A three-story wooden building created with Wood Release, second floor.
"Kimimaro, open up. Time for your medicine."
Karin held a bowl of dark, bitter-smelling liquid and carefully spoon-fed it to Kimimaro, one mouthful at a time.
Kimimaro lay flat on the bed, drinking with a blank expression. He stared at Karin as if she were his mortal enemy. This job had originally belonged to Shin, but somehow Karin had muscled her way into it.
Akio wasn't in the mood to enjoy the spectacle. He sat nearby, brow tightly furrowed.
"That shouldn't be possible… it really shouldn't…"
He had muttered those words countless times already. The confusion gnawed at him.
After examining Kimimaro again and again, Akio arrived at a conclusion he simply couldn't accept:
Kimimaro's kekkei genkai illness was a form of muscular degeneration.
A taijutsu specialist suffering from muscle failure—
It was like a swordsman losing his arms. Absurd. Cruel.
"Kimimaro," Akio asked quietly, "when did you first notice something was wrong?"
Kimimaro hesitated before answering softly, "Just… these past few days."
Akio's eyes snapped open. "Don't lie."
"…Over a month ago."
Akio let out a long sigh. This one was on him. He'd been distracted—playing house as a cook for Tenten's family and barely checking on Kimimaro at all.
After learning the illness had already progressed, Akio immediately quit his cooking job. The summoned cat cried rivers at his departure, but Akio didn't look back.
A week passed.
Akio discovered that while his medical ninjutsu could slow the symptoms slightly, the effect was minimal. Worse still, every herbal concoction he prepared seemed to make Kimimaro's condition deteriorate faster.
Now Kimimaro struggled even to sit up.
Akio felt like he'd aged ten years in a few days.
"Something's wrong," he muttered. "He's only nine… In the original timeline, he lived until fifteen or sixteen."
Looking at the pale child on the bed, Akio sighed again.
"We can't keep treating this blindly."
A soft knock came from the door.
Akio turned. "Haku—who is it this time?"
Ever since reappearing in Konoha, he'd been buried in visitors. Today the Hokage, tomorrow Senju elders, the day after Uchiha representatives. It was endless.
That was exactly why he'd moved out here—to get some peace. Thankfully, they seemed to have finally realized he wanted no part in the chaos. Otherwise, he'd already be packing up Kimimaro and fleeing to Uzushio.
Haku opened the door. "It's the Hyūga clan head."
Akio frowned. "Hiashi? Shouldn't he be enjoying the Senju–Uchiha standoff from the sidelines? Why come to me?"
Anyone else, he'd refuse outright. But Hiashi wouldn't come without a reason.
Akio told Karin to keep watching Kimimaro, then headed downstairs.
Hiashi was waiting on the first floor. When he saw Akio, he respectfully presented a book.
Akio blinked. "The Eight Trigrams: Two Hundred Fifty-Six Palms?"
Hiashi nodded. "This is repayment—for the help you once gave us."
Akio smiled, thoroughly pleased.
Coming in person with the scroll—now that was good manners.
"Anything else?" Akio asked.
Hiashi hesitated, then nodded.
"Elder Akio… about that child—Ōtsutsuki Toneri."
"Oh, him?" Akio nodded knowingly. "You know his origins already, don't you?"
Hiashi's eyes widened. "So the legends were true?"
Akio paused. Time had blurred history into myth for the Hyūga.
"Ōtsutsuki Hamura, brother of the Sage of Six Paths, did exist," Akio explained. "He led part of his descendants to the moon. Toneri is the last of that lineage. Those who stayed behind in the shinobi world… became the Hyūga clan."
"And if we're being honest," Akio added with a grin, "compared to him, all of you would technically be branch family."
Hiashi ignored the teasing, deep in thought.
"Then… Hinata. Was that your arrangement?"
Akio waved his hands. "Not at all. That boy chose her himself. He wants to continue the Ōtsutsuki bloodline, and Hinata's heritage is exceptionally pure."
"I see." Hiashi nodded and bowed slightly. "Then I won't disturb you further."
Akio watched him leave, casually tossing the scroll into storage before heading back upstairs—only to be met with Karin's furious glare.
"Elder, do you actually know what you're doing?!" she snapped.
"Kimimaro looks even worse after drinking your medicine!"
Akio froze.
He rushed over and checked Kimimaro again.
"…It really is worse."
He shook his head bitterly. "I'm a fraud of a doctor."
"Karin. Haku. Pack up. We're leaving."
Kimimaro spoke weakly. "Shin… where are we going?"
Akio sighed. "Stop calling me that. I can't even cure you—I'm making it worse. I'm taking you to Orochimaru. The one we met near Kirigakure."
Akio was certain his medical ninjutsu surpassed Kabuto's. If Kabuto could suppress the illness but he couldn't, then the missing piece had to be Orochimaru himself.
Akio picked Kimimaro up and headed outside, summoning the moon-derived spacecraft from storage.
"Karin. Haku. Let's go."
The craft lifted off from Konoha, heading toward the Land of Rice Fields—toward Orochimaru's former lab.
But when they arrived, Akio frowned.
The entrance was gone. The familiar structure had vanished, replaced by a small village.
He lowered the ship carefully, scanning the surroundings and sensing chakra signatures.
"…The Sound Village?"
A chubby boy about eight or nine came running over, glaring suspiciously.
"Who are you people?"
Akio studied him. That strange haircut—three tufts of blond hair.
Jirōbō. One of the Sound Four.
"Hey, Three-Tufts," Akio said casually. "Is Orochimaru around?"
Jirōbō froze, instinctively about to answer—when a sharp voice cut in.
"Idiot! You don't just answer strangers! What if he's Lord Orochimaru's enemy?!"
A girl holding a flute stepped out from behind him—Tayuya.
Jirōbō flushed red and charged forward.
"You bastard! You're Lord Orochimaru's enemy! And don't call me that!"
Akio sighed and turned his head.
"Don't move. Just keep an eye on Kimimaro."
When he looked back, Jirōbō's fist was already swinging.
"IRON FIST TECHNIQUE!"
…What?
Akio stared down at the pudgy fist pressed against his stomach, momentarily stunned.
Then he smiled faintly.
He raised one finger and tapped Jirōbō on the forehead.
"Flick."
Jirōbō went flying.
---
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