April 11th?He'd been putting it off for some time, but Tobio knew it was time to break out his asauchi. So far, it'd been sitting in his internal space, waiting to be deployed, and his patience had finally run out. They had that Friday off, and besides meeting Ami ter for that clothing fitting she'd promised for him, his day was entirely free. There'd never be a better time to get this done. And, if he was going to be honest, there was no small amount of excitement on his end to unleash his sword.

  Concentrating on the sword that'd eventually manifest into a representation of his soul, he gently released it into his hands, curious to see what form it might take. With his crisp memory, Tobio could recall that many swords took radically different evolutions once they evolved, sometimes ceasing to remain recognizable as a bde. But seeing who he was, and his combat style...the Genin didn't believe it'd change that drastically.

  From his recollections, Tobio did recall they came in one of four different starting configurations, but even that was only the base for those vaunted weapons. First up was the traditional katana, which was unlikely to draw too much attention, beyond being an exceptionally well-made sword. Basic, yet sometimes you couldn't beat the cssics in their simplicity.

  Then there was the possible wazikashi-style asauchi. As far as Naruto's weapons were concerned, it was a short sword that didn't quite have the reach of a katana, though Barbarian indeed promised he wouldn't have any trouble wielding it. Universal proficiency in all simple and martial weapons was a helluva drug, even if he hadn't been forced yet to show off his skill with an insane number of discreet weapons. In regards to the size, well...he didn't think it being smaller was necessarily a bad thing, after all, and there could be situations wherein it being shorter than usual was a boon even if Tobio couldn't think of any, at that instant.

  Next up was the ōdachi, which was…big. It was an anti-cavalry sword, and functionally overkill for anything in a more conventional setting. Still, a steady diet of anime with massive swords did make him drift toward this option to some degree. The downside was that it was anything but subtle, and most of the time, he suspected it'd be inside a storage scroll just for ease of transportation.

  And stly, he knew that a tantō could pop out. They were just daggers, at least in terms of use cases. But personally, Tobio was hoping for something longer, given that anything he could have used one for, a kunai would have been able to do the job just fine, and more disposable to boot.

  Though at the end of the day, who knew what the spirit inside his sword thought he needed more?

  A formless shape manifested before his very eyes, solidifying from ephemeral light into something solid. Realer than real, made not out of conventional steel, but reiatsu. It grew into the rough shape of a sword, making Tobio's breath catch in his throat...and then kept growing rger.

  When you got down to brass tacks, the sword was a manifestation of his soul. Tobio tended to despise most forms of subtlety in his combat style, so he wasn't surprised at what manifested in his hands. It was about as far from stealth, subtlety, and surreptitious action as someone could get. An otherworldly bde, inch after inch of immacutely crafted metal, gleaming in his hand and tugging at a part of his spirit that was hard to quantify.

  That heavy expanse of wickedly sharp sword was raised in the air as Tobio lifted and inspected it—his ōdachi, almost custom-made to his sensibilities.

  It was functionally taller than he was, yet Mixed Blood made wielding it easy with his superhuman strength. Between that perk and Barbarian, his sensei would be in for a wicked surprise whenever they had their next sparring match, as Tobio experimentally gave it a few swings. He'd tested out some of his sensei's weapons before, and had used a kunai in combat as well, but even so…

  There was something about this asauchi that just felt right. It didn't feel like he was wielding a weapon, a tool, or something else. Instead, the closest thing he could rete it to was as if he had an extension of his own arm and leg when he wielded the Zanpakutō in his hands.

  More importantly, though, Tobio wanted to get a handle on the actual effort of meditating on his bde and getting closer to his Zanpakutō spirit. For a creature that was ostensibly going to be a lifelong ally and potential friend, he wanted to ensure they would grow closer. And if he were lucky, he'd learn enough to discern the name of his bde to unlock shikai. Usually that was the process of years for Shinigami, however, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make as much progress as Ichigo's bullshit development of his own.

  Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he gingerly held his massive bde in his p and closed his eyes. If he was being entirely honest, the process of actually connecting to it wasn't all that difficult. Depths of the Mind made it easy to discern the difference before and after that supernatural connection, of a tie at the periphery of his senses that connected to something else. Even his more developed, Blue Mana-steeped consciousness likely pushed along the evolution of the inner spirit farther than it would have been naturally.

