After all, look at Hatake Kakashi in the original timeline. The only reason he had the guts to clash with Kage-level monsters was because he held an S-rank jutsu—Raikiri. That single technique earned him the nickname: "Hatake Fifty-Fifty."
But the truth? Kakashi never fully mastered it. Without the Sharingan to prop him up, Raikiri was half a blade, its true power shackled.
Natsume Yō was different. His Wind Swordsmanship—