"Suigetsu, slow down."
Chojuro watched the mountain of egg custard puddings piled in front of Houzuki Suigetsu and couldn't help himself. "The exam's in two days. If you wreck your stomach, that's on you."
"Shut up!"
Suigetsu waved him off, not remotely concerned. "We finally get out of the village for a few days to live like normal people. Let me enjoy it."
He shoveled another enormous spoonful into his mouth as he spoke.
Honestly, his mood had been decent lately.
Word was Zabuza had been taken out, which meant there might be a chance to petition the higher-ups for a mission to retrieve the Executioner's Blade (Kubikiribōchō).
That would buy him even more time away from the village.
Chojuro, meanwhile, still carried an ordinary katana on his back, not the twin swords Hiramekarei. He clearly hadn't been chosen as one of the new Seven Ninja Swordsmen yet.
"Your food's all been served. Let me know if you need anything else." Mrs. Yukinoshita set down the last dish and turned to leave.
Suigetsu nodded and raised his spoon, ready to dig in.
But the third ninja at the table spoke up, his voice rough and heavy.
"Hold on, lady."
Suigetsu and Chojuro both looked up at their temporary teammate.
Suikazan Kijuurou. A clansman of Suikazan Fuguki, the former member of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, and the "temporary teammate" command had saddled them with for the Chunin Exams.
Though to be fair, Suigetsu and Chojuro were temporary teammates too. The Bloody Mist didn't bother with Konoha's neat little three-man squad system.
"Can I help you?" Mrs. Yukinoshita's brow creased.
She had zero interest in this foreign ninja. From the moment he'd walked in, his eyes had been glued to her like wet cloth, never once peeling away.
She was long accustomed to stares, but Konoha's shinobi usually feared Makoto Nishikado's reputation enough to steal one glance and look away.
Someone as brazen as Kijuurou, openly gawking without a shred of subtlety, was a first.
Kijuurou cracked a lopsided grin, baring a row of sharp fangs. "First time visiting Konoha. I'd love a tour of the village. Care to be my guide?"
He made a point of running his tongue along one of those fangs as he said it.
It was almost uncanny how the Mist Village kept recruiting swordsmen with the same jagged teeth.
"I'm sorry, we're busy. I don't have the time." Mrs. Yukinoshita's voice could have frozen the tea.
"Kijuurou, don't cause trouble." Chojuro spoke up despite himself. "This isn't the Mist."
"Chojuro." Kijuurou turned on him, and the sheer mass of the man, well over two meters tall, pressed down like a wall. "Since when do you get to tell me what to do?"
His predecessor Fuguki had been nearly two and a half meters. Everyone in the Suikazan clan seemed like they'd wandered in from the One Piece world
On paper they were equals in this squad, but Kijuurou was an elite chunin. The Mist Village's years of isolation meant Konoha had no idea.
Chojuro ducked his head and said nothing. His strength was genin-level at best, and his spine wasn't much stronger.
How Mei Terumi would one day pick him as the Sixth Mizukage was anyone's guess. Maybe the Mist simply ran out of options. Suigetsu would've been the better choice, frankly.
Suigetsu clicked his tongue in annoyance.
You want a guide? Sure. The kind that guides you to a bedroom.
He hated getting involved in other people's business, but teaming up with this kind of scum made his skin crawl. Not that he could stop it. In a straight fight, Kijuurou was the strongest of the three, and that was that.
Mrs. Yukinoshita turned to walk away.
Kijuurou's hand shot out to grab her.
"Don't be so cold. We're shinobi from the Land of Water, one of the Five Great Nations, same as your Land of Fire." His grin widened, and the threat in his voice dropped all pretense. "You wouldn't want this turning into a diplomatic incident, would you, ma'am?"
"Sir, please stop."
Mr. Yukinoshita hurried over, stepping between the man and his wife. Since she'd used her savings to buy the restaurant, he'd traded construction work for waiting tables.
Before he could say another word, Kijuurou sneered. "And what are you? Get out of my way."
A wave of killing intent rolled off the elite chunin.
Mr. Yukinoshita, a civilian who couldn't mold chakra to save his life, never stood a chance.
His legs buckled instantly, and he crumpled to the floor, trembling like a child, as helpless as Sasuke the first time he'd laid eyes on Orochimaru.
Kijuurou turned his gaze back to Mrs. Yukinoshita. This time he didn't bother hiding anything. Raw hunger burned in his eyes.
"Come on, beautiful. Do me a favor."
She bit down on her lip, fury blazing in her stare. But when her eyes flicked to her husband, shaking on the floor, something else crossed her face.
Disappointment.
Around the restaurant, several Konoha shinobi bristled. A few made to stand, only to be pulled back down by their companions.
Part of it was Kijuurou's killing intent. Whatever he was, he wasn't a genin.
The other part was politics. A shinobi from one of the Five Great Nations. Provoking him could spiral out of control fast. The incident with the Cloud Village nine years ago still cast a long shadow.
Under Sarutobi Hiruzen's leadership, Konoha's ninja had grown softer with every generation. That much was undeniable.
Kijuurou kept advancing. The anger in Mrs. Yukinoshita's eyes dimmed, inch by inch, replaced by something closer to despair.
Then a hand tapped him on the shoulder from behind.
"If you're looking for a guide, how about me?"
The despair in Mrs. Yukinoshita's eyes vanished, replaced by something bright and fierce.
Kijuurou spun around.
A fist filled his entire field of vision.
CRACK.
The impact launched him off his feet. He smashed through the bar counter, demolished half the kitchen, and came to rest in a heap of splintered wood and broken dishes.
Every jaw in the room dropped.
"Makoto!" Mrs. Yukinoshita's voice cracked with relief. She rushed to Makoto's side in two quick steps and pressed herself against his back, her heart hammering out of control.
"Can't even visit the anime world without running into creeps like this?" Makoto shook out his fist, then glanced back at her. "You're fine now."
Mr. Yukinoshita finally recovered enough to stand. He stared at his wife clinging to Makoto's back, her expression soft and vulnerable, and froze.
In all the years he'd known her, from their school days through their marriage, he had never once seen that look on her face.
"So fast!" Suigetsu and Chojuro breathed in unison.
"Who the hell are you!?" Kijuurou dragged himself out of the wreckage, his right eye already swelling shut.
He roared the words, but the moment he got a clear look at Makoto's face, his voice died in his throat.
He knew this man. When Yagura had dispatched them to the Chunin Exams, the Mizukage had specifically warned them about one person.
The fastest shinobi in the Land of Fire. The Third Hokage's sharpest blade. Makoto Makoto.
"Mist Village trash." Makoto glanced at the headband on Kijuurou's forehead, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. "Pent up, are we?"
If a ninja from any other village had pulled this stunt, he might have been surprised.
Genin chosen to represent their village at the Chunin Exams should have known better than to let their lower half do the thinking.
But for a Mist shinobi? No surprise at all.
Under Obito Uchiha's puppet rule, the village had earned its name as the Bloody Mist.
Its ninja never knew when their own Mizukage might decide to kill them, so they lived every day like it was their last.
Not being able to keep it in their pants was par for the course.
Sexually repressed, every last one of them.
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We fell off man, from top 80 to not even top 200 :(
EVERY 60 Powerstones = 1 BONUS CHAPTER