The rain was pouring down like a waterfall, turning the trail into a muddy mess. Takeshi Sarutobi trudged forward, his boots sinking into the muck, the dampness plastering his scarf to his neck.
Kumo's mountains loomed on the horizon, dark and jagged, like a silent challenge.
"Natsumi's somewhere in there."
He slid a hand over the folded katana at his waist, his fingers tightening.
[System] — Current balance: 300 Merit Points.
The system's voice snapped coldly in his mind.
"Not enough to play the hero," he sneered inwardly.
Saving Natsumi? Yeah, maybe. But if he could set Kumo ablaze along the way, he sure wouldn't mind.
Anko Mitarashi trailed a few meters behind, her soaked coat clinging to her curves. Her black hair, slicked down by the rain, dripped over her shoulders.
Since the night they had spent together two days ago, she'd been eyeing him like a twisted puzzle—half suspicious, half curious. Takeshi caught her reflection in a puddle, her mischievous smile barely visible.
"She thinks she's got a hold on me."
He had played her, exploiting her weaknesses, dropping info about Orochimaru he wasn't supposed to know.
She had almost slit his throat after their fight, but he had turned the tables. For now, she was following. But for how long?
"Move your cute little ass, Mitarashi," he called without turning, his voice deep with a hint of provocation. "Or are you waiting for a lightning bolt to fry you?"
Anko growled, her steps splashing loudly in the mud as she caught up. "Say that again, kid, and I'll fry you myself."
She stopped beside him, her brown eyes hard as steel, locking onto his.
"You've been way too quiet since this morning. What are you scheming?"
Takeshi shrugged, letting the rain wash over his face. Clever. He turned his head, his brown eyes meeting hers, a glint of defiance in them.
"Scheming? Like I said, I'm here to find Natsumi. Kumo made a big mistake grabbing her. That's all."
His tone was casual, but his eyes told a different story—cold, calculating.
Anko pressed her lips together, unconvinced. "That's all, huh?"
She stepped closer, her breath warm against his cheek despite the rain.
"You dropped stuff about Orochimaru no one else knows. You're not just some chūnin with a stick. So spill it. Are you really here for your girlfriend, or is there something else?"
Takeshi's pulse quickened, but he kept his smirk. She's pushing. He grabbed her wrist—not rough, just enough to halt her.
"Done playing detective?" he said, his voice low, almost a growl. "I want Natsumi. If Kumo gets wrecked in the process, that's their problem. You with me or heading back to Konoha?"
He let go of her wrist, his cocky grin returning, daring her to snap.
Anko stared at him, fists clenched, water dripping from her fingers. Her lips trembled, torn between rage and something else—a flicker of respect, maybe.
"You're an asshole, Sarutobi," she muttered, her voice rough. "But yeah, I'm in. For now. Screw up, and I'll gut you."
She raked a hand through her wet hair, her gaze lingering on him, provocative despite herself.
Takeshi chuckled and resumed walking. She's staying. Perfect. His mind was racing—Kumo, Natsumi, and the mess with Orochimaru he had to manage.
He had dropped Orochimaru's name to manipulate Anko, but now he needed to find the snake himself.
A rustle in the bushes yanked him out of his thoughts. He stopped instantly, hand on his katana. Anko drew a kunai, her reflexes sharp.
"We're not alone," she murmured, her eyes scanning the shadows.
A Kumo ninja burst out, his gray vest soaked, a tanto crackling with Raiton in his hand. A scout. He charged Takeshi, lightning dancing around him. Takeshi dodged with a Body Flicker Technique, reappearing five meters away, mud splattering his boots.
Flying Thunder God? Too greedy.
He drew his katana, blocking a tanto strike with a clash that vibrated up his arms.
"Who the hell are you, Konoha?" the ninja growled, squinting under his headband.
"No one important," Takeshi replied, his voice icy.
He pivoted,
"Fire Style: Fireball Jutsu,"
a ball of flame bursting from his hand, slicing through the air.
The ninja blocked with a Raiton shield, but Takeshi followed up, slashing at his knee.
A crack. The man screamed, his guard broken. Takeshi drove a kunai into his chest, blood spurting into the mud.
The body crumpled, lifeless.
[System] — Enemy Eliminated: Kumo Ninja. Reward: 100 points.
Current balance: 400 points.
Anko approached, wiping rain from her face. "Clean," she said, but her tone was dry.
She picked up a kunai Takeshi had "forgotten" near the corpse. It bore Konoha's seal. Her eyes narrowed.
"What's this bullshit? You trying to frame Konoha?"
Takeshi shrugged, that sly grin returning.
"Accidents happen."
First domino. Leaving that kunai would cause serious trouble—Kumo would think Konoha was behind an attack.
Anko was starting to catch on, her glare burning with suspicion.
"She's not gonna let this go," Takeshi muttered to himself. Honestly, he didn't care if Anko figured out his plans—she was already neck-deep with him in the same mess.
Before she could press him further, a hissing sound drew their attention.
A green snake, glistening in the rain, slithered out of the bushes, a scroll in its mouth.
Takeshi grabbed it, his stomach knotting. The seal was clear: Orochimaru.
Was this luck? He had been thinking about how to find him, but now the snake had come to him.
He unrolled the scroll, ignoring Anko as she edged closer, kunai in hand.
The message was short, written in precise handwriting:
"I want to meet you, Sarutobi. See you soon. Don't keep me waiting."
Takeshi crushed the scroll, a smirk curling his lips.
Orochimaru wanted to play.
Anko hissed, her voice trembling with fury.
"It's him, isn't it? What does he want?"
She grabbed his collar, yanking him close, her eyes blazing.
"What the hell are you into, Takeshi?"
He brushed her hand away, firm but not harsh.
"He wants to talk," he said lightly, though his eyes were hard.
"And wasn't it you who wanted to meet him anyway...?"
Still, something felt off. Since when did he pique Orochimaru's curiosity? Maybe it had something to do with saving Gaara; otherwise, he couldn't see any other reason.
Anko stepped back, her face tight, but she sheathed her kunai.
"I'm in," she growled, defiant.
"But if you screw me over—and not in the good way—you're dead."
She turned on her heel, her coat snapping, her hips swaying under the rain.
Takeshi followed, his grin widening.
Kumo, Natsumi, Orochimaru.
He didn't know exactly how it would all play out, but one thing was certain: he was going to squeeze every advantage he could out of it.