belamy20

21-30

Added 2025-08-12 17:40:43 +0000 UTC

Chapter 21: Moonlight Dancer

"Hah…"

Umino Yoru wiped the cold sweat from his brow, heart pounding. Too close.

Without his Sonic Radar Technique, a mere chunin’s reflexes would’ve never dodged that special jonin’s ambush.

"Oh?"

The dark-faced special jonin’s eyes narrowed. He avoided that? His Gale Palm strike should’ve been fatal—yet this Konoha "elite" had substituted away effortlessly.

Impeccable fundamentals. As expected of a Leaf jonin.

"Let’s see how many more you can evade."

Abandoning wind techniques (likely low on chakra), he lunged with a kunai instead.

"Hmph."

Yoru smirked. No long-range wind attacks? You’re running on fumes.

A puppeteer without puppets was just a glorified chunin.

Expanding his sonic radar, he assessed the battlefield:

Overall: Stalemate.

Konoha: Weaker but fresher, better equipped.

Suna: Stronger yet poisoned—their momentum wouldn’t last.

Tekkou’s Team vs. Bald Earth Chunin:

Three B-rank Earth-Style Walls had drained the Suna-nin’s chakra. Only soldier pills kept him standing against Inuzuka Ryō’s Fang Over Fang.

Suna’s elite training shows. Even half-dead, this guy fights like a rabid badger.

Gekkou Yoru vs. Spiky Jonin:

The real shocker. Despite losing fingers, the Suna captain’s kenjutsu remained jonin-level.

Yet Yoru’s Konoha-ryū flowed like liquid moonlight—each feint a lethal crescent.

"A ‘Moonlight Dancer,’ huh? We’ve got this."

Relief washed over Yoru. With Genma’s patrol half a mile out, victory was assured.

Then—disaster.

"Yoru! The mission comes first—you hold them off. I’ll secure the intel!"

Sarutobi Eijirou disengaged from the crippled puppeteer chunin and ran.

The Suna-nin stood frozen, probably too stunned by his sudden survival to pursue.

Yoru: ???

We’re seconds from backup, you idiot!

Now, the scales tipped:

The "spare" Suna chunin—though wobbling from poison—joined the fray, overwhelming Tekkou’s team. Only Ryō’s Two-Headed Wolf Transformation kept them alive.

"Hang in there, Ryō!"

Yoru parried the dark-faced jonin’s strike, eyes flicking toward his struggling students.

"Worrying about brats? How careless."

The enemy sneered, probing for openings.

"Says the guy too drained for even a C-rank wind jutsu." Yoru shot back.

A tense silence confirmed the taunt’s accuracy.

"Tekkou! Fall back to the river!"

Yoru carved a path toward the waterline—a natural barrier. No need to gamble when Genma’s squad was—

"Hah! Found your weakness!"

The dark-faced jonin’s grin turned feral as he stamped the ground.

"Puppetry Technique: Thousand Needles of Mercy!"

SHINK—!

A hailstorm of senbon erupted from the earth—no, from the scorpion-shaped puppet buried earlier!

"Surprise!" The jonin crowed. "No puppet? Then I’ll borrow one!"

The disabled Suna chunin’s Black Ant Puppet had lain dormant until now, its venomous payload intact.

"Dodge this!"

A killbox with no escape. Even if Yoru survived, his students wouldn’t.

(￣ω￣)

Chapter 22: Revolving Water Prison

"Your subordinates or yourself—let’s see which you choose."

The dark-faced Special Jōnin’s lips curled into a vicious smirk. Even if this Konoha nin tried to use his own teammate’s body as a shield, it would be useless.

These mechanized senbon could pierce even crow puppets—what hope did flesh and bone have?

This was the moment.

He’d sacrificed one of his own men just to create this opening. A fair trade for killing this threat.

"Captain, you— AHH!"

A scream cut through the air.

THWIP-THWIP-THWIP!

A storm of senbon tore through the bald chūnin’s body, their momentum unchecked as they rained toward Umino Yoru and his team.

"You vile bastard."

Yoru’s eyes burned with killing intent.

Using his own subordinate as bait? This was the ruthlessness of Sunagakure—no different from Kirigakure’s Bloody Mist.

"Too bad… you think I didn’t see this coming?"

A cold smirk flickered across Yoru’s face.

His Sonic Radar had caught every move—the chakra strings secretly latching onto the dead man’s puppet, the Black Ant’s lurking threat.

The only surprise was how far this bastard was willing to go.

"Captain, RUN! Don’t worry about us!"

Tekuno’s voice was raw with despair.

There was no dodging this. The senbon storm was too dense, too fast.

If Yoru tried to save them, he’d die too.

"A-Ahh…"

Little Shō stood frozen, eyes wide with terror.

"Shō… I LOVE YOU!"

Inuzuka Ryō lunged forward, arms spread, shielding her with his body.

Pathetic.

Even if he blocked her vitals, the senbon would shred them both.

But at least he’d said what he always wanted to.

"Running alone isn’t my style."

Yoru’s voice was calm.

He’d known the Black Ant was the real threat. That’s why he’d moved closer to his team.

Substitution? Useless—the attack range was too wide.

Advanced Body Flicker? He didn’t know it.

But he had another plan.

"Water Style: Water Prison Jutsu!"

His hands blurred—five seals per second—before slamming together.

SPLOOSH!

A whirling sphere of water erupted, encasing all four of them.

"WHAT?!"

Gekkō Yoru stiffened, barely blocking the spiky-haired jōnin’s strike.

