Private The Transformation of The Flower Child to Flower Big Boy [Part 2]

[Chikamatsu Shin]

"The council ran longer than I anticipated," Shin murmured to the empty training hall, his voice carrying softly through the vaulted space of the Toraono Dojo.

The artificial moon hanging in Sunagakure's carmot-lit sky cast pale illumination through the high windows, painting the polished wooden floors in shades of silver and shadow. It was late—well past ten, edging toward the quiet hours when most shinobi had retreated to their homes or barracks. The kind of late that made the world feel smaller, more intimate, as if the village itself held its breath.

Shin stood in the center of the training hall, his silver Byakko armor catching the moonlight in subtle glints. The replica of Kyuji-sensei's design—chest plate, gauntlets, greaves, and side sections—fit him with the comfortable weight of long familiarity. Years of training in this armor had made it feel like a second skin, though tonight the pressure against his shoulders seemed heavier than usual. Perhaps it was exhaustion. Perhaps it was something else entirely.

He let out a slow, measured breath, rolling his shoulders to settle the armor plating more comfortably. The golden cracks along his exposed skin—those persistent reminders of the Baron Twins battle—pulsed faintly with each movement, casting subtle amber traces across the silver metal.

"Thirteen clan heads, each with their own concerns, their own grievances, their own expectations," he continued speaking aloud, the habit of verbalizing his thoughts providing clarity when his mind threatened to spiral into the dozens of conversations still echoing in his memory. "Lady Tsuchigumo's pointed questions about whether this unity is genuine or theater. Lord Hokkyoku's demand for autonomy. Lord Kyouketsu asking how many bodies to prepare for. And Kohana..."

His hand moved to the Excalibur Blade at his hip, fingers wrapping around the familiar hilt as he drew the blade in one smooth, practiced motion. The distinctive sound of steel sliding free from its sheath rang clear and bright in the empty hall—a note of pure intention.

He held the sword before him, angling the blade to catch the moonlight, examining the edge with the meticulous attention that had become second nature. His luminous blue eyes traced along the length of Excalibur, checking for any imperfection, any nick or dulling that would compromise the weapon's effectiveness. The blade gleamed, perfectly maintained, sharp enough to part silk dropped across its edge.

"Still pristine," Shin noted with quiet satisfaction. "Good. If we're going to do this properly, the blade needs to be at its absolute peak condition."

He shifted through a series of practice Byakko styled forms—slow, controlled movements that warmed his muscles while allowing him to assess his own physical state. The armor moved with him, articulated joints responding smoothly despite the day's exertions. Each stance transitioned seamlessly into the next: guard position, overhead strike, lateral sweep, defensive parry.

The training hall held so many memories.

Here, in this very room, a much younger Shin—barely twelve years old—had stood trembling before Byakko Kyuji during his Genin examination. He could still remember the fear and excitement tangled together in his chest, the way his hands had shaken as he'd demonstrated his jutsu, the sharp pain when Kyuji-sensei had inscribed the Holy Seal at the base of his neck. That lotus flower marking, with its thirteen petals representing the strength bestowed upon him, had been the first step toward everything he would eventually become.

"She pulled me from Senju Kazuki's class," Shin recalled aloud, his voice carrying the faint warmth of nostalgia despite the underlying tension. "I was terrified I'd done something wrong. Instead, she gave me an opportunity to prove myself ahead of my peers. To show that dedication and study could compensate for physical shortcomings."

The memory shifted, becoming sharper.

Here, in this same hall, Kohana had first awakened in his body as a fury, a shadow of his deepest fears and emotions.

The terror of that moment still lived in his bones—the primal, instinctive fear when his sister's consciousness took over his body. She'd been raw, confused, dangerous in ways that went beyond simple physical threat. She'd existed as his wrath, his sword, his fury given form. And he couldn't control her at all, she acted without his consent back then... and now.

And she was absolutely terrifying.

"I was afraid of you then," Shin admitted to the empty hall, as if Kohana were already present to hear the confession. "Afraid of what you might do with our bond if I didn't try to temper your rage."

He completed the form sequence and returned Excalibur to its sheath, the blade sliding home with a soft click of finality. His hands moved to check the various points of his armor securing straps, adjusting plates, ensuring everything sat correctly for sustained physical activity.

