At dusk, Natsuhiko brought Pakura to a quiet teahouse.
Arranging a place for her to stay was hardly any trouble for him—or rather, for the Senju as a whole, it was nothing worth mentioning. Though the clan had long since declined, its foundations had not entirely withered.
At the very least, they had never lacked for houses. Even the most modest of their properties would not have been worse than the cramped, lonely apartment Naruto had once endured.
Sometimes, Natsuhiko found himself idly wondering: if the Senju truly faded from the stage of history, perhaps they could simply live on as landlords, collecting rent and letting the years pass in quiet comfort. After all, when Konoha had first been built, the Senju had acquired no small number of properties. In a way, that had become an invisible inheritance—wealth not in name, but in substance.
Now, however, the number of true Senju had dwindled. There were still many who carried the bloodline, but far fewer who remembered the clan's pride or still considered themselves part of it in their hearts. Most of the houses left behind had long since been rented out, while only a small portion stood empty.
The place Natsuhiko lived in now was one such property, and he knew well that there were still a few vacant houses nearby, all belonging to the Senju. Using them as a temporary benefit—especially as a way to win people over—was hardly unreasonable. He doubted Senju Shōma would refuse.
Naturally, a matter like this required a proper discussion, especially since it involved someone moving in immediately. But given Senju Shōma's particular status, Natsuhiko could not simply bring Pakura to the old estate. Instead, he had long since asked Senju Akira to pass along a message, arranging to meet here after work. By the time Natsuhiko arrived with Pakura, Shōma was already seated inside.
"I see. So that's how it is."
After hearing Natsuhiko's request, Senju Shōma turned to glance at Pakura before nodding thoughtfully.
"There's an empty house about a block from your place. You can have it. If needed, she can move in immediately."
"Then we'll take it now," Natsuhiko replied without hesitation. "She doesn't have a proper place to stay yet—it wouldn't be right to leave it that way."
"No problem." Shōma nodded, then produced a key and handed it to a man quietly drinking tea behind him. "Take this lady to see the place. If it's to her liking, find someone to clean it up."
"Yes, sir." The middle-aged man rose at once, accepted the key, and left the teahouse.
"You should go as well," Natsuhiko said softly, turning to Pakura. "If anything comes up, let me know."
She gave a small nod, stood, and soon disappeared from the teahouse as well.
Watching her departing figure, Senju Shōma took a slow sip of tea. Only after a long pause did he finally speak again.
"What's the story with that woman? Senju Akira mentioned you wanted a residence near yours prepared for her." His gaze flicked back to Natsuhiko, sharp and probing. "She's not just a subordinate, is she?"
"Of course not. Her identity is… rather special."
Natsuhiko withdrew his gaze and answered casually, pouring himself a cup of tea. He had barely lifted it when Shōma's next words nearly made him choke.
"Young people do have it good," Shōma said earnestly, his tone heavy with advice. "But be careful—don't end up with a child by accident. And if you are planning for one…" He paused, giving Natsuhiko a meaningful look. "Your first child had better belong to the Senju."
Natsuhiko froze for the briefest moment upon hearing those words, his expression stiffening as a trace of awkwardness crept across his face.
"Elder… I think I'm still a bit too young for that," he said at last, his tone strained with disbelief. "There's not much point in talking about it now."
He truly hadn't expected such a remark. By any measure, he was only fourteen—an age that, in his previous life, would have placed him squarely in middle school. Of course, in this world, things were different. Fourteen was already considered old enough for an engagement. The lives of shinobi were fragile and uncertain; no one could say whether they would return from their next mission. For that reason, any clan of standing would arrange marriages early, securing their bloodlines while they still could.
Even ordinary shinobi matured quickly under such circumstances. The behavior of people like Sakura in the original story subtly reflected this reality.
But for Natsuhiko, it was difficult to accept. Though he had lived in this world for fourteen years, some instincts from his past life refused to fade. To him, anything of that nature happening at this age felt dangerously premature—almost life-threatening in its implications.
More importantly, he had far too much on his plate to concern himself with such matters. As an elite operative of the ANBU, he had taken the lives of more than a few female shinobi, many of whom had been striking in their own right. Over time, such things had dulled his senses; appearances no longer stirred him.
