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Hidden Mist was drowning in its own storm.
Ending the era of the "Bloody Mist" was not as simple as issuing a single decree.
Because the Bloody Mist was never just one policy.
It was a web.
The ostracization of bloodline clans.
The iron rule of never exchanging prisoners.
An almost paranoid level of secrecy.
Each rule, whether rational or cruel, reinforced the others. Together, they formed the suffocating system known as the Bloody Mist.
Even those who opposed it rarely rejected the entire structure.
Most only resisted one piece while defending the rest.
For instance, both Zabuza Momochi and Mei Terumī, selected by Elder Genji, firmly opposed the persecution of bloodline families.
But beyond that?
They diverged.
Zabuza believed the "no prisoner exchange" rule preserved deterrence.
He valued absolute secrecy as a weapon—an invisible blade that granted Kirigakure an early edge in battle.
Mei, on the other hand, questioned whether fear and isolation could sustain a nation forever.
Still, their disagreement did not initially slow reform.
Because neither of them held the final word.
Elder Genji did.
And while he listened, he decided.
The real fracture appeared quietly.
Accidentally.
Zabuza noticed it himself.
He seemed to be… excluded.
No formal announcement had been made.
But he was absent from certain closed-door discussions.
His influence in key decisions subtly diminished.
No one said it outright, but his name was not circulating as a candidate for the Fifth Mizukage.
Zabuza understood.
And instead of confronting Elder Genji—he acted.
He left the village again.
"Zabuza has departed once more."
The report reached Mei Terumī's desk.
Previously, he had returned with a child—Haku—an Ice Release bloodline wielder.
After that, he shifted strategy.
High-level missions.
Rogue-nin hunts.
Decisive, brutal victories.
He was building a reputation.
Achievement. Fear.
If he could not secure the Mizukage position through political inclusion, he would seize it through undeniable merit.
Mei leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping lightly against the wood.
She did not crave the Mizukage's hat.
If someone truly more suitable existed, she would not cling to it.
But Zabuza…
He was a man who spoke constantly of "domination."
Even if they shared the goal of ending the Bloody Mist—what kind of Kirigakure would he create afterward?
A reformed village?
Or merely a stronger one?
Those were not the same thing.
The Land of Water was the smallest of the Five Great Nations.
Whether its population rivaled that of the Land of Wind was debatable. The desert nation possessed vast territory—even if most of it was sand.
Kirigakure did not.
A small population meant fewer civilian clients.
Fewer merchants.
Fewer nobles commissioning missions.
And its island geography isolated it further.
When the Bloody Mist ended, discrimination against bloodlines would cease.
More children would survive.
More would become ninja.
That was inevitable.
But then what?
Hidden Mist would face a swelling ninja population—without sufficient missions to sustain them.
Today's surplus could be managed.
Tomorrow's?
What about ten years from now?
If isolation continued, how would Kirigakure find new streams of revenue?
How would it compete economically with nations whose borders connected to trade routes?
How would it prevent internal collapse?
Mei's gaze drifted toward the gray sea outside her window.
Reform was not only about removing cruelty.
It was about survival.
And if Kirigakure did not solve its economic stagnation, the Bloody Mist would simply return in another form.
"Will they break the stalemate through force?"
The question lingered in the air like mist over dark waters.
Hidden Mist did not possess that kind of overwhelming might.
Even a Jinchūriki like the Fourth Mizukage had once been ensnared by genjutsu and manipulated from the shadows. If even their strongest pillar could fall so easily, what qualifications did Kirigakure have to stake its future on brute military expansion?
The truth was harsh.
The truly powerful nations were no longer relying solely on force.
They were growing through systems. Through structure. Through vision.
Mei set aside the matter of Zabuza for the moment and turned her attention back to the intelligence reports from Konoha and Sunagakure spread across her desk.
Footsteps echoed softly behind her.
"You once met a person," Elder Genji's aged voice interrupted her thoughts. "The one named Roshi. What do you think of him?"
Mei's fingers stilled over the parchment.
"Yes," she replied calmly. "He was… extraordinary."
Her gaze lingered on the report.
"He possessed both capacity and talent."
A brief pause.
"And power."
She closed the file slowly.
"That short encounter was a lesson."
She looked down at her own hands.
"I saw what excellence truly looked like… and I understood how many shortcomings I still carried."
The memory was vivid—his composure, his restraint, the way he spoke as though the entire board of the Ninja World were already laid out before him.
"Even now," Mei continued softly, "I understand more and more what that calm meant."
She raised her eyes to Elder Genji.
"If I had to evaluate him…"
Her voice steadied.
"He is the kind of goal that makes one feel immense pressure—"
A faint smile touched her lips.
"—yet still makes you want to chase after it."
—
Meanwhile, in Konoha—
"Lord Roshi."
Ebisu stood waiting outside the teachers' office. Upon seeing him, he instinctively straightened his back.
Roshi wasted no time.
"After the Chūnin Exams conclude, the 'Genin Training Class' plan we discussed will enter its formal preparation stage."
His tone was direct.
"I am not skilled at systematic instruction, and my schedule will be tight."
He looked at Ebisu.
"I hope you can draft the preliminary implementation framework."
Ebisu's glasses gleamed.