The golden cracks along his jaw pulsed slightly brighter as emotion threatened his carefully maintained composure.

"But tonight, I need you," he continued, his voice dropping to something quieter, more vulnerable. "Not as my sword. Not as my fury. Not even as my conscience, though you performed that role admirably during the council meeting. Tonight, I need you as my sister."

He moved to the center of the training hall and lowered himself into a meditative seated position, legs folded under his body, hands resting palm-down on his knees. The Byakko armor shifted with him, accommodating the posture despite its rigid construction.

"The Baron Twins assault begins in six days," Shin stated, organizing his thoughts through verbalization as always. "Six days to coordinate an evacuation of eight hundred people through routes only the Hokkyoku know. Six days to construct a false village convincing enough to deceive enemy scouts. Six days to ensure your homunculus body won't fail when we need you most."

His blue eyes opened, staring at the moonlit entrance to the training hall where he expected—hoped—Kohana would eventually appear.

"I dissolved the Inner Court bond because Wei's corruption was learning its pathways. Because every moment we stayed connected was another moment those chemicals could spread through our shared consciousness and turn all six of us into puppets. I made that choice unilaterally, without consultation, without warning. I robbed you of agency in the name of protection, and that was..."

He paused, searching for the right word.

"...wrong. Necessary, perhaps. Strategic, certainly. But wrong in the way it denied you choice. Wrong in the way it assumed I knew better than you what you could endure."

The admission hung in the air, honest and raw in a way Shin rarely allowed himself to be outside of his most trusted relationships.

"So tonight, I'm not ordering you here as Overseer—a title I no longer hold. I'm not summoning you as Kazekage, though that authority still technically exists between us. I'm asking, Kohana. As your brother. As someone who severed what we were and is trying desperately to build something new from the ruins."

He closed his eyes again, centering himself through breathing techniques learned decades ago from medical training. Inhale for four counts. Hold for four. Exhale for four. Hold for four. Repeat until the nervous energy threatening to overwhelm him settled into something more manageable.

"I need to push your body to its limits," Shin explained to the empty hall, trusting that Kohana would arrive when she was ready, trusting that she wouldn't simply ignore this request despite having every reason to do so. "The homunculus seals that sustain your physical form—they've never been tested under sustained combat conditions. Sora unraveled because I didn't understand the stress points, didn't anticipate how the inscriptions would degrade under prolonged chakra exposure. I can't... I cannot allow that to happen to you."

His hands clenched slightly against his knees, the only visible sign of the emotion roiling beneath his meditative exterior.

"If the seals fail during battle, if your body begins to come apart while you're fighting for your life—for our people's lives—I will have killed you. Not Wei. Not the Baron Twins. Me. Through my inadequate craftsmanship and insufficient foresight."

The golden cracks pulsed brighter for a moment before dimming again as he regained control.

"So I need to stress-test every seal, every inscription, every point where chakra interfaces with synthetic tissue. I need to push you until something shows signs of weakness so I can reinforce it before it matters. Before lives depend on your body holding together under impossible conditions."

He opened his eyes once more, blue irises reflecting the moonlight with an almost ethereal glow thanks to the Yurei Orchid's influence still lingering in his system despite the bond's dissolution.

"And truthfully," Shin added, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "I need to know if we can still do this. If even without the bond connecting our minds, we can still move together the way we once did. If thirty-one years of shared consciousness left enough imprint that muscle memory and instinct can compensate for what was lost."

He fell silent then, maintaining his meditative position, waiting with the patient stillness of someone who understood that some things couldn't be rushed.

The training hall breathed around him... the soft creak of wooden beams settling, the distant sound of ventilation systems circulating air through Sunagakure's underground structure, the whisper of his own controlled breathing.

Shin waited, hoping his sister would come.

Hoping she would understand that this wasn't about testing her capabilities or doubting her strength.

This was about making sure he didn't lose her.

Not to faulty seals. Not to his own inadequate craftsmanship.

Not after he'd already taken so much from her by severing the bond that had defined them both since before birth.

"Come on, Kohana," he murmured into the moonlit stillness. "Let me make sure you survive what's coming. Let me do this one thing right."

And he waited, bathed in silver light, surrounded by memories of growth and fear and the endless cycle of training that had brought him from frightened academy student to the Kazekage who now bore the weight of eight hundred lives on shoulders marked by golden cracks.

