Eternal Yujin
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TCoH—Chapter 3.21 [44]
🕑 Added 2024-10-28 13:20:53 +0000 UTC- - -
Chapter 3.21 [44]
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Asuma had been more candid about our options than I’d expected—or well, my options. Choji was training with both his clan and Asuma. Our run-in with Gaara had finally pushed him over the edge on picking up some elemental ninjutsu; we’d suggested he take up Fire-Release to compliment and combine with my wind affinity. It wouldn’t have been too difficult to learn given his earth affinity.
Unsurprisingly, Hinata was going into secluded training with her clan and I didn’t have the heart to tell her that a month wasn’t enough to beat Neji if she relied on just the Gentle Fist. It wasn’t my place to say to her, but I also had faith that she knew that more than anyone having, you know, fought the guy for years now.
All of my plans hinged around beating Gaara. On the top of that list was learning Water-Release ninjutsu. It would weigh his sand down, thereby slowing it, which was always a plus in my book, including his sand armour. The skirmish between us had only confirmed that his taijutsu was his weakest spot, so it was only a matter of nullifying his biggest strengths as much as possible.
It was the day after the second stage of the exams. We’d gathered at my place, because that was where my team decided to appear whenever we weren’t training, and I couldn’t be bothered to complain—to be honest, I’d grown used to it by this point.
“This works out well enough if you want to learn Water-Release ninjutsu,” Asuma had said in response to my plans for the month.
“What?” I’d replied.
“My old man’s decided to train you for the month if you’d like it.”
I stared at him with wide eyes. “Huh?”
“That’s what I said, but apparently, he’s deemed it necessary to handle your training himself. I guess after you fought Orochimaru of the Sannin, he feels partially responsible for making sure you’re as strong as possible.”
Hinata and Choji were equal parts astounded and exasperated. “Great,” She’d rolled her eyes, “This’ll just be another way to fuel his training addiction—worse still now that Lord Third has legitimised it!”
“I’m not that bad,” I replied, absentmindedly, though Choji disagreed with me on what he called a spiritual level.
I looked at Asuma using my peripheral vision while we bantered. He’d taught me that it might be worthwhile to build a life once there was nothing to train for, after all. Besides, if I were him, I wouldn’t be too happy with someone else poaching my students, even if they happened to be my direct superior.
“What?” he asked when he caught me staring.
I shrugged. “Are you okay with it?”
“The training offer was for you, not me,” he said, snorting. “Besides, my old man was trained by the last two Hokage, you know? Tobirama Senju was the strongest Water-Release user this village has ever seen, so there’ll be lots of things for you to pick up from him.”
The idea of training with the Third Hokage felt… weighty. Don’t get me wrong, I was ready to take the opportunity the minute I’d learned of it, but leaving Asuma behind didn’t sit right either. Though I supposed that nothing was stopping me from dropping in on his and Choji’s training every once in a while.
By the time I reached the Sarutobi compound, the idea had mostly settled. Lord Third’s summons still struck me as unreal. So had his choice to reveal my parents’ identities to me. Deep inside his walled, tiered home, he looked the part of any other old man drinking tea. He sat at a low table, opposite another untouched cup of tea and a furled scroll beside his own.
He motioned for me to sit, smiling in that grandfatherly way he liked to, and I took a seat across from him. I figured we’d get straight to training, but the Third slid a second cup of tea toward me and nodded. “I hear you’ve put serious thought into your goals this month,” he began. “But before that, how go your efforts with Karin?”
“Oh, with Karin?” I scratched the back of my head, trying to sound more upbeat than I felt in that regard. “It’s… well, going okay, I guess. Kind of slowly, to be honest. She isn’t exactly opening up easy.”
Lord Third’s gaze stayed steady on me, patient as ever, but something in his expression shifted; he waited, just sipping his tea like he knew I had more to say.
“I thought I’d just show up and she’d be happy to talk to me after Gaara, but… I dunno. She barely says anything. It’s like talking to a wall. A quiet, glaring wall. I even brought her some dumplings the last time I visited her, but she just gave me this look—thankfully, she still took the dumplings.”
“Sometimes it takes more than just friendliness to reach someone, Naruto. Especially someone who might not have had much reason to trust others,” he said. “Besides, from her point of view, you saved her only to hand her over to me, who then confined her to an apartment for the time being.”