Why the hell is he using a restraint technique to defend?!

Water Prison was for capturing enemies, not stopping armor-piercing senbon!

Was he panicking? Or… does he just not know Water Wall?

"A mere Water Prison can’t stop Senbon Storm !"

The dark-faced puppeteer sneered.

This technique was Lady Chiyo’s design—a B-rank assault in point-blank range.

Did this fool think he was the Second Hokage?

But then—

"Rotate."

Yoru’s hands formed the Tiger seal.

"Revolving Water Prison!"

WHOOSH—

The water accelerated, spinning into a violent vortex, centrifugal force thickening the outer layers.

Not a prison anymore—

A shield.

"Impossible! That’s… advanced water nature transformation ?!"

The puppeteer’s smirk shattered.

Who the hell modified a C-rank jutsu like this?!

"You deceitful BASTARD!"

Another lie. Another trick.

Every scrap of intel on this man was poisoned.

Chapter 23: Leaf-Style Substitution

Thwip-thwip-thwip—!

The Rain Needles lived up to their reputation—piercing effortlessly through the miniature whirlwind before slamming into the spinning Water Prison Barrier.

This defensive technique, a modified imitation of the Hyuga’s Eight Trigrams Palms Revolving Heaven, held strong under the high-level Water Nature Transformation. It even bore a resemblance to Water Style: Water Wall, deflecting every last needle with ease.

As quickly as the storm had come, it vanished. Umino Yoru immediately dispelled the Revolving Water Prison.

The barrier’s defense was formidable, but its chakra cost was brutal.

In mere seconds, over half his reserves were drained.

With the barrier gone, the whirlwind dissipated, rustling the surrounding trees and sending leaves fluttering across the battlefield—softening the killing intent that had saturated the air.

"We… survived?!"

Inuzuka Ryou blinked in disbelief, patting himself down to confirm he wasn’t a pincushion hallucinating his own survival.

"Amazing!"

"As expected of our captain! To master such a powerful water defense…"

Shukido and Kosugi cheered, relief washing over them—along with newfound admiration for their leader.

**"Quit gawking. Move!"** Yoru barked, shielding the trio while scanning for the next attack.

**"So, Konoha Jonin—you do have tricks up your sleeve,"** the dark-faced Special Jonin sneered. "I thought you were just a puppet specialist faking incompetence in ninjutsu. But no… you’re a water-style master."

Five hand seals per second. High-level water manipulation.

He should’ve known—another layer of deception.

If not for the man’s limited chakra, this water prowess alone would’ve cemented him as Jonin-tier.

From now on, assume every mid/low-rank water technique is a threat.

Thankfully, he’d reclaimed a Black Ant Puppet. Without it? No contest.

**"Close-quarters combat. No seals, no water jutsu."**

The enemy’s taijutsu was mediocre—Chunin-level at best. That was the weak point.

"DIE!"

Abandoning ranged tactics, the puppet-user unleashed a flurry of brutal melee strikes.

Under the assault, Yoru’s footing wavered.

The battlefield’s rhythm—once his to control—began tilting in the Sand ninja’s favor.

Sound Wave Radar still mapped every move, but knowing and reacting were different beasts.

Earlier, poison and lost puppets had reduced the Special Jonin to elite Chunin strength. Now, with Black Ant back in play?

If he hadn’t foolishly given up ranged attacks, I’d already be dead.

Relentless pressure kept Yoru from disengaging—and from reaching the river’s safety.

Then—an opening.

With a mental command, the water bats hidden in his flak jacket shot toward the enemy’s face.

Weak as they were (barely Genin-tier), the sudden distraction worked.

"Shit—!"

The Special Jonin’s exaggerated panic was almost comical.

"解魚斬—Severing Tide!"

Yoru’s blade flashed—a single, lethal line of condensed killing intent.

"CAPTAIN! It’s a puppet clone!"

From the riverbank, Inuzuka Ryou’s nose caught the deception.

"Damn it—!"

Moonlight Yoru spotted the trap too late. His momentary distraction cost him—

**"Distracted? Fatal."**

The spiky-haired Jonin struck: "疾風斬—Gale Slash!"

Yoru barely dodged, but the wind-blade sheared through his right sleeve, painting it crimson. Bone glinted beneath the gash as his Blade clattered to the ground.

Kneeling, disarmed—defeat was inevitable.

Meanwhile, Yoru feigned realization, eyes widening in "horror" as he tried retracting his blade.

"Too late."

The Special Jonin’s smirk was venomous.

CLANG!

The blade struck metal—the "ninja" before him reverting to a Black Ant Puppet.

And the real enemy?

Already behind him, kunai aimed at his spine.

"Perish."

The Special Jonin’s eyes gleamed with murderous delight.

That water barrier had blocked vision—the perfect cover for this switch.

"Hunt long enough, and the prey bites back."

"Walk the river’s edge long enough, and you will get wet."

A deceiver, deceived by his own game—what poetic justice.

"Heh."

Unseen by all, Yoru’s lips curled.

Sound Wave Radar had sensed it all.

This "ambush"? Expected.

His panic? An act.

"Leaf-Style: Substitution Jutsu!"

The kunai stabbed wood—splitting the log cleanly with wind-chakra-enhanced force.

"WHAT?! How?!"

The Special Jonin’s shock was palpable. No one reacted that fast!

…Unless.

Was this man actually an Elite Jonin all along?!

Another deception?!

Chapter 24: The True·Thousand Years of Death

The dark-skinned special jōnin’s face paled as he frantically scanned his surroundings—but found no trace of Umino Yoru.

