The Cloud missing-nin flickered behind Hinata Hizashi like lightning incarnate. The kunai gleamed in his hand, his grin splitting wide. "Die, Hyūga!"
But the steel only buried into wood—splinters cracking as Hizashi's image broke apart.
"A substitution!?" the rebel snapped, his eyes flashing wide. Too late to sense the chakra already surging from behind him.
Shigure's voice was clear, low, and merciless.
"Compound Style: Wind, Fire, Earth Dragon Bullets!"
The field ignited. Dragons of flame, torrents of slicing wind, and crushing earthen weight intermingled into a storm of unnatural chakra. The elements fed into one another, their destructive power multiplying beyond reason. The rebel's eyes widened, horror blooming as the triple-headed cataclysm bore down.
"No! That's—impossible!"
The explosion roared, devouring street and structure in its path. Wooden shops scattered into flame, stone walls crumbled, the shockwave tearing trees by their roots. When it cleared, the rebel's body lay blackened, unrecognizable, sprawled where disobedient arrogance had ended.
Kusuo and Akane recoiled, eyes wide.
"T-that power," Kusuo muttered breathlessly.
"Three elements at once…" Akane whispered, trembling.
Even Shigure himself stood still, staring at the smoking crater. A line of sweat peeled down his temple. "…I lost restraint. Forgive me, Hizashi-sensei. I killed him before we could draw anything out."
But Hizashi shook his head, pale eyes calm. "Do not apologize. A breath longer and he might have killed one of us. Information matters less than protecting your team. You did well."
He turned his Byakugan outward, veins bulging. His breath slowed. "I've found Noguchi… northwest, a small cave."
They moved at once, sprinting under the shadows of broken trees.
The cave was hidden well, carved into the stone under a mossed ridge. Hizashi's kunai slashed the ropes, cutting Noguchi free.
The bearded client stumbled forward, face pale, eyes darting with guilt. "I-I'm sorry… for dragging you into this farce. The research—the meteorite iron's data—it was stolen!"
"By whom?" Hizashi demanded, tone firm.
Noguchi trembled. "I don't know… they weren't of any village, no banners, no headbands. Rebel shinobi, mercenaries… But working together, far too organized."
Shigure's eyes narrowed. "Rebels never group or obey unless bound by one master." He folded his arms tightly. "Meaning behind them, there's a hidden hand. Hidden villages are using rogues as proxies, masking their involvement."
Noguchi's hands shook. "But they gain nothing from the data… unless someone else wants it—"
"Which proves it," Shigure cut coldly. "Behind the pawns hides one of the Great Nations. They can't move openly—the specter of war would be too great. So they disguise the blades, or bribe the broken to wage shadow battles."
A tense stillness hung. Even Hizashi frowned slightly, the truth cutting deeper than any blade.
Kusuo grunted, rifling through the scorched body nearby. His hand pulled free a scorched scrap. "…A letter."
The words were still legible.
Don't worry, I'll leave the rats of Konoha to you. When you're finished, meet me in the Land of Hot Springs. White Rose.
"The Land of Hot Springs?!" Hizashi's eyes widened faintly.
"A neutral land, one without armies, devoted to peace," Shigure mused. "Which makes it the perfect nest for shadows. No nation is blamed if war spawns from a neutral soil. It confirms it: someone manipulates this from afar."
Hizashi's jaw clenched. "Their true face remains hidden… but our next step is clear. We head for Hot Springs."
He turned to the team. "This mission breached beyond C-rank days ago. By definition it's B, perhaps already A. No shame exists if you walk away here—"
"We don't quit," Kusuo cut in bluntly.
"We're a team," Akane added, soft but certain.
Shigure's eyes narrowed faintly, lips drawing upward. "…I'm going."
Hizashi's Byakugan softened slightly—a rare, paternal look mixed with solemnity. "Then so be it. Team 7—our destination is the Land of Hot Springs!"
Their journey stretched long, but remarkably quiet. No assassins crossed their path. In silence, Shigure felt changes ripple more strongly through his blood. His skin, pale as moonlight, grew ever whiter. Subtle horns stretched faintly from his brow, curving more with each sunrise. And his reserves…
Chakra. Endless tide. Peaking.
He understood himself now—his chakra had already reached the Kage tier. Nearly overflowing.
And unlike others, not a drop was wasted. His control was supernatural—every ounce converted into perfect efficiency. With infinite stamina layered onto endless fuel, Shigure realized it: he could fight on forever. A protracted battle would only drown his foes while he endured.
The curse of my bloodline… is my greatest law: inevitability.
Yet his ambitions did not rest. Shigure practiced ceaselessly along the road, shadow clones flickering, hands blurring with seals. He refined stolen techniques: the Mist jutsu, Shunshin, even the lightning armor of the Cloud rogue. Each became fuel in his arsenal.
But something drew him more. A memory, something from faint whispers of his past life: a technique unlike others. No seals, no futility of hands. Pure chakra, shaped and rotated violently.
The Rasengan.
He remembered: Fourth Hokage's creation. Naruto's signature. A limitlessly evolve-able sphere.
In markets along the way, he bought tools—a cheap rubber ball, fragile water orbs. On breaks as others rested, Shigure's hand glowed faintly as chakra spiraled, compressing wildly.
The water ball burst almost immediately, nothing before his control. But the rubber ball—the resistance was shocking. Hours he spent, chakra rotating and rotating until sweat etched down his forehead. The ball remained firm, mocking.
Shigure gazed at it, eyes narrowing. Power does not mean instant mastery. This ninjutsu demands patience. A lesson from Namikaze Minato himself.
He smiled grimly. Good. If I could master this in an instant, it wouldn't be worthy.
He focused again, sweat dripping like rain. The spiral churned futile—but closer, faster, sharper each day.
"Still training?" Hizashi asked one night, finding him beneath a cold moon, ball glimmering in his hands.
Shigure's eyes narrowed, fire blazing in pale tomoe. "This jutsu will be mine. Whatever it takes."
No enemies struck during the week of travel. Kusuo sharpened his blade, Akane grew steadier in stance. Noguchi remained silent, weighed down by guilt and love for his village.
But for Shigure, his evolution was louder than thunder. Once, he stood a Genin. Now, his chakra pressed the edge of Kage. His mastery of elements surpassed elite Jōnin. And his hands sought to touch even Minato's future legacy.
For now, the Rasengan eluded him—its spiral unperfected. But the ball cracked faintly once, rubber straining beneath his rotation. He smiled, sweat dripping.
Soon. Very soon.
As the gates of the Land of Hot Springs rose before them in the haze, Hizashi's Byakugan flared. He exhaled slowly, gravely.
"Be ready. We enter shadows now."
Shigure let the rubber ball crush quietly in his palm. His tomoe spun, white horns glimmering faintly under the setting sun.
In this land of peace hides war. And here, my spiral shall be born.
--
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