Waited for his sister.

Waited for his other half.

Waited to begin.

 

[Chikamatsu Kohana]

The training hall doors opened with more force than necessary, the sound echoing through the vaulted space of the Toraono Dojo like a crack of thunder.

I didn't mean to slam them. My synthetic body was still calibrating—or maybe I was just pissed off. Hard to tell the difference anymore when every emotion felt like it was being filtered through seals and flesh instead of the direct neural connection I'd had for thirty-one fucking years.

The moonlight caught the silver plates of my Byakko armor as I stepped inside, each footfall deliberately measured to avoid the stomping my instincts wanted. Sensei's armor. Our armor. The replica I wore because Shin and I had both wanted to carry her example into every fight, to honor the woman who'd tried to teach discipline to a murderous impulse barely contained in a twelve-year-old's body.

My hand found Caliburnus's pommel before I even registered the movement. Anchor point. Familiar weight. The one constant in a world that had turned itself inside out and left me standing in the wreckage trying to figure out who the hell I was supposed to be now.

"You're late," I said, my voice sharper than I intended as my crimson eyes locked onto Shin's position in the center of the hall. "Council ran long? Or were you just hoping I wouldn't show?"

The question came out more accusatory than I'd planned, but fuck it. Honesty was apparently my whole thing now according to him. His conscience. His truth. His other half who he'd severed and stuffed into this fake ass body like discarded furniture he didn't know what to do with anymore.

I moved deeper into the training hall, my armor making soft sounds against the polished floors. The artificial moonlight painted everything in shades of silver and shadow, and for a moment—just a heartbeat—I remembered what it felt like to exist here as nothing more than his fury. No body. No physical form. Just pure intention and rage, waiting to be unleashed when he needed me.

Simpler times.

Terrifying times.

Better times.

Times I couldn't go back to even if I wanted to, because he'd made damn sure of that when he dissolved the Inner Court bond.

"So," I said, stopping a few feet away from him, close enough to see the golden cracks still pulsing along his exposed skin. Close enough to catalog the exhaustion in his posture despite the meditative calm he was trying to project. "You want to push this body to its limits. Test the seals. Make sure I don't unravel like Sora did because you fucked up the craftsmanship."

My fingers tightened on Caliburnus's hilt.

"Fine. I'm here. Let's see if your handiwork holds together better than your decision-making lately."

The words were intentionally harsh. Probably harsher than necessary. But standing here in this hall where we'd both trained under Kyuji-sensei, where `Kohana the Fury` had first awakened in his body all those years ago, where every memory was tangled with his consciousness because I'd never had my own until now—

I couldn't pretend this didn't hurt.

Couldn't pretend I wasn't angry.

Couldn't pretend I understood why he'd chosen to sever us and then immediately asked me to stand at his side as Chikamatsu representative, as if thirty-one years of shared existence could just transform into partnership with a snap of his fingers and some pretty words about being equals.

"Well?" I gestured toward the open space of the training hall with my free hand, the seals along my synthetic skin pulsing in agitation that matched the emotion roiling in my chest. "You summoned me here for stress-testing, little brother. So let's fucking test."

I drew Caliburnus in one smooth motion, the distinctive sound of steel sliding free ringing clear and bright in the empty hall. The blade caught the moonlight, sharp and ready, an extension of the violence I'd been built to embody.

But even as I held the weapon, even as I fell into a ready stance that was pure muscle memory from decades of training alongside him, I didn't wait for permission.

I moved.

The Kado Seed woven into Caliburnus pulsed as I channeled chakra through the blade, flowers blooming along its edge in a grotesque display of beauty and violence. The Ikebana techniques Shin had helped develop for this body—my body now—transformed the sword into something more than steel. Petals of crystallized chakra peeled away from the blade as I struck, each one sharp enough to draw blood, trailing behind Caliburnus like a deadly constellation.

"Senbonzakura," I whispered, and the technique activated.

A thousand cherry blossom petals—each one a razor-edged projection of my will—exploded forward in a cascade of pink and crimson death. They moved with me as I closed the distance, the blade itself coming in fast for a lateral slash aimed at his guard position. Not to kill. But definitely to hurt. To test. To demand he take this seriously.