This only confirmed his fears.

An elite jōnin-level Shunshin no Jutsu—it has to be!

Otherwise, how could someone vanish without leaving even a hint of movement? Substitution Jutsu had limited range—yet he couldn’t spot Yoru anywhere.

Only an advanced body-flicker technique could explain this.

"Saguiya! Watch the leaves—it’s a Transformation Jutsu!"

The spiky-haired jōnin shouted a warning from afar, but it was already too late.

Scattered across the ground behind the special jōnin were fallen leaves.

One of them—utterly ordinary in appearance—was actually Umino Yoru in disguise.

Thanks to his Sound Radar Technique, Yoru had anticipated the enemy’s anticipation.

Reverse psychology at its finest.

Poof!

With a soft sound, the transformation dissolved.

Yoru crouched low behind Saguiya, hands gripping a kunai in a Tiger Seal formation—positioned perfectly at the Sand shinobi’s rear.

"Konohagakure's Secret Taijutsu Technique: True·Thousand Years of Death!"

With a fierce thrust, Yoru drove the kunai straight into Saguiya’s—

"Feel the pain!"

Squelch.

The kunai plunged in to the hilt.

All the way.

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHH—!!!"

A scream so shrill it could shatter glass tore through the battlefield.

"Hssss—!"

The spiky-haired jōnin, mid-swing toward Moonlight Yoru, instinctively clenched and sucked in a sharp breath.

His liver nearly liquefied from sheer terror.

That could’ve been me.

Had this Konoha shinobi used the same tactic on him, he’d be howling on the ground right now.

Who the hell thinks to Substitute, then transform into a leaf to ambush someone?!

Only a true tactical monster could devise something so brutal.

And the skill required—

Most shinobi struggled to transform into something as simple as a kunai. Yet this guy had turned himself into a leaf?

How refined is his Transformation Jutsu?!

Not to mention that "secret taijutsu"…

No amount of defense could protect that particular weak point.

The only silver lining?

Saguiya’s sacrifice had exposed this horrifying tactic. Now that they knew, it wouldn’t work again.

But the first victim?

No one saw it coming.

Frankly, a clean decapitation would’ve been more merciful.

"Yoru, fall back! I’ll cover you!"

Yoru yanked out his fish-gutting shortsword and stepped in front of the wounded Moonlight shinobi, eyes locked on the spiky-haired jōnin.

"Swift Wind Slash!"

The Sand jōnin, now fully aware of Yoru’s tactical genius, gave him zero time to strategize.

A single, decisive strike—

Swish!

The blade grazed Yoru’s throat, severing a lock of hair.

Cold sweat dripped down his temple.

Damn… So this is a real jōnin’s speed.

Even with a crippled left hand (and no access to ninjutsu), this guy’s swordsmanship was leagues beyond any chūnin.

"You can’t take him. I’ll hold him off—get the others out."

Moonlight Yoru gritted his teeth, reclaiming his fallen longsword with his left hand.

His stance radiated unshakable resolve.

Unlike his teammate Sarugei Kagerō, Yoru embodied the true Will of Fire.

Even knowing they stood no chance, he chose to stay—to die so others could live.

This one’s worth keeping around.

"Then we fight."

Yoru shook his head, emotions churning.

Running now? Impossible.

Maruboshi Kosuke’s patrol was seconds away. If he fled, his carefully crafted "Will of Fire" persona would crumble.

Just a little longer…

They just had to hold out until Kosuke’s team crossed the river.

With no other choice, the two fought a desperate retreat—backing across the water’s surface toward the opposite bank.

Clang!

Another slash—this time across Yoru’s chest.

Had his flak vest not been reinforced with steel plating, that strike would’ve bisected him.

The spiky-haired jōnin’s blade was merciless.

Even the water bats—barely a distraction—were cut down mid-flight without a second thought.

"Hiding steel plates under your vest? Clever. But how many more tricks do you have?"

The Sand jōnin gathered chakra, clearly preparing a finisher.

Then—

Yoru’s lips curled.

His Sound Radar had picked them up.

Reinforcements. Finally.

Time to sell the performance.

If he played this right, his "Will of Fire" would reach the highest echelons of Konoha.

Maruboshi Kosuke—unofficial disciple of the Second Hokage, close associate of the Third—was the perfect messenger.

With this reputation as a shield?

No more front-line cannon fodder duty for me.

"Yoru, GO! I’ll hold him back!"

Yoru’s voice cracked with fake desperation as he ripped out eight explosive tags—plastering them across his own body.

"Where the leaves dance, the flames will follow!"**

His roar was full-throated, his "Will of Fire" burning brighter than the sun.

He charged—a suicidal sprint toward the enemy.

"SENPAI—!"

Tears streamed down Yoru’s face.

"You think I’ll let you suicide-bomb me?!"

The spiky-haired jōnin sneered, flicking two kunai with pinpoint accuracy—

"DIE WITH ME!"

Yoru ignored the projectiles, charging onward like a man already dead.

"CAPTAIN! NO—!"

From the opposite shore, Tezuka and the others watched in agony.

In their eyes, their leader was sacrificing himself to save them.

Then—

Just as the kunai were about to pierce Yoru’s flesh—

"Water Release: Water Dragon Jutsu!"

A massive water dragon erupted from the river beneath him, swallowing the kunai whole—

—before surging toward the spiky-haired jōnin in a tidal wave of retribution.