The idea of actively pursuing someone felt not only unrealistic but pointless. If anything, having his clan arrange a suitable match—someone he wouldn't need to chase or court—was far more efficient than wasting time on something akin to blind dates. Given that, why would he bother?
"Let's not dwell on that," he said, shaking his head as he dismissed the topic entirely. After a brief pause to gather his thoughts, he continued, "There's something else I need to discuss with you, Elder."
"Oh?" Senju Shōma raised an eyebrow, momentarily taken aback before replying, "Go on. Everyone here is one of ours."
Natsuhiko glanced around the teahouse, then gave a faint nod. It was clear his elder was cautious—and rightly so. In front of someone he still regarded as, in many ways, an unknown, such vigilance was necessary.
He wondered, briefly, how this man would react if he ever learned Pakura's true identity.
But that was not something Natsuhiko intended to reveal. Both Minato Namikaze and Hiruzen Sarutobi already had a general understanding of his situation, and even Senju Shōma himself was aware of certain aspects. Given that, a bit of surveillance was hardly surprising—and Natsuhiko was confident no one would dare overstep their bounds and pry too deeply.
Even if Hiruzen were to learn more, he likely wouldn't pursue it aggressively. Some secrets were best left unspoken; as long as all parties understood them tacitly, there was no need to tear away the veil.
"It's like this, Elder," Natsuhiko said quietly. Even surrounded by allies, he kept his voice low out of habit. "Do you happen to know any particularly powerful sealing techniques?"
"Sealing techniques?" Senju Shōma repeated, clearly surprised. "Are you planning to specialize in fuinjutsu now?"
"Yes—and no." Natsuhiko tilted his head slightly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "To be precise, I only need to study a single technique—its mechanics, and more importantly, how to undo it."
Shōma's brows drew together as he leaned in, lowering his voice as well. "What kind of technique has caught your interest to this extent? If it's too dangerous, I won't permit it."
"It is dangerous," Natsuhiko admitted calmly. "But I won't allow myself to fall into danger because of it." His gaze sharpened, steady and resolute. "The technique I want… is the Reaper Death Seal."
It was, without question, one of the most perilous sealing techniques in existence.
Every jutsu carried risk—sealing techniques were no exception. In the future, even someone like Danzō Shimura would use a sealing technique in a desperate bid that ended in mutual destruction.
But this one was different.
What the Reaper Death Seal targeted was no longer merely the body, nor chakra.
It bound the very soul.
And the soul—always the most mysterious and unfathomable of things—was also the most dangerous. The moment a technique reached into that realm, its peril rose to an entirely different level.
And beyond all that, the soul itself was something singular—utterly unique to each individual. If it were damaged, there was no telling what kind of wounds might remain, nor whether they could ever truly be healed.
Orochimaru was perhaps the foremost researcher of the soul—not the first to tread that path, certainly, but in terms of results, there were few, if any, who could rival him. Even if he had not yet fully delved into that domain, in the years to come, his mastery over the soul would likely surpass all others.
And yet, even he had not emerged unscathed.
His technique of Living Corpse Reincarnation granted him a form of immortality, allowing him to persist by abandoning one body for another. But that same technique seemed to have left him more vulnerable to genjutsu—particularly those cast through the Sharingan of the Uchiha clan. Worse still, every three years, he was forced to devour another's soul to claim a new vessel, enduring the strain of incompatibility and the host of complications that followed.
Natsuhiko found it impossible to believe that such a process came without consequence. No matter how brilliant Orochimaru was, no one could tamper with the soul so freely and remain untouched.
"Reaper Death Seal?" Senju Shōma's eyes widened the moment the name left Natsuhiko's lips. "How do you even know about that technique…? Damn it—why would you take an interest in something like that?"
The secrecy surrounding that jutsu was of the highest order. At first, Shōma had simply been too surprised to react, never imagining that Natsuhiko could have access to such knowledge. But then he considered the boy's current strength and position—and suddenly, it didn't seem so impossible after all.