"Yes! Lord Roshi, I will do my utmost."
Roshi nodded, then paused as if recalling something.
"There is one more matter."
"I will likely oversee the initial ninjutsu instruction myself. Later, more specialized guidance can be delegated."
He exhaled faintly.
"But I am not particularly adept at structured teaching."
It was not false modesty.
Most of his techniques had been inherited. The rest… he had grasped with almost unsettling ease. For him, difficulty rarely existed long enough to be studied.
His aptitude had always outpaced the need for traditional instruction.
"So, if possible…"
Ebisu immediately understood.
"Please rest assured! I will create a detailed, targeted teaching outline based on each genin's aptitude and growth stage."
"Thank you, Ebisu-sensei."
Roshi turned to leave—then paused.
Without looking back, he added calmly:
"As for next year's Special Jōnin promotion slots… given your teaching contributions and capability, you are fully qualified."
It was not favoritism.
Ebisu had long possessed the ability. This would merely ensure proper recognition arrived sooner.
The corridor grew quiet after Roshi departed.
Only then did Ebisu slowly release the breath he had been holding.
He turned—and saw Iruka Umino standing nearby, clutching a stack of homework, looking uneasy.
"Ebisu-sensei…" Iruka began hesitantly.
Ebisu's expression turned serious.
"The class you oversee gathers the finest seeds of this generation."
His voice was steady but firm.
"You must put in greater effort."
"I understand that unexpected incidents occur during teaching, but it is not ideal for Lord Roshi to encounter them repeatedly."
He stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"The village's increased investment in the academy is the direct result of Lord Roshi's advocacy."
A beat of silence.
"So."
His gaze sharpened.
"Do not disappoint him."
Iruka swallowed and nodded.
"Sasuke… something's not right."
Naruto kept glancing back over his shoulder, eyes narrowing in suspicion.
It didn't make sense.
Karin had punched him again earlier—hard enough, too. But that wasn't unusual. He got punched all the time during combat training. So why did Sasuke look… like that?
"Naruto!"
"Huh—eh?!"
The sudden bark made him jump.
On the podium, Iruka stood with a darkened expression, a vein throbbing at his temple.
Naruto pouted. "What's the big idea, Iruka-sensei? You nearly gave me a heart attack shouting like that!"
Iruka inhaled sharply.
"You dare talk back?! During class your head hasn't stopped turning. What exactly are you staring at?"
"I—I…" Naruto lowered his head. He couldn't exactly say, 'I'm monitoring Sasuke's mysterious mood swings.'
"Go stand outside!"
"Yeees…" Naruto dragged the word out miserably as he shuffled toward the corridor.
Leaning against the wall with his hands behind his head, Naruto stared at the ceiling.
'Sasuke's definitely acting weird.'
Even when class ended and Iruka lectured him again—this time while twisting his ear—Naruto's mind was still spinning.
Back in the classroom, he kept staring.
Staring.
And staring.
Until that familiar gloomy face suddenly filled his entire field of vision.
"What are you looking at, idiot?"
"Eh—wah! Sasuke! Why're you so close all of a sudden?!"
Sasuke shoved Naruto's face away in disgust. "You're the one who walked over."
He clicked his tongue softly.
"They're both inexplicable…"
"Brother too…" Sasuke muttered under his breath, voice lowering with something dangerously close to frustration.
Why did Itachi always know?
He had made sure to go home only after the bruises healed. His face wasn't swollen anymore. There was no visible proof.
Yet somehow—
People had started whispering strange things.
"This time Sasuke-kun is in the wrong."
Completely illogical.
Sasuke turned toward the window, jaw tight.
And then—
That whisker-marked face leaned into his vision again, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Sasuke's eyelid twitched.
"Stuck-up," Naruto declared.
Sasuke's expression darkened instantly. "Want to fight, dead last?"
He barely finished speaking before Naruto launched forward with a reckless headbutt.
The golden blur rushed toward him.
Sasuke shot to his feet, chair screeching as it toppled backward. He avoided the impact by a hair's breadth. In one fluid motion, he hooked his foot behind Naruto's ankle and swept.
Naruto's eyes widened.
Instinctively, Sasuke grabbed his arm, slowing the fall just enough to keep him from slamming face-first into the floor. At the same time, his other fist drove forward—
—and stopped a breath away from Naruto's nose.
The classroom went silent.
Utterly silent.
"Naruto! What are you doing now?!"
"As expected of Sasuke-kun!"
The girls' cheers erupted instantly.
"Waaah—!" Naruto scrambled up, red-faced and indignant, ready to charge again—
Only to be seized from both sides.
Shikamaru on one side. Choji on the other.
"Idiot," Shikamaru muttered lazily, though his grip was firm. "Stop it. Sakura and the others are about to execute you."
Naruto blinked.
He looked over—and immediately paled.
A group of girls stood there, eyes blazing like vengeful spirits.
His soul nearly left his body.
"You just wait, Sasuke!" Naruto barked, pointing dramatically.
Then he bolted.
Straight out the classroom door—and directly into Iruka, who was returning to begin the next lesson.
The impact echoed down the hallway.
And somewhere inside the classroom, Sasuke quietly exhaled through his nose.
"…Idiot."
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