I frowned, thinking about that. It wasn’t that I hadn’t thought about why she was like that—it was pretty obvious she’d been through some stuff. But every time I tried to get her to say anything, she just shut down. I figured maybe I was pushing too hard, or maybe she just wasn’t used to people like me.
The actual context of her situation in the Leaf wasn’t much I’d thought about, but from her point of view, it wasn’t exactly great.
“Perhaps it’s simply caution,” he replied. “But I suspect, if you give her the chance, she’ll come around.”
I nodded slowly, but there was something else weighing on me. “It just feels like… no matter what I say, she thinks I’m just trying to mess with her.” I frowned, feeling a hint of frustration bubble up. “How am I supposed to get through to her if she doesn’t even think I’m serious?”
“Give her time, Naruto.” Lord Third took a sip from his cup. “So, how do you want to go about this arrangement of ours?”
I took a breath, choosing my words. “I want to focus on things that’ll help me defeat Gaara. Out of everyone in the exams besides Orochimaru, he’s the one I’m most cautious of with his sand. Water Release to slow his sand down, and better ways to close the distance, maybe even taijutsu.”
Lord Third chuckled, eyes sharp but gentle. “You’ve analysed your opponent well, but bear in mind that he’ll likely be taking the time to improve as well. Do not count on your limited conception of him to win. Though, Water Release is a good choice; challenging to learn without a natural affinity, but it’s manageable with the right instruction. I believe you’ll soon be ready to take to the task.”
“Soon?” I repeated, taking a sip from my quickly cooling tea. “What about today?”
“I thought I’d take today to introduce you to a speciality of mine,” he replied, rising from the low table. He formed a familiar cross-shaped seal and summoned a clone to life in a puff of smoke. “This is the Shadow Clone Jutsu. Unlike their illusory counterpart, shadow clones are corporeal and solid—your chakra is divided into equal parts among the summoned clones. They are sentient, initially created by Lord Second as a recon tool. Each clone experiences things just as you would and will return those experiences to you once they are dispelled.”
“In that case, can’t I use shadow clones for my training?” I asked. “Of course, not physical training, but learning ninjutsu and the like.”
“You’d not be the first to have that idea,” Lord Third replied. “It is possible, but not in the way that you think. While you may have the chakra capacity to summon dozens upon dozens of clones to aid your training, not only will you be unable to retain the knowledge without careful interspersed dispelling and meditation, the influx of such experience will most certainly result in an imbalance between your physical and mental energies.”
I blinked. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I would know.” He stopped to chuckle. “Lord Second put me through gruelling physical training to make up for such a debacle in my youth. An imbalance between the two energies would mean having to expend more of the lacking energy to mould one’s chakra.”
I frowned. “But that’ll happen eventually with all of us anyway.”
“Yes, Naruto. It’s called ageing,” he said with an amused look in his eye. “Spiritual energy grows and continues to grow throughout one’s lifetime. Physical energy, however…” he trailed off, looking into the garden through the open door. “As an Uzumaki, you are blessed with vitality that will see you laugh off the ills that plague me.”
“An imbalance between the energies still isn’t ideal,” I replied. “It’ll mean expending more energy to mould chakra, but I suppose it would let me get away with using a few clones for training at a time, right?”
Lord Third nodded. “So long as you are careful, it won’t be an issue. No more than an hour or so with each clone should do it as well as carefully timing when you dispel them,” he said. “So, would you like to attempt the Shadow Clone Jutsu now, or would you like to finish your tea?”
I raised my cup, the drink within having long since cooled enough to down with a gulp. “Let’s do it now, please.”
He gave me a wide berth, lifting the small scroll on the table. “Give this a read—and do take your time; we’re in no rush for results today.”
———————————
Being a sentient clone was a strange experience. The idea that I could create myself exactly as I existed in the real world was… strange, to put it lightly. That my existence relied on the amount of chakra in me was also a cause for concern—not that I felt it.
The weirdness didn’t stop there. My mind still felt like mine, memories intact, personality the same. I knew I was a copy of myself, and yet there I was present, fully me, moving and thinking. It was oddly freeing, like being in a dream where nothing held you back, but at the same time, I was tethered to a timer—and when it ended that’d be it.
Still, for now, I had one purpose in mind: experience.
