Naruto: One Eye Tenseigan

The crescent moon hung low in the star-scattered sky, its faint light painting the grassland in muted silver. The clearing stretched vast and quiet, bordered by swaying grasses that whispered secrets to the cool night breeze.

The grassland stretched endlessly, an untouched canvas of nature painted in silver and shadow. It was a place where no settlements marred the serenity, no human activity disturbed the nocturnal symphony. Crickets chirped rhythmically, and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures in the tall grass added to the ambience. For Tomaru Minakura, this isolation was exactly what he needed.

Tomaru Minakura adjusted the folds of his dark cloak before neatly setting it aside on a nearby log. His expression was calm, his sharp eyes scanning the clearing with quiet intent. His breath came evenly, though the anticipation of what lay ahead made his fingers curl slightly.

Around him, a dozen Kage Bunshin flickered into existence in a burst of smoke, forming a wide circle. 

The Kage Bunshin no Jutsu had created perfect replicas of his form, each clone a mirror of his stance and demeanor.

Tomaru's lips curled into a faint smirk. "Alright," he muttered, stepping into a loose stance. "Let's see what you've got."

The clones moved.

One dashed forward, its feet brushing the earth in near-silence as it aimed a punch at Tomaru's torso. Without hesitation, Tomaru sidestepped, twisting his body to avoid the strike while delivering a sharp counter-elbow to the clone's ribs. The contact was clean, and the clone burst into a puff of smoke.

No sooner had the first disappeared than another rushed in from the left, feinting high before aiming a low kick. Tomaru anticipated the move, pivoting smoothly to avoid the strike and retaliating with a spinning back kick that caught the clone square in the chest. Another burst of smoke dissipated into the night.

The rest followed in quick succession, their movements precise but lacking true ingenuity. Tomaru wove between them, his strikes a blend of calculated offense and effortless defense. He dismantled each with surgical precision, his innate perception allowing him to track their every shift and strike before they could commit to their attacks.

Within moments, the clearing was still again. The final clone dissolved, leaving only Tomaru standing amidst the faint haze of dissipated chakra.

"Too predictable," he muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face.

Tomaru stepped back to the center of the clearing, forming the seals for Kage Bunshin no Jutsu once more. This time, the surge of chakra was greater, the air around him tingling with energy. In quick bursts, two dozen clones materialized, spreading out into a tighter formation.

The fight began anew.

The first wave came at him in coordinated pairs, each set attempting to exploit gaps in his defenses. A pair closed in from his left and right, their movements synchronized. Tomaru ducked beneath a high strike from one and swept the legs out from the other. As both fell, he shifted seamlessly to counter another pair charging from behind, dispersing them with a well-timed spin kick.

Smoke filled the air as clones disappeared one after another, but the remaining ones pressed harder, adapting in small but noticeable ways. Tomaru's innate perception worked overtime, reading their adjustments and staying one step ahead. His movements were fluid, each counterattack an efficient answer to their increasingly aggressive strikes.

And yet, as the clones improved, so did his focus.

Frustration flickered briefly across Tomaru's face. "Still not enough," he murmured, forming the seals once more. This time, the chakra burst was immense, a visible ripple radiating outward as nearly a hundred clones flickered into existence. They stood in eerie silence, their identical features casting a shadow of unease.

Tomaru exhaled slowly, centering himself. "Come on," he said, his voice steady. "Show me something worth my time."

The clones attacked en masse, their movements blending into a chaotic symphony of strikes. Tomaru met them head-on, his innate perception the only edge he needed. He flowed through the onslaught like water, predicting their movements before they could fully form.

One clone lunged with a punch, but Tomaru ducked low, grabbing its arm and twisting it into another clone's path. Both burst into smoke as their strikes collided. Another attempted a surprise attack from above, leaping high into the air. Tomaru stepped back, sidestepping the landing strike, and countered with a precise jab that dispersed it mid-motion.

Despite their sheer numbers, the clones couldn't match his instinct and adaptability. His high perception allowed him to track subtle shifts in their attacks, exploiting their coordination gaps to dismantle them systematically.

Still, the relentless waves began to push him. A clone's strike grazed his arm—a minor slip, but enough to remind him of the stakes. He pivoted sharply, countering with a spinning elbow that dispersed the offender, his smirk returning. "Better," he muttered.

The battle ended as quickly as it began. The final clone dissolved into a puff of smoke, leaving Tomaru alone amidst the faintly scorched grass and dissipating haze. He stood still for a moment, his sharp eyes scanning the quiet field. The crescent moon above bathed the clearing in a pale glow, casting long shadows that swayed with the tall grass.

"This isn't enough," he admitted quietly, his voice breaking the silence. His innate perception, so keen it rivaled even the Sharingan, had made the fight predictable. The clones were perfect mimics of his physical movements and ninjutsu, but they lacked what mattered most: instincts.

They lacked him.

Tomaru's thoughts turned to Sayuri-sensei. Every sparring session with her felt like a test against a force of nature—unpredictable and relentless. Her precision, her ability to adapt mid-combat, had forced him to evolve. Fighting his own clones, no matter how many, lacked that spark of ingenuity.

"Fighting shadows can only take me so far," Tomaru muttered, glancing at the moon as if seeking answers. Its dim light cast the clearing in muted silver, illuminating the faint traces of chakra residue left from his earlier fight.

If he wanted to grow, he needed more.

He had learned it in secret, using his Tenseigan to study forbidden Scroll of Seals.

Among them, two caught Tomaru's attention—Kage Bunshin no Jutsu, with its tactical versatility, and Flying Thunder God, a technique with teleportation capabilities.

The Kage Bunshin had been straightforward to learn, its mechanics grounded in the division of chakra and the replication of physical form. But the Flying Thunder God...

