Years had passed since that night.
"Raikage-sama, you need to sign these documents and finish the other stack before the four o'clock meeting," said an office-dressed woman with white hair and dark skin as she placed several piles of pending paperwork on the Raikage's desk.
Mabui, Inazuri's eldest daughter, had grown into a splendid kunoichi who, through her own merits, had risen to the position of the Raikage's secretary. A jōnin who made sure the leader of her village actually did his job, instead of simply jumping out the window to go train his muscles.
It wasn't that the Raikage was stupid—he was just far too impulsive.
"Then why do I even have a council if this much paperwork still ends up on my desk?!" the Raikage shouted, about to slam the table, but stopped at the last second when Mabui shot him a withering glare.
"Raikage-sama could always follow my brother's advice," Mabui reminded him without stopping her work. "Use clones to speed things up." She handed part of the documents to one of her own clones.
While her boss refused to use the idea, she had three clones working in the office, drastically increasing her efficiency—so much so that the Raikage often found himself overwhelmed by her productivity.
The Raikage grimaced when he heard her. He had tried it more than once, but he still didn't like the result.
"Forget it… I end up with a headache afterward," he muttered with a sigh as he resigned himself to handling the paperwork.
How his father, who had an even worse temper than his own, endured years of office work was something he would never understand.
Mabui didn't seem surprised by his decision.
"Is there anything else?" the Raikage asked, noticing that Mabui hadn't left after returning to her desk.
"There are two matters," Mabui said as she pulled out a folder and handed it to him. "My brother has finished the research on the 'Dance Powder' and requires your authorization for production and sale to Suna. Also, after the four o'clock meeting, there's another hunt scheduled today to supply the village." She paused. "Would you like to include the genin this time?"
The Raikage didn't answer immediately. Instead, he examined the contents of the folder on the Dance Powder.
It was a substance whose primary raw material was silver. When burned, it emitted a mist that rose into the air, accelerating the formation of ice particles in sub-zero clouds, resulting in precipitation.
In short, by burning the powder, one could generate artificial rain—even in the desert.
However, the powder had a fatal flaw: by forcing clouds to release their water over a specific area, they would no longer do so where they naturally should in nearby regions. And if used frequently or over a long period of time…
It was like drinking poison to quench thirst.
"Your brother never ceases to amaze me," the Raikage said after finishing the document and the attached plan, taking a deep breath.
The plan was simple: sell the Dance Powder to Suna and allow them to use it at their discretion.
From any angle, Suna would obtain its precious water and seek good relations with Kumo to maintain the supply—unaware of the terrible price, perhaps even accepting it gladly once they realized they were stealing water from their neighbors.
The result:
Suna would have enough water to cause trouble for Iwa and Konoha.
The lands west of the Land of Fire and the lands south of the Land of Earth would suffer worse harvests, driving up grain prices in both territories.
Iwa and Konoha would face higher expenses to feed their shinobi, damaging their finances and indirectly harming other operations.
Even places like the Land of Rain would be affected.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the continent, Kumo would earn income from selling Dance Powder, keep Suna in check, and cause problems for Iwa and Konoha without revealing its hand.
Pure profit.
Even if Suna eventually realized the issue, stopped buying the powder, and grew clever for once, he would still send people to use Dance Powder within the Land of Wind.
As for deciphering the formula, the Raikage wasn't worried. Aside from silver as the main material, several key compounds could only be derived from specific plants found in the Land of Lightning.
Even finding substitutes would take time—enough for the situation to worsen significantly.
"Produce an initial batch of powder first, then send a delegation to Suna to discuss business," the Raikage decided. Since silver was required, it was better not to overproduce and instead wait for Suna's orders.
"Understood," Mabui nodded. "And regarding the hunt?"
"How many are participating this time?"
"Sixty jōnin and four hundred ninety chūnin," Mabui reported after checking the registry. "Many have paused mission intake specifically to participate."
After all, Kumo's hunt was one of its most important events, and participation was something to boast about.
"Good!" The Raikage stood and clenched his fist excitedly. "Bring not only the genin, but also the academy's final-year students! It's time they see what the Cloud's shinobi are capable of!" He strode heroically toward the door—
"Sit down."
