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Fujimoto Tōma stepped out onto the white desert, dressed in his familiar black robes, a small, cute creature perched on his shoulder. He scanned the land with mild annoyance.
Same sky. Same endless night. Same dead silence.
No matter how many times he came here, this place never grew on him.
But he hadn’t come sightseeing.
Tōma released his chakra and began to chant.
"South heart, north eye. West fingers, east toes. Gather with the wind, scatter wit ...
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