Tomaru clenched his fists as he thought about it.

The Flying Thunder God technique wasn't just a jutsu—it was a work of art. A seamless blending of space-time manipulation and sealing techniques, it allowed the user to teleport instantaneously to any location marked with their chakra.

The sheer elegance of it fascinated Tomaru.

Tobirama Senju, the Nidaime Hokage, had created the technique during the Warring States period. The scroll spoke of his intellect—razor-sharp and unrelenting. Tobirama had developed the Flying Thunder God in the chaos of war, driven by necessity to create a technique that would grant him absolute battlefield superiority.

For Minato Namikaze, the Yondaime Hokage, the technique became a foundation for his legend. Minato had not only mastered it but refined it, creating a style of combat so fluid and devastating that it earned him the moniker Konoha's Yellow Flash.

What baffled Tomaru, however, was how they had done it. Neither Tobirama nor Minato had access to the mathematical frameworks or scientific understanding of space-time that Tomaru vaguely remembered from his past life. Yet, they had achieved mastery through sheer instinct, trial, and error.

A combination of genius and intuition, he thought. Not bound by logic, but driven by necessity.

Tomaru's own attempts to understand the Flying Thunder God had felt like trying to solve an equation with missing variables. The seals were intricate, each one a piece of a larger puzzle that manipulated the fabric of reality itself. He needed time, patience, and, most importantly, a deeper understanding of the spatial dimensions that shinobi so casually bent to their will.

For now, the Tenseigan would suffice.

—

Tomaru crouched, his fingers tracing patterns in the soft earth as his mind wandered. His Tenseigan, the celestial power embedded in his right eye, remained a source of fascination. Unlike the Sharingan or Byakugan, it wasn't merely a physical manifestation. It was something deeper—a resonance, a bond that tied his chakra, body, and spirit together.

Even without activating it, the Tenseigan granted him extraordinary perception. He could track subtle shifts in an opponent's stance, predict the arc of a thrown kunai by the tension in its wielder's muscles, and read the faintest ripples of chakra in the air. This natural talent, amplified by the Tenseigan's influence, was something his clones could never replicate.

"It's not just an eye," Tomaru murmured, standing and rolling his shoulders. "It's alive. A presence."

The Kage Bunshin no Jutsu was powerful, but his clones were mere shadows. They could mimic his techniques and chakra flow, but they lacked the Tenseigan's brilliance. His clones moved like him, but they didn't think like him.

Tomaru clasped his hands together, forming the familiar seals of the Kage Bunshin no Jutsu. With a burst of smoke, a single clone appeared before him, its gaze meeting his own. This time, he had a new experiment in mind.

He focused inward, peeling back the layers of his chakra network. Two distinct energies pulsed within him:

A pure, celestial energy that radiated with brilliant cyan light. It was precise and harmonious, like the notes of an otherworldly melody.A human energy, dynamic and adaptable. Though powerful, it lacked the Tenseigan's ethereal quality.

Tomaru stood amidst the grassland, the faint light of the crescent moon casting soft, silvery hues over the clearing. Around him, the dissipating smoke of previous clones drifted lazily, curling like phantom tendrils in the night air.

He extended a hand, summoning a fresh Kage Bunshin. With a small burst of smoke, the clone appeared before him—a perfect replica, mirroring his stance and expression.

Tomaru's gaze narrowed as he focused inward. He reached deep into his chakra network, visualizing the flow of energy within his body. The Tenseigan Chakra responded instantly, a brilliant cyan light coalescing in his palm.

The sphere he created pulsed faintly, radiating an ethereal glow that illuminated the shadows of the clearing. It was compact yet potent, the concentrated energy vibrating subtly in his grip. The light reflected off the sharp angles of his features, emphasizing the quiet intensity in his eyes.

Tomaru stepped closer to the clone, his movements deliberate. The clone remained still, its gaze locked onto his, a faint curiosity reflected in its expression.

"Let's see how far we can push this," Tomaru muttered under his breath, pressing the sphere of Tenseigan Chakra into the clone's chest.

As the sphere connected, the Tenseigan's brilliance surged, bathing the clone in cyan light. The energy spread outward, flowing through the clone's chakra network in intricate, spiraling patterns.

In the vision of the Tenseigan, Tomaru observed the transformation with awe.

Chakra Network Shift:

The clone's chakra pathways, previously a steady, pale blue, began to shimmer with the same vibrant cyan as the Tenseigan Chakra. The once-static flow of energy now moved with a rhythmic, almost sentient pulse, as though the Tenseigan's presence had imbued the clone with a fragment of its awareness.

Tenketsu Glow:

The clone's tenketsu—those vital chakra nodes—changed. What had been faint, pinpoint lights in the Tenseigan's vision now glowed intensely, their brightness fluctuating in sync with the clone's movements. It was as though each tenketsu had been supercharged, granting the clone an amplified connection to its chakra.

Aura Manifestation:

The clone's silhouette gained a faint, luminous aura, visible only to Tomaru's enhanced perception. It flickered like a flame caught in a gentle breeze, a visual representation of the clone's elevated chakra state.

Tomaru took a step back, his sharp gaze fixed on the clone. The transformation was remarkable, but theory alone wouldn't suffice. He needed to test its capabilities.

"Show me what you've got," he said, his tone calm but edged with anticipation.

The clone responded immediately, its movements sharp and fluid. It darted forward, the speed of its approach catching even Tomaru off guard.

The first strike came fast—a direct punch aimed at Tomaru's chest. He deflected it instinctively, but the clone anticipated his counter, spinning mid-air to deliver a chakra-infused kick.

Tomaru leaned back, evading the attack by a hair's breadth. The faint hum of energy emanating from the clone's strike sent a ripple through the air, a testament to the heightened chakra control it now possessed.