What he could not understand was why Natsuhiko would be drawn to something so monstrously dangerous.
Did he not realize that the technique existed solely as a last resort—a method of dragging one's enemy into death alongside oneself?
"Elder, please calm yourself," Natsuhiko said with a gentle smile, his expression as composed as ever. "I'm fully aware of how dangerous it is. But I have my reasons. Do you really think I intend to use it as some kind of trump card?"
"Then what exactly…" Shōma forced himself to steady his breathing, his mind racing as possibilities flashed through it. Suddenly, something clicked. "The method to undo it…? Don't tell me—you intend to study the soul itself?"
Natsuhiko let out a soft laugh. His elder might be getting on in years, his reactions not as quick as they once were, but once he focused, his insight remained sharp.
He had deliberately mentioned both the execution and the release—how the technique functioned, and how it might be undone—to guide Shōma away from assuming he intended something reckless.
In truth, what Natsuhiko planned was not particularly dangerous—at least, not for himself. Whether it was the casting of the technique or its release, he had no intention of placing his own soul on the line.
Not long ago, his meeting with Tsutani Hiro had been arranged precisely for this purpose—to secure the man's cooperation.
As Natsuhiko looked at Senju Shōma, that earlier encounter surfaced vividly in his mind.
Tsutani Hiro had stared at him in silence, his expression dark and conflicted. Having been cornered to such an extent, he knew there was no real choice left to him. Still, doubt lingered in his heart—what exactly was this young man planning?
"Go on, then," he said through clenched teeth. "What is it you want from me? At least let me know what I'm being dragged into."
"I need you to learn a technique," Natsuhiko replied calmly, his gaze steady, his voice gentle in a way that seemed almost at odds with the situation. He already knew the man had yielded. "A technique for releasing a seal."
"A sealing release technique… and you want me to learn it?" Tsutani Hiro let out a cold laugh, his eyes narrowing. "That doesn't sound simple. Let me guess—there's danger involved for me as well, isn't there?"
"Yes—and no." Natsuhiko tilted his head slightly, his tone soft, almost soothing as he lowered his voice. "If you were an ordinary person, then yes—attempting to undo this technique would mean certain death. But you're not ordinary. You'll survive."
He paused briefly, as though weighing his next words, and then, without warning, produced a kunai in his hand.
A ripple of chakra stirred within him, and in the blink of an eye, Natsuhiko vanished.
Tsutani Hiro had no time to react—no warning, no movement he could perceive. One moment there was nothing, and the next, a searing agony tore through him.
He dropped his gaze instinctively, only to find his abdomen split open, his entrails already spilling outward in a grotesque cascade. It was the kind of sight that would have broken most men instantly—leaving them screaming, paralyzed, waiting helplessly for death to claim them.
But Tsutani Hiro was no ordinary man.
Clenching his teeth against the pain, he forced his trembling hands to move, stuffing his organs back into his body with grim determination. With both hands, he pressed hard against the wound, forcing the torn flesh together, and only then did he raise his head again, his breathing ragged but controlled.
Natsuhiko stood where he had been all along, as though he had never moved at all—save for the kunai in his hand, from which blood still dripped in slow, steady drops.
"You see?" Natsuhiko said softly, his tone almost gentle, as though he had not just inflicted such a brutal wound. "You're perfectly fine, aren't you?"
Yet even as he spoke, his perception had already spread outward, keen and precise, observing every subtle change within Tsutani Hiro's body.
Just as before, there was a loss of vitality—but it was faint, far too slight compared to what an ordinary person would suffer. The bleeding, the exposure to air and unseen bacteria—none of it seemed capable of truly threatening him.
And yet, the loss was real.
Others might not have noticed it, but to Natsuhiko—who could perceive and manipulate life force—it was as clear as if he were watching it with his own eyes.
"What kind of jutsu requires me to slice open my own stomach?" Tsutani Hiro demanded through gritted teeth.
As a shinobi, he could already sense it—whatever this was, it would not be simple.
"A sealing technique," Natsuhiko replied, reducing it to its barest essence. "It requires a sacrifice. The one offering themselves must don a mask and cut open their own stomach, thereby nullifying the jutsu."
