"Clan Head… how does it taste?"
Mikoto sat quietly by the table, her small hands resting neatly on her lap as her large, dark eyes remained fixed on Ryujin. There was a faint tension in her expression, something she couldn't quite hide no matter how many times she had done this before.
Even after all these years… she still felt nervous.
What if he didn't like it?
What if it wasn't good enough?
Ryujin continued eating calmly, taking a few more bites of the fish before finally giving a slight nod.
"It's good. Better than last time. Your cooking has improved again."
There was no exaggeration in his words.
He still remembered the first few meals she had made. Back then, her cooking had been… borderline disastrous. Some dishes were barely edible, others outright inedible. There were even times when the fish had been half-raw, forcing him to rely on sheer composure just to finish it without reacting.
But at that time, she had only been five years old.
The fact that she could even prepare a meal had already been remarkable.
Over the years, however, she had improved steadily. What had once been clumsy attempts had gradually turned into something refined. Now, her cooking—especially when it came to fish—was already comparable to that of professional chefs in ninja restaurants.
Because she knew he liked it.
He remembered clearly how many times she had gone down to the river to catch fish herself. She would jump straight into the water without hesitation, sometimes returning completely soaked, her clothes clinging to her small frame. There had been occasions where she fell ill afterward, her body unable to handle the cold.
For a shinobi, getting sick wasn't common.
But Mikoto had persisted.
Again and again.
And now, all that effort had paid off.
The fish was fragrant and tender, with no trace of unpleasant taste.
"As long as you like it," Mikoto said softly, her shoulders relaxing as relief spread across her face.
Ryujin continued eating before asking casually, "How's your chakra control training going?"
Because she visited so often, he would occasionally guide her training. Under his instruction, her progress had been nothing short of exceptional.
"Mm! I've already mastered chakra control and the basics!" Mikoto nodded eagerly, her earlier nervousness replaced by excitement.
With Ryujin's guidance, combined with her natural talent, she had already become one of the most outstanding students among her peers—a genuine prodigy within the Uchiha Clan.
Ryujin gave a small nod, acknowledging her progress.
"Good. In that case… I'll teach you a new technique today."
Mikoto's eyes lit up instantly.
"Really? You have time today?"
For her, training with him wasn't just valuable—it was something she looked forward to.
After finishing the meal and cleaning up, Ryujin led her to a secluded training ground he personally used. The area was quiet, surrounded by dense trees, far from prying eyes.
"Mikoto," he began, glancing at her, "today I'll teach you how to use the Shadow Clone Technique for training."
She tilted her head slightly, confusion flickering across her face. "Shadow Clone…?"
Ryujin nodded. "This technique isn't just for combat. If used correctly, it can drastically accelerate your training."
He paused briefly before continuing, ensuring she understood each word.
"When a shadow clone is dispelled, everything it experiences returns to the original—its memories, its knowledge, and most importantly… the results of its training."
Mikoto froze as she processed the explanation.
Then, slowly, her eyes widened.
"So if I create many clones and have them practice… when they disappear, all of that comes back to me?"
"Exactly," Ryujin replied with a faint smile. "Your training speed increases exponentially. You could think of it as a shortcut… a cheat."
Mikoto's eyes sparkled.
She understood immediately.
That was one of her greatest strengths—her ability to grasp concepts quickly.
"But there's a condition," Ryujin added, his tone becoming slightly more serious.
"When the experience returns… so does the fatigue."
He looked at her calmly, a hint of amusement hidden beneath his composure.
"If you overdo it—create too many clones—then all that exhaustion will hit you at once."
He paused deliberately.
"You could die."
Mikoto's face turned pale instantly.
"D-Die?!"
She had never imagined that training itself could be dangerous to that extent.
Ryujin watched her reaction quietly. A faint trace of amusement flickered in his mind—teasing her slightly was unexpectedly entertaining.
"That's why it's classified as a forbidden technique," he continued. "Not everyone can use it safely."
"That's… terrifying…"
Even so, Mikoto didn't back down.
Instead, she focused even harder.
Under Ryujin's guidance, the afternoon passed quickly. By the time the sun began to lower, she was already capable of creating more than a dozen shadow clones, each one training simultaneously.
Her talent was undeniable.
Of course… still far from his level.
As for how Ryujin himself had obtained the technique, the answer was simple. As a transmigrator—and as the Clan Head—once he knew such a method existed, there was no way he would ignore it. It had taken considerable effort to acquire, but the result had made it more than worthwhile.
While Mikoto continued training earnestly, Ryujin, having no immediate matters to attend to, reopened the Multiverse Communication Guild.
This time, he examined its functions more carefully.
There were several features available.
But one, in particular, caught his attention.
The video function.
He explored it briefly, his interest piqued.
Not only could members initiate video calls, but they could also send images and recorded clips across worlds.
Ryujin lifted his gaze.
Not far away, multiple versions of Mikoto moved in unison, each one focused on her training, repeating the same actions tirelessly. The sight was strangely synchronized, almost mesmerizing.
Without much thought, he activated the recording function.
Within moments, a short clip was captured.
"…Interesting."
Casually, he uploaded it to the guild.
To him, this so-called Multiverse Communication Guild wasn't particularly valuable—not yet. As the strongest member, there was little he could gain from it.
So for now…
It was nothing more than a way to pass the time.
A small distraction.
And perhaps—
A source of entertainment.