Mabui was not fooled by his passion. "You're not escaping the meeting. There are agreements involving the Daimyō, and they can't be postponed or the village will be in trouble."
The Raikage froze one step from the door, clicked his tongue quietly, and returned to the desk, dropping into the chair reluctantly.
He had almost made it.
"Is your brother handling the preparations?" he asked while picking up another document.
Why did the pile seem to grow instead of shrink?
"As always," Mabui shook her head. "He still hasn't found a substitute."
The Raikage frowned but said nothing.
Better to focus and finish quickly.
"These need reviewing as well," Mabui added, placing yet another stack on top of the existing pile.
The Raikage felt like crying.
"Can't you stop using clones for a while?!"
Elsewhere in the village—
"It's my first time coming here," a chūnin said in awe as he entered the designated area with his friends.
It was essentially a massive version of a Roman amphitheater, with large ledges rising in tiers around a central flat platform no less than five hundred meters wide. Everything was made of stone—functional, with no unnecessary decoration.
"Wait, you've been a chūnin for four years. How have you never come to the village hunt before?" one of his friends asked incredulously.
"I have terrible luck, okay?" the chūnin slumped his shoulders. "Every time it happened, I was either out on a mission or stuck in the hospital!"
Those Kiri bastards were entirely to blame!
"All four or five times a year?"
"I told you—bad luck!" He kicked a stone in frustration. "Just participating counts as a C-rank mission, and you get to take a share of the hunt. My record would look way better if I'd been able to attend even once or twice a year."
Not to mention the strength on display!
"You know it's not that simple, right?" another friend clapped him on the shoulder. "Even with this many people, deaths can still happen if you're careless. In the one before last, five chūnin died."
"Don't remind me," the first friend shuddered. "They had to shovel them out. Poor guys."
They exchanged looks and moved to their assigned positions around the arena. More than five hundred shinobi stood ready, with a single task.
At the signal, unleash their strongest ninjutsu toward the center platform.
The chūnin glanced around nervously. With this many people, maybe if he performed well, he'd catch the attention of a kunoichi.
The Sage knew how badly he wanted a girlfriend!
The Raikage and Mabui arrived just in time, moments before the event began.
"It's incredible how much it's changed," the Raikage said.
"It's all thanks to him," Mabui smiled as a figure ascended to the center platform. The surrounding shinobi fell silent instantly, admiration filling their eyes. "Even when no one believed in him, I knew he would push forward," she said fondly.
The Raikage watched in silence.
Looking at him now, no one would believe he had spent his early years on a ventilator and in a wheelchair—deathly pale, so weak he needed someone to push him.
And now—
His skin was tanned, his blond hair wild and flowing down to his waist, his muscles enough to make most men in the village feel inadequate. His strength and knowledge had elevated his fame, earning him recognition as one of Kumogakure's most renowned shinobi—and even a title acknowledged throughout the ninja world:
Chad, the Dodomeki of Kumo.
Even the sky seemed to answer his call as clouds converged into a vortex, bathed in sunset light that made them look aflame.
Chad crossed his arms, surveying the area to confirm everyone was in position.
Nodding, he began forming seals slowly.
The instant he did, the surrounding shinobi erupted with killing intent, forming their own seals at full speed and preparing their deadliest techniques without holding back any chakra. Their chakra became visible, blazing around them like blue flames.
"Kuhiyose no Jutsu! (Summoning Technique!)"
Chad slammed his hand into the ground. A massive cloud of smoke exploded, covering the platform as a seven-hundred-meter creature appeared, coiled and confused—its body that of a sea serpent, its head that of a shark.
"Excellent prey!" the Raikage's eyes lit up.
Before the creature could react, it felt a pinch beneath it and slowly lowered its head. By the time it realized what was happening, it had already been hurled two hundred meters into the sky.
It was time.
"Raiton: Raimei Gekishin! (Lightning Release: Resonant Thunder Impact!)"
"Suiton: Shinkai Uzushio! (Water Release: Deep Sea Whirlpool!)"
"Raiton: Denryū Kōdan! (Lightning Release: Electric Current Projectile!)"