  When you knew yourself, the path to understanding your bde was that much easier. All Zanpakutō were a test, in their way, a dialectic between the wielder and a part of themselves that they didn't always want to accept or understand. That was his view on the matter, even if he knew other people might not have agreed with his take.

  The challenge for Tobio, though, was learning to maintain that meditative state of Jinzen. Forcing their minds to become one should have been easy on paper. In practice? Easier said than done, when the process was so heavily dependent on spiritual energy only. He had plenty to spare, but learning how to manipute that part of his self only was a challenge he hadn't expected. And like any part of an Oni's panoply, his sword was a bit of a glutton, readily slurping down whatever he pushed down without abandon.

  With his eyes closed, he sank into oblivion, into the darkness of his mind, with each passing breath. Time floated away from him as he sought out that elusive consciousness that seemed to be fighting his efforts to bond with it. There was a visualization he tried to inject into the process that was helping the process, if only incrementally.

  A drop of liquid, with a spark of fme inside, slowly falling into a vast ocean. Drop by drop, feeding into a rger reservoir. He was making progress, yes, but painfully, incrementally slowly.

  Then again, if it were so easy to reach Shikai, every Shinigami would have done so. As it was now, he was struggling to race forward as much as he would have liked.

  The sudden, out-of-nowhere pounding at his door that broke his meditation didn't help either.

  Opening his eyes, he saw that the sun had changed position, but the clock on his wall said that he had at least spent five hours meditating, without even realizing it. And he was…probably a little te for his meeting with Ami.

  Oops.

  That insistent pounding at his door felt increasingly ominous as seconds went by. Hastily, he set his sword down and rushed to the front door, opening it to find a slightly peeved Ami. "Finally! What were you even doing in there?"

  "Sorry!" Tobio apologized. "I meant to show up for our meeting, but… Honestly, I got a little carried away with my new sword."

  "Your new sword?" Stepping on her tip-toes, she tried to look over his shoulder and into the apartment, only for her eyes to widen as they caught his new bde. "Holy crap! Is that what you blew most of your money on from our missions?"

  …No, but he wouldn't avoid the life raft she tossed out for him to avoid expining where it came from. Sheepishly, he smiled, gncing away from her. "…Yeah."

  She nodded slowly, hands perched on her hips as her attention turned back to him. "I wouldn't want to be on the other end of that bde, especially when you're in one of your 'raaaawr' moods."

  "My what moods?" Tobio blinked, totally caught off guard.

  She smirked, lifting an eyebrow. "Y'know, when you go 'rawr'," Ami expined, cwing a hand his direction. "Yelling, charging in like a madman. It's kind of cute."

  He felt his cheeks warm out of nowhere, as he did his best not to try and not sound his age. "It's not cute!" Tobio yelled, voice cracking, and only reddening all the harder for it. "Shut up, it's supposed to be scary!"

  "If I didn't know you, yeah, it'd be scary," she agreed. "But I've seen you sm into too many trees, practicing your Human Bullet Technique for you to be that scary to me."

  Was it weird that those words made something unclench in his heart? Ever since Takigakure, he'd been…perhaps not entirely afraid of what his teammates thought of him, his 'bloodline', and the changes that'd been overtaking him. But he would admit reluctance to hear what they thought of him, beneath it all.

  Were they jealous that he was overtaking them in such an obvious way? Was his freakish physiology frightening them, or making them want to take a step back? For all of his newfound intelligence, people were still mysterious, dizzying creatures that defied logic and expnation. Raw logic did not always transte into emotional intelligence.

  Hearing that Ami still considered him, him, was a relief in some respects. That at the end of the day, he was still just Tobio on some level, no matter how much he changed or grew.

  "Thanks," Tobio smiled. "I mean it."

  "What for?"

  "For making me feel normal about everything. About…being stupidly unkilble."

  With a roll of her eyes, Ami reached out and punched his shoulder. "What kind of ungrateful idiot would be sad that one of their friends is hard to kill? Now c'mon. We've got to get your measurements for these clothes."

  She tugged him out the front door with that simple yet effective wisdom, as he chuckled after her. His sword would be fine on its lonesome for a bit longer. For now, Tobio had some new clothes to acquire.

