moved in quick succession, weaving the familiar seals, each one a quiet promise of what was to come. The mist began to rise—thick, suffocating, curling around his feet, slowly but relentlessly. He released another breath, and the fog billowed further, cloaking the forest in a blanket of obscurity.

The wires were already set—each one connected, a whisper of impending chaos. But the mist? The mist was more than just concealment. It was an extension of his will. It would shroud them, distort the world, make them question what was real and what wasn't. The pursuit would stumble, lost in the fog, unaware of how each step drew them closer to their doom.

Amatsu's eyes remained cold, scanning the darkening landscape. The mist thickened with every breath, his chakra pushing it further, faster, enveloping the forest. Every tree, every rock, every broken path was now veiled in confusion. He could feel it—the weight of the approaching footsteps, the movement of the hunters, erratic, uncoordinated. The fog played tricks on them.

He cast the mist again, a wave of dark vapor rolling from his hands, relentless. It was no longer just a veil—it was a weapon. Each pulse of chakra spread the fog deeper, thicker, and his enemies? They would be blind, scrambling in a world of shadows and half-formed shapes. They wouldn't even know where they were until it was too late.

Amatsu's lips curled slightly. They would run headlong into the trap, and the panic would take them. Not a single soul would escape his design.

He looked to Naga, his serpent, now a far cry from the passive creature it once was. The chakra flowing through it had changed it—transformed it into something more lethal, more in tune with his will. Naga was no longer just a scout. It was a killer, a shadow in the mist, a weapon of surprise.

When it struck, it would be swift—silent, deadly. There would be no cry, no dramatic moment. Only the sudden, suffocating realization of their vulnerability. And then, silence.

Amatsu stepped back, the plan coming to fruition, every element falling into place. The forest was his. The mist was his.

Amatsu took a moment, the forest holding its breath. His mind moved quickly through the next steps: how to lead his enemies into the trap. A broken branch here, a discarded item there. Misdirection. They needed to think they were in control, that they had found his trail.

It would not take long for them to follow, driven by the certainty of their superiority. They would think they had him cornered, that they were the ones hunting him. They would be wrong.

Amatsu's timing would be crucial. He watched the sky, gauging the fading light. The trap would need to be sprung just as their confidence was at its peak.