Chapter 25: The Forehead Protector’s Defense

The spiky-haired man hastily leaped to dodge, but the massive water dragon seemed to anticipate his move. With a sweeping coil like a soaring dragon, it sent him flying into the air.

"Partial Expansion Jutsu!"

At that moment, a plump hand rapidly enlarged, swelling to the size of a windmill in an instant before seizing the helpless spiky-haired ninja mid-air.

The man was now completely trapped in the giant palm, unable to break free—like a sausage gripped in a fist, with only his head sticking out.

Crack! Crack!

The crushing force shattered his limbs, blood gushing from his mouth as his internal organs were crushed beyond function. He had lost all ability to move.

Clearly, Akimichi Torifu, who had arrived as backup, had used the Partial Expansion Jutsu to capture the enemy in a single grasp.

Meanwhile, the last remaining Suna chūnin wasn’t faring any better. His body was covered in swarms of black kikaichū, the venom pushing him to his limit before the Aburame clan’s insects subdued him effortlessly.

Umino Yoru, however, stood frozen like a statue, seemingly stunned by the sudden Water Dragon Bullet Technique.

But beneath his dazed expression, his heart was racing. The Water Dragon Bullet had just grazed past him—he wasn’t afraid, but exhilarated.

Feeling the sheer power of the technique at point-blank range made him realize just how terrifying B-rank water release could be. If this was only B-rank, how much more devastating would A-rank or S-rank water techniques be?

The shinobi world was brutal, far from the comforts of his past life, yet it held its own wonders.

Weren’t these powerful jutsu exactly what he had always yearned for?

If he was going to live in this world, wouldn’t it be a waste not to master such techniques?

Once he earned enough mission points, he’d exchange them for knowledge on developing a second chakra nature—solving his severe chakra shortage once and for all.

"We’re saved!"

Gekkō Yoru, having narrowly escaped death, was overjoyed.

"Huh? What just happened?"

Umino Yoru pretended to snap out of his daze, feigning confusion as he turned to Yoru. "Kid, are we dreaming?"

"It’s real, sir! We’re saved—the mobile patrol squad came to our rescue!"

Yoru hugged him tightly, relief and happiness overflowing.

"Alright, alright, I get it."

Being embraced by a teenage boy was awkward, and Yoru quickly wriggled free.

But then—

Whoosh!

A senbon shot out from the dying spiky-haired man’s mouth, aimed straight at Yoru’s head.

Even with his bones shattered and his body crushed beyond movement, the Suna jōnin had mustered one last attack—a final act of spite.

Truly, no jōnin was ever to be underestimated, especially one hardened by the harsh deserts of Wind Country.

CRUNCH!

The giant hand instantly reduced the man’s body to a pulp, leaving only his head intact.

"Look out!"

None of the Konoha shinobi had expected such a sneak attack from a seemingly defeated enemy. They were too far to intercept it in time.

"Captain, dodge!"

Inuzuka Ryō, with his sharp senses, spotted the threat.

"Damn it!"

Yoru’s face paled.

His Sound Radar Technique, derived from his water bat summons, relied on echolocation—not the penetrating perception of the Byakugan. He hadn’t detected the hidden senbon.

Still, his technique gave him just enough warning to react.

He could have dodged—but Yoru stood directly behind him, in the projectile’s path.

If he moved, the boy would die.

But if he sacrificed Yoru, all his months of pretending to uphold the Will of Fire would be for nothing.

If word got back to Konoha’s higher-ups, he’d be labeled expendable.

In that split second, his mind raced.

"Got it!"

"Yoru, stay down!"

Yoru threw himself in front of the boy, acting the part of a selfless hero ready to take the hit.

Ting!

The senbon struck—right against his forehead protector.

"No…!"

The spiky-haired man let out a final, despairing wail before dying with wide, unseeing eyes.

His last thought was sheer bitterness—how could fate be so cruel? A sure-kill strike, deflected by sheer luck?

"He’s okay!"

"The senbon hit his headband!"

"Good karma pays off—the captain’s luck is insane!"

Shukudō and the others cheered, hugging each other in relief.

Meanwhile, Inuzuka Ryō, squeezed in a tight embrace by the round-faced Koyuki, blushed furiously—though everyone assumed it was just excitement for their captain’s survival.

"Sir… sniff…"

Yoru, overwhelmed with gratitude, clung to Yoru, tears streaming down his face.

"Hey, hey! Don’t wipe your snot on my flak jacket—it’s a pain to wash!"

Yoru tried to pry the emotional teen off, but Yoru refused to let go.

Well, the kid was only thirteen or fourteen—strong enough to be near-jōnin level, but still just a child at heart. After a brush with death, it was understandable.

At least the explosive tags on his body weren’t pressure-sensitive. The last thing he needed was an accidental detonation.

Chapter 26: Staying in Character

Tap, tap, tap…

A group of Konoha shinobi dashed across the river’s surface, converging toward them.

Seeing the approaching reinforcements, Gekkō Yoru finally snapped out of his childish tantrum and immediately released Umino Yoru, swiftly regaining his usual aloof demeanor as if nothing had happened. If not for the faint hint of embarrassment visible through the eyeholes of his cat-faced mask, one might have thought it was all just a genjutsu.

Umino Yoru scanned the newcomers and noticed that, aside from the mobile patrol squad led by Akimichi Torifu, Sarutobi Eijirou had also returned.

Clearly, he ran into them while fleeing and decided sticking with the heir of the Sarutobi clan was safer than delivering the intel alone.

Seeing the five arrivals—especially Sarutobi Shinnosuke—Yoru couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy.

