Naruto: This Genius is Somewhat Ordinary-Chapter 392

Tōma looked up at the white cocoon-like figures suspended from the God Tree and knew he couldn’t waste any more time.

They weren’t dead yet—but being trapped like that was no condition anyone should endure.

He acted immediately.

This time, he used an ability he had acquired long ago but rarely employed.

In the past, Tōma had always done the opposite—converting natural energy into chakra to fuel ninjutsu more efficiently. Now, he reversed the process.

The conversion was fast.

But the amount was obscene.

A world’s worth of chakra didn’t vanish in an instant, even for him.

As the transformation continued, the aura around Tōma subtly shifted. A mark appeared on his forehead—the familiar sign of harmony with nature—but this time, it was changing.

Tōma barely noticed.

What caught his attention was something else entirely.

His body was changing again.

At first, he thought it was another evolution—but as the sensation deepened, he realized that wasn’t quite right.

It wasn’t evolution.

It was completion.

When he had drained Kaguya of a world’s chakra, it was equivalent to absorbing the entire Ten-Tails. Obito and Madara had both undergone drastic physical transformations because of that power.

Tōma’s body was already Six Paths-level.

And yet—it was still being refined.

Energy, when pushed to a certain threshold, didn’t just accumulate. It transformed.

This was one of those moments.

Over time, Tōma understood what was happening.

No living being was born perfect. Genetics, growth, injury, training—everything left tiny, invisible scars. Even chakra cultivation caused wear, since chakra was ultimately extracted from physical vitality.

That slow accumulation of damage was what people called aging.

Even Tōma, who walked a different path, couldn’t escape the process entirely. His road was simply longer.

Now, though, all of it was being corrected.

Innate flaws.

Hidden injuries.

Damage even Yang Release hadn’t detected.

Everything was being repaired.

The sensation was... indescribable.

A deep, instinctive comfort that made it hard not to cry out. Not pleasure in a human sense—something more primal, as if his body itself was rejoicing.

Eventually, the process ended.

The world’s chakra had been fully converted into natural energy.

Tōma straightened and stretched, feeling lighter than he ever had.

Perfectly balanced.

"If this were some other kind of world," he muttered, "this would probably count as a flawless body."

A shard of ice formed in front of him, reflecting his image. The mark on his forehead had changed completely.

Before, it symbolized harmony with nature.

Now, it felt closer to dominion.

Natural sovereign.

Or something like that.

Tōma dismissed the thought. He didn’t need symbols to define himself.

More importantly—he could see the road ahead again.

It was faint, distant... but it existed.

He could still grow stronger.

That alone made him smile.

There were no worthy opponents left, but there were still unanswered questions—and unfinished work.

First things first.

He raised a hand.

A tiny, adorable figure appeared, sitting neatly in his palm.

The Moon Sprite.

It scampered up his arm and affectionately licked his cheek.

"You little menace," Tōma sighed, pinching the back of its neck and setting it back in his palm.

The sprite tilted its head, curious.

Tōma smiled knowingly.

Yes—it really was his creation.

Back then, he lacked the power to create true life. But now?

That limitation was gone.

The Moon Sprite was a space-time entity. And with Tōma’s current mastery, its potential was far greater than it had ever shown.

It shouldn’t have been able to travel back to his past.

And yet—it had.

Because he created it.

That paradox gave it an anchor.

"So that’s how you cheated," Tōma murmured.

He shook his head. Even without the sprite, no past world could have trapped him forever. It had simply made things easier.

He poured Yin-Yang chakra into it, repairing what it had lost.

The Moon Sprite relaxed instantly, eyes half-lidded, clearly understanding what was happening.

Soon, it was whole again.

Its true abilities returned.

With it present, even someone with no space-time talent could use Flying Thunder God. For those who did have talent, it dramatically reduced cost and increased precision.

It could even become a living marker, eliminating the need for prior placement—though the cost was enormous.

Not that it mattered to Tōma anymore.

"Gula~"

The sprite chirped happily.

It had a voice now.

Tōma blinked.

"...Right. I really messed that up the first time."

He glanced at Kaguya’s withered form nearby and thought for a moment.

"Ōtsutsuki Kaguya," he asked, "can you still think?"

"...Yes," she replied faintly.

"I’m going to seal you."

"...I know."

"But not on the moon."

She paused.

"...Anywhere is fine."

Tōma nodded. "Then I’ll seal you inside the Moon Sprite. You’ll retain consciousness—and share its senses."

Her eyes widened.

"I don’t hate you," Tōma said calmly. "But if you wanted to turn this world into weapons, then resistance was inevitable. Every life has the right to exist."

Kaguya didn’t argue.

Defeat had taught her how to listen.

After a long silence, she glanced at the sprite, which stared back innocently.

"...Very well," she said quietly. "At least I won’t be alone."

Tōma hesitated, then asked, "One question. Did you know the king of the Land of Ancestors?"

She shook her head. "He would know me. I had no reason to know him."

So—that version, then.

Tōma exhaled softly, thoughts spiraling toward deeper questions about fate, cycles, and whether this world corrected itself.

If it ever tried to correct him—

He smiled.

That would be interesting.

He placed one hand on the Moon Sprite, the other on Kaguya.

Light flowed.

Kaguya’s form dissolved into energy and merged with the tiny being.

The Moon Sprite shuddered, then steadied.

A vertical mark appeared on its forehead.

A crimson, nine-tomoe Rinne-Sharingan.

Tōma watched calmly.

A new seal had been born.