After the spar ended, Kyosuke walked over to Obito. Seeing the shaken look on his face, he bent slightly and extended his right hand, forming the Seal of Reconciliation.
If he wanted to be noticed by the higher-ups, character mattered too. So Kyosuke behaved properly and didn't mock Obito.
Besides, it was just a scuffle between children. Winning wasn't something to get arrogant about.
"Damn it! I'll defeat you someday!"
Obito glared at Kyosuke's outstretched hand. His expression shifted several times before he finally reached out and returned the Seal of Reconciliation, though his tone remained resentful.
As their fingers clasped, Kyosuke thought about Obito's future Sharingan abilities and said sincerely, "I have a feeling you'll become a shinobi who shakes the world."
"Hmph! I don't need your fake praise!"
Despite his dismissive tone, Obito was clearly pleased. He turned away stubbornly and left the field.
Teachers and parents alike had witnessed everything. While Kyosuke's combat ability was still average, his calm temperament and magnanimous attitude left a strong impression.
If he survived long enough to grow—
He might truly become an outstanding shinobi.
As the crowd dispersed, Guy excitedly dragged Kyosuke home for dinner. Kyosuke gladly accepted.
That night, inside the dream space, Kyosuke recounted the day's events. The others immediately analyzed the situation.
Tasaka Chisuke, most familiar with shinobi villages, approved.
"Not bad. Strong talent, calm personality, disciplined conduct—those are exactly what a village values. If you break rules, even if you're strong, the higher-ups may dislike you and deliberately send you on dangerous missions."
Kurasaka Kiichiro added a warning.
"Be careful. Konoha's leadership also has someone like Danzō. You might attract his attention."
Mizumori snorted.
"There's no such thing as a perfect path. Better to stand out than to die as an unnoticed pawn. If I'm going to die, I'd rather it be spectacular."
Kyosuke glanced around.
"By the way… where's Ōoka Shin? He's late."
The others grew concerned. There was nothing they could do but hope he was safe.
In a dilapidated village in the Land of Rain, Ōoka Shin lay hidden beneath rubble and trash, doing his best to conceal himself.
Earlier that evening, he had encountered two wandering shinobi—and had been hunted ever since.
From a glimpse of their scratched forehead protectors, he recognized them as rogue ninja from Kusagakure.
The Land of Rain lay between the Land of Earth, the Land of Wind, and the Land of Fire. Its strategic location made it a constant battleground for influence. The instability attracted many rogue ninja.
Ōoka Shin could tell—they intended to capture him.
To sell as a slave.
To harvest organs.
Or worse.
The only certainty: they were enemies.
Rain poured down relentlessly, soaking him to the bone. Mud clung to his body. He endured the discomfort, not daring to move.
Through the dense curtain of rain, his vision was limited. In the gray haze, he saw a vague silhouette slowly approaching.
Clone? Original body? A decoy?
Shinobi were cunning and ruthless. Ōoka Shin had to judge carefully—strike at the right moment without falling into a trap.
Rainwater stung his eyes, but he didn't wipe them. He forced them open, afraid of missing even the slightest anomaly.
"Yo, little brat's good at hiding. Made me stand in the rain this long. When I find you, I'll make you wish you were dead!"
One rogue ninja cursed loudly, wiping rain from his face. Short blade in hand, he advanced toward the ruins.
If only I had money for explosive tags… or tools to set traps. I wouldn't be this passive.
Even with five people training in sync, they were still children—bodies not yet grown, no master to guide them. Shin couldn't confidently defeat an adult rogue ninja head-on.
"Found you!"
Suddenly, the rogue snapped his head toward Shin's hiding place. Bloodthirst gleamed in his eyes.
Shin's heart jolted.
He leapt out at once.
Gravel scattered as he bolted.
"Heh. A kid's still a kid. A little bluff and you couldn't hold back."
The rogue twirled his blade and followed leisurely, amused.
"The rain drains body heat. A child running in panic won't last long. Let's play a little cat-and-mouse."
Many rogue ninja, hardened by life and death, developed twisted cruelty. They enjoyed tormenting their prey.
Sure enough, after just over ten minutes, Shin's pace slowed. Exhausted, he stepped into a puddle and fell hard.
"Tsk. Slave trade's bad these days. Guess I'll sell your organs instead. No one wants limbs anyway—might as well cut them off."
Standing behind Shin, watching him crawl desperately through mud, the rogue's excitement peaked. He thrust his blade downward at Shin's right leg.
"Damn it—Clone Technique!"
The blade struck—
But met no flesh.
Shin dissolved into smoke.
The rogue's eyes widened.
"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!"
Not far away, Ōoka Shin unleashed the jutsu he had prepared.
A powerful gust roared forward, carrying sheets of rain with it. The impact slammed into the rogue ninja. Rain lashed his face so violently he couldn't open his eyes. The force of the wind drove him backward.
Shin gripped a dagger and charged.
The rogue had barely reopened his eyes when a figure rushed him. In panic, he slashed—
Only to cut through another clone.
From the side, the real Shin burst forward. His dagger plunged between the rogue's ribs.
He immediately retreated, narrowly avoiding a desperate counter-swing.
"Damn it… I didn't expect you to know ninjutsu… I miscalculated…"
The rogue stood unsteadily, clutching his wound. Blood seeped through his fingers, mixing with rainwater and staining the ground red.
They faced each other in silence.
Moments later, unable to endure the internal damage, the rogue collapsed.
Ōoka Shin remained at a safe distance.
He neither approached nor fled.
He simply waited.
If the man was dead, waiting longer changed nothing.
If he wasn't—he soon would be. Shin was certain he had pierced vital organs.
The reason he stayed was simple.
He wanted the short blade.
In the chaotic Land of Rain, a weapon meant survival. Even if he didn't use it himself, he could sell it for a good price.