This guy’s luck is unreal. Even on the frontlines, he’s got an elite jōnin like Akimichi Torifu watching his back, plus teammates like the legendary "Eternal Genin" Mitarashi Anko and the future head of the Aburame clan, Shibi. Meanwhile, we’re just disposable pawns with nothing.

This squad was practically invincible below Kage-level.

Even without considering Anko’s peak combat skills, if push came to shove, Torifu could pop a Three-Colored Secret Pill and stall even a Kage-level opponent.

"Good work, kid."

Torifu, holding the spiky-haired jōnin captive with one hand, clapped Yoru’s shoulder with the other, clearly pleased with his nominal subordinate. He was impressed not only by Yoru’s unwavering Will of Fire but also by his combat prowess.

As the leader of the mobile patrol unit responsible for this sector’s defense, Torifu technically commanded all nine lookout squads in the area.

Now, out of all the expendable grunts, one had actually distinguished himself. As a superior, Torifu couldn’t help but feel proud—and thrilled at gaining such a capable underling.

Thanks to Aburame Shibi’s scouting insects, Torifu already had a rough idea of the situation before arriving. Though the details were still unclear, the broad strokes were undeniable—especially Yoru’s standout performance.

Just his mastery of mechanized tools alone puts him near jōnin-level combat ability. With his dedication to the Will of Fire, the village should be nurturing talent like this, not wasting him on border patrols.

Now, Torifu’s squad had lucked out, acquiring a hidden gem. This was someone worth keeping close.

"Thank you for the timely backup, Torifu-sama. Without you, we’d have been wiped out."

Yoru showered his superior with earnest gratitude, laying on the praise just thick enough to make Torifu laugh heartily.

This kid knows how to handle people. A damn good subordinate.

"You were amazing too, senpai! Holding off two Suna pursuit squads and taking down so many of them…"

Sarutobi Shinnosuke, flattered by the praise, blushed slightly. His admiration for Yoru’s skills and unwavering spirit was obvious.

Clearly, the Third Hokage raised his eldest son well—no trace of the arrogance typical of major clan heirs.

Say what you will about Sarutobi Hiruzen’s future failings, but his parenting was impeccable.

"Where the leaves dance, the flames will never die."

Yoru flashed a Might Guy-approved thumbs-up and declared loudly, "You are Konoha’s future! I’m sure you’ll surpass us old-timers in no time!"

His passionate speech radiated profound understanding of the Will of Fire.

"Mm!" Shinnosuke nodded eagerly, visibly inspired.

"Tch." A scoff came from Eijirou, who muttered under his breath, "Just a washed-up chūnen cannon fodder. Of course we’ll be stronger."

"Huh? Eijirou, didn’t you already retreat to deliver intel? Why are you back?"

Yoru feigned confusion, subtly reminding everyone that this guy had abandoned them under the pretense of "mission priority"—only to return without completing his task.

"You still have the intel, right? You didn’t lose it, did you?"

He stepped forward as if to check, making Eijirou recoil in panic.

"Stay the hell away from me!"

Eijirou scrambled back, eyes wide with fear. "You idiot! Back off! You’re gonna blow us all up!"

His terror wasn’t directed at Yoru—but at the explosive tags covering his body.

"Oh! Right, I forgot about these."

Yoru scratched his head sheepishly. "I was ready to take that Suna-nin with me. Totally spaced on the tags. Let me get these off."

His apologetic tone made no mention of his earlier bravery—nor did it technically call out Eijirou’s cowardice.

Yet, his humility only reinforced the image of his self-sacrificing resolve.

This guy’s hardcore.

"Senpai, let me help!" Shinnosuke volunteered fearlessly.

"No, no! I’ve got it!"

Yoru hurriedly backed away from the Hokage’s precious heir. If Hiruzen finds out I let his golden boy near live explosives, I’m dead.

With practiced ease, he removed every tag and stashed them away.

"Hmph. Should’ve blown you up."

Eijirou’s muttered curse didn’t escape anyone’s sharp ninja hearing.

Shinnosuke immediately glared. "That’s enough, Eijirou! Apologize. Now."

Chapter 27: Weapon Reimbursement

"Huh?" Enbi Eijirō immediately fell silent, then softened his tone. "Shinnosuke, I didn’t mean it like that."

The usually arrogant Enbi Eijirō now looked like a mouse cornered by a cat, completely overpowered by Enbi Shinnosuke. Though they were of the same generation—with Eijirō even being ten years older—he was still being dominated. It just proved that the title of "dead last" among the Enbi clan’s peers wasn’t unfounded.

"No apology, huh? Then we’ll settle this one-on-one when we get back."

"No way! Shinnosuke, spare me! I was just talking nonsense!"

The moment Eijirō heard "one-on-one," he shook his head frantically, his eyes filled with terror. Clearly, this so-called "training session" wasn’t something he looked forward to—more like a psychological nightmare.

But Eijirō, ever prideful of his noble status, couldn’t bring himself to apologize, especially not to some lowly fishmonger. So even under Shinnosuke’s overwhelming pressure, he stubbornly refused to relent.

Seeing the two at an impasse, Umino Yoru stepped in. "Shinnosuke, an apology isn’t necessary."

"Hmph!" Eijirō smirked, looking smug.

But before he could celebrate, Yoru continued, "However, fleeing from battle, flip-flopping, and treating mission intel as a joke can’t go unpunished. Otherwise, aren’t we just encouraging people to break Konoha’s shinobi rules?"