He flicked the blood from his kunai with a casual motion before continuing at an unhurried pace.
"Your body is… unusual. I want to see where its limits lie. So whether you agree or not, you are already my test subject."
His gaze lingered on Tsutani Hiro, calm yet unyielding.
"Tell me—have you ever heard of a man by the name of Kato Dan?"
"…Who?"
"A jōnin of Konoha."
Natsuhiko paused there, watching closely for the slightest shift in expression. In truth, he could not be certain whether the man before him knew the name. It was merely a calculated guess, based on age and experience.
Kato Dan had once been a prominent figure—Dan Katō, Tsunade's lover, a man who had died over a decade ago during the Second Great Ninja War. Yet his reputation had endured. His secret technique, the Spirit Transformation Technique, had once struck fear throughout the shinobi world.
It allowed him to seize control of another's body without their awareness, bending them to his will—forcing them to act, to fight, even to turn on their own allies. A man could be made to kill himself, or to attack those he once fought beside, sowing chaos and mistrust among enemies.
Though he had fallen long ago—his death leaving Tsunade with her lasting fear of blood—his name had never truly faded.
Tsutani Hiro appeared to be in his forties or fifties, and as a shinobi, it was likely he had lived through that war.
And sure enough, at the mention of the name, he froze. A flicker of recognition passed across his face, followed by a subtle but unmistakable change in expression.
He understood.
"I see you've heard of him," Natsuhiko said, the faint smile on his lips deepening. "Then you should also know about the Spirit Transformation Technique, shouldn't you?"
"The ability to control another person's body… to make them do anything you want," Tsutani Hiro said, lifting his head to glare at him. "So that's it—you could simply control me and make me do all of this yourself."
"Correct. Genjutsu could achieve something similar as well," Natsuhiko acknowledged with a slight nod. "But as I said, that would diminish the effectiveness. I'm something of a perfectionist—I don't tolerate flaws. So…"
"So you want me to do it of my own will," Tsutani Hiro finished with a hollow sigh. His voice carried a trace of bitterness as he looked at Natsuhiko. "Tell me… are you truly a shinobi of Konoha? You seem very different from the ones I remember."
Different?
At those words, Natsuhiko let out a silent laugh. Of course he understood what Tsutani Hiro meant—but the truth was, he was no ordinary shinobi of Konoha. And perhaps this man had never truly witnessed what Konoha's ninja became on the battlefield, how ruthless and unyielding they could be when survival demanded it.
Then again, forcing someone into a deadly experiment while calmly informing them that the outcome would be the same regardless of their choice… yes, perhaps even among shinobi, people like him were rare.
It was almost ironic. The Yugakure had always prided itself on its pursuit of peace, and in many ways, it was indeed a gentle place. Yet a village might strive for peace, while the hearts of those within it remained divided. The very man before him was proof enough of that.
"Every village has its outliers," Natsuhiko said with a faint shake of his head, his tone edged with quiet disdain. "Aren't you one yourself? Your village seeks peace, yet the doctrine of your little cult… I hardly need to spell it out for you."
"I understand." Tsutani Hiro drew a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking again, his voice now resolute. "I'll help you. When this is all over, let me leave. That boy, Hidan, has already learned quite a bit—he should be more than sufficient for your research."
"A wise choice," Natsuhiko replied calmly, giving a slight nod. He produced a document and tossed it toward him. "Take it. A written agreement should put your mind at ease, shouldn't it?"
"You really are a devil who knows how to manipulate people," Tsutani Hiro muttered, licking his lips. "Honestly, you should join me in offering yourself to Lord Jashin."
Natsuhiko paid him no further attention, turning and walking away without a word. Behind him, Tsutani Hiro quickly concealed the document within his clothing.
Of course, Natsuhiko was well aware that leaving behind such a written record carried its own risks. But upon that paper, he had already placed the mark of his Flying Thunder God technique. Should the need arise, he could retrieve it at any moment. He had no intention of leaving behind evidence that could be used against him.
—
"Very well. I'll give it proper thought."
As Natsuhiko's mind drifted back from that memory, Senju Shōma finally spoke, arriving at his decision.
