It was getting late when Mizuki returned home after completing his mission. Although he had used up a significant amount of chakra, he didn't feel particularly tired—after all, the strength difference between him and his target had been overwhelming.
"Tsubaki, you'll probably be busy for a while," he said as he walked in. "You don't have to come over just to cook or wait up for me at night. You could visit the flower shop instead."
"Alright," she replied. "But I've already been swamped lately. I've got multiple assignments related to checking and reinforcing village barriers."
"If you're overworked, just hire someone. Worst case, put up a mission request to have someone watch the shop."
"You have the money for that kind of mission?"
"Let's not talk about depressing things while eating," Mizuki deflected. "Luckily, the end of the month's coming up—wages should be in soon."
…
After dinner, they cleaned up the house. Mizuki pulled out a summoning scroll and released a sealed wooden puppet.
"Just like last time," he said. "I'll handle chakra control—you handle the sealing."
As chakra flowed into the puppet's core, its wooden surface cracked and shifted. Runes lit up across its form as it morphed into a small, humanoid beast no taller than Mizuki's waist. The creature had tiger-like markings on its youthful face, sharp claws, and a slightly hunched posture.
"How do you feel?" Mizuki asked the strange being.
"There's no problem with basic movement," it replied in a sharp, youthful voice. "But combat burns through energy quickly—even if the fight isn't that intense."
"If we ignore the cost of maintaining the seal array," Mizuki pressed, "can it be used for short-term combat?"
"Don't expect miracles. It wouldn't even hold up against someone like Haruno Sakura."
"What's the biggest issue, then?"
"The chakra output from the body is far greater than predicted. The more intense the battle, the more chakra it generates. That chakra surge pushes the body into a severe overdraw, cutting down its already limited lifespan."
"How long can it function?" Mizuki asked.
"Hard to say. It depends on how many battles it goes through—and how fierce they are."
Mizuki frowned at the response. It was troublesome.
The being before him was a homunculus of sorts, created from Mizuki's own hair. In order to solve the control issue of autonomous clones—and to address the ethical complications—Mizuki had gotten "creative." He based the design on the jinchūriki concept. After all, the Tailed Beasts were just chakra aggregates born from negative will. Shadow clones were chakra constructs as well, but infused with a user's intent. The parallel seemed apt.
Using sealing techniques, he had embedded a shadow clone containing his will and a large chakra reserve into a genetically reconstituted body. Unlike a traditional jinchūriki, where a human controls a sealed beast, this experiment flipped the roles: the body was empty, and the shadow clone could subtly leak chakra into it, eventually occupying it entirely. In theory, any emergent consciousness forming in the vessel wouldn't even get the chance to develop.
Now, the clone operated with clarity and logic. Mizuki considered it a tentative success—but the lifespan issue was another matter. The biological degradation was unavoidable. Adult cells, like those from Mizuki's hair, had limited divisions. Even if reprogrammed into a totipotent state through medical jutsu, the DNA's wear and tear would remain.
Ninja, by their nature, burned out quickly. Chakra came from both physical and spiritual energy. Constant missions pushed the body into overdrive. In a mission like the Land of Waves, Mizuki knew it was lucky any genin survived. Overdrawn chakra reserves, unstable genetic modifications, and radical medical experiments were all too common—ninja science bordered on mad science.
It was no wonder so many shinobi aged prematurely. There were no martial arts immortals like in legends. If it weren't for the Hashirama cells prolonging the lives of certain high-level figures, the shinobi world's history might have turned out very differently.
"So that's it," Mizuki muttered. "Exchange information first, then replenish chakra. You'll have to rely on your physical strength to reduce chakra usage. No continuous supply means we'll have to take the dumb route."
He nodded. "Tsubaki, let's begin."
…
On the day of the Chūnin Exams, the Hokage's office buzzed with activity. Many jōnin and chūnin examiners had gathered for the announcement. Mizuki, as always, stayed in the back, half-dozing. For once, the Third Hokage kept his speech brief. After a few words, the assembled ninja vanished to their assigned locations.
Ibiki Morino, the intimidating head of the Torture and Interrogation Division, led the first stage of the exam—the written test.
Mizuki had no intention of interacting with the candidates. He especially wanted to avoid Orochimaru. He'd been loitering around the mission hall doing paperwork just to steer clear of trouble.
He wasn't worried about being targeted directly. Orochimaru and Kabuto had bigger fish to fry. As long as he didn't engage them one-on-one, he'd be fine.
Assigned as an observer, Mizuki took a seat near the door. He snorted to himself—he didn't remember any examiner sitting there in the original storyline. In front of him, Kankurō sat with his painted face and puppet bundle.
"Huh," Mizuki mused, "Is Kankurō pretending to be an examiner? In the original, he used his puppet to sneak out answers. But with me here now, how does he plan to pull it off? If he fails because I changed things... that's going to be a pain."
"Whatever," he sighed. "The main plot won't shift much. Orochimaru's plan is still in motion."
His eyes scanned the room. "That's Orochimaru, huh? The disguise is solid. If you don't look closely, he really blends in. Kabuto too—those glasses and polite attitude are textbook spy behavior. That redhead… Karin? No—she wouldn't be here yet. Must be someone else with high chakra reserves. Probably a minor Uzumaki descendant."
"And Naruto Uzumaki…" Mizuki frowned. "His hair is blonde—Minato's genes must've completely overridden Kushina's. For a so-called 'civilian-born' ninja, his lineage is anything but simple."
While Ibiki explained the exam rules, Mizuki ignored the instructions. They didn't apply to him anyway.
Instead, he began writing formulas on a board—calculations for chakra positioning and reverse summoning coordinates.
"This is more important," he muttered. "I'm not trying to invent Flying Thunder God, but if I can create a fast, safe route between the lab and the village, that's good enough."
His scribbling, however, unsettled the test-takers. Many assumed he was jotting down secret answers. As more and more candidates were caught cheating and expelled, Mizuki's calm note-taking became a source of silent terror.
Suddenly, he felt a spike of chakra.
"Huh?" Mizuki frowned. "You're pushing it, even with the escape route open."
He glanced at the clock. "Kankurō must be about to make his move. But you're late—no chance to pull the puppet trick now."
Amused, he paused his writing and stared at Kankurō. The Suna genin froze under Mizuki's gaze.
"I'm curious," Mizuki thought. "If you don't use the puppet, how are you going to cheat now?"
He glanced at Temari next. "Aside from Naruto, you two aren't standouts yet. Gaara won't hand you the answers, that's for sure. And while Temari's pretty, that hairstyle's not my type. Sorry—no free pass for you."
Ten minutes later, the exam ended. Kankurō and Temari, frozen in fear, had pinned all their hopes on the infamous tenth question. Only two candidates turned in blank sheets—and passed.
"Finally," Mizuki stretched. "Freedom."
As he left the room, Yamashiro Aoba intercepted him.
"Mizuki, aren't you the alternate proctor for the Forest of Death?"
"You said 'alternate,' right? So I'm not picked," Mizuki shot back. "What, do I look like I've got nothing better to do?"
Aoba had no response as Mizuki casually strolled off.
"Now it's my turn to hide behind the scenes and fish in troubled waters. Let's see if any of my planted surprises yield results…"