"Yeah! You’re right. He can’t get off scot-free." Shinnosuke nodded in agreement. "Senpai, what should his punishment be?"

"Have him stay here to fill the vacant defense post in the Aoba squad’s patrol zone. As for the intel, Shinnosuke, you’ll deliver it in Eijirō’s place."

After speaking, Yoru glanced at Akimichi Torifū, clearly leaving the final decision to him.

"Oh?" Torifū’s eyes lit up as he quickly weighed the proposal. This was a golden opportunity to snag some extra mission credit.

The only issue was whether this would be seen as stealing merit.

Wait—no.

Even if it was stealing merit, it was Shinnosuke taking it from Eijirō. And since Shinnosuke was the young master of the Enbi clan, this was purely an internal clan matter. If handled well, the Enbi might even thank him for being tactful.

Yoru added at just the right moment, "Yoru, how about having Shinnosuke escort you back with the intel?"

"Well—"

Gekkō Yoru considered it carefully. Judging from the earlier exchange, Shinnosuke was clearly stronger than Eijirō. Having him as an escort would make the trip safer.

Besides, the outpost wasn’t far, and since this was his savior’s suggestion, how could he refuse?

Seeing Yoru agree, Torifū had no objections. Shinnosuke would deliver the intel instead of Eijirō. As for security, a single shadow clone from Mitarashi Gen would be enough—it wasn’t a long trip anyway.

And so, the matter was settled happily—with Eijirō as the only one left suffering, standing alone in the wind.

Torifū patted Yoru’s shoulder approvingly. "Yoru, about the mission credit distribution…?"

"I’ll leave it entirely to you, Torifū-sama. Though… we did use up a few explosive tags and tools during the skirmish with those Suna-nin. I wonder if—"

Before Yoru could finish, Torifū grinned. "Ah, battlefield equipment reimbursement! I know the rules. Deduct it from the spoils. The remaining loot gets split—70% to the village, 30% to us."

Konoha’s official policy stated that 70% of all mission spoils went to the village, with only 30% kept as personal profit.

But where there’s a rule, there’s a workaround.

The reimbursement system had a glaring loophole: weapon and equipment expenses.

For example, if a squad used 10 kunai in battle but looted 100 from the enemy, they’d theoretically have to surrender 70.

But in reality, to maintain combat readiness, they could "reimburse" their 10 used kunai first, leaving only 90 to be split—meaning only 63 went to the village.

The same logic applied to explosive tags, shuriken, and other tools.

This became an unspoken shinobi rule: mission expenses could be reimbursed from spoils, with only the remainder handed over.

Of course.

Lower-ranked, background-less shinobi rarely dared to hoard loot. But when it came to reimbursement, there was plenty of room for creative accounting. Average shinobi might inflate expenses by 30%, while clan-born ninjas—with their connections—could exaggerate losses tenfold without blinking.

It got so bad that the village had to explicitly cap reimbursements at the total value of spoils. Any excess had to be covered out of pocket, preventing fraud and collusion with weapon dealers.

A good policy—in theory.

In practice, it only widened the wealth gap.

Wealthy clan ninjas would max out their reimbursements, keeping every last ryo of loot.

Meanwhile, poor, no-name shinobi still had to surrender at least 80% of their spoils.

Why 80% and not the official 70%?

Because the evaluation of loot’s worth wasn’t in their hands.

A kunai from a backwater smithy versus one from the Land of Craftsmen could differ in value by over ten times.

And who decided that worth? The logistics department, of course.

Want a fair appraisal? Better grease a few palms.

A mere 10% "appraisal fee" was practically a charity.

In Suna, the logistics division—controlled by the council—took a 30% cut on top of the village’s 70%, leaving nothing for the shinobi.

Know how the Wind Daimyo kept banditry in check?

If all loot went to the village, who’d bother robbing caravans for no profit?

The Wind Daimyo might’ve been weak externally, but his domestic political skills were top-tier. Keeping the dirt-poor Sunagakure in line proved that much.

Chapter 28: The Power of the Money-Style Jutsu

"Chief Torifō, if we deduct the cost of the destroyed tools from the spoils of war, it might not be enough..."

Umino Yoru wore a calculating yet troubled expression, subtly setting a small trap in his words.

"How could it not be enough? Sure, the average Suna-nin don’t carry much of value, but there are three Suna puppeteers here—their puppets are worth a fortune!"

Akimichi Torifō spoke with the air of a seasoned veteran educating his clueless subordinate, his tone brimming with confidence. He laughed heartily and added, "And if it’s still not enough, we’ll just follow protocol and write everything off as operational losses."

Beside him, Aburame Shibi quickly tugged at Torifō’s sleeve and whispered, "Captain, maybe you should inspect the battlefield first before making any decisions."

"Right, let’s assess the battlefield first."

Torifō finally realized he might have spoken too soon. But now that he’d made such bold claims, there was no taking them back.

"Tō! Come over here and file the report on the weapon expenditures!"

Umino Yoru waved over Tezuka Tō.

And so, the Konoha shinobi began their cleanup. The work was straightforward and quick—sealing useful ninja corpses into scrolls, retrieving salvageable weapons, and roughly cross-checking the inventory to prevent absurdly inflated loss reports.

For example, claiming 100 explosive tags were used when only one was actually spent.

"What?! You used 150 explosive tags just now?!"

Torifō nearly jumped out of his sandals. "You said the losses were minimal! Is this what you call ‘minimal’?!"

A hundred and fifty explosive tags? A slight markup in reporting was standard, but this was ridiculous!

