The sincerity in Moyu's gaze carried an unsettling gravity, and even the Third Hokage could sense that he wasn't merely being polite. The words Moyu had spoken were genuine—his composure, unforced. That realization brought the old man a quiet, private relief.
Fortunate, Hiruzen thought to himself, hiding the faint smirk behind his pipe. If this boy had pressed further, my limits—and perhaps my doubts—might have been laid bare before him.
Moyu bowed deeply before the aged leader, his movements calm but precise. Then, turning without another word, he began to walk away, eager to leave the suffocating web of diplomacy that clung to the Hokage's chamber.
The air outside felt clearer, yet even there the weight of this world's endless calculations followed him. This was a place where every smile concealed a scheme, every act of kindness a potential test. Such an environment grated against him. He'd faced the hollows of Hueco Mundo and the shifting powers of the Gotei 13, yet the human cunning of the shinobi world felt somehow heavier.
Still, the Hokage's decision had been final. Moyu was now officially recognized as a Jōnin of Konohagakure—a title that came with responsibility, territory, and eyes watching from the shadows. As a leader of the village, Hiruzen had no room for sentiment; every appointment carried purpose. When war broke out or a front collapsed, it would be Jōnin like Moyu who would be dispatched without hesitation.
And if he was to serve, he would need a proper place to dwell.
The Anbu assigned to him guided Moyu through the village's winding streets to a secluded compound just beyond the main thoroughfare. The residence, surrounded by trees and silence, was larger than he expected—four rooms, two halls, wide corridors, and a training courtyard behind the main building.
Moyu surveyed the structure with quiet satisfaction, his gaze gliding across the polished wood and faint scent of burning incense still lingering from the previous tenant. "Not bad," he murmured. "It's clean, spacious, and peaceful. Better than I expected."
A faint golden glint flickered in his eyes, the telltale trace of Reiatsu brushing the air before vanishing. The Anbu escort, catching that brief shimmer, chuckled as if indulging a child. "That's natural," he said lightly. "Drifters without allegiance don't usually get such accommodations. You should be grateful to the Hokage's generosity."
Moyu turned his head, his expression unreadable, though the disdain in his gaze was unmistakable. He regarded the man as one might an insect boasting about the size of its shadow. In his world, power defined truth, not hierarchy or privilege. If he wished, he could level this entire district with a single surge of spiritual pressure.
But instead, he smiled faintly and said nothing.
Frog in a well, he thought, brushing past the man. You've never seen the sky stretch beyond your own horizon.
He began moving his few belongings into the house—his sword, his spare garments, and the sealed talisman that contained the faint echo of Hollow energy within him. The silence of the home was comforting, and for the first time since arriving in this world, Moyu allowed himself a moment of calm.
As he stood in the center of the main room, he turned toward the Anbu who lingered awkwardly at the doorway. "You've done your part," Moyu said flatly. "Now go. I'll handle the rest."
The shinobi hesitated, his pride prickling at the abrupt dismissal. "You're quite bold for a newcomer," he muttered, stepping forward as if to argue—but then his eyes met Moyu's.
What he saw froze him mid-step.
There was nothing human in that gaze—only coldness, depth, and a faint trace of something ancient and dangerous, as if thousands of souls whispered within it. A faint pulse of killing intent rippled through the air, subtle yet suffocating.
The man's mouth snapped shut. Whatever retort had formed on his tongue died there. Rank mattered in Konoha, and Moyu—now officially a Jōnin—outranked him by two divisions. It wasn't worth the risk.
He forced a stiff nod. "Understood, sir." Then, with an awkward salute, he retreated and disappeared down the corridor.
Moyu exhaled softly and shut the door. The quiet of the room returned, filled only by the faint hum of his spiritual energy settling around him like mist. He took a seat near the window, eyes tracing the village skyline beyond the trees.
When the Hokage had granted him this rank, he had also handed over a sealed envelope filled with coin and stamped credentials. It was a gesture of trust—or perhaps a test of how he would use it.
Moyu turned the pouch of money in his hand, the metal gleam of the Konoha insignia catching the dim light. "So," he murmured to himself, a slow smile touching his lips, "this world measures loyalty in ryo and titles. Fine. Let's see how far sincerity will carry me here."
{🥳 The Fanfic is now fully completed! 🎉
You can access 250+ advance chapters right now on Patreon—available for subscription or purchase! ✨
👉 patreon.com/Oreski
🥰 Your support keeps me motivated and eager to create even more amazing stories!}