The air between us filled with the scent of flowers and steel—My Phantosmia had finally awakened—beautiful and terrifying in equal measure. This wasn't a simple training spar anymore... no this was me proving that the Weaponized Kado he'd crafted into my arsenal wasn't just theory. That the combination of Yamanaka manipulation and Byakko's cutting techniques made me dangerous even to him.

Especially to him.

"Prove it fucking holds," I snarled as Caliburnus sang through the air, surrounded by its storm of lethal petals. "Prove I'm more than your discarded shadow pretending to be a person."

The challenge wasn't just in the words anymore—it was in the blade itself, in the Ikebana techniques blooming around us like a garden of violence, demanding he meet me as an equal or get cut trying to explain why he couldn't.

He wanted to test the seals?

Fine.

Let's fucking test them.

 

[Chikamatsu Shin]

"I'm not late," Shin said quietly, his voice carrying clearly across the moonlit training hall as Caliburnus and its storm of deadly petals closed the distance. "I've been here since before ten, waiting for the council discussions to stop echoing in my head long enough to focus."

Excalibur moved through defensive forms with practiced precision, the blade singing as it deflected the crystallized chakra petals in bursts of silver light. Each impact sent small showers of pink and crimson fragments scattering across the polished floor, the deadly flowers dissolving into harmless residue the moment their cutting potential was neutralized.

But Caliburnus itself—that was the real threat.

The lateral slash came fast and mean, backed by fury that couldn't be entirely faked even in a training exercise. Shin's blue eyes tracked the weapon's arc, saw the Kado Seed pulsing along its edge, recognized the Ikebana techniques they'd developed together now being weaponized against him.

Good.

He needed to see what she could do. What his craftsmanship had enabled.

Shin stepped into the strike rather than away from it, Excalibur rising to catch Caliburnus at an angle that would redirect rather than simply block. Metal screamed against metal, the two swords locked for a heartbeat—

And then the golden cracks along Shin's exposed skin flared brilliant amber.

His consciousness expanded outward in a wave of focused intent, the Chikamatsu mental disciplines he'd spent three decades mastering activating with the ease of long practice. The world shifted, perceptions layering upon themselves as his awareness touched the very fabric of chakra saturating the training hall.

The scent of nightshade blossoms suddenly filled the space between them—phantom sensations designed to overwhelm the senses, to create openings in an opponent's defenses through sensory confusion. But unlike simple illusion, this was his clan's specialty: psychoactive chakra that mimicked the neurological effects of actual toxins.

Shin pivoted, using the momentum of their locked blades to create distance. But even as he moved, his hands were already forming seals with practiced efficiency.

Four points around the training hall began to pulse with subtle chakra signatures.

Beautiful flowers bloomed from seemingly nowhere—delicate white blossoms with crimson centers that opened along the wooden floor, against the support pillars, near the weapons rack, even seeming to grow from the moonlight itself. To anyone else, they might have appeared to be simple Wood Release techniques, decorative elements in what should be a straightforward sparring match.

Kohana would know better.

Each bloom was a sophisticated delivery system, a Toxin Bloom cultivated through generations of Chikamatsu botanical mastery. Invisible clouds of chakra-infused pollen began to spread through the training hall, pre-programmed with specific illusionary effects that would activate upon contact with her chakra network.

"You want to test the seals?" Shin said, his voice calm despite the rapid activation of his abilities. "Fine. But I'm going to push you properly. No holding back. No hesitation."

The first bloom pulsed, releasing its payload into the air between them. The technique didn't announce itself with flashy light or obvious chakra signatures—it simply was, integrating seamlessly with the ambient energy of the hall like a neurotoxin slipping into a bloodstream undetected.

Synaptic Severance.

The corrupted chakra sought to flood specific neural pathways, creating temporary "breaks" in mental processing—moments where focus and resistance simply couldn't maintain their grip. A simulated stroke through pure chakra manipulation, designed to leave mental defenses compromised and vulnerable.

"You're not discarded," he continued, even as his consciousness spread through the blooms, preparing to layer techniques upon techniques the way only a Venom Savant could. "You're not a shadow. And you're sure as hell not pretending to be a person."