To him, the Reaper Death Seal was far too dangerous—far too troublesome. He had no desire to see the Senju clan's only wielder of Wood Release risk himself on something so extreme.
And yet, he understood something all too clearly: Natsuhiko would not stop.
After what had happened with Senju Ryota, he knew there were limits to his authority. The young man standing before him had already stepped beyond the point where he could be restrained by simple command.
The only advantage he still held was Natsuhiko's respect—but even that rested on a fragile condition: that he did not interfere with the path Natsuhiko had chosen.
If he refused outright, it would only deepen the distance between them.
Since he could neither forbid it nor dissuade him, the only option left was to agree—and afterward, guide him as best he could, slowly and carefully, so that he would not stray too far down a dangerous road.
"Then I'll have to thank you, Elder," Natsuhiko said, returning fully to the present, a faint smile touching his lips. "Don't worry—I have no intention of gambling with my own life."
"I'll make the necessary preparations and have it ready for you tomorrow," Senju Shōma replied with a quiet sigh. "After all, these are things left behind by Lady Mito Uzumaki. I'll need time to locate and organize them properly."
"That's fine," Natsuhiko nodded. He had already guessed as much—if anyone possessed such knowledge, it would be her. Then, as if recalling something, he added, "Elder, while you're at it… could you also provide me with the documentation for the Spirit Transformation Technique?"
"The Spirit Transformation Technique?" Senju Shōma gave him a long, searching look before finally nodding. "Very well. I'll include it."
It was another secret technique—one with an interesting origin. Though it had been made famous by Dan Katō, and further refined through his use, its true roots traced back elsewhere.
Like so many of Konoha's non-clan secret techniques, its foundation had been laid by Tobirama Senju.
In many ways, Tobirama could be called the true master of forbidden and secret techniques within the village. Though he often presented himself as a specialist in Water Release—particularly in his efforts to counter the Uchiha—it was the techniques hidden beneath that façade that were truly terrifying.
The Spirit Transformation Technique was no exception. While Dan Katō had perfected it and carried it to renown, the very concept—the initial vision—had belonged to Tobirama from the very beginning.
It was likely for this very reason—combined with Tsunade's relationship with Dan Katō—that the Senju clan had preserved a complete record of the Spirit Transformation Technique, including the refinements Dan himself had made.
Though the technique had long since been handed over to Konoha, the Senju had quietly retained copies of certain materials within the clan. In that sense, Natsuhiko was merely reaping the benefits of what had been safeguarded over the years.
Of course, his deliberate mention of the technique served another purpose as well. It was not only a precaution against Tsutani Hiro, but also a way to convince Senju Shōma beyond doubt that his intentions lay in the study of the soul. After all, the Spirit Transformation Technique was, in essence, a ninjutsu that allowed the soul to leave the body—there could be no clearer proof of his direction.
With that matter settled, Natsuhiko's days became noticeably more at ease.
The very next day, Senju Shōma personally delivered the materials Natsuhiko had requested. Such treatment was, perhaps, something only he could receive within the current Senju clan. And Natsuhiko understood why—his authority and freedom now were not granted lightly, but built upon years of relentless effort.
It was through that effort that he had secured his position within the ANBU, gained the power to act decisively, and earned the strength to stand where he was now.
Even so, he was under no illusion about himself.
By present standards, his strength was formidable—but only by present standards. The road ahead was still long.
If nothing else, his chakra reserves were nowhere near the level of Hashirama Senju—and setting that anomaly aside, he likely had yet to even reach the level of Tobirama Senju. Beyond that, both his offensive and defensive capabilities still had significant gaps.
Wood Release could be considered a balanced force of attack and defense, yet its true power was deeply tied to Yang Release—and Natsuhiko's mastery of Yang Release was still in its infancy. He could wield Wood Release, yes, but its effectiveness left much to be desired, a fact that brought him no small amount of frustration.
"So in the end," he muttered to himself with a faint sigh, "I can put on quite a show… but when it comes to the truly powerful, I'm still far behind."
Even so, his confidence did not waver. With the advantage he possessed, if he could not believe in his own future, then there would be little point in continuing at all.
