Kenta Madoka was a man—or rather, an eight-year-old boy—on a mission. After a week of fumbling with Transformation Jutsu and turning himself into nightmarish abominations, he'd decided to take his ninjutsu game up a notch.
The idea hit him like a thunderclap (pun intended): a jutsu or rather a technique inspired by Killua Zoldyck, that electric assassin brat from his past-life anime binges.
'Nails that lengthen and sharpen into claws—perfect for slicing and dicing, and badass with my Boogie Woogie,' he thought, grinning viciously. No hand signs, no weapons—just his hands, free to clap and teleport mid-fight. He'd be a taijutsu terror with a twist.
But he needed help, and not from Sayaka, who was still snickering about his lumpy Minato impression.
Enter Choza Akimichi, his new "buddy" after a little… incident Kenta had orchestrated. It'd started with that Inuzuka punk, Kōji, and his big mouth. Kenta, ever the puppet master, had goaded Kōji into a rant during lunch a week back. "Hey, dog-breath," he'd said, loud enough for Choza to hear, "your pup's so slow, even the Akimichi could outrun it—and that's saying something!" Kōji, predictably, snapped back, "Yeah, well, at least we don't lumber around like a clan of fat pigs!" Choza, mid-bite into a dumpling, turned purple, roared, "Say that again, flea-face!" and tackled Kōji into a dust cloud of fists and yapping.
Kenta had cackled through the whole brawl, dodging Shikazo's glare as the sensei dragged the two apart. Later, he'd sidled up to Choza with a grin. "Sorry about that, big guy—Kōji's an idiot. Let me make it up to you. Help me with a jutsu, and I'll owe you one." Choza, still steaming but loyal to a fault, grumbled, "Fine, but you're buying me snacks." Deal sealed.
Now, sprawled on the training field behind the academy, Kenta explained his idea to Choza, who munched on a rice ball the size of a fist. "So, I want claws—like, sharp nails that pop out when I flex my fingers. Figured you Akimichi know Yang stuff, right? Transformation Jutsu's Yang, but it's flimsy—turns me into an elephant, sure, but I don't get the weight or strength. Lame."
Choza swallowed, nodding sagely. "Yeah, Transformation's just surface-level—no real tangibility. Our clan's jutsu, though? Yang chakra's our bread and butter—literally. We pump it into our bodies, make 'em bigger, stronger, heavier. Not a secret, just basic Akimichi know-how. You're thinking too small with Transformation—it's not gonna give you claws with bite."
Kenta's eyes lit up. "Wait, so it's about forcing Yang into my body—like, stressing it to change? That's it!" He'd been wrong—Transformation was a dead end for this.
Killua's trick wasn't about looking different; it was physical, raw, like a cat extending its claws under pressure. He didn't need transformation jutsu for this. Sure, he would be able to transform his nails to sharp claws but they would have no sharpness or increasd strength. He realized, kicking himself for the detour.
Choza smirked, tossing him a rice ball. "You're quick, noble brat. Yeah, pump Yang chakra into your fingertips—stress the nails, force 'em to grow and harden. Takes grit, though—hurts like hell if you mess it up."
Kenta caught the snack, grinning. "Don't ya worry, I got this!"
He was pretty sure Shikaku Nara, Choza's lanky buddy, had sniffed out his role in the Inuzuka brawl—those Nara eyes missed nothing—but the kid hadn't ratted him out.
Probably too much of a drag, Kenta mused, picturing Shikaku yawning, "Eh, snitching's work. Let Kenta dig his own grave." Worked for him—less hassle, more fun.
Over the next week, Kenta threw himself into it, training with Choza after class. Day one: he focused Yang chakra into his fingertips, gritting his teeth as the pressure built. His nails twitched, elongated half an inch, then snapped back—*pop!*—leaving him cursing and shaking out his hands. "Ow! What the hell?!" Choza laughed, "Told ya—grit!" Day three: he got a full inch, sharp but brittle, slicing a leaf before they cracked. Day five: he curved them into claws, but they bent like rubber—useless.
