Hayashi studied the woman addressing him and realized she looked familiar. Then it clicked—this was Karula.
He knew it had to be her remarkably high favor score of two hundred at work. That was the only reason someone like Karula, who'd never interacted with him before, would approach in person.
Although she clearly held him in very high regard, Hayashi didn't know her well. He gave a polite smile and replied honestly."No, I'm planning to eat after the match."
Hearing this, Karula—who'd been smiling with her eyes gently narrowed—suddenly widened them. She frowned slightly, stepped quickly toward him, and handed him the basket she was carrying.
Her tone was respectful and kind, yet carried an unmistakable firmness."That won't do at all. Skipping breakfast is bad for your health—you'll get sick. I made this myself. If you don't mind, please try it."
Beside her, Yara instinctively crossed her arms under her chest, making her generous curves all the more noticeable. She spoke evenly:"She's right, Hayashi. If you don't eat, how will you have the strength to spar with me?"
"My lord, shall I feed you?" Karula added.
Hayashi glanced around at the circle of women—some familiar, some not—all trying to get him to eat in one way or another. He could only nod in resignation.
"Perfect. Sister, you hold the box, and I'll feed Master Hayashi."
"No, I can feed myself."
"Oh, Hayashi, you're not satisfied with a beauty like Karula feeding you personally? Do you want me to do it instead?"
Hayashi had noticed that ever since Yara's favor rating had reached fifty, her attitude toward him had grown far more casual. Yesterday she'd spoken to him gently and politely, but now she was treating him like an old friend—or rather, a brother of the opposite sex.
"Well… alright then. Karula, please."
"Master Hayashi, there's no need to be so formal—it's my honor."
Half an hour later, outside the main gate of Sand Village.
Aoki stood there, brows furrowed, eyes fixed on the entrance. The man he was waiting for was nowhere in sight.
They'd agreed on a time for their sparring match, but it had been over thirty minutes already. Aoki's irritation grew. Was Hayashi keeping him waiting on purpose?
Just as he was grumbling to himself, he sensed movement and turned.
A calm, dark-haired young man in his twenties approached with steady steps. Several strikingly beautiful women surrounded him.
Aoki blinked. Hayashi was usually the quiet, reclusive type, rarely leaving his home unless necessary. Since when did he know so many elite kunoichi—let alone ones of this caliber?
The thought lasted only a moment before Aoki shook his head. Of course Hayashi might know them. What was he even questioning? Was his memory starting to falter with age?
Hayashi stepped up to him and glanced briefly at the dozen or so shinobi gathered at Aoki's side. Opportunists, he thought.
Extending his hand first, Hayashi said,"Sorry for the delay—something came up."
Whatever Aoki might have been thinking, he quickly clasped Hayashi's hand in his own calloused one and smiled broadly."No problem. So—where do you want to hold the match?"
Hayashi pointed ahead."Forty kilometers outside the village, there's a solid sand dune. It's far enough away that even if things get intense, the village won't be disturbed. The view's wide, and there are several petrified ridges nearby—perfect for spectators. Everyone can watch clearly from there. What do you think?"
Aoki's eyes narrowed slightly. It puzzled him—Hayashi was even choosing a location ideal for an audience. Wasn't he worried about the humiliation if he lost badly?
Still, without hesitation, Aoki laughed and agreed."Of course. Shall we go?"
He gestured courteously for Hayashi to lead the way.
The onlookers were surprised. No one had expected the senior ninja to show such refined manners. Some began to reassess Aoki. Perhaps, they thought, his light had been overshadowed by the brilliance of the late Third Kazekage.
Like a small flame beside the blazing sun—it goes unnoticed. But once the sun sets, the flame can burn bright. Now that the sun had fallen, perhaps Aoki's fire was finally flaring.
Feeling the shift in the crowd's perception, Aoki smiled inwardly, proud. His plan from the previous night was working perfectly—display magnanimity and poise. It was paying off.
"Hmph, pretender."
From a nearby building, Scarlet Moon stood with arms crossed, glaring.
Beside her, Leona—just returned from Hayashi's side—nodded in agreement, her eagle mask tilting slightly."It's nauseating. I don't know where Aoki picked up these tricks, but they're ridiculous."
Around them, the masked Shadow Guards exchanged glances but said nothing.
"Come on—they're moving. Follow them," Scarlet Moon ordered."And remember—if Aoki makes any sudden move, take him down immediately."
The shinobi moved quickly. Even the weakest among them was a Chunin, so the forty kilometers were covered in under ten minutes.
Hayashi stepped onto the sunken desert floor. Aoki stood a hundred meters away, the space between them a mix of sand and stone, flanked by dunes tens of meters high.
The slopes were crowded with spectators—not just the entourages of both men and the obvious Shadow Guards, but also numerous Chunins and Jonins, some Hayashi knew, others not.
Everyone present understood what was at stake: with the Third Kazekage missing for more than a day, the victor here would likely become the Fourth.
From above, one could see hundreds more figures rushing toward the site—Sand Ninjas who'd only heard the news that morning and had dropped everything to come.
Aoki crossed his arms, savoring the weight of so many eyes on him."Shall we begin?" he called.
Hayashi folded his own arms, the breeze catching his black robe and setting it billowing."Not yet. There are still people on their way."
Aoki smirked."So confident. If you lose badly, you might not even have a shot at becoming Fifth Kazekage in twenty years."
Hayashi raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly."And you, Aoki—are you so sure you can beat me and hold the Kazekage's seat for more than twenty?"
"Shut it, you arrogant fool!"