  Tailoring was an art form that, at best, was left by the wayside in the modern age Tobio had come from. It wasn't as if people didn't get tailored suits, or had outfits fitted to them, but the actual art and craftsmanship wasn't as prevalent as it used to be. Mass production had destroyed those cottage industries, churning out t-shirts and jeans for far cheaper than most solitary creators could match.

  But the world of Naruto was in this weird, intermediary period, technologically speaking. They weren't that far from the days of the Warring Cns era, where every shinobi cn fought for themselves. Life was brutish and short, savagely raiding and killing, for no greater purpose beyond whatever contract they held at the time. Technology had come far since those days, yet not so far as to industrialize vast swathes of the Elemental Nations fully.

  There were outliers, like Amegakure, but by and rge, most Hidden Vilges were hardly so advanced. Konohagakure was roughly around a nineties level of technology, and it wasn't even presumed that most homes were wired for electricity or electric lighting. Nor were there the vast transportation networks and supply chains to enable the kinds of industrial revolution knock-on effects that Tobio was used to seeing.

  Much to his surprise, it was precisely the kind of pce where the specific and exacting art of tailoring could still survive. The small craftsman still had a pce in this world, catering to a highly specific clientele, like bcksmiths who could work with rare chakra metal samples, or individuals who could create storage seals in vast enough numbers for those not inclined to learn how to do it themselves.

  Standing in the middle of Ami's home workshop, he could see half-finished pieces of clothing hanging to and fro on nearby walls. A kaleidoscope of different colors, some with finer details, others with a more amateurish hand, but nothing that he'd call bad. The tools of a tailor sat nearby, resting on a wooden table.

  Measuring tape, sprawled out haphazardly over some dark fabric. A little sketchbook, where unfinished designs y bare to the world. Looming above them was the sewing machine bolted to the table, clunky but by far the most modern piece of equipment in the workshop.

  Tobio felt it was daunting, perhaps, in the same way his skill with such a wide breadth of culinary arts could be frightening to people. It felt like he was staring into a world that was, at best, only tangentially connected to his own. While he could no doubt train himself to understand the usages of these tools, the proper way to handle how to ftter someone's figure, and so on…the time dedicated would have been extensive.

  After all, he was pretty sure that Ami had been traipsing around this room since she was old enough to walk. And using most of the implements within since she was old enough to be trusted not to poke herself in the eye with something sharp. There was something nostalgic in her eyes, as the purple-haired girl swept into the room, confident in a way that she could never quite replicate on the battlefield or sparring sessions.

  This was her domain and Tobio was, at best, a visitor. Or more likely, a prop for her to exercise her own skills on.

  "Are you sure we couldn't have just gone shopping?" Tobio asked, hands shoved into his pockets.

  The withering look Ami shot his way spoke volumes about what she thought concerning that notion. "Absolutely not. Do you want to look like just some bargain-bin Genin, or do you want to wear something more bespoke?"

  "Does it matter?"

  "Of course it matters," Ami insisted, as she grasped a measuring tape and gestured to the center of the room. Ambling over, she was right after him, gently beginning to get the length and width of his arms, legs, and torso. "Appearances are just as important in this line of work as your actual capabilities."

  "People don't just want some random, no-name ninja to guard them, or perform a job for them. They want something iconic, distinctive, recognizable, for better or worse."

  Tobio wanted to dispute her cims, but he was pretty sure her words held a kernel of truth. At least, for the nobility who hired shinobi. In the Chūnin Exams, a lot of people showed up because it was the Kazekage's son vs. the st loyal Uchiha of Konohagakure. Names and branding, for better or worse, did have some sway on the career of a ninja.

  You could go under the radar for a time, but at some point, you needed to come out into the light. Especially people like Tobio, who held a specific kind of ambition. He didn't just want to fade into the pages of history, like so many other background fodder characters before him. Which meant that he needed to step up his clothing game, in some respect.

  It said something about him that Ami, Hibachi, and even their filler-episode sensei had even more iconic looks than he did. The original Tobio looked like off-brand Shikamaru. Hopefully, Ami could fix some of that.

  "Did you have something in particur in mind?" He inquired, gncing over at the girl.

  With her attention focused on getting his measurements, she didn't even turn her head away before she responded. "There's a few ideas, but nothing too complex. Nothing too fshy, either, I think."

