Even the ANBU from the Five Great Ninja Villages had once infiltrated the layers of the Nanmoku Nation's barrier. The luckier ones managed to sneak into Nanmoku City itself for a brief look around—but few returned. Some never came back at all.
Even those who survived long enough to report what they'd seen—realizing this was once the lost Sky Country—no longer dared provoke it. At most, the villages sent a few spies to test its defenses, but each attempt proved futile.
Those ANBU who escaped once… rarely made it out a second time.
Three years later, Hyūga Shigeo had grown even more striking—his features refined, carrying the composed grace of the Hyūga bloodline. To strangers, he looked gentle and noble. Yet his eyes were not the pale white of his clan—but a deep oceanic blue, calm and unreadable.
In the southern region of the Land of Rivers, within a small town, Shigeo sat lazily by a tavern window. One hand propped his cheek; the other idly popped soybeans into his mouth. He yawned, glancing toward the door.
A gust of cold wind swept in.
A man wearing a black cloak patterned with red clouds entered—long hair tied back, a chill aura clinging to his form. His handsome face was marked by two dark tear lines beneath his eyes.
He walked straight to Shigeo's table and sat opposite him.
Shigeo poured him a cup of sake.
"What's kept you so busy, Itachi? Haven't heard from you in a while."
"It's… inconvenient," replied Uchiha Itachi, downing the drink in one gulp.
"Hey, careful," Shigeo said mildly, taking a small sip of his own. "Sake's better savored, not swallowed."
Itachi said nothing more. After sitting silently for a while, he stood.
"The matter I'm investigating overlaps with your Ranshōmon (Blue Gate) operations," he said. "I came to warn you. If we cross paths again—I won't hold back."
Then he turned and left.
Shigeo chuckled softly, stretching and taking another drink.
"So we've collided, have we? What a coincidence."
That night, far away, the summoning tag belonging to Honglin, Shigeo's right-hand man, suddenly ignited.
A twist of space—Shigeo's form vanished and reappeared atop a cold, storm-swept island.
Thunderclouds churned overhead; black waves crashed violently against the shore.
In the distance, a towering black fortress rose atop the cliffs, radiating an oppressive, ominous energy.
Shigeo's first thought was clear:
Honglin is in trouble.
Snow began to fall, light flakes drifting through the icy air. He caught one on his palm—it melted instantly into a drop of cold water.
Near the rocky shore, an enormous stone bore three carved characters: "Yōmei Island." (Nether Island)
He looked around. Nothing but endless black ocean on all sides.
Activating his Kanchi Jutsu (Sensory Technique) yielded nothing. The island's strange energy distorted all chakra perception.
In a few leaps, he ascended the slope—only to find two corpses lying on the path.
He didn't recognize them, but the insignia on their uniforms marked them as Ranshōmon operatives.
Over the past three years, Ranshōmon had expanded rapidly beyond Nanmoku's borders, recruiting many agents and integrating tightly with Nanmoku's own ANBU forces. They now handled A-rank assassinations and intelligence contracts worldwide.
Shigeo had left most of these operations to Honglin, his most trusted subordinate. For Honglin to summon him directly, something dire must have happened.
At the summit, the fortress loomed above him, its black spires slicing through the snow.
But just beyond it—two figures stood amidst the darkness, red clouds on black cloaks stirring in the wind.
Akatsuki.
One glance was enough.
The first was none other than Uchiha Itachi, whom he'd just seen days ago.
The second—a towering man with sharp, sharklike features, carrying the great sword Samehada on his back.
Kisame Hoshigaki.
Their eyes met across the snow.
Kisame grinned, hefting his sword. "Hyūga Shigeo?"
Shigeo raised a hand and gave a casual wave.
"Itachi. Long time no see."
Itachi remained silent, gaze fixed on the fortress behind them.
Kisame charged forward, Samehada whistling through the air.
Typical Akatsuki, Shigeo thought. Not even a word before the killing starts.
He sidestepped, dodging the first swing. Kisame's chakra output was massive—his strength and technique far above a normal jōnin's.
Landing lightly, Shigeo countered with Raiton (Lightning Release), a bolt lancing down from above. Kisame leapt aside, swinging his sword again.
He was confident. All he needed was a single touch—Samehada would drain his opponent's chakra dry, just as it had done to the hosts of the Tailed Beasts.
Years ago, at Wuwang City, Kisame had fought Shigeo alongside five other Akatsuki members—and they'd been crushed. He'd always wondered: if Samehada had touched him even once back then, would the outcome have changed?
And now, after Akatsuki's humiliating defeat at Nanmoku, after Pain's failure and the destruction of Amegakure, he finally had another chance.
Today, they would settle this.
Itachi, watching the battle, frowned slightly. Without a word, he vanished, dashing toward the fortress.
Kisame swung wildly, his sword cleaving through wind and snow—but Shigeo's movements were too fast, his form blurring through the air.
Planting his feet, Kisame slammed his hands together.
"Suiton: Daibakufu Shōha (Water Release: Great Exploding Water Colliding Wave)!"
A massive torrent erupted, engulfing the field. Waves crashed over the cliffside, transforming the area into a vast sphere of water.
Shigeo countered with Katon (Fire Release), the two elements colliding with a violent hiss. Steam blanketed the battlefield.
Then suddenly—gravity shifted.
The ground vanished beneath him.
He was inside Kisame's Water Prison Shark Dance Technique, the same jutsu that once trapped the Eight-Tails.
The sea itself had become Kisame's domain.
Samehada's presence vanished completely.
Suspended in the swirling blue, Shigeo's eyes narrowed. He could no longer sense chakra—but he already knew how to respond.
"Yōton: Chiwa no Jutsu (Lava Release: Earth Harmony Technique)!"
The sea began to boil.
(End of Chapter)
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