There were two main ways to seal ninjutsu onto a scroll.
The first involved writing the jutsu formula with special ink, then performing the technique to imprint the chakra within the scroll.
The second—far more advanced—required inscribing the jutsu pattern directly with one's own chakra, relying primarily on Yin Release.
For most, the first method was safer and more stable. But for Roshi, whose ultimate goal was to one day inscribe his own Flying Thunder God mark, shortcuts were meaningless. He chose the second path.
The practice scrolls he used could only hold a limited amount of chakra and had a very short lifespan. Within three hours, the seals would break down, rendering the entire scroll useless.
Aside from basic physical training and meals, Roshi devoted nearly all his time to practicing sealing arts.
While he worked tirelessly in solitude, the rest of the village was anything but quiet.
Kumogakure's representative—Akai—who had smiled warmly at the villagers as if he carried the dawn of peace itself, shed that façade the moment he stepped into the negotiation hall.
Konoha's higher-ups had expected the Cloud delegation to be difficult, but Akai's obstinance went beyond aggression.
Even topics that had already been settled—mission quotas, border outpost agreements—were suddenly reopened. Every discussion ended with new objections or demands.
For several days, not a single clause of the thick alliance draft had been finalized. Each time an agreement seemed close, Akai would overturn it with another excuse.
"Something's wrong," Homura muttered, removing his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "That representative is deliberately stalling."
Koharu's expression hardened. "It's as if he's waiting for something—or trying to wear down our patience."
She recalled Roshi's earlier warning: 'The Kumogakure representative might not have come with good intentions.'
"Hiruzen," she said quietly, "the Anbu surveillance on Akai must be raised to maximum priority."
"It's already done," the Third Hokage replied, brows furrowing. "We'll observe for now. If the representative maintains this attitude, we'll dispatch a secondary team to Kumogakure to investigate their real motives."
Disagreements during diplomacy were normal—but this time, the stagnation felt deliberate.
Perhaps something—or someone—within Kumogakure itself was influencing the representative's behavior.
At the far edge of Konoha, in an abandoned warehouse swallowed by shadow, a spiraling vortex distorted the air.
Obito emerged from the swirl of space, his mask gleaming faintly in the dark.
Before him, a pale, plant-like creature writhed as it emerged.
"Akai argued with Konoha's advisors again today," said White Zetsu in a sing-song voice. "Same issues. No progress. Konoha's Anbu are everywhere, buzzing around like flies—but they're only watching. No one's made a move."
Obito listened in silence, his single Sharingan glinting.
This was not what he had planned. Under genjutsu control, Akai should have been provoking conflict, driving Konoha into fury, and igniting open hostility.
Yet nothing was happening.
No tension, no chaos. Only endless stalemates.
Obito's tone dropped to a cold whisper. "It seems… a more direct approach is required."
Night fell deep over Konoha.
The inn hosting the Kumogakure delegation was silent, its hallways dimly lit by paper lamps.
Outside one particular room, two Anbu operatives crouched in the shadows, monitoring every fluctuation of chakra within.
Inside, the real Akai sat lifeless on the bed—his eyes empty, his will completely crushed under genjutsu.
A ripple tore through space, and Obito stepped out from the void. In a heartbeat, he dragged Akai's body into the Kamui dimension.
At the same instant, a White Zetsu clone surfaced from the floor, its body twisting and reforming until it perfectly resembled Akai.
Just as the transformation completed—
Knock, knock, knock.
A sudden knock echoed through the stillness.
The Zetsu-Akai scowled and yanked open the door. Standing there was a Konoha attendant, bowing politely.
"Lord Akai, I just wanted to ask if you require—"
"No! I don't need anything!" the false representative barked, voice sharp and impatient. "You people never stop bothering me! Leave!"
He slammed the door hard enough to rattle the hinges, then threw himself back onto the bed, motionless.
Outside, the attendant merely smiled faintly, bowed once more, and turned to leave.
In the shadows, one of the Anbu whispered into his communicator, "Target—no anomalies."
Meanwhile, in the Hyūga Clan's main compound, the night was serene.
Guards patrolled the courtyards silently, their movements practiced.
Then, without warning, the air in the main courtyard shimmered—rippling like disturbed water. A masked figure concealed from head to toe stepped out of a twisting spatial vortex, appearing directly in the heart of the Hyūga estate.
Without hesitation, the intruder slipped into the bedroom of young Hyūga Hinata. The sleeping child never stirred before being lifted effortlessly into the air.
Instead of concealing himself, the figure turned and vaulted over the inner wall, carrying her openly.
The act instantly triggered the Hyūga's security barrier.
"Who's there?!"
"An intruder—inside the main family compound!"
Alarms blared through the night like the cry of steel. Guards surged from every direction.
Hyūga Hiashi appeared almost at once, his eyes blazing with Byakugan clarity. The veins along his temples bulged as his all-seeing gaze locked onto the fleeing figure.
He moved.
In a blur of motion, Hiashi intercepted the intruder's path. Chakra flared around his hand, focused to a lethal point.
'Gentle Fist—Death Strike!'
The palm connected with a heavy, resonant thud. The masked assailant froze mid-motion, chest caving under the blow. Hiashi's chakra tore through his body like a violent current, rupturing his heart before he could even scream.
His grip slackened—Hinata fell—but Hiashi caught her gently with his free arm.
She was unconscious, frightened but unharmed.
Hiashi exhaled slowly, relief flickering in his pale eyes. Then his expression hardened once more as he tore the mask away from the attacker's face.
The sight made his blood run cold.
The features beneath the mask were unmistakable.
"This… can't be…" he whispered.
Moments later, branch family guards rushed in, their footsteps echoing through the courtyard. When they saw the fallen figure, their faces paled.
"Lord Hiashi—this is… this is Kumogakure's representative!"
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