I took a breath, feeling the morning chill with the enthusiasm of a man sentenced to death. I kept my gait easy and casual, hopping the compound’s walls. Lord Third wanted me to observe as much as I could through a clone. It was weird thinking of myself in terms like this as if I were just a tool, something created for a task.
I didn’t love the idea, but there was probably something in the jutsu itself that was preventing me from losing my shit. If nothing else, I could use myself as a chance to do something I wouldn’t have the time for before the tournament.
It was around lunchtime, and the Academy’s grounds beyond the tall red gates were full of kids running around, shouting, and huddling in groups. I spotted Konohamaru with a few familiar faces—Haruto, Nori, and Ko eating their lunch—feeling a little rush of nostalgia as I approached them, remembering my own time here.
But then it hit me again, the strange sensation of memories being there but the emotions distant, like echoes of someone else’s life. I shook my head, blinking rapidly, before launching myself towards the ledge above them.
“People really don’t look up much, do they?” I said, grinning.
Haruto nearly dropped his lunch as I landed, and all three of them jerked up to face me with wide eyes. “Naruto!” Haruto sounded halfway between excitement and annoyance. “You can’t just sneak up like that!”
“What?” I grinned, hopping down beside them. “Thought you guys would catch on quick enough. Guess Konohamaru hasn’t been training you guys well.”
Ko folded her arms, trying for a serious look. “It’s not like he tells us what he’s planning before he jumps out of nowhere.”
Nori let out an exaggerated sigh. “Yeah, more like he’s got us guessing which corner he’s gonna pop out from next.”
“Not bad training, actually,” I said, glancing around as if Konohamaru might come barreling out from behind a tree. “But where is Konohamaru? Doesn’t usually keep out of sight this long.”
Haruto smirked and did a quick scan of the field before leaning in. “Oh, he’s around somewhere. He got it in his head to ambush us during break time. Says we need to be sharp, so we’re ready to take you down one day.”
“Oh, is that right?” I laughed, shaking my head. “You should tell him I can spot him from a mile away. It’ll be a long way until he’s good enough to ambush me.”
“Then you tell him,” Ko shot back, kicking at a patch of dirt. “It’s not like he’ll stop bragging about it just ’cause we ask him to.”
“I’d like to see him actually pull it off once before he tells us how to do it,” Nori muttered.
“Give him time; he’ll figure something out eventually,” I said, snorting at the mental image of Konohamaru behind a corner. “Stubborn as he is, he’ll probably surprise you when you least expect it.”
Nori’s eyes lit up. “But you’re training for something bigger, right? The Chunin Exam tournament they’re talking about?”
“Yeah.”
Ko squinted. “You’re up against someone from the Hidden Sand, right?”
“Temari of the Sand, yeah. She’s got a giant fan she fights with and can whip up wind like a storm. It’s tough to get close, but that’ll be part of the fun.”
Haruto blinked, processing that. “Wait, so she’s… what, just fanning people?”
“Something like that,” I chuckled. “It’s a lot cooler in person, believe me.”
“Yeah, but you’re good at tough fights,” Nori insisted, crossing his arms with a grin. “She’ll probably just get annoyed when she can’t blow you over.”
Ko nudged Haruto. “Yeah, he’s totally got this. Sand or not.”
I raised an eyebrow at them. “Let’s not get too cocky, huh?”
Haruto was already bouncing a little. “Come on, you’re gonna crush her! What could a giant fan possibly do against you? You know wind jutsu anyway, so it’s not like she’s got something you don’t.”
“You never know that,” I replied, trying to picture how the match might go down. “You’ve always got to expect the unexpected as a shinobi, but I’m optimistic about my chances.” The three of them looked at me like they were already picturing some big victory scene. “And guess what? This isn’t even the real me.”
Three blank stares met my grin, Ko frowning slightly. “Wait, what do you mean, “not the real you?”
“I’m a shadow clone,” I said, tapping my chest. “The actual me is training right now.”
The realisation dawned slowly—first Nori’s eyes going wide, then Haruto blinking in disbelief. “...Woah. So, you’re not even here?”
“Nope,” I said, feeling the grin widen. “I’m gonna dispel myself in a second, and then—poof! You’ll know for sure.”
“What—seriously?” Nori spluttered, reaching out like he was going to grab my arm.
“See you around, guys,” I said, forming the release seal.
I caught one last look of shock on their faces as I released the jutsu. For an instant, I felt a rush of satisfaction, hearing Haruto yell, “I’ve got learn that—” before reality came to an abrupt, halt.