  He was thankful for that. Her own color scheme of her apron and dress wouldn't have matched him. "I agree."

  "You're our frontline fighter, and even if you're stupidly strong, I'd feel bad if you got hurt from something I made," Ami continued. "So, probably a nice, solid t-shirt, and maybe repurposing some trousers with hip vents…"

  He was trying to make a mental image of what she was going for, and failing consistently. "I'm just going to let you do your thing, I guess."

  "Good," she sharply nodded, pulling back from him. "I'm gonna get started here, but uh…you can go help my mom in the kitchen, if you're sticking around."

  "I dunno, is th-"

  "She's making steamed red bean buns, if you wanna help."

  His traitorous stomach growled, right then and there, as he gnced away with a flush. "...Yeah, I'll go help." It wasn't as if he would be helpful here. And if he were being honest, he'd much rather have been of assistance rather than sitting around like a lump.

  True to her word, Momo made those red bean buns that Ami had mentioned. She was pleased to welcome the help, even if Tobio had to show more of his skill and prowess when preparing ingredients than he'd initially expected. Well, if the gauging looks he got from the mother were any indication, he would be invited around to help with dinner more often.

  Provided he got a full stomach out of the affair? It sounded like a perfect trade to him.

  Some time ter, with some warm, steamed buns in his stomach, Ami came out of her workshop. She looked sweaty, a little disheveled, and with wild eyes, but deepy satisfied all the same. In her arms were a bundle of clothes, that she haphazardly shoved into his grasp.

  "It's finished! Now change," she commanded, staring at him expectantly.

  "...Like, in your living room?"

  "What-no, idiot! Go to the bathroom and change." She was a little flushed at the implication that he'd strip right then and there, but Tobio shrugged and went off to the nearest bathroom to try on his new fit.

  And if he had to be honest? Ami had came through, as he stared at himself in the mirror.

  With a dark t-shirt and some trousers with hip vents, baggy enough not to get in the way of his movements, he had an inkling that he could probably store other supplies and scrolls there if he needed to. Finishing it off with dark sandals, he felt like he'd ascended past at least the get-up of a typical mob character in an outfit like this.

  He'd have to do something nice for Ami to repay her for taking the time out of her day.

  When he came back out, Ami's eyes widened. Still, she didn't squeal, or flush, but merely circled Tobio, inspecting her work on his body. "How does it feel?"

  "A little tight around the arms," he admitted.

  "You're a little more muscur than my usual models. When I make some spares, I'll make some room around the biceps for you."

  "You're making more?"

  She scoffed. "I know how rough you can be on your gear. It's very literally the least I could do for you."

  Huh. Ami could be prickly at times, yet underneath that superficial veneer, he could see that there was someone who genuinely cared about people. Or at least, cared about her teammates. And that was more than he could say about most people.

  Initially, he wasn't so sure about his other teammates, but now? He was happy to get set up with Ami and Hibachi.

  "You're kind of a big softie, aren't you?" Before she could even respond, Tobio drew her into a hug, patting Ami's back gently. "Thanks for the clothes, Ami. I'll…try to think of something nice to do for you ter."

  Releasing her, she was scarlet, sputtering softly as her hands spped against his chest. "You…I-It's no big deal, a-alright?! Don't make a fuss out of it…"

  "Maybe, but if it makes you blush like a tomato again, I probably will."

  "Oni-baka!"

  Tobio's chuckled all the way out of her home, while Ami shouted invectives for him to leave. Still, he had his new clothing, had rexed a bit, and had a stomach full of sweets. What more could an Oni ask for, all in one day?

  The first month of real intensive training for the Chūnin Exams was over and done with. While Tobio wasn't entirely excited for the teenaged bloodsports about to ensue, or the literal invasion of the vilge, it still promised to be fruitful in regards to farming quests, both known and hidden. For him, the real challenge would be keeping all of his friends and sensei alive.

  It was a good thing that his new perks came in clutch, though, in regards to helping Ami, Hibachi, and even Tekuno-sensei to some extent. While it wouldn't be the most useful to help them fight alone, they were already honing themselves in a team that fought far better in concert, than they ever did apart.

  He could only hope that'd be enough, as the date of the exam drifted ever closer.