The second bloom activated—Hemotoxic Terror threading through the space between them. Not fear of what she saw, but fear written directly into her body's chemistry. An attempt to hijack her adrenal response, to make her synthetic systems produce the physiological responses of genuine terror regardless of her mental state.

"You're Chikamatsu Kohana. My sister. The woman who stood in that council chamber and spoke truth when the clan heads needed to hear it."

Shin reset his stance, Excalibur held ready as the golden cracks pulsed brighter along his skin. The invisible miasma spreading from his blooms meant that if any of his techniques took hold, they would feed on Kohana's own chakra rather than his—her coil treating the foreign illusionary energy as if it were native, sustaining the very techniques destroying her defenses with her own power.

Like a poison that uses the victim's bloodstream to spread itself.

"But right now, I need to see if those seals hold when you're under real pressure. When your body is stressed not just physically but mentally. When the homunculus systems have to respond to threats on multiple levels simultaneously."

The third and fourth blooms remained dormant for now—beautiful white flowers with their deadly pollen held in reserve, waiting to release their payloads if needed.

"So come on," Shin said, his blue eyes meeting her crimson gaze with steady determination even as the psychoactive chakra woven through his blooms attempted to saturate her defenses. "Show me what the Weaponized Kado can do when paired with your fury. Show me that my sister is every bit as dangerous as I designed her to be."

The challenge was clear now—not just blade against blade, but a Venom Savant's garden of neurotoxic illusion against whatever mental fortifications she possessed. The invisible pollen spreading through the hall like a creeping poison, each breath potentially carrying corrupted chakra into her system.

"And if my techniques break through your defenses," Shin added, his voice dropping to something quieter, more honest, "if the blooms overwhelm you—tell me immediately. Because I need to know where the weaknesses are before we face the Baron Twins. Before lives depend on you holding together under impossible conditions."

He shifted forward, Excalibur ready to meet whatever came next, the white flowers surrounding them both like a beautiful, deadly garden.

"Again," Shin said simply. "And this time, don't hold back either. I can take it."

 

[Kyuji]

Standing in the same battlefield that I had been in countless times in my past, I smirked from where I stood as it appeared the rumors were true. Earlier in the day, I had been in a council meeting with the numerous clans of the village and some man that identified himself as the Kazekage and my former apprentice, Chikamatsu Shin. I had asked for a private meeting afterwards, but the council of clans took a lot of time and when it was finished, many people were ready to depart including myself so the opportunity to talk to the Kazekage had passed. It would seem however that I might get my chance after all as Kohana, or at least someone that looked like the representative of the Chikamatsu Clan in the meeting, and this Chikamatsu Shin fellow were going to do some fighting tonight and I had managed to catch wind of Kohana entering the area earlier from others within the Toraono Clan that relayed it to a Byakko guard.

I would not say anything from where I leaned against the wall as this seemed to be a sibling conflict that needed resolved - if you could call it that as I was still trying to understand how Kohana was her own entity now as she was a part of Shin when I last knew of her. But that was when Shin was around the age of twelve which was I believe 19 or so years ago. Age had no meaning since I became a descendant of Lord Byakko and physically did not age anymore - instead relying on a form of lives like they theorized with cats. Some of those lives had been lost already, but I still had a good few to use before my time on this world would pass and I would ascend. As I stood there, I noticed that they both were wearing armor similar to what I wore and actually was wearing right now as I did not tend to go without my armor unless I knew the situation did not call for it. While the armor was something that I knew Chikamatsu Shin used before, I still was skeptical that it was Shin - maybe their little spar would prove something to me.

For now, I would let them handle their business and watch from afar. It likely wouldn't take them long before one or both of them would notice me and have something to say to their "sensei" if I could even be considered that. Hell, I didn't even know if they were actually who they said they were or people pretending to be. I guess I would find that out in due time.

 

[Chikamatsu Kohana]

The invisible pollen hit my chakra network like acid in the bloodstream.

I felt it the moment the first bloom released its payload, not because I fucking saw anything, not because there was some sort of stupid ass visual cue, but because my synthetic body's seals suddenly screamed warnings through neural pathways that shouldn't exist in homunculus flesh. I was suddenly afraid of his little puny ass? No. It couldn't be...

Then it clicked.

