The forest had reclaimed its silence, though the sharp scent of scorched ozone still lingered in the stagnant air.
Stepping into the clearing, Kakuzu ignored the moon, choosing instead to focus his dark, green gaze on the disturbed dirt.
A bare corpse lay there, abandoned and cold.
Kneeling down with a cloak that rustled like dry leaves, he traced the blackened edges of the wound marring the man's chest.
It had been a single, concentrated burst of lightning, executed without wasted movement or a moment of hesitation.
"Two million Ryō," Kakuzu muttered, his voice a low rasp that sounded like stones grinding together in the depths of a dark well. "The bounty was small, but the efficiency of the kill was interesting."
Turning his attention to the footprints leading toward Konoha, he noted how shallow they appeared.
The light impressions suggested a small body, yet the subtle depth of the heel marks betrayed a physical density that did not match the size of the stride.
Standing up, Kakuzu spared no thought for the man's soul or the lingering echo of pained gasps.
He cared only for the logic of the predator.
After adjusting his gloves with a slow, deliberate pull, he began to move.
He did not run, but flowed through the trees with the steady and inevitable pace of a rising flood.
Kakuzu initially dismissed the mission as a low profit and high risk annoyance.
However, the consistent failure of every assassin sent before him piqued a curiosity he had not felt in decades.
This mystery irked him, stirring memories of his failed attempt to kill the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju. He began to suspect that the boy was not merely a lucky target, but a genuine anomaly.
To Kakuzu, a target that could survive this long was no longer just a bounty. It was an investment worth his personal attention.
...
Yoichi's Home, 5:57 A.M. Konoha Year 21.
A long, quiet yawn escaped him as the first streaks of sunlight filtered through the window, resting warmly upon his shoulders.
Yoichi had woken up exactly three minutes ahead of his planned schedule. Moving with practiced efficiency, he restored the bed to a clean slate, smoothing the sheets until not a single wrinkle remained.
He walked down the stairs in a slightly messy state, his hair tousled from the night and his eyes still adjusting to the morning glow.
The house was silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock in the kitchen.
Yoichi stopped at the bottom of the steps, clenching and unclenching his right hand.
The density of his muscles felt immense, a direct result of constant tempering and the massive force now commanded by his young frame.
To any outside observer, this was merely a child preparing for breakfast, but the Spirit Aperture within was already humming with activity.
Every sound of the waking village filtered through his consciousness, ranging from the distant chirping of birds to the soft, rhythmic footsteps of a neighbor..
The peace of the morning felt fragile, like thin glass waiting for the first strike of a hammer.
Yoichi began to prepare a simple meal, focused on the precise caloric intake needed for his next stage of growth.
The peace of the morning felt fragile, like thin glass waiting for the first strike of a hammer.
"Yoichi! I did it!"
Before he could take a single bite, a boisterous and familiar voice rang through the small kitchen. "The Great Jiraiya has been completely successful in my extensive research! Hahaha!"
The front door slammed open, and Jiraiya marched in with a stack of crumpled papers clutched in his hand.
He looked like he had not slept in days, but his eyes were wide with a manic triumph.
Behind him, Tsunade followed with an expression of pure annoyance, while Orochimaru walked in silently, his gaze already drifting toward Yoichi's breakfast.
Yoichi lowered his chopsticks and let out a slow, controlled breath. The Sannin were a variable he could not always control.
He had planned for a quiet morning of meditation, yet he now found himself acting as a host to the three most chaotic teenagers in the village.
Jiraiya slammed his papers onto the wooden table, nearly knocking over Yoichi's rice.
"Look at this, Yoichi. I have finally mastered the perspective for my latest manuscript. It is a masterpiece of literature."
"It is a collection of dirty jokes and bad poetry," Tsunade muttered, pulling out a chair and sitting down with a heavy sigh.
She looked at Yoichi and gave him a small, sympathetic nod. "He is going to be like this all day. You might as well make more tea."
A sigh escaped from Yoichi's mouth. He set his chopsticks down and allowed his gaze to shift, looking at his friends' current progress through the lenses of his heightened perception.
All three of the future Sannin had improved significantly over these two years.
Whether it was their mastery of Ninjutsu or their refinement in Martial Arts, their talents radiantly shone like distinct fireflies amidst a sea of regular flies.
Jiraiya had been too lively with his progress in the Mahavairocana Mantra, reaching the Peak of the Skin Refining Stage along with his mastery of Ninjutsu. He moved with a hidden athleticism that suggested he was finally catching up to his own large frame.
No longer was he just a clumsy boy, he was a vessel of growing spiritual power.
Next to him, Tsunade radiated a terrifying level of physical control. She flawlessly demonstrated the Dragon-Elephant Prajna Technique at the Peak of the Skin Refining Stage, appearing like a predator awaiting the right time to unleash her concentrated and vigorous energy.
Coupled with the Acupuncture and Alchemy Book that Yoichi had given to her, the medical saintess of Konoha had begun to blossom. It was a clear precursor to the legendary capabilities that would one day define her career.
Then there was Orochimaru. He sat perfectly still, yet the air around him felt thin and cold. His progress was not found in bulk or volume, but in the sharp and surgical edge of his intent.
With the Moon Swallowing Snake Technique, he was not as energetic as Jiraiya or as terrifying in strength as Tsunade.
Orochimaru was like a snake.
Precision, strategy, and lethality had become his primary arsenal.
He was a blade being sharpened in the dark, his presence alone enough to lower the temperature of the room.
Yoichi let out a quiet sigh, though a faint trace of a smile remained on his face.
