Chapter 3
The moment the Fireball Jutsu hit the toilet—
Inside that innocent-looking poor, overworked structure was a deadly mixture of fire, pressure, and years of "human contribution and generations of human regret." The flames met methane gas and other deeply philosophical substances, forming a bond so powerful—
so strong it could only be called—a divine connection.
That half-meter fireball?
It didn't stay half-meter.
It evolved.
Transcended.
Tripled.
And then—
BOOOOM.
What followed was not destruction.
No.
That would've been merciful.
What followed…
was a blessing from above.
Rain began to fall.
Not water.
Not ash.
But a thick, emotional mixture of brown, black, and yellow.
A rain so rich in experience…it carried stories. Histories. Dietary mistakes.
Each drop carrying a story.
Each splash holding regret.
Each plop whispering,
"You should've eaten lighter yesterday."
Then—
The ninja who cast the jutsu stood proudly at first.
Chest out.
Chin high.
A man satisfied with his work.
Then—
plop
Something landed on his shoulder.
He blinked.
drip
Another drop slid down his cheek.
He froze.
Slowly—
very slowly—
he looked up.
And in that moment—
he understood a phrase that people often say but rarely experience:
"You are covered in your own work."
Literally.
Spiritually.
Professionally.
This was not the result he intended—
but it was definitely the result he earned
drip
drop
plop
His expression changed.
Slowly.
Then rapidly.
Then spiritually.
He looked up at 45° angle & had only 1 thought-
a mistake.
A huge mistake.
And just like that—
he was baptized.
Not in water.
Not in fire.
But in something far more… personal.
Within seconds, his entire body was… acknowledged by his own jutsu.
As for the man inside the toilet—
Well…
His situation had… layers.
From the back—
he looked like freshly roasted charcoal taken out from furnace.
From the front—
smooth, pale, almost artistic… like the surface of the moon.
But the real tragedy?
Something was missing.
Something important.
Something that once stood with pride…
Something that made him a 'man'
but had now… resigned from existence.
Meanwhile, the jutsu caster wasn't done suffering.
If one looked closely—something had landed on his head.
Soft. Warm. Suspiciously shaped.
With two rounded extensions, like it still had confidence that it can make many women trumble under it.
He slowly reached up.
Touched it.
Paused.
And then—His soul disconnected from his body.
Then reconnected—
just in time for him to scream internally.
And with the speed of a man rejecting responsibility—
he threw it away.
But it was too late.
The cursed experience had already been installed in his mind forever.
His soul left his body for a moment…
then returned—
only to suffer more of his own result of work.
As for the man inside—
or what remained of him—
No, calling him man was no right, so Let's call him half man.
he was no longer a full man. But half.
Emotionally…he was nothing. But -
Physically…he was dead. Probably for the best outcome.
The entire area fell silent.
Not just Ryo—
but everyone who witnessed this… godly devine majestic unperalal un imaginable unthinkable uncreatable unforgettable event....
Their minds stopped working.
Because what they saw wasn't just an explosion.
It was a statement.
A message from the universe:
"You thought life couldn't get worse? Think again."
Strangely, no one cared about the destroyed toilet.
Or even the death.
Because in a ninja world—
destruction?
Normal.
Death?
Common.
A great old man once said "The Will of Fire: Wherever ninjas exist, peace is temporary, buildings are optional, and death, destruction, and collateral damage are guaranteed by default."
But this?
This was art.
Terrible.
Unholy.
Unforgettable art.
Luckily, Ryo stood far away.
And civilians, using their strongest survival instinct, stayed away from any ninjas.
So except for that unfortunate jutsu caster—
no one else received the "heavenly gift."
But for Ryo…
distance didn't matter.
Because his past—
was already full of… content.
And now—
seeing it…
smelling it…
watching it fall from the sky like divine punishment—
something inside him broke.
Or rather—
reopened.
Memories flooded in.
Every accident.
Every humiliation.
Every moment where life said—
"Not today. Today, we go lower."
The school.
The mountain.
The confession.
The toilet.
The… consistency of his suffering.
This wasn't just trauma.
This was a lifetime subscription of trauma & humiliations.
The current horror…
combined with past experiences…
created a pressure even greater than that toilet explosion.
And then—
his eyes reacted.
His eyes truned red with a black ring. On that ring grew a tomoe.
And then—
they skipped logic entirely.
Jumped past limits.
Straight into—
Mangekyō Sharingan.
A power awakened not by loss of loved ones nor by hearted towards anyone...
but by something far more powerful:
unprocessed embarrassment & fear of literal SHIT.
But his body—
was still that of a child.
Weak.
Unstable.
was not ready not for this power.
Not for these memories.
And definitely not ready for this level of… awakening.
His vision blurred.
His legs gave out.
His brain simply said—
"Enough. I quit."
And Ryo collapsed to the ground.
Unconscious.
Escaping reality for the first time in his life—
not because of an accident—
but because even his body had limits.
Above him—
the last drops of that "divine rain" fell.
As if the sky itself whispered—
"Character development complete."
Chapter End