Wind's slicing like a kunai over Cloud's jagged peaks, but it can't cut the thick-ass tension choking the night.
Torches twist in the valley like pissed-off fire dragons, lighting up every ninja's "we're screwed" face.
Yugito Nii ghosts into the master bedroom—those amber cat eyes shrink in the dim, clocking everything in a blink.
Skims over Azuki's complicated mug, locks on Samui's death-grip note, paper damn near fused to her palm.
Curiosity hits Yugito like catnip—silent, but pouncing inside.
"Heard…" Voice crisp, tail-end purr that scratches everyone's itch. Room's ice? Cracked. "That Uchiha punk bounced?"
Samui and Azuki freeze, side-eye her like she dropped a bomb.
Yugito doesn't wait. Zeroes the note, eyes screaming gimme. "What's it say? Lemme peep."
Past year-plus? Fourth Raikage's hard rule: her and Eight-Tails jinchūriki Killer B? Zero contact with the village's walking rumor mill—Uchiha Makoto.
Unspoken law: don't let the ultimate weapons near Uchiha. Nobody wants a Nine-Tails rerun, Cloud edition.
But Yugito? Raised in a cage of "don't touch" signs. Forbidden fruit? Cat's favorite toy.
Never met the kid, but "Uchiha Makoto" planted a seed. Sprouting wild.
Samui's emerald eyes flicker. Pause… hands it over. Azuki scoots in—she ain't read it yet either.
Three Cloud bombshells—different vibes, same stun-level—heads together, staring at the scrap.
Handwriting? Drunk earthworm on a bender. Peak chicken-scratch calligraphy.
But the vibe? So him. Samui and Azuki wanna laugh-cry.
Content? Straight clown shoes for a village-shaking crisis. Dude writes like he's stepping out for post-dinner ice cream.
[Big bro and sis-in-law came all the way from Konoha to pick me up—can't ghost family, that'd be rude.]
[Gonna crash in the Leaf a bit, let the fam and buds know I'm Gucci. First chance, I'm back. Won't be long.]
[Cloud's my home. I'm the new Uchiha clan head here. Tell Fourth Raikage: a deal's a deal.]
[Don't forget me, stay safe~]
Three beauties finish. Faces? Chef's kiss variety pack.
Samui: back to ice-queen default, but frostbite-level. Ears? Traitor-pink. Mad? Or that flirty "don't forget me" hit a soft spot?
Azuki: Sad-puppy vibe lifts—just a tiny smug grin. Fingers ghost her abs—his succubus ink. Secret flex.
Yugito? Rereads like scripture. Amber eyes sparkle harder each pass.
"This punk…" Lips part, whisper-soft. "Way more fun than advertised."
Then—village chaos, B's beat-up ass—novelty sours. Annoyance creeps.
"You roll back like the note says? Cool." Eyes flash predator. "I drag you? You're gonna suffer, pretty boy."
Mental image of Makoto cuffed and toyed with? Smirk + huff. Cat got plans.
Makoto's snoring in Water Country.
Cloud? Nobody sleeping.
Torches + floodlights = fake daytime. Ninjas swarm like ants on meth—highest alert search grid.
Combed the village and outskirts multiple times. Sensor types cranked to eleven, checked every rat hole.
Boots, shouts, ninja dogs barking—echoed till dawn.
Sun peeks, fog rolls back. Search squad? Zilch. Not a hair.
Kid vaporized. Zero trail.
Exhaustion + salt spreads like wildfire. Whispers: "B said he's close? Bullshit. Dude's halfway to the moon by now."
Weak sunrise hits tired faces—zero warmth, just highlights the bags and bad moods.
News hits B: search flop.
Rap-dancing, forever-happy Eight-Tails host? Radio silence.
Alone on the highest peak, wind whipping his tank build. Stares down at Cloud, no grin.
Raikage's out; village on him. Weight? Crushing.
Deep breath—wounds from Makoto throb.
"…Yo! Dumbass! Bastard…" Mumbled through teeth, zero flow. Pure defeat.
---
Lightning Country, Daimyo's Palace.
Gold-drenched hall, silk strings humming—worlds away from Cloud's panic.
Wars come and go; this place? Eternal party.
Daimyo's hyped, "budget talks" with Fourth Raikage Ai. Really? Bro date. Vibes immaculate.
Center stage: "dance" performance peaking.
Forget graceful geisha bullshit from other nations.
These? Jacked, dark-skinned Amazon goddesses—muscle like forged steel. Stomps, swings, roars, flexes. Floor quakes. Less dance, more pre-battle war chant. Eye-melting power.
Ai and Daimyo living. Slap knees to the beat, grinning like kids with new toys. Side-eye "you get it" bro nods, belly laughs.
Nobles? Fake-smile drunk on the aesthetic. Lightning elite love their ripped waifu shows.
Then—Cloud ANBU bursts in, hunched like a eunuch, jogs up.
Big bow to Daimyo—nod granted. Bee-lines to Ai, whispers fast and low.
Freeze frame.
Ai's art-appreciating bliss? Shattered.
Rage detonates—straight to the dome. Face purple, veins popping, eyes murder. Brows knot like steel cables.
"CRACK—BOOM!!!"