———————————
Back in my real body, it was like waking up from a dream, only to realise I could recall everything that had happened with the kids so clearly—the shock on their faces, the laughter, Haruto’s confused shout as I vanished.
I blinked, the memory fading a bit as I looked at Lord Third. “I remembered everything,” I said, a bit astonished. “Like… every detail. Why don’t you use them for your paperwork?”
“No matter how useful, shadow clones are essential oneself,” he said, shaking his head morosely. “I loathe paperwork. If I summon a shadow clone, it too will loathe the paperwork and use my summoning it as an excuse to refuse—believe me, my boy, I have tried. I envy the enthusiasm with which your father took to paperwork. No Hokage save for Lord Second has completed paperwork as quickly as he used to.”
“That makes sense,” I smiled, “I’ve been planning to go visit a few friends of mine despite the busy schedule—that’s what my clone ended up doing. Are all the memories meant to be that thorough, or do they decay over time?”
The Third Hokage gave a small nod, his eyes glinting with amusement. “When a clone is dispelled quickly, the feedback is generally crisp and clear. However, the longer a clone stays active, the more fragmented the memories become.”
I tilted my head, processing that. “So, if I’d left the clone up for hours…”
“You would not have recalled the experiences with nearly as much clarity—perhaps only the most memorable parts. The more information a clone collects, the harder it becomes to parse when it’s returned to you.”
“Meaning what—just snippets of things here and there?” I asked, frowning.
“Exactly,” Lord Third replied. “This is worse with multiple clones, of course. The influx of experiences merges, making it nearly impossible to pull anything useful from them, which would make a mass training endeavour a catastrophic waste of your time.” He chuckled, patting the low table. “Take it from me, shadow clones are best used with purpose and in moderation.”
I sat back, thinking that over. “It’s usable for training purposes… but is it worth it?”
“It has its benefits, but training with the shadow clown jutsu is a shortcut that may backfire without careful consideration,” he said, serious now. “Not only is there the energy imbalance issue, but you may struggle to hold onto specific techniques learned by clones. You may also experience severe mental fatigue after sorting through the flood of memories. It’s a powerful technique, Naruto, but one that demands as much patience as it does skill.”
I gave a low whistle—it was still a viable method, but one with a lot more issues than I’d previously considered. “Wait, Lord Third,” I said, an idea forming. “What about using clones in a fight? If they’re only around for a few seconds, that wouldn’t be too long for memories to get jumbled, right?” He raised an eyebrow, nodding for me to continue. “Well, if they only stick around for a short time, wouldn’t that make it a good way to gather information or force my opponent to reveal their moves?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Using them briefly in combat can be effective—it was my go-to method back in my heyday. Clones are an ideal way to distract and divide an opponent’s attention, or to gain quick insights.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “But don’t grow too reliant on clones, or you’ll risk your attention being divided at a critical moment due to the mental feedback.”
That made sense—I took the advice in with a series of rapid nods. “I could send in a few clones to draw fire and observe, then dispel them to get the information back without losing focus, or look at the battle from another point of view?”
“Precisely. It’s a technique that can change the rhythm of a fight,” Lord Third replied. “Though keep in mind the more clones you dispel at once, even briefly, the more likely the feedback becomes disorienting. But used sparingly and with good timing, shadow clones could make you a truly unpredictable opponent.”
A grin spread across my face, already picturing how Gaara might react to a few surprise clones. “Then I’ll make it work,” I said, fired up.
“With that done, if I am to be your master for the month, perhaps you might address me as “Sarutobi-sensei.” He nodded to himself. “You would be the first student since the Sannin that I have taught in a formal capacity, after all.”
I hesitated for a moment, the title “Sarutobi-sensei” lingering in my mind. I’d always called him Lord Third, the Hokage—the old man who was just there, watching over the village but also keeping his distance from me. He’d never seemed like someone I could actually talk to, especially not as a teacher.
Then again, we were past that now. Changing the way I thought about him still felt awkward, but seeing that he was going to die soon—and that there was nothing I could do about it—getting to know him as a person was the least I could do.
“Alright… Sarutobi-sensei,” I said again, feeling the words settle. The title sounded odd in my voice like I was learning a new language or trying on clothes that didn’t quite fit. But the Third just gave me a small nod, his expression one of encouragement.