By day seven, he cracked it. Standing in the field, Kenta flexed his fingers, channeling Yang chakra with brutal focus. His nails lengthened—two inches, razor-sharp, curving like a predator's talons. The pressure was insane, a throbbing ache in his fingertips, but they held, glinting in the sunlight. He swiped at a training dummy—*slash!*—and shredded its straw guts, grinning like a maniac. "Yes! I'm a walking blender now!"
Choza clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him over. "Not bad, Kenta! Looks like our Expansion Jutsu vibe, but tiny—nail-sized. Hurts, though, right?"
"Like a thousand needles," Kenta admitted, shaking out his hands as the claws retracted. "But worth it. No hand signs, no weapons—just me."
'Perfect with Boogie Woogie.' He left that last part unsaid.
'I'm free to teleport mid-fight—can't clap with a kunai in hand, but this? This is gold.' His taijutsu was already elite; now, he'd shred anyone dumb enough to get close, then boogie Woogie away before they blinked.
Choza whistled. "You're nuts, but it works. Don't cut yourself, though—be a shame to bleed out over a snack run."
Kenta laughed, tossing the rice ball back. "Please, I'm too awesome to die by my own claws. Thanks, big guy—you're not half bad." Choza beamed, and Kenta strutted off, mind buzzing with possibilities.
That evening, back at Grandma's house, Kenta sprawled on the porch, dodging Tora's smug stare as Sayaka sharpened her kunai nearby.
He'd been mulling her paper style—cool, but basic compared to Konan's insane tricks from his past-life memories. He didn't spill the Akatsuki secret—too much explaining—but he couldn't resist nudging her toward something epic.
"Hey, Sayaka," he called, grinning slyly. "Your paper jutsu's neat, but it's kinda… meh. Ever think about turning yourself into paper? Like, poof—body, clothes, all sheets fluttering around? Total game-changer."
Sayaka paused, squinting at him. "What, like some origami freak show? You been sneaking sake, Young Master?"
Kenta cackled, sitting up. "No, dummy! Hypothetically—say you convert your chakra into paper, right? Split yourself into a swarm of sheets—fly around, dodge stuff, slice people up. Total badass move! Imagine Shikazo's face when you flutter in like a paper blizzard—'Oh no, I can't nap now!'"
Sayaka snorted, but her eyes flickered with curiosity. 'He's nuts, but… huh. Chakra into paper, reshape my whole body? Sounds impossible—and awesome.'
"You're ridiculous," she said aloud. "What's next, turn into a paper crane and peck people to death?"
"Why not?" Kenta shot back. "I'd pay to see you swoop in, all 'Caw, caw, fear the paper queen!' Beats throwing shuriken like a boring chump." He flexed his fingers, claws popping out briefly. "See? I'm innovating—catch up, slowpoke!"
Sayaka smirked, twirling her kunai. "Innovating? You mean failing at Transformation 'til you cried? Nice claws, though—maybe you're not totally hopeless."
"Cry?!" Kenta sputtered, pointing at her. "I never cried—you cried laughing at my genius! And these claws'll carve my name into history—watch and weep!" He swiped the air, nearly nicking Tora, who hissed and bolted. "Oops—sorry, demon cat, you're next!"
Sayaka shook her head, chuckling. 'Young Master is a clown, but that paper idea… damn, it's sticking. Gotta tinker with it—can't let him outshine me.'
"Keep dreaming, young master. Your 'history' is gonna be a footnote: 'Boy with claws, eaten by cat.'" She said
Kenta just gave her a stupid grin.
'Well, I liked her when she was a lot more stoic and reserved but this version of hers is not that bad.'
-----Author Notes-------
Y'all can read 15 extra chapters of the novel on my pat*reon. It would also motivate me to write more and well pay for my tuition. But I would continue to write with or without you joining my pat*reon. Your support even here on Webnovel means a lot! Thankyou!
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