"Anything you would like to drink or eat?" He asked, his voice regaining that modest tone he used to mask his deeper calculations.
He stood and signaled for Orochimaru and Jiraiya to take their places at the dining table, moving with a fluid ease that felt entirely natural among friends.
"I want a sumptuous meal!"
Jiraiya shouted, nearly tripping over his own feet as he lunged for a chair.
He slid into the seat with a loud groan of satisfaction, leaning his head back and closing his eyes as if he had just finished a life-and-death mission.
"If you have some of those medicinal crackers, I would not say no!"
He joked, though his stomach gave a sharp, demanding growl that betrayed his true state.
Tsunade watched Yoichi with a softened expression, her sharp eyes tracing the steady rhythm of his movements. She respected the calm he maintained, a sharp contrast to the constant, loud pressure of training under Hiruzen.
"Just tea for me, Yoichi,"
She said, her voice losing the aggressive edge she usually reserved for Jiraiya's antics. Then, she stood up and pushed her chair back with a decisive click.
"No, let me help you. I am a great cook."
Tsunade rolled up her sleeves, revealing the lean and tempered muscle of her forearms. She stepped into the kitchen, taking her place at Yoichi's side with a proprietary air.
"Hah! You? Cooking?!" Jiraiya barked, pointing a finger at her while he laughed.
"Yoichi, stop her before she can overcook the entire meal and turn your kitchen into a disaster zone!"
"You would be lucky to eat anything I make, you loud mouthed idiot," Tsunade snapped, though she did not look away from the vegetables she was beginning to prep.
Orochimaru sat down last, his movements possessed of a liquid grace that made him seem to glide rather than walk. He did not speak immediately, choosing instead to settle into the shadows of the corner.
His yellow eyes followed Yoichi with a quiet and analytical interest, watching the way his friend handled the knife and the kettle.
While the others saw a domestic scene, Orochimaru saw a master of efficiency performing a series of perfect, wasted motions.
"Did anything happen in my absence?" Yoichi asked. He kept his focus on the stew, his hand moving with a precision that matched his martial forms.
Even in this domestic moment, his rationality was fixated on the silent movements of Danzo and the newly established Root.
He knew that any change in the village hierarchy was a variable he had to account for.
"I do not know about any of that," Jiraiya replied, his shoulders shrugging as he leaned closer to savor the creamy scent of the cooking pot.
He seemed entirely unbothered by political shadows.
"However, I did find a newly developed hot spring right near the main gate. Do you want to visit and relax for a bit?"
"If this is just another one of your gimmicks, I do not want to be lumped in with your pervertedness," Tsunade interjected.
She did not look up from her work, but her voice held a dangerous edge. "I am telling you, Jiraiya. If you get caught peeping once again, I will personally gouge your eyes out."
To emphasize her point, she turned and pointed her kitchen knife directly at Jiraiya, her other hand resting firmly on her hip. The sunlight caught the blade, reflecting the cold determination in her eyes.
"I know, I know!" Jiraiya shouted, his face paling as he waved his hands in a frantic panic. "Drop the knife, alright! You are making me nervous, and I am far too young to die in a kitchen!"
On the other hand, Orochimaru looked at them as if they were fools. He remained perfectly still, his pale face reflecting a quiet, analytical boredom.
The heavy, ceramic bowls were soon emptied, and the group finished the last of the food. The lingering scent of spices and steam filled the small room, creating a bubble of domestic comfort that felt far removed from the bloody battlefields of the Shinobi world.
"Phew! That was a very great meal! As expected of you, Yoichi!" Jiraiya gave a thumbs-up, rubbing his stomach in satisfaction. The day's tensions seemed to have melted away, replaced by the pleasant lethargy of a full belly.
"Thank you for the meal, Yoichi," Tsunade said, her voice soft and genuine as she set her spoon down. Even Orochimaru gave a small, respectful nod, his eyes momentarily losing their predatory sharpness.
For a brief moment, the cold seeker of truths looked like nothing more than a content young man.
As the sun began its slow descent, painting the sky in bruises of purple and gold, the three guests finally stood to take their leave.
Promises of the hot spring trip were exchanged, their voices fading into the distance as they walked down the quiet street.
Yoichi stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching the shadows lengthen across the village.
The peace felt solid. It felt real.
Silhouettes of his friends disappeared around the corner of the Uchiha district, leaving a lingering silence behind.
A rational mind like Yoichi's had already detected a subtle shift in the atmosphere.
Although the name of the man lurking in the darkness remained a mystery, the Battle Instinct as well as the Spirit Aperture within his chest vibrated with a sharp warning.
A strange, heavy presence waited just outside the perimeter, anchored in the shadows like a predator. The evening passed in a state of quiet preparation.
While washing the dishes and wiping down the counters, Yoichi kept his focus entirely on the silent figure watching the house.
By the time midnight arrived, the village had fallen into a deep and rhythmic silence. Stepping out into the courtyard, the cool night air brushed against his skin with a gentle touch.
This was not an act of oblivious confidence.
This was a calculated bait.
Nightly forms began, his body moving with a density and power that felt entirely unstoppable. The strange man was clearly there, observing from the shadows of the fence and waiting for the perfect moment to collect on the bounty.
Giving the stranger that exact moment was the current intention. The full weight of his progress channeled into a single stance, and muscles tightened with 732 KG of potential force. The courtyard grew still as he waited for the stranger to reveal himself.
_____________
Thanks for Daemonic_Dragon and doomslayer24 for power stones!
I appreciate it so much!