“Good,” Lord Third said, his voice warm with approval. “Now, shall we put some of these ideas into practice?” He gestured to the garden, a small spark in his eyes. “Now, with those teachings in mind, shall we move on to some practical training?”
I felt a surge of anticipation. “Definitely.”
———————————
The apartment was sparse. Not unpleasant, exactly—there was a futon, a low table, a few shelves stocked with the essentials. But it felt… impermanent. Like a waiting room disguised as a home. That was what grated the most, Karin thought as she sat by the window, her legs crossed tightly beneath her.
The day was almost stiflingly still and the only movement was a faint rustling in the courtyard below. Beyond that, though, there was something she could feel—chilly, dark, and detached, cloaked in shadows. She could pinpoint the exact place he stood, whoever he was. The ANBU guard’s presence pricked at the edges of her chakra sensing like a needle every time she brushed it, and every time, it was the same: impersonal, precise. Waiting.
Waiting for what? For her to run? For her to lash out?
She clenched her fist, feeling her nails dig into her palm. The Hidden Leaf’s hospitality was about as warm as she’d expected. She half-wished she could send some kind of mental message to her guard, just to let him know she could sense him.
The quiet footsteps outside her door pulled her from her thoughts. She recognized the chakra before she heard the knock. Karin took a slow breath and stood as the knock sounded. “Come in,” she said, keeping her voice steady.
The door slid open, and the Third Hokage entered, hands clasped behind his back, a soft, contemplative smile on his face.
"Good afternoon, Karin,” he greeted, his voice warm but edged with that practised neutrality. He had the air of someone who had to be a thousand things to a thousand people, yet always managed to look the part.
“Sir,” she replied, a hint of uncertainty slipping out despite her best effort to mask it. She didn’t bow, but she inclined her head out of respect.
The Third motioned for her to sit. She hesitated, eyeing him as he took a seat across from her. He looked every bit the kindly grandfather she’d seen in fleeting memories of her own, but she couldn’t afford to forget who he was: the one who had the power to decide if she stayed or left, to decide if her life here would be just another cage.
“I hope your lodgings are comfortable enough,” he began, his tone easy, almost conversational. “I know it must be… an adjustment, moving to a new village.”
Karin gave a small, noncommittal shrug. “It’s fine,” she said. “Better than some places I’ve lived.” She left it at that, not offering anything more.
The Hokage nodded, as if her response was just what he’d expected. “I know you’ve met Naruto,” he said, glancing toward her, “and I’d venture to say he’s been… persistent in his attempts to get to know you?”
Karin tried not to roll her eyes, but a smirk slipped through. “Persistent is a word for it, yeah.” She hesitated, glancing away.
The Third laughed, soft and genuine. “No, he’s certainly not. Though that’s hardly surprising, considering where he’s come from and what he’s had to overcome.”
The mention of Naruto’s past, vague as it was, made her stiffen. She didn’t like people prying into hers, and yet here was the Third, speaking freely about Naruto’s. “Yeah, well, I’m sure he’s had a tough time,” she muttered, unsure why her tone came out so defensively.
Karin swallowed, feeling a flicker of something—empathy, maybe, or just an annoying understanding she didn’t want to acknowledge. She shifted her gaze out the window. “I didn’t ask him to,” she replied, her tone sharper than she’d intended. Karin looked down, fighting the urge to cross her arms over her chest. “Why doesn’t he leave me alone?”
“Because he knows what it feels like to be alone,” Hiruzen replied simply. “To be isolated, either by choice or by force—and so do you. It’s why I believe you haven’t asked him to stop visiting you.”
The words struck deeper than she’d anticipated, and she looked up, searching his face for any hint of manipulation. But all she saw was a steady kindness, the same warmth she’d sensed in Naruto’s chakra every time he showed up, snacks in hand and some ridiculous story about his latest training mishap.
It was slowly getting to her—despite the ominous chakra she could sense lurking deep within him—she’d come to realise he was nothing like Gaara.
“You know, Naruto didn’t have a family growing up, not in the way most people do. No parents, no clan. He grew up without that sense of connection for years.”
Karin tensed, her instinct to look away, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “He keeps bringing up our clan, our Uzumaki blood. But I didn’t know them—what do they matter to me?”
Hiruzen’s gaze softened, and he took a deep breath. “To Naruto, it matters more than you might realise. You share that blood, Karin, which makes you the closest thing to a family he’s ever had.” He paused, letting the words settle.