At present, he had yet to acquire any particularly promising "seeds"—which was likely due to the fact that he had not encountered, nor fought, truly powerful opponents or visited places where such power once clashed.
But that would soon change.
The catastrophe of the Nine-Tails was approaching.
He already knew that Kakashi Hatake was aware of Kushina's impending childbirth, and from that, Natsuhiko could all but conclude that the coming disaster was inevitable. After all, Kakashi's ominous intuition had never been something to underestimate.
When the Nine-Tails ravaged Konoha, who knew what remnants it might leave behind?
Perhaps, amidst that chaos, Natsuhiko would not only achieve his political ambitions—but also obtain the "seeds" he so desired. The seed of Yang Release… and perhaps even—
"The Nine-Tails' power itself."
A faint chill flickered in his gaze.
The system had never clearly defined what kinds of seeds could be obtained. Basic seeds enhanced his physical attributes, while chakra seeds carried properties, limits—even aspects of Sage Mode itself.
And the Nine-Tails, for all its sentience, was still a being composed of chakra.
If that was the case… then perhaps there truly was something to be gained.
Shaking his head, Natsuhiko forced his thoughts to settle. There were no answers yet, and he had no desire to let speculation cloud his mind. Even expectation, he chose to suppress.
The greater the hope, the deeper the disappointment if it failed.
Stretching lazily, his gaze drifted toward the lunchbox resting on the edge of the table, and he couldn't help the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth.
It had been prepared by Senju Renge.
Ever since her mother had been saved by Natsuhiko, something about her had changed. Though her outward demeanor remained as cold and distant as ever, there was now something else in her eyes—something subtle, yet unmistakable.
A quiet yearning.
A longing for the future.
Beyond that, the woman's attitude toward Natsuhiko had grown markedly more respectful. Yet for someone long accustomed to living alone, such deference felt strangely unfamiliar, even faintly uncomfortable.
As for Senju Renge's mother, she had also taken up residence in Natsuhiko's home. He had mentioned before that there would be a new "guest," and now that she had arrived, there was little point in arranging another place for her. His house was large enough as it was—too large, in fact, for one person to manage comfortably. With another presence, the space felt less empty, a little more alive.
Even so, Natsuhiko had made one thing explicitly clear: under no circumstances were they to enter his room without permission. It wasn't as though he brought ANBU documents home, but the idea of others freely coming and going in his private space did not sit well with him.
For now, the two of them seemed to be settling in well. At the very least, they had found a sense of stability.
"Still… if they're grateful, there's no need to go as far as making bento for me. I'm not even used to eating this."
It wasn't affectation. Natsuhiko genuinely found the rice balls inside the lunchbox difficult to get used to. Back when he was in the Academy, he had eaten breakfast with Senju Shōma, and at noon he would simply return home for a proper meal. There had never been any need for convenience food like this.
Now, staring at the neatly prepared rice balls, he felt a faint headache coming on. But the thought passed quickly. The ANBU had their own cafeteria—there was no need to force himself to adapt.
Aside from the mother and daughter, Pakura had also been properly settled.
These days, Natsuhiko would occasionally run into her while on duty. From what she had said, her new living environment was quite pleasant, and her neighbors were warm and welcoming. She seemed to be integrating well.
That, at least, reassured him. The area she lived in was largely inhabited by members of the Senju clan—or those closely aligned with Senju Shōma. Even those who weren't were either minor families willing to trust the Senju, or ordinary civilians with no deeper knowledge of the village's undercurrents.
With such guidance and support around her, Pakura's assimilation into Konoha was unlikely to face any real obstacles.
"In the end, all these small matters have been settled," Natsuhiko murmured, his gaze drifting toward the window. "Now all that remains… is to wait."
Wait for events to unfold.
Of course, there was still the matter of the Uchiha—an issue far from resolved.
His eyes lingered on the distant horizon, where the weight of the coming days seemed to gather. The time of Kushina's childbirth was drawing ever closer, and if the Uchiha failed to make their decision before then…
Then, Natsuhiko thought quietly, they might never have the chance to choose at all.
...
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