The Synaptic Severance technique wormed its way into my consciousness, seeking the metaphorical threads that held my focus together, trying to snap them one by one. FUCK HIM! Is he really using Genjutsu against me? AGAINST HIS OWN FURY?

Fuck him.

My vision stuttered for half a heartbeat.

Just long enough for doubt to creep in.

The forced thoughts came in...

Was the body failing already? Were the seals degrading under pressure? Or was this his technique working exactly as designed, simulating nerve damage so convincingly that even I couldn't tell the difference between malfunction and manipulation?

"Fuck," I hissed through gritted teeth, forcing my grip on Caliburnus to remain steady even as the corrupted chakra tried to convince my nervous system that focus was impossible.

The second bloom pulsed.

Hemotoxic Terror flooded my synthetic adrenal glands, organs that shouldn't even produce adrenaline because they were constructed from seals and chakra-infused tissue rather than biology. But Shin's techniques didn't care about what should or shouldn't be possible. It hijacked the systems anyway, commanding my homunculus body to produce the chemical cascade of fear whether my mind consented or not.

My heart rate spiked.

My hands wanted to shake.

My legs wanted to turn to lead.

And the worst part—the absolutely infuriating part—was that I couldn't tell if this was genuine fear or just my body being puppeteered by his psychoactive chakra. The Chikamatsu specialty: making the victim's own systems betray them, turning their coil into a weapon against itself.

"You absolute fucking bastard," I snarled, and pushed through it anyway.

Because fuck his neurotoxic illusions.

Fuck his perfectly calibrated techniques designed to exploit every weakness in my body.

And fuck the idea that I was going to fall apart the first time he actually tested me.

My crimson eyes tracked the white flowers surrounding us... four blooms total, two already active and pumping their poisonous pollen into the air, two more waiting in reserve like loaded weapons. The invisible miasma spreading through the training hall was beautiful in its lethality, a Venom Savant's garden of psychological warfare that would make any opponent question their own mind.

But I wasn't just any opponent.

I was his sister.

I'd existed in his consciousness for thirty-one years, felt every thought he'd ever had about combat strategy, absorbed every lesson he'd learned about the Chikamatsu techniques through our shared bond. I knew how the Toxin Blooms worked because I'd been there when he'd first conceptualized them, back when we were still one person thinking with two perspectives.

Which meant I knew their weakness.

The blooms couldn't dodge.

Caliburnus sang through the air as I shifted my stance, redirecting the momentum from my initial strike into a spinning slash that sent another cascade of razor-edged cherry blossoms exploding outward. But this time, I wasn't aiming for Shin.

The crystallized petals tore through the training hall like a pink and crimson storm, each one seeking the delicate white flowers growing from the floor, the pillars, the weapons rack. The Senbonzakura technique shredded through the first bloom with prejudice, the Kado Seed in Caliburnus pulsing with violent satisfaction as it destroyed Shin's carefully positioned delivery system.

The bloom ruptured, releasing its remaining payload in an uncontrolled burst that dissipated harmlessly into the air rather than targeting my chakra network with surgical precision.

"You want to see if the fucking seals hold?" I said, my voice cutting through the scent of nightshade and cherry blossoms that now saturated the hall. "Fine. But I'm not standing here like some fucking test subject while you pump me full of psychoactive chakra to see what breaks first."

I paused, readying my silver tongue to strike him where it would hurt most.

"I've endured more than this from those better than you, little brother, less you forget it wasn't my mind that fell to the likes of fucking Wei! "

I moved again, this time closing the distance between us with the Byakko techniques we'd both learned from the woman whose armor we wore.

Fast.

Direct.

No wasted movement. Caliburnus came in low, angled for his midsection where the armor plates articulated, not to kill, but definitely to make him work for the defense.

The second bloom pulsed again, trying to reinforce the Hemotoxic Terror already coursing through my synthetic systems. My body wanted to lock up, wanted to freeze, wanted to give in to the chemical fear being written directly into my adrenal response.

I ignored it.

Or tried to.

My strike wavered slightly, just a fraction of a second where my arm hesitated, where the terror hijacking my chemistry made my muscles reluctant to follow commands. Not enough to completely compromise the attack, but enough that Shin would notice. Enough that I noticed.

"Is that what you wanted to see?"

