Bang!!
The door slammed shut with a deafening sound, making Utatane Koharu's body flinch.
Seeing this, Mitokado Homura let out a sigh, feeling helpless. Danzo is still firmly in Hiruzen's grasp.
Hopefully, after this lesson, Danzo will settle down a little…
"By the way, Hiruzen."
As if remembering something, Mitokado Homura frowned suddenly, lowered his voice, and asked Sarutobi Hiruzen:
"The village's forces are already thin. Letting Jiraiya wander outside—are you sure that's not a problem?"
At those words, Hiruzen thought of Jiraiya, who had left the village under the pretext of "pursuing Orochimaru." He sighed inwardly and replied in a calm tone:
"When the time comes for him to return… he will return."
Homura and Koharu exchanged a glance. Seeing that Hiruzen had no intention of saying more, they could only shake their heads helplessly and take their leave.
Click.
As the door closed, Hiruzen remained silent for a long time, the only sound in the room being his breathing.
After a while, he stiffly stood up and walked to the office window. Through the smoke curling up from his pipe, his cloudy eyes seemed hard to read.
After the rain, Konoha always appeared especially clean. Dew hung from the eaves, mottled water traces clung like scattered mirrors to every surface—the leaves, the lampposts, the glazed tiles on the walls—all reflecting the village's prosperity together.
Looking outside, Hiruzen thought of many things.
He thought of the hard-earned peace Konoha now enjoyed. He thought of the precarious circumstances that lay hidden beneath that peace, both within and without. He thought of Orochimaru and Jiraiya who had left the village. He thought of Tsunade, drowning herself daily in gambling halls. He thought of the orphan left behind by Minato and Kushina. He thought of that boy from the Hyūga clan, looking at him with eyes full of admiration…
"Hss…"
Hiruzen's chest rose sharply, drawing in a breath of bittersweet air, then slowly exhaled. The ember of his pipe flared, pressing all his tangled emotions deep down into his heart.
"It will be fine."
After a moment of silence, his voice, slightly hoarse, murmured as if speaking only to himself:
"No matter what must be sacrificed… I will protect everything Konoha has so painstakingly gained."
---
Meanwhile, at the edge of Konoha's Training Ground 44—the Forest of Death—sunlight streamed through the leaves, scattering golden flecks across the shoulders of two figures.
"Senpai, strength rises from the ground, power is released through the spine—balancing hardness with softness…"
"Ah-ta!"
The wooden posts before Hyūga Kumokawa and Might Guy were already shattered. Yet it was clear—the one before Kumokawa had burst from within, while the one before Guy bore the brutal marks of sheer pounding fists.
Watching Guy's wild, almost patternless style of smashing through with raw strength, Kumokawa, who had been instructing all morning, found his smile hard to maintain.
"Hah…"
Even Guy, who could usually run laps around Konoha all day without tiring, was now drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Scratching his head with a wry laugh, he said:
"Kumokawa, this improved version of your Gentle Fist is really difficult to learn."
"Senpai has studied Strong Fist for more than ten years. To adjust the body's instincts—it truly does take some effort." Kumokawa shook his head. "Let's stop here for today."
Back in the second round of the Chūnin Exams, during Neji vs. Hinata, Guy and Rock Lee had explained a classification of taijutsu.
Techniques focused on external injury—fracturing bones, causing visible trauma—were called "Strong Fist."
The Hyūga clan's techniques, damaging the opponent's chakra system and internal organs, were "Gentle Fist."
As for Tsunade and the Fourth Raikage's style, combining ninjutsu with taijutsu, those were "Nintaijutsu."
What Kumokawa now attempted was to merge the strengths of Strong Fist and Gentle Fist. One day, upon the foundation of the Eight Gates, he sought to develop a taijutsu system most suited to himself.
"Well then, I'll—"
Before Guy could finish, Kumokawa suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. A chilling, bone-deep sense of dread rose within him.
It came without warning. Terrifying.
In an instant, all his muscles tensed, the veins around his Byakugan bulging.
Nothing unusual.
Nothing unusual at all.
"No… wrong!" Kumokawa's face darkened. "It's the blind spot!"
The Byakugan granted the Hyūga clan near-360° vision. But for branch family members, due to the Caged Bird Seal, there was one weakness: a blind spot of 1° directly behind them, extending from the spine.
At close range, such a blind spot hardly mattered. But if the enemy was at extreme distance…
That single degree would open up into a vast conical sector—a massive blind zone!
Tss!!
Sure enough, almost the instant Kumokawa realized it, an almost imperceptible sound of something tearing through the air reached his ears.
This was assassination. A strike aimed at him. A killing intent sharp enough to freeze his blood.
At this speed, at this distance, it was too late to search for the source or dodge.
Kumokawa's eyes, moments before grim, suddenly became calm. Guided by instinct, he slowly closed them.
"If I cannot see it," he thought, "then I will not rely on sight."
The next moment, an unseen wave spread from within his body, as if Kumokawa had stepped into another world.
All physical senses were shut away.
No wind, no insects, no breathing, no heartbeat…
The world was utterly silent.
It was as if time itself had paused for him.
And then—he saw.
Kumokawa saw behind him—a kunai wrapped in razor-sharp currents of air.
Wind Release: Vacuum Blade.
A Wind Release jutsu combining form and nature transformation, infusing wind chakra into a weapon to create an edge of incredible sharpness and speed.
The assassin had honed this technique to perfection. So fast—even Might Guy hadn't noticed.
Yet, in Kumokawa's heightened perception, the kunai—normally too swift to perceive—seemed to trail an endless line, crawling toward him at a snail's pace.
Kumokawa did not turn his head. He raised his hand, fingers spread like the wings of a crane about to take flight. The joints glimmered faintly in the sunlight with the hardened calluses of countless hours of training.
The kunai's hilt met his palm. The whirling wind blade tore into his flesh—yet as if it had struck an invisible iron wall, it stopped cold in midair.
Kumokawa opened his eyes. His gaze, as calm as falling snow, reflected Guy's taut expression beside him—and, beyond, the fragmented depths of the forest divided by falling leaves.
Whoever you are… to return a strike is only courtesy.
"Then… I'll give it back to you."
He spun and hurled the kunai. The motion was swift as a leaf scattered by the wind, his cloak flaring to reveal his lean waist, his spine taut like a drawn bowstring, unleashing all his strength at once.
In the next instant, the kunai left his hand.
Whnnng!
The screech of air being torn apart exploded beside Guy's ear. Fallen leaves shattered into dust under the force, and the withered foliage carpeting the ground was swept up into a whirling storm.
Almost simultaneously, from the distance came the sound of blade meeting flesh.
Splurt!