Chapter 257 – The Hot Springs Inn
Whether it was about the moon, or that the Hyūga's true surname had once been Ōtsutsuki, Uchiha Kei wasn't making any of it up.
He met Ayaka Hyūga's skeptical gaze with complete calm—no hint of guilt, no nervous twitch.
That unshakable composure made Ayaka uneasy.
Kei was right about one thing: what he said sounded too absurd to believe.
The Hyūga clan, descendants of the Ōtsutsuki, and the claim that they'd originated from the moon?
It all sounded like lunacy.
Still, Kei had offered her the chance to verify it herself. He'd said he would hand over his collected materials—records so ancient they were barely legible—and encouraged her to conduct her own investigation.
"The documents I've gathered are extremely old," Kei explained evenly. "The language is different, the fragments are damaged. Restoring and deciphering them takes time. But your standing within the clan is rising—try probing your clan head a bit, see what you can find out."
Ayaka nodded. He had a point; she couldn't rely on him alone. Investigating her own clan's history was something she had to take part in personally.
But prying directly into Hyūga Hiashi's secrets? That sounded tedious and risky.
It would be far more practical to ask for something simple—like permission to enter the clan archives.
Once she realized Kei truly was studying these mysteries and had found fragments that might hold truth, Ayaka stopped pressing the issue.
To her, Kei's discoveries were supplementary—valuable for understanding Hyūga history, yes, but the real question was how to evolve her bloodline.
On that front, she believed Kei's approach was the key.
After all, she already had data from his experiments—a priceless reference that could change everything.
So Ayaka buried herself in Orochimaru's research notes.
Kei, on the other hand, didn't intend to waste any more time here.
That night when he'd killed Danzō, he had gained much. Now it was time to review, consolidate, and grow stronger.
Because only strength could guarantee survival.
Especially with the Nine-Tails incident approaching in less than three months—he needed every advantage he could get.
Who knew how far Obito, armed with Uchiha Madara's legacy, might go once he lost control?
"Oh, right."
Kei suddenly turned to Ayaka. "Consider this an early birthday gift. Gather your documents this week—I'll submit a recommendation for your jōnin promotion."
"You actually remembered my birthday?"
Ayaka blinked. "Jōnin? Or special jōnin? I don't really need it. I'm fine as I am—I don't want to take on students."
"You wouldn't have to," Kei replied with a small smile. "You're with the Police Force. You won't be assigned a squad. I'm just telling you—it'll benefit you greatly. But it's your call."
"...Alright." She nodded thoughtfully. "I'll hand you the reports within the week. I think I've already met the qualifications anyway."
Indeed, Ayaka had long since earned the title.
During the war, she'd completed a multitude of high-level missions, but had never applied for evaluation. She simply wasn't interested—and unlike Kei, she hadn't been hand-picked by the Third Hokage for a promotion.
She couldn't help but wonder if Hiruzen Sarutobi now regretted that decision.
"With my endorsement," Kei said lightly, "even if you're not qualified, it won't matter."
He left her there and headed for another chamber within the underground facility.
This lab was vast, reinforced after the last infiltration by Danzō's men.
It still couldn't rival the secrecy or security of Danzō's or Orochimaru's bases—but it was safe enough.
Finding an empty training hall, Kei locked the door and walked to its center.
That night against Danzō, he'd used the third stage of Susanoo—the armored half-body form.
The power had been overwhelming, that single strike dwarfing anything his second-stage Susanoo could achieve.
It had drained much of his ocular power, but what he'd learned in exchange was invaluable.
He could still recall, with perfect clarity, the resonance of chakra and emotion that gave birth to that form.
"As long as I don't burn out my eyes completely," he muttered, "I can recover. Slowly, maybe—but I'll recover."
His combination of White Zetsu tissue and Eternal Mangekyō cells, enhanced through his own genetic serum, had already shown remarkable results. Within a month or two, he estimated, his vision and chakra reserves would fully stabilize.
He activated his Sharingan. Three tomoe spun into life.
At once, inky black chakra flared around him, coalescing into the skeletal outline of a giant.
Two blazing red eyes gleamed within the skull.
That was the extent of what he could form with a normal Sharingan—but today, he intended to push further.
Closing his eyes, Kei focused on his internal rhythm. Chakra pulsed through his body like a heartbeat.
The black energy began to flow, knitting tendons, shaping muscle and armor.
The process was painfully slow. Every few minutes he paused to recover, then resumed sculpting.
Over an hour later, he finally stopped, panting lightly.
Too slow.
But the results were worth it. The second-stage Susanoo was significantly stronger than before.
He remembered how, during the village mission, a single full-power slash from his earlier form had matched an S-rank jutsu.
Now, with this version—
"If I could reach the fourth stage, the full humanoid form… even casual swings would match or surpass S-rank techniques."
He smiled faintly, recalling how Madara's complete Susanoo had flattened entire mountain ranges with one blow.
"I'm still far from that level," Kei murmured, reopening his eyes.
"But step by step…"
The tomoe in his eyes began to rotate, merging into a three-pointed shuriken pattern—the Mangekyō.
Instantly, the Susanoo around him solidified. The resonance was perfect—no strain, no backlash.
The armored giant loomed, sleek and dark, its crimson gaze burning beneath the mask of a crow-like tengu.
Kei could feel every ounce of its strength in harmony with his chakra.
This was his Susanoo. Controlled. Refined.
"Good," he whispered. "No more wasting power… just precision."
The third-stage Susanoo took shape effortlessly this time. The blade, once slung across its back, now hung at its waist—mirroring Kei's own fighting style.
It made him grin.
"So Susanoo even adapts to its user's habits, huh? Interesting."
He examined the form. The height was slightly smaller than before—perhaps five or six meters, rather than the towering eight.
Still, that was enough.
"A long road ahead," Kei murmured, looking up at the obsidian giant, "but this form alone… this is already a weapon fit for war."
With it, he could even face the Nine-Tails—if things went badly.
Over the following weeks, Kei honed that power further while Ayaka buried herself in Orochimaru's archives.
Her progress surprised even her. The Snake Sannin's research notes were terrifyingly detailed—meticulous analysis, annotated results, simple explanations that even an amateur could follow.
Compared to her own past experiments, his work was art.
No wonder Kei had gone to such lengths to obtain it.
After weeks of focused study and training, Kei finally stabilized his second-stage Susanoo under a regular Sharingan state.
Still, he knew—training wasn't the same as battle. To truly master it, he'd need experience.
And then, just as he finished his regimen, Imai Kenta appeared at his door.
"A hot springs inn?" Kei blinked, staring at the invitation in Kenta's hand. "You're inviting me there? Why?"
"To relax. Talk. That's all."
Kenta looked weary, his usual grin absent. "We need to discuss some things."
Kei gave him an odd look. A hot spring? Why not his lab, or the Police office?
Then again, he'd never exactly invited Kenta into his personal base.
Perhaps the man wanted neutral ground—and privacy.
'A hot springs inn, huh?' Kei rubbed his chin. 'I've always wanted to try one back in my old world. Never got the chance.'
After a brief thought, he nodded. "Alright, fine. Let's go. I could use a break."
"Is it mixed bathing?" he added dryly.
"What? No!" Kenta rolled his eyes. "Men and women are separate. You really don't get out much, do you?"
"Not really," Kei said with a faint laugh. "If I have time to soak in a bath, I'd rather be training to stay alive."
"Life's hard enough," Kenta muttered. "You should at least know how to relax. Besides, no one eavesdrops in a place like that."
He wasn't wrong. The heat and thin walls of a hot spring made it easy to sense intruders—bugs and surveillance techniques were practically useless there.
Except maybe for the Hyūga, Kei thought dryly. And Jiraiya.
Following Kenta's lead, the two arrived at the inn.
The war was over, and business was booming—laughter and chatter filled the steamy air.
Kei looked around warily. Jiraiya was still in Konoha, and the last thing he wanted was to run into that notorious peeper.
After exchanging tickets, they entered the washing area.
Kei paused awkwardly.
It was a public bath.
Kenta, completely unfazed, stripped down and strode straight in.
Kei sighed and followed, deciding to treat it like a sauna. Nothing to be embarrassed about.
"You look uncomfortable," Kenta chuckled, lathering soap across his arms. "Didn't expect that from you."
"First time," Kei admitted. "Not used to it. Anyway—what did you want to talk about? Problems in your clan?"
"Something like that." Kenta sighed. "The current family heads don't approve of what I've been doing. They don't trust me… or the Uchiha."
"Figures." Kei nodded calmly. "Last time I asked who actually leads your family, Ayaka showed up instead. But it's just us now—go on."
And so, Kenta began to explain.
Just as Kei had suspected, the Senju clan was divided.
He hadn't heard the name Senju Shōma before, but as Kenta spoke, Kei pieced together the truth—an internal rift, the young versus the old.
The younger generation's anger burned toward one target:
the Third Hokage and the council that had driven the Senju clan into decline.
While the younger members seethed with resentment toward the Third Hokage and his council, the elders still clung to the policies of the Second Hokage—and harbored an unshakable hatred for the Uchiha clan.
"So it's just as I suspected," Uchiha Kei murmured, nodding slightly. "I figured as much… but I never had confirmation. You must be exhausted, huh?"
"Yeah…" Kenta Imai sighed. "Honestly, I never wanted to shoulder all this. But since I chose to step forward, I have to see it through. It's just—"
His grip on the bar of soap tightened unconsciously.
Unfortunately, the soap had other plans.
It slipped from his fingers with a soft plop, skidding across the floor.
And right at that moment—
"Kakashi! You really haven't been out in ages!"
The door slid open.
Might Guy strutted in, a towel slung over his shoulder, his grin as blinding as ever.
Behind him trailed Kakashi Hatake, his expression flat and dead-eyed as usual. Without his mask, his weariness was plain to see.
Kakashi clearly hadn't wanted to come, but with Guy pestering him nonstop, he'd given in at last.
They weren't alone—Genma Shiranui, Raido Namiashi, and Aoba Yamashiro had come too, though they'd chosen a different bath.
"I've been busy," Kakashi said dryly. "Finally got a break, and you drag me out here."
"Relaxing in a hot spring is a kind of rest!" Guy declared, flashing his teeth.
He clapped Kakashi on the shoulder, then paused, frowning. "Hmm? Looks like someone beat us here."
The two of them slid open the door.
And froze.
Their eyes widened like saucers. In perfect sync, they darted back behind the doorway—faster than lightning.
Because what they had just seen made no sense.
Kenta Imai was crouched right in front of Uchiha Kei.
Both men were naked, steam curling around them, the scene so suggestive it fried their collective brains.
They knew these two.
They recognized them instantly.
And that only made it worse.
"W–What the hell was that?!" Guy hissed, face flushing crimson.
"I… I'm sure there's an explanation," Kakashi muttered stiffly, his voice cracking.
Meanwhile, inside the bath—
"You're that upset about it?" Kei asked, shaking the water from his hair. "If anyone should be mad, it's me. You're the one who stood me up, remember?"
"Yeah, but imagine having all your work completely dismissed. How would you feel?" Kenta sighed.
He bent down to grab the soap—
—but it slipped again, shooting behind him.
As he turned to chase it, he lost his footing.
Thud!
Both knees hit the floor. Right in front of Kei.
"Seriously?" Kei groaned, rubbing his temple. "Aren't you supposed to be a ninja?"
He bent slightly, exasperated.
"Need a hand?"
Outside the door—
"Did we… see that right?" Guy whispered, swallowing hard.
"...Probably not," Kakashi muttered, his face twitching. "Maybe we should… take a closer look."
"Agreed," Guy said solemnly.
They leaned in again—carefully peeking through the doorway.
And the moment their eyes met the scene inside, both men went rigid like statues.
Their faces twisted in synchronized horror.
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