With explosive tags now twice as expensive as usual, each cost at least 4,000 ryō. 150 tags meant over 600,000 ryō—nearly the payout of an S-rank mission in peacetime!

"Chief Torifō, look at the scale of the explosions—I didn’t exaggerate!"

Umino Yoru pointed at the aftermath of Tezuka Tō’s trap, wearing a pained expression.

"Do I look like a fool? That blast was worth 80, maybe 90 tags at most."

"And over there—I used more tags to destroy two Fūma Shuriken. Custom-made from the Land of Artisans, 50,000 ryō each! I’ll be eating scraps for months..."

"Hmph. Fine."

Torifō nodded. A 30% markup was reasonable—some clan heirs inflated expenses by 200-300%, so this was still acceptable.

The real issue wasn’t the markup but the sheer scale of the losses.

Yoru quickly added, "Oh, and Tezuka’s ‘Tool Control: Heavenly Blade Storm’—most of those weapons can be recovered, so we won’t report those losses."

"Good, very good."

Torifō was pleased. Those were high-quality weapons, and even with repairs, maintenance would cost tens of thousands of ryō. Yet Yoru wasn’t claiming them—what a thoughtful subordinate!

But before Torifō could relax, Yoru continued:

"Then there’s the two Iron Prison Gates—completely wrecked. Just a repair fee will do. Name your price."

"How about I just award you an S-rank mission’s worth of funds?" Torifō said dryly.

"That’d be perfect!"

"In your dreams!" Torifō sighed. "Forget it. Take all the spoils, plus the full mission credit for stopping the Suna forces. Consider it compensation."

Those two Iron Prison Gates? The raw steel alone was worth over 1,000,000 ryō. Factoring in craftsmanship and the sealing formulas inscribed on them? Several million ryō, easy—multiple S-rank missions’ worth.

This victory had been bought with pure money.

"Yoru… ease up next time. I know you’re doing this for the village, but you can’t keep burning through your own funds. Once you have a family, you’ll understand how expensive life gets."

Torifō looked at Yoru with sympathy—a shinobi with such strong Will of Fire, yet so reckless with his finances. "Your losses are heavy, but not total. The intel Jirō and the others brought back is critical. Aside from Shinnosuke’s share, we’ll split the mission credit—50-50. That should help you recover some losses."

"You’re too generous, Chief! But 30% is enough for me."

Yoru knew better than to push his luck. Intel mission credits were sensitive—getting 30% was already a miracle, thanks to Torifō’s backing. Without him? 10% would’ve been a stretch.

"Fine, 30% it is."

Torifō nodded, impressed. A shinobi with both Will of Fire and political savvy? Rare. Add combat prowess, and he was worth cultivating as an ally.

"Thank you for your support, Chief!"

Yoru laid on the flattery—keeping superiors happy meant they’d prioritize his sector, reducing the odds of Suna targeting it.

As a final touch, he discreetly slipped Torifō two packs of homemade fish jerky—one salted, the other curry-spiced.

"Sniff— Sniff—!" Torifō’s eyes lit up. In the frontline, such treats were priceless.

Under this delicious diplomacy, Torifō caved instantly, vowing to personally back Yoru if any disputes arose.

"Captain, you haven’t reported your Water Bats yet."

Tezuka Tō, looking like a man who’d just lost his wife, shuffled over with a notebook, seizing the moment to remind them.

"Right, the Water Bats!"

Yoru remembered—his summoned Water Bat had been bisected by the spiky-haired enemy and swept away by the river.

Just then, a black swarm of kikaichū approached, carrying something bluish-black within—the two halves of the bat’s corpse.

Clearly, Aburame Shibi had been observing the entire battle. Before cleanup even began, he’d already sent his insects to retrieve the remains.

Chapter 29: Chunin Compensation

Seeing the water bat's corpse split in two, Umino Yoru felt a pang of dread—but his mind quickly shifted gears. This was the perfect opportunity to play up sympathy and reinforce his image as a loyal Konoha shinobi.

Time for another award-winning performance.

"Hey! Hey, what's wrong?!"

Yoru channeled chakra to his tear glands, forcing out tears as he wailed dramatically. "Hey, you can’t die! We’ve been through so much together! I raised you like my own child, taught you everything… And now, to bury you before your time…"

He dropped to his knees, clutching the dead bat, his face a mask of grief.

In reality, while this particular water bat had lasted longer than most, it was only because of its high poison resistance—something Yoru had thoroughly tested over time.

Raised like his own child? What kind of father force-feeds his kid toxins as part of daily training?

"Such is the fate of a shinobi," one of the Konoha nin muttered.

The others (except for Sarutobi Eijirō) nodded solemnly. They weren’t too shaken—this kind of thing was just part of the job.

But Yoru’s display of loyalty and "Will of Fire" devotion? Even if they’d seen it before, it still tugged at their hearts.

Damn those Sand bastards. They deserve hell.

"Senior, the dead are gone. Don’t grieve too much."

Sarutobi Shinnosuke, trying to sound mature beyond his years, patted Yoru’s shoulder. "The village recently acquired a batch of desert hawks from Wind Country—some even have high-level summoning beast bloodlines. I’ll pull some strings to get you one."

"Really?!" Yoru looked up, his eyes theatrically red and swollen, a perfect mix of sorrow and hope.

Everyone knew high-level summoning beasts were rare treasures. Wild ones were intelligent, often understanding human speech, and nearly impossible to tame without overwhelming strength.

But tamed high-level summons? Those were priceless.