"Katon: Enkō Bakuretsu! (Fire Release: Scorching Flame Explosion!)"
"Raiton: Tenrai Shibari! (Lightning Release: Heavenly Thunder Bind!)"
The creature roared in fury as it was bombarded with countless techniques, suffering immense pain and grievous wounds.
Below it, Chad cracked his neck and struck the ground.
"Doton: Kaiyō Sentsū! (Earth Release: Ocean-Piercing Spikes!)"
The roar turned into an agonized wail as massive rock spikes erupted, impaling the creature upon impact. Liters of blood gushed from its wounds as it was left in a near-death state.
"My turn!" the Raikage burst into his Lightning Armor and leapt onto the creature's head, spinning midair and driving his leg down. "Girochin Drop! (Guillotine Kick!)"
The creature's head was cleanly severed.
The Raikage landed as the spikes withdrew, bursting into laughter—
"Everyone, great work! Muahaha—glulululu—no, not again—glululu!"
His laughter was cut off as a torrent of red blood poured from the wound, nearly drowning him. Though the outer edges had cauterized from lightning damage, the core had not.
Mabui calmly gestured for a waiting ninja to bring a change of clothes for her kage. It wasn't the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last.
What was strange was finishing a hunt without being covered in blood. Even now, splattered blood from the spikes had hit half the shinobi present.
There were even a hundred showers built nearby for that reason.
"Butchers, your turn!" Mabui ordered.
"Uoh!" Hundreds rushed forward like piranhas sensing blood, carrying cutting tools, climbing hooks, fat barrels, bone saws, and carts to transport the meat.
Some genin and academy students joined in to help—even without rewards, the experience itself was valuable.
"Luck's on our side—this Sea King is huge!" one man said. "Last time it was barely four hundred twenty meters."
"Hurry, bring the hoses!" another shouted as he latched onto a wound. "Bless Chad-sama—bleeding this beast is so much easier with his help."
"Right? And the taste's incredible! I even feel stronger after eating some!"
"Make sure your wife eats some too, or she won't keep up!"
"Are you kidding? I'm not giving her any—I'm the one barely keeping up with her!"
"You're the one who married a jōnin kunoichi ten years younger."
"Who said I was complaining?"
"Enough, you two!" A surprisingly fit old man smacked them both, flashing shark-like teeth. "Want to embarrass yourselves in front of Chad-sama and the Raikage?!"
They nodded frantically and got back to work.
This wasn't a joke.
Beyond money and meat, this job carried status and invisible benefits.
"Thank you for your work," Mabui said as she handed Chad a towel to wipe off the blood, discreetly checking for injuries.
"It's nothing," Chad replied, wiping himself off. "Distribute the materials as usual. Some meat to the academy cafeteria, some for merit exchange, and the standard shares for participants. Send the bones, skin, organs, and the rest to my lab."
Though the village had many research facilities, Chad oversaw one of the most important R&D labs, with dozens of assistants and multiple project leaders under him.
"Will your assistants make more red soldier pills?"
"Not yet. They're still unfamiliar with the Dance Powder process, and I have to handle the first batch myself."
The red soldier pills were a unique drug Kumo had gained access to a decade ago, with key ingredients derived from the Sea King Chad summoned.
Production was limited, reserved for jōnin on A- or S-rank missions, with the rest stockpiled for wartime.
"Chad," the Raikage appeared beside him in a blur, drenched head to toe in red. "Set aside some pieces for the Daimyō."
"Again?" Chad wrinkled his nose in disgust.
He had already been forced to give some to that hedonistic old man once, and in his opinion, it was worse than feeding pigs.
"This isn't unilateral like last time," the Raikage said calmly. "After testing the ahem effect with one of his concubines, he's excited and agreed to increase the village's annual budget in exchange for more."
"How much more?"
"Five percent."
"...Fine. But only enough for him."
Chad turned away, dissatisfied. If it weren't his kage asking, that useless Daimyō would get nothing.
The Raikage rubbed his face.
"Mabui."
"Raikage-sama?"
"Make sure your brother doesn't send meat from the rear again," he muttered quietly. "I think the Daimyō suspects something."
"Understood."