The Forgemage of Konoha

Return

On a small hill overlooking the valley, Shirō stood with his bow, occasionally losing a few arrows. Most of the time, however, he simply observed in silence.

Three months had passed since their last major training session. In that time, Shirō's strength had grown considerably. He now rivaled a Chūnin in raw combat power and could even hold his own against elite Chūnin in one-on-one battles, though he would still be slightly outmatched. That said, if he used one of his trump cards, he might even pull off a reversal—but he hadn't tested it yet, so he couldn't say for certain.

Because the front-line shinobi hadn't returned from the war yet, Shirō still held the rank of Genin and hadn't been reassigned to a new squad. The missions he undertook with his current team had become too easy, offering little challenge or growth. As a result, Shirō had begun acting more like a traditional Archer, providing long-range support for Qing Yu and the others using his personal bow.

During those three months, his Projection Magecraft had also seen a breakthrough. He could now project some low-ranked Noble Phantasms—anything up to rank D++. However, only E-rank weapons were stable and efficient enough for actual combat use at this point. As for why he didn't use projected bows, the answer was simple: Shirō couldn't yet manipulate the size or shape of projected Noble Phantasms. Most of them were far too large to use effectively in a bow.

Besides, they were just fighting mountain bandits—there was no need to deploy Noble Phantasms against thugs.

That, in itself, reflected how chaotic the shinobi world was. Bandits were like weeds—no matter how many you cut down, more always appeared. It made Shirō grateful, once again, that he had transmigrated into Konoha, one of the most secure villages in the Elemental Nations.

Another thing worth noting was how the system retained the structural data of many Noble Phantasms. Thanks to this feature, Shirō could replicate weapons he'd never seen before. Without that data, his Projection Magecraft would've been far more limited. After all, part of the reason the original Emiya Shirou was so formidable was that he had witnessed Gilgamesh's Gate of Babylon in the Unlimited Blade Works route, giving him reference models to work with.

Shirō didn't have that luxury. He lacked Emiya's genius for conceptual replication—he couldn't just imagine something like Dryn Moxie into existence (whatever that sword even was).

As for the system itself... Shirō had mixed feelings. He originally thought that accumulating 50% energy would be enough to break through his mana capacity to B-rank. Unfortunately, he discovered the system's energy storage limit was tied to its repair progress—which currently stood at only 35%.

In short, he still had a long way to go before his chakra could evolve into something that rivaled the sheer reserves of a Jinchūriki.

His teammates—Chong Jie, Qing Yu, and the others—had also grown noticeably. They were no longer the frightened Genin who had once resorted to explosive tags against a ragtag group of bandits. Now, they could handle such threats on their own, provided there were no rogue-nin among them.

Still, objectively speaking, their power level was only that of a Genin with one year of field experience. Time on the battlefield hardened the mindset more than it improved combat ability. Their rapid progress was largely due to capitalizing on their previous potential. It was only natural that their pace of growth would slow down now.

Once Qing Yu and the others finished off the remaining bandits, Shirō climbed down from his lookout post. It's worth noting that he hadn't yet mastered Clairvoyance; for now, he simply reinforced his eyesight using Magecraft. He couldn't see through mountains or across villages, but a range of seven or eight hundred meters was plenty—especially since his current effective range was just over 300 meters.

"Nice work out there, Chong Jie, Qing Yu," Shirō called out with a smile.

To his surprise, the group looked downcast. Heads lowered, eyes dull—they weren't celebrating at all.

Did someone die? Shirō's heart skipped a beat. Yamada?!

His pupils shrank. He instinctively tried to activate his Sharingan—only to remember, a beat later, that he wasn't an Uchiha.

If anything, he'd end up with crossed eyes.

Before his imagination could spiral further, Yamada appeared behind him, uninjured.

"What's wrong with them?" Shirō asked, relieved but puzzled.

Yamada sighed. "The front-line troops are returning soon."

Shirō blinked. "So?"

"They don't have relatives on the front lines, if that's what you're thinking. But once the troops return, the squads will be restructured. Your current strength is well beyond theirs, so… this is likely your last mission together."

"…That's all?" Shirō muttered, surprised. "I mean… we can still hang out, right? It's not like I'm going rogue or anything."

Yamada gave him a weary smile. "That's exactly why you're more mature than most kids your age. But sometimes, being mature means carrying a heavier burden than you should."

"…Right." Shirō scratched his head awkwardly. He'd already explained this situation to his team before, but acceptance had to come from within. Words wouldn't change how they felt.

The journey back was quiet.

Before parting ways, Yamada reminded him that the Ryūchi Cave trial was fast approaching. Shirō wasn't especially fixated on mastering Sage Mode—his Projection Magecraft offered enough flexibility—but the snakes of Ryūchi Cave were powerful summons. They were rare, high-tier contracts, not easily obtained.

Orochimaru had told him in advance that passing the trial required defeating the "background snake" Ryūchi Cave would send—a serpent with the strength of an elite Chūnin. Shirō wasn't worried. He had a gift prepared for that snake and had even consulted Kushina, who'd pulled some strings with the Third Hokage to help him improve the supporting jutsu.

He was looking forward to that fight.

Their mission site had been relatively close—just a three-day trip. By the time they returned to Konoha, however, the front-line units had already arrived a day earlier.

After submitting their mission report, the Yamada Squad disbanded. Yamada went off to meet with old friends, while Shirō headed toward Kushina's home. He'd planned to visit yesterday but decided to give them space. Today would be better.

When he arrived, however, the house was unusually quiet.

Inside, Kushina was seated on the floor, crying. Minato knelt beside her, comforting her gently. From the redness around her eyes, it was clear she'd been crying for some time.

Shirō's first reaction was to suspect Minato of having done something—but he quickly dismissed the thought. Minato was too kind for that. If anything, Kushina would be the one doing the bullying.

He knelt beside them and whispered to Minato, "What happened?"

"Dan… Tsunade-nee's lover… he died in battle," Minato said somberly.

Shirō froze. He hadn't known Dan well, but the man had left a strong impression. Calm, dependable, kind.

Even though Shirō had known this would happen—had always known—a part of him had hoped that his interference, however small, might've changed things.

But fate was stubborn.

I'm still too weak, Shirō thought, staring out the window. If I were stronger, maybe I could've stopped it. Maybe I could've changed something.

But there were no maybes in war.

That night, Shirō lay awake, deep in thought.

He'd once believed that his steady growth would be enough to prevent the Nine-Tails incident. But what about the Third Great Shinobi War? Just because it had already happened in the original timeline didn't mean things would unfold the same way now.

The butterfly effect had already begun.

Determined, Shirō reopened an old training scroll. It contained a jutsu he'd previously abandoned because it was too costly to develop. But if he could perfect it…

If he could make it work...

Then one day, perhaps, even Ōtsutsuki Kaguya would be within reach.