Karin’s breath caught, the casual truth of his words catching her off guard. It wasn’t a word she associated with safety and with warmth. Her mother, as much as she tried, couldn’t protect her from the Hidden Grass.
“Maybe we are part of the same clan,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “But he doesn’t… he doesn’t even know me.”
“Nor do you know him,” Hiruzen pointed out gently. “And yet, here you both are, connected by bonds neither of you could have foreseen. You have something to give each other that no one else can.” His tone softened as if coaxing the words into her. “Naruto seeks family because he’s never had one. And I think you, too, could find something in him—a connection that might do you some good, even if you haven’t realised it.”
Karin clenched her fists, feeling an uncomfortable weight rise in her chest, one she wanted to push away but couldn’t. She didn’t want to admit he was right; she barely even knew Naruto, and she’d never been the kind of person to cling to others.
But Naruto saved her from Gaara—and while he had a similar chakra as him in
“I just…” She bit her lip, hating the admission but unable to hold it back. “I just don’t want to need anyone.”
“Perhaps,” he replied gently, “it’s less about needing and more about sharing. Strength, understanding, and even just companionship. That’s what family can be. It can be difficult, but it’s what allows you to grow beyond what you’ve known.”
Hiruzen rose then, his gaze lingering as if he sensed she’d had enough of the conversation. “I’ll leave you to think on it,” he said, his smile kind but unassuming, like he’d simply planted a seed and expected nothing more. “Of course, if you wish to return to the Grass, that is fine as well. Despite what you may think, you are not a prisoner here. Go out, get some air, see the sights.”
Her stomach twisted into knots at the thought, but Karin just nodded. As he turned to leave, she instinctively reached out with her chakra sense, following the warm, steady thread of his presence down the hallway. But at the corner of the stairs, something else caught her attention—that familiar colder thread that sent a chill through her.
It was the ANBU guard she’d sensed earlier, the same one who lurked just out of sight. She felt his presence suddenly move toward Hiruzen, joining him in the stairwell.
The Hokage paused, nodding as the guard murmured something to him in a low, clipped voice, and the warm grandfatherly expression she’d seen a moment ago hardened into something almost clinical, his body language shifting with military precision as he listened.
She felt her heart tighten as she watched from afar, her chakra sense focusing on every flicker of their exchange. Of course. This was still the Hidden Leaf—and Hiruzen Sarutobi was still a shinobi leader, and she was an outsider.
His kindness had been real, yes, but it was built on something else, something colder. A willingness to use every possible angle, even familial ties, to secure loyalty. It was the nature of every shinobi village. It wasn’t that she’d expected anything different, but still, a sudden shadow was cast over the warm light his words had left.
Karin scanned the apartment, taking in the blank walls, the simple futon, and the subtle reminders that her stay here was more containment than comfort. It was a cage, though a more polite one than Hidden Grass had ever offered. They took everything she had; her loyalty, her chakra, her trust—until there was nothing left of her but a tool to be used.
She’d come here prepared to resist, to push back against whatever attempt the Leaf made to own her, to make her loyal by force or by guilt. But they hadn’t done that; Naruto’s earnest face slipped past her stormy thoughts. She stood by the window, looking out at the village below. Leaf was a shinobi village, with its watchful guards and its boundaries carefully defined.
Maybe this place was worth giving a chance.
- - -
Comments
Jordan Lam
The art had me going back to reread this chapter and I can't wait for 45 man.
Xardas2995
Your point might be correct for the show, but the author is adjusting certain aspects of the powerscaling to fit the story. Naruto (or anyone) not being able to abuse shadow clones for insane training speedup is one of them. I like this approach. It provided him with some speed buff and his Uzumaki genes are still an advantage for him. It also is more thought through since it upholds the memory backflow of the shadow clones without just saying it does not work for training. Otherwise this would be a constant issue for the story since the SI could speedrun his way to S rank in a few months. If there is no limitation put on this mechanic there is no explanation why the SI would not do this. This in turn would make the SI OP too quickly.
Great Ender
About the limits of shadow clones . Naruto was the exception to them because of the nine tails influence on his body . Constantly healing and fortifying. This applies to the brain too. He can create 1000 clones before the mental strain shows up. He’ll eventually notice that the downside of shadow clones has not shown up, maybe by accident.
