Getting those three ANBU to accept his version of events meant Hikaru's plan was already halfway to success.
They mattered—because with them as witnesses, his "achievement" and the strength he'd just displayed would spread fast.
They belonged to the Third Division, not his own. That was perfect.
Because Namuki had been the Third Division's captain.
In other words, the position Hikaru intended to compete for… was Third Division captain.
Building rapport with the division's people ahead of time—while letting his actions during this incident circulate inside ANBU—was a direct advantage.
And it wasn't only about internal politics.
It was also about scoring points with Konoha's higher-ups.
Hikaru could turn weaknesses into strengths, sure—but that required time.
Right now, he needed someone to broadcast what he could do.
Kakashi alone wouldn't help. Kakashi was practically isolated within ANBU as it was.
And once ANBU knew, the Third Hokage's side would know too.
That was exactly what Hikaru wanted: a bigger stage.
Otherwise, why would someone who could fool the Yamanaka mind arts bother acting out such an elaborate scene?
If he really wanted simplicity, he could've just let everyone die.
That would've been far easier than keeping them alive—and making them believe him.
After handling the three ANBU and maintaining his "gentle, subdued" demeanor, Hikaru finally stopped refusing the last-resort method ANBU used.
The last resort, of course, was to dissolve the corpse—erase it completely, so it would vanish from this world forever.
He couldn't suggest it himself.
Someone else had to say it first.
The three ANBU did consider taking Namuki's body back… but his corpse had already rotted into something barely human. Touching it was a risk. One slip, and they could poison themselves all over again.
So instead of preserving it, they chose to destroy it.
In extreme conditions, even ANBU wouldn't fault that decision.
Two days later, they returned to Konoha.
Sasori didn't pursue them.
Maybe Hikaru had simply run too fast. Or maybe—more importantly—Lizardmaru had far exceeded expectations.
Without a human partner guiding him, Lizardmaru did fight more on instinct.
But Hikaru had overlooked one thing:
For decades, Lizardmaru had lived in war.
Sasori, lacking any intel on him, responded with wide-area puppet swarms—an overwhelming encirclement attack.
And that… was the worst possible choice.
It was like throwing Lizardmaru straight back into the battlefield of the old days, waking something carved into his bones.
Whatever "war DNA" he carried snapped awake, and he began unleashing everything he'd learned long ago.
Sasori was left stunned.
He couldn't understand why this lizard—facing a swarm of puppets—only grew fiercer the longer the fight dragged on.
Of course, holding that long wasn't only about experience or raw power.
Lizardmaru's real foundation was defense.
His hide was absurdly hard. Ordinary weapons—and even many jutsu—couldn't reliably penetrate it.
Strong offense was impressive.
But impenetrable defense was what let him stand on a battlefield and keep standing.
Lizardmaru bought Hikaru more than half an hour.
He even drew Konoha's border forces toward the disturbance.
That finally forced Sasori to withdraw—he wasn't prepared to fight Konoha's larger units, especially after losing a significant number of puppets.
Strictly speaking, Sasori had taken a loss.
Hikaru only confirmed the details later.
That night, he summoned smaller lizards to gather information, and the report left him quietly delighted.
The better Lizardmaru performed, the more Hikaru gained.
Because Lizardmaru was his summon.
A summoning contract was part of a shinobi's power.
The stronger Lizardmaru was, the higher Hikaru's "potential" would be judged.
But Hikaru didn't let himself get drunk on that.
"No matter how strong Lizardmaru is… he's still a partner. A summon."
Lying in a single-room bed at Konoha Hospital, hands folded behind his head, Hikaru reminded himself calmly.
"A summon's strength doesn't mean I can personally output that level of power."
Only his own strength could eliminate weaknesses.
And summons weren't something you could call anytime, anywhere.
Orochimaru was the perfect example—once his arms were sealed, he couldn't summon at all.
The Sannin all had powerful summons, yes.
But the foundation was that their own strength was just as terrifying.
Hikaru refused to become dependent on borrowed power.
Only what truly belonged to him was reliable.
"…I wonder how long they'll keep me here."
His thoughts drifted.
His sealing seed was nearing completion. Once it bore fruit, he could finally attempt the Flying Thunder God.
At his current stage, that technique was the best possible upgrade.
He'd been obsessing over that sealing fruit for ages.
But he also knew better than to rush it.
At sixty-something percent, anticipation burned in his chest—yet he forced himself to stay patient.
Patience was something Hikaru had in abundance.
Even if he hadn't, the seeds would've ground it into him by now.
And besides… he didn't have that long to wait.
"…And I wonder how things are going upstairs."
His gaze shifted toward the ceiling, expression idle. Then he stretched lazily.
He was in one of the best single rooms the hospital had.
Supposedly, it was special treatment for assisting the Third Division on an "important mission."
Hikaru had no objections.
But inwardly, he scoffed.
This wasn't a reward.
It was surveillance.
He could already sense the presence around his room—ANBU, ROOT, or both—watching him from the shadows.
The three ANBU who came back with him were said to be receiving similar "care."
Whether they were alive or dead now, Hikaru didn't know.
And he didn't particularly care.
He could afford to wait.
Right now, both the Third Hokage and the Fourth Hokage were probably re-evaluating him with new eyes.
Surprised.
Uneasy.
Curious.
"Knock, knock, knock."
Someone rapped on his door.
"Come in," Hikaru said, sitting up.
The door opened.
And a man with a blond ponytail stepped inside.
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