And a flying high-level summon like a desert hawk? That was top-tier.

Even future Yoru, after gaining the snakes of Ryūchi Cave, still contracted a giant eagle. That said everything.

"It’s true."

Akimichi Torifu, as the area’s jōnin commander, had inside info. A young prodigy named "Hakumo Sagiri" (TL Note: Likely a placeholder name for Sakumo) had recently raided a Sand ninja beast breeding facility, capturing several desert hawk fledglings.

They were now stored in the logistics department, listed as high-value exchange items—just 5 B-rank mission points for one.

Normally, someone like Yoru wouldn’t qualify—logistics loved their shady backdoor deals. But with Shinnosuke vouching for him? No one would dare refuse.

This mission alone would net at least an A-rank reward, more than enough for a hawk.

Still, Torifu privately thought it was a waste. Shinnosuke meant well, but summoning beasts took years to mature. By the time the hawk was battle-ready, the war might be over.

Better to spend points on jutsu or equipment.

But now wasn’t the time to say that.

The others, assuming Yoru needed space, left him to "grieve" while they cleaned up the battlefield.

Before leaving, Torifu pulled Shinnosuke aside.

"When you file the mission report, list the water bat’s death as a fallen chunin comrade. Compensation goes to ‘Umino Yoru.’"

It was standard to pay out for summon deaths—if you were from the Inuzuka clan or had connections. Low-ranking nobodies? Tough luck.

But Yoru was Torifu’s man now. A little favoritism never hurt.

"A chunin-level summon for a chunin? Perfectly reasonable."

Other chunin lied about having jōnin-level summons. This was nothing.

And with Shinnosuke handling the paperwork? No one would question it.

"Got it!" Shinnosuke nodded firmly.

He might lack field experience, but he knew bureaucracy. Filing for summon compensation? Easy.

"We’re heading out."

Gekkō Yoru gave Yoru a respectful nod before carrying Hyūga Tobishō and following Shinnosuke into the trees.

"Senior, I won’t forget your hawk!" Shinnosuke’s voice echoed through the forest as he vanished.

Meanwhile, Torifu exchanged a glance with "Eternal Genin" Mitarashi Anko (TL Note: Likely a placeholder for someone else). Anko formed a shadow clone, leaving it behind while her real body trailed Shinnosuke.

"Commander Torifu, I need to return to my patrol sector—can’t let Sand sneak through."

Once the cleanup was done, Yoru hurriedly bowed out, not even bothering to chat up Anko’s clone. He rushed off with Shukudō’s team in tow.

"A truly dependable subordinate."

Torifu nodded approvingly. Yoru’s dedication impressed him.

Turning to Aburame Shibi, he said, "Keep an eye on Yoru’s team. They’re low on supplies and combat power now. Don’t let Sand exploit that."

"Mm."

Shibi, ever the man of few words, adjusted his sunglasses and nodded.

Chapter 30: Collecting Venom

Amidst the Canopy

Swish—swish—

The sound of rustling leaves echoed as Umino Yoru and his three teammates leaped between towering trees, swiftly making their way back to their assigned patrol zone.

"Captain, we finally had a chance to build some rapport with Torifu-sama and the others. Why rush back so soon?"

Shukudō, a shinobi from a weapon merchant family, frowned in confusion. Having grown up surrounded by business dealings, he was naturally skilled in social interactions. This had been a rare opportunity to establish connections with an Akimichi jōnin, yet their captain’s odd behavior had ruined it.

"I already told you—we need to return to patrol duty."

Yoru smacked the back of Shukudō’s head, nearly knocking him off the branch.

The truth was, Yoru wasn’t in a hurry to patrol—he was desperate to leave. His earlier stunt of stimulating his tear ducts with chakra had backfired, leaving his eyes watering uncontrollably. Staying any longer would risk exposing his act, not to mention how embarrassing it looked.

"Shukudō, you three head back first. I need to restock supplies."

"Captain, no! What if Suna-nin attack our sector while you're gone?"

"Relax. Aburame Shibi sent kikaichū to monitor our area. We’ll know if there’s danger."

After convincing his team, Yoru took off with a storage scroll of spoils, leaping through the forest toward the rear of their defense line.

Five kilometers later, he abruptly changed direction, veering toward a hollowed-out giant tree.

Activating his Sonic Radar Technique to its limits, he confirmed no shinobi—or Aburame insects—were nearby before scaling the tree and slipping into a hidden cavity.

The hollow trunk led downward, widening into a subterranean chamber roughly the size of a living room.

Zzzzt—zzzzt—

The moment he entered, the cacophony of water bats filled the air.

This underground cave served as his makeshift lab—crude, poorly equipped, but undeniably hidden.

Without earth-release jutsu, finding such a concealed spot on the frontlines was rare. If not for his water bat summoning contract, he’d never have discovered it.

Originally, this den likely belonged to burrowing serpents before their natural predators—the bats—took over.

The "Lab" (If You Could Call It That)

More like a bat farm than a proper research facility.

At the center stood a wooden workbench cluttered with dissection tools, three iron cages holding water bats, and a dozen saline bottles.

No Sharingan. No Hashirama cells. Just low-tier summon organs—mostly from bats.

"Impressive. You’re still alive."

Yoru glanced at the caged bats, noting their vigor before storing the bisected summon (courtesy of the spiky-haired jōnin) in a saline solution for future study.

Loot Inspection

"They say Suna puppets are worth a fortune. Wonder what these’ll fetch?"

Unsealing the spoils, he assessed the damage: