Several days later.
Across the Shinobi World.
One after another, intelligence reports landed on the desks of the village leaders. And as those scrolls were unsealed and read, the uneasy world once again rippled with tension—an undercurrent of disturbance spreading quietly across the lands.
A figure of overwhelming ferocity had risen from Konoha.
And this ti, the one crushed beneath his shadow was none other than Kumogakure—long fad for its military might.
Captured the Two-Tails alive.
Severely injured the Eight-Tails.
Even took the Fourth Raikage prisoner and used him as a bargaining chip during negotiations!
Each of these events alone was shocking enough—but taken together, the result was nothing short of earth-shattering.
Kumogakure, the ever-proud and aggressive Kumo, had yielded.
They had willingly ceded territory to Konoha, pledged never to cross the Land of Fire’s borders again, and agreed to pay an enormous sum in war reparations and supplies.
The once-fierce Kumogakure… had bowed its head.
The details of the negotiations remained unknown, but the outco was there for all to see.
One fact was undeniable—Konoha had gained more from this conflict than anyone could have imagined.
And in turn, Kumogakure had been reduced to weakness.
For so, this spelled opportunity.
The news, carried by whispers and the hands of schers, spread like wildfire across the nations.
Yet, curiously… not a single village stepped forward to speak.
No one voiced sympathy for Kumogakure.
No one condemned Konoha for seizing foreign land.
Because this was the real world—where ideals ant little, and benefit ant everything.
Every leader could only see one thing: how to turn this situation to their own advantage.
And so, under this unspoken understanding, the Shinobi World fell into an eerie, unnatural calm.
Only one na cut through that silence—
Konoha’s Kenpachi.
A youth who shone like a blazing star streaking across the night sky.
The one they called Konoha’s Kenpachi…
He was the brightest new light in the entire ninja world.
But beneath that deceptive stillness, the Shinobi World was already beginning to churn—
as though preparing for a far greater storm yet to co.
…
The Land of Rain.
A land eternally drenched in rainfall, its soil long since turned to mud. Yet the people here had adapted to this constant deluge and endured.
Life had begun to settle into an unexpected calm after Agakure experienced a major upheaval.
This nation—wedged between great powers and used as their battleground for decades—was slowly beginning to recover.
Whether that recovery would prove a blessing or a curse, no one yet knew.
Within Agakure, strange, industrial structures lood everywhere.
At the center of the village stood a towering, monstrous spire, and upon it appeared a solitary figure.
Pale blue hair frad a serene yet unusually cold face. The tallic studs adorning her lips glead faintly in the dim light, always managing to give off a strange impression.
Her na was Konan—the Angel of Agakure.
At that mont, she held a sheet of intelligence in her hands, her calm eyes scanning the text.
“Hakken Yoru.”
“Konoha’s Kenpachi.”
She murmured softly, and the paper slipped from her fingertips, fluttering upward until it rged seamlessly into her body of paper.
Just as she was about to step inside the tower, the ring on her finger grew warm, emitting a faint pulse.
“Pain, is it ti for a eting?”
She glanced around once, then closed her eyes.
In a vast, shadowed hall, the ghostly projections of multiple figures appeared, each perched upon a massive finger of the Demonic Statue of the Outer Path.
It was an Akatsuki assembly.
mbers reported mission updates and exchanged the latest intelligence from the ninja world.
At this stage, Akatsuki was still in its formative years—Obito remained behind the scenes, and Kisa had yet to join. The organization was far from the elite force it would one day beco.
Obito, Deidara, Kisa, and Hidan were still obscure figures—re foot soldiers in the grand sche of things.
But one mber present drew Konan’s particular attention.
Orochimaru.
The S-rank rogue ninja from Konoha, who had only recently joined Akatsuki.
His true purpose remained unknown.
“Regarding the intelligence on Konoha’s Kenpachi… Orochimaru, you should know sothing.”
Once the routine reports concluded, Yahiko—under Nagato’s control—turned toward Orochimaru. The faint lavender hue of his Rinnegan sent a chill through Orochimaru’s soul.
The eyes of the Sage of Six Paths...
Why were they in his possession?
“Hakken-kun?” Orochimaru’s phantom shifted, a faint, serpentine smile playing at his lips. His eyes burned with greed and obsession, though beneath it lingered a trace of genuine confusion.
Yes—he truly didn’t understand.
He had never imagined that soone with so little attachnt to Konoha would rise to beco its celebrated hero.
The transformation had caught him completely off guard.
Weren’t you going to visit to discuss the mysteries of life?
Where did you go?
Narrowing his eyes, Orochimaru looked toward Pain. “I once thought I understood Hakken-kun. Now, I can’t see through him at all.”
“The only thing I can say for certain is that when it cos to swordsmanship—no one will ever surpass him.”
“His swordplay is an art form. From beginning to end, every strike looks ordinary, but if you lose focus even for a heartbeat, he’ll cut you into pieces.”
“So be careful with him. That’s my advice.”
To hear such words from Orochimaru’s own mouth left Konan, Nagato, and the other Akatsuki mbers visibly stunned.
They were all missing-nin, accustod to arrogance and pride.
Few ever earned such respect from one of their own.
“Art?”
Sasori let out a cold laugh, clearly irritated. “The art of the sword can never compare to the eternity of true art.”
An artist? That brat?
“He’s far beyond you,” Orochimaru replied dismissively, not even bothering to hide his disdain as his golden eyes flicked toward the Red Sand Scorpion.
Perhaps the others didn’t interest him—but Sasori had made one mistake: he truly believed that Kabuto, the man he’d sent to spy on Orochimaru, was under his control.
Too bad. That little trick had long been undone.
Kabuto’s faith had always belonged to Orochimaru.
“Do you want to die? Tell your location,” Sasori said coldly, his puppet-like eyes narrowing.
The air between them grew tense.
“Akatsuki forbids infighting,” Nagato’s calm, commanding voice cut through the silence. “Our current priority remains funding the future plan. eting adjourned.”
He was used to this kind of hostility and cut off the Akatsuki link without hesitation.
“Zetsu,” Nagato said after the others faded away, “keep an eye on that Konoha’s Kenpachi.”
When Zetsu’s shadowy figure sank back into the darkness, silence reclaid the hall.
...
The quiet of the ninja world.
Akatsuki’s growing awareness.
None of it had anything to do with Hakken.
Whether he knew or not, it made little difference—he already had his own plans in motion.
At the mont, he was standing still, holding an infant in his arms with a strange look on his face.
The baby radiated an unusual liveliness. Though only a few days old, his restless nature was already obvious.
Worse yet, while Hakken held him, the little brat had shalessly peed all over him.
His na was Sasuke Uchiha.
Born a troublemaker.
Hakken glanced at the miniature Kusunagi sword dangling from Sasuke’s open-bottod pants, then at the Zanpakutō resting by his side—and suddenly grinned wickedly at the infant.
Danger.
My little brother.
Alard, Itachi rushed over and quickly blocked Hakken’s hand before he could draw his sword.
“Ken-san, Sasuke is still a baby,” Itachi said hurriedly.
“If you must take it out on soone—take it out on .”
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