"Sage Jutsu…" Yuta whispered, his breath catching as he stared at his reflection. His face was transformed, etched with the distinctive, Kabuki mask like markings that signified his ascent into Sage Mode.
This was true power—power forged by drawing the world's very breath into his body, balancing the volatile natural energy with the familiar currents of his own physical and spiritual energy to create something transcendent: Sage Chakra.
In this mode, he could feel it: a multiplicative surge in strength, a clarity of perception that sharpened the world to a fine point. Any ninjutsu he performed now would carry the weight of the natural world behind it.
'So this is it. The power that can stand against the Ten-Tails and the Six Paths themselves, even in the final parts of the story.'
The only flaw was its fleeting nature. Fifteen minutes. An imperfect Sage Mode that lasted a mere quarter of an hour.
To cultivate perfection, a journey to the mythical Shikkotsu Forest was likely required. Or, a part of him whispered, he could place his hope in the rewards of future life simulations—a hope he knew was slim.
Yet… a thrilling, audacious hypothesis began to crystallize in his mind.
The three great holy lands—Mount Myōboku, Ryūchi Cave, and Shikkotsu Forest—each guarded their own unique path to Sagehood.
He now held the key to one. What if the simulations granted him the others?
'Would they clash against each other? these different wells of power? Or would they resonate, harmonizing into a form of Sage Art the world had never seen?'
He dared to dream bigger. What if he mastered all three? What ultimate transformation would await him then?
'Surely, I won't have to cycle through them in a fight, would I? Activate Mount Myōboku's mode, switch to Ryūchi Cave's, then finish with Shikkotsu Forest's? Three different Sage Modes, one after another?'
The image was absurd, something straight out of the Saturday morning cartoons of his previous life.
He almost chuckled. The real question was, if he had them all, which would become his favorite?
Yuta released the technique. The potent energy receded, and the markings faded from his skin. Instead of the expected drain, he felt invigorated, his cells humming with residual power, his mind brilliantly alert.
'Tsk. If only this was my normal state.'
He shook his head, banishing the fantasy.
A sound, softer than a falling leaf came from beyond his door. He stilled.
'That's not Jiraiya.'
He announced his presence with the subtlety of a festival drum. This was the sound of shadows—the near-silent footfall of Anbu. Or, more accurately, its darker twin: Root.
The probability that it was Root was high.
With a resigned sigh, Yuta stepped into his garden. As expected, a Root operative stood waiting, anonymous behind a smooth, cat-like mask.
"Yuta-sama. A mission."
"An agreement is an agreement. I'm on vacation," Yuta countered, making no move to take the scroll, his displeasure plain. "It's been a single day. Does my high success rate mean Danzo-sensei gets to work me like a rented mule?"
He crossed his arms. "This leave was approved by the man himself. Go back and tell him to find someone else. Root isn't short on capable shinobi. This insistence is just…"
He let the complaint hang in the air. The Root ninja waited, a statue of disciplined silence, until Yuta was finished.
"Lord Danzo was explicit," the operative said, his voice devoid of inflection. "He said that upon seeing the contents of this scroll, you will accept this mission."
The statement was a trigger. A silent alarm blared in Yuta's mind.
'He's that confident?… Then I'm definitely not looking.'
Danzo's certainty was the best possible reason to refuse. A rebellious streak, nurtured over years under the man's calculating gaze, flared to life.
He held no love for danzo, even if the man was not yet the full-blown monster of the future.
To treat his own student like a common errand-runner! He gives me a vacation, and before a full day has passed, he rescinds it. Unacceptable.
This mission is not happening.
"Uh…" The Root ninja, sensing his failure, grasped for his final order. "Yuta-sama. I must insist. The scroll… it pertains to intelligence on your enemy."
The air grew cold. All pretense of irritation vanished from Yuta's face, replaced by a hunter's stillness.
His eyes narrowed into razor-sharp points. There was no visible movement, but the mission scroll was suddenly in his hand.
The message was efficient. Danzo's intelligence network had pinpointed Kakuzu's location through a borderland black-market exchange.
The bounty hunter was suspected of taking a new contract and was currently lurking at the volatile border between the Land of Fire and the Land of Hot Water.
'Kakuzu. After all these years, you've finally crawled out of your hole.'
Yuta's vision tunneled, burning every word, every nuance of the intelligence into his memory.
Eight years. For eight years, the memory of his father's ambush had festered—a wound that never closed. The image of his father's face had faded with time, but the shape of this vengeance had only grown sharper, more defined.
This had been one of Root's long-term missions since its inception: find the killer. And now, after years of silence, the trail was hot again.
Before he had the Shikkotsu Forest's Sage Mode, he would have calculated the odds, measured the gap in power between himself and the immortal fiend. But now? Now, the old saying felt true: revenge is a dish best served immediately.
Fifteen minutes was more than enough. He could kill Kakuzu five times over and still have time to spare.
This wasn't arrogance. It was a simple assessment of fact.
If a genin-level Naruto could use Sage Mode to challenge Pain, then he, a shinobi already brushing against the ceiling of Kage-level, had no business fearing a relic like Kakuzu.
'So be it. I'll take it… It's the perfect chance to retrieve Takigakure's forbidden Jutsu, the Earth Grudge Fear. Orochimaru will find it fascinating.'
With his influence, the Sannin's path might diverge from a single-minded pursuit of immortality. But Orochimaru would always be Orochimaru; he would find something in the grotesque kinjutsu (forbidden techniques) to hold his rapt attention. It was a worthy subject for his genius.
"Go back," Yuta said, his voice flat and cold. "Tell Danzo-sensei the mission is accepted."
Confidence, however, was no excuse for recklessness. A plan was already forming in his mind. He would not go alone. He would bring… helpers.
As long as his hand delivered the final blow, the debt would be paid. The vengeance would be his.
A cold smile—the first true expression to touch his lips since reading the scroll—curved Yuta's mouth as the perfect candidates came to mind.
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