I demanded, even as I pushed through the hesitation and committed to the strike anyway. "Proof that your techniques can affect this body? That the homunculus systems respond to genjutsu like any human body would?"

Caliburnus clashed against Excalibur again, the impact sending vibrations up my arms that the seals translated into sensation with disturbing accuracy. For something that was supposed to be synthetic, this body felt every damn thing with crystalline clarity.

Including the fear I wasn't sure was mine anymore.

"Congratulations, little brother," I said, my voice sharp with anger that cut through the chemical terror still trying to overwhelm my system. "Your craftsmanship works exactly as intended. The body responds to external manipulation, the seals translate your psychoactive chakra into genuine physiological responses, and I get to experience what it's like to be afraid without actually choosing to feel that way."

I disengaged from the blade lock and pivoted, sending another wave of cherry blossom petals toward the third bloom before it could activate and add another layer of neurological warfare to the mix already saturating my defenses.

The petals shredded through the delicate white flower, destroying it before whatever technique Shin had loaded into it could release.

Two blooms down.

Two to go.

"But here's what you're really testing," I continued, my crimson eyes locking onto his blue gaze with an intensity that cut through the miasma of nightshade and poison surrounding us both. "Not whether the body holds together. Not whether the seals can handle stress. You're testing whether I can function when my own systems are turned against me. Whether I can push through when my chemistry is being puppeteered by someone else's chakra."

I shifted my stance, Caliburnus held ready for whatever came next.

"So yeah. I can. The body holds. The seals work. And I'm still standing here ready to cut you despite every nerve ending screaming at me to freeze."

My hands weren't shaking anymore, even though the Hemotoxic Terror was still active, still flooding my synthetic adrenal glands with commands to produce fear. I'd overridden it through sheer spite and the muscle memory of three decades spent as his fury, the part of him that didn't hesitate, didn't freeze, didn't let anything stop the blade from finding its target.

"Your turn," I said simply. "Show me what else you've got, or admit the test is over."

And I waited, surrounded by the ruins of his Toxin Blooms, my body still fighting against the chemical warfare he'd introduced into my systems, proving with every breath that whatever he'd built into this homunculus form, it was strong enough to endure.

Even when he was the one trying to break it.

 

[Chikamatsu Shin]

The moment Kohana's crystallized petals shredded through the first Toxin Bloom, Shin felt it.

Not physically. Not in the way a blade cutting flesh would register. This was something deeper, more insidious, a feedback loop of corrupted chakra snapping back through the neural pathways he'd woven into the technique itself. His vision flickered, the training hall tilting sideways for just a heartbeat as the moonlight distorted into fractured prisms of silver. The golden cracks along his jaw pulsed erratically, bright-dark-bright in rapid succession.

The bloom hadn't just been destroyed. It had been ruptured while still maintaining active connection to his chakra network, and all that carefully calibrated neurological warfare had nowhere to go except back to its source.

Back to him.

"Clever," Shin managed, though his voice carried the faint strain of someone fighting to keep their thoughts organized while their synapses misfired.

The Synaptic Severance technique cascaded through his consciousness—his own creation, now turning against him. Focus became impossible, the threads holding concentration together snapping one by one. His grip on Excalibur wavered slightly, forcing him to consciously maintain his hold against the corrupted signals telling him that fine motor control was beyond his capabilities right now.

The second bloom ruptured as Kohana's petals found their mark. The Hemotoxic Terror flooded his system, hijacking his adrenal glands with the same ruthless efficiency it had targeted hers. Fear written directly into his chemistry, bypassing all conscious resistance. His heart rate spiked. His breath came shorter despite his meditative training.

And for just one terrible, honest moment, Shin felt genuine fear looking at his sister across the moonlit training hall. Not fear of her blade, but fear of what he'd created. What he'd done by severing the bond.

"Is this what you've been feeling?" he asked quietly. "This whole time?"

But Kohana was already moving, Caliburnus coming in low and fast, angled for the articulated sections of his armor. Despite the psychoactive chakra wreaking havoc through his nervous system, Shin met her blade anyway. Excalibur deflected Caliburnus with a screech of steel, but his form was sloppier now, less precise than the controlled perfection he'd maintained before.

Her words cut deeper than any blade could.

"I've endured more than this from those better than you, little brother, less you forget it wasn't my mind that fell to the likes of fucking Wei!"

The reminder hit like a physical blow. Shin actually flinched—a microscopic recoil that Kohana definitely noticed given how intimately she knew every tell in his body language from three decades of shared existence.

Because she was right. Absolutely, devastatingly right.

The golden cracks along his exposed skin flared brilliant amber, emotion threatening to overwhelm his careful control.

"You're right," Shin said quietly, his blue eyes meeting her crimson gaze even as the Hemotoxic Terror still commanded his body to freeze, to flee. "I was the weak point. I was the vulnerability Wei exploited. And you paid the price for my failure."

The third bloom pulsed, trying to activate, but Kohana's petals were already shredding through it. The psychic backlash hit Shin like another wave of corrupted chakra, and this time his knees actually buckled slightly before he caught himself.

Two blooms down. His consciousness felt like it was being pulled in multiple directions simultaneously—focus fragmenting, fear flooding, neurological chaos multiplying.

"Again," Shin said, though his voice carried the strain of someone fighting to maintain coherence. "You want to prove the body holds? Then let's actually test it."

He moved. Not with the precise control of before, but with something rawer, more honest. Excalibur swept through the space between them, but this time the blade carried something new.

Wind chakra erupted along the sword's edge, invisible cutting force that extended the weapon's reach far beyond its physical length. The air itself became a weapon, pressure differentials creating vacuum slashes that followed Excalibur's arc with devastating precision.

The wind-enhanced strike came at Kohana from multiple angles simultaneously—the blade itself, plus the invisible cutting force extending outward in a cone of pressurized air that would force her to either deflect with perfect precision or risk the vacuum slashes finding gaps in her armor.

"You said you've endured more than this," Shin continued, pressing the attack despite the psychic damage cascading through his nervous system. "Prove it. Show me that when the Baron Twins come at you with everything they have, this body won't fail you."

He pivoted, chaining another wind-enhanced slash angled upward. The vacuum pressure carved visible distortions through the air, moonlight bending around the concentrated cutting force.

But even as he attacked, Shin could feel his coordination degrading further. The golden cracks pulsed erratically, his vision stuttering, his grip on Excalibur requiring conscious effort to maintain.

"Come on, Kohana," Shin said, and despite the strain in his voice, there was something almost desperate in the words. "Hit me back. Show me what thirty-one years of being my fury actually taught you."

 

[Kyuji]

Leaning back against the wall, a faint smile tugged at my lips as I observed the two blondes trading blows—steel meeting steel in a measured yet combative rhythm. From what I could discern, this spar was less about spectacle and more about scrutiny. A test. The so-called Kazekage appeared to be gauging his sister’s readiness before the Baron Twins made their next move, or before circumstances demanded every capable hand be brought to bear.

It was a line of thinking I knew well—one I had once employed with my own students and medics prior to my unfortunate incident in the Red Light District. That familiarity lingered, gnawing at the back of my thoughts. Whether this mirrored discipline spoke to the man’s true nature or was merely coincidence remained to be seen. Still, there were only so many coincidences one could accept before something cracked—before the act fell apart, or I was forced to accept that they were exactly who they appeared to be.

As I lingered in my observations, I drew in a breath I hadn’t realized was tainted. Something subtle, almost imperceptible, yet undeniably wrong. The effects crept in quickly—a lingering heaviness, an invasive sensation that sent warning bells through my mind. A technique or two would purge it from my system soon enough, but the nature of it unsettled me. This was not something meant for public hands. Sinister. Controlled. Quite possibly a clan-specific art or perhaps the signature work of a single, dangerous individual.

Either way, I had no desire to experience it for long. Judging by the way their movements faltered—how their bodies paused for the briefest moments, speech coming only with effort—they were subjecting themselves to far more than I had. Still, one undeniable truth surfaced: in the right circumstances, wielded with intent and preparation, this technique could decisively turn the tide of battle. Perhaps I would speak with the male afterward, see what knowledge I could pry loose. Proper safeguards would be essential—respirators, protective measures—if such a thing were ever to be used responsibly.

For now, I remained where I was, content to let the training continue uninterrupted. There was no urgency. After all, they stood within my home, and I had nowhere else I needed to be. And after the weight of the earlier meeting, this surge of energy—this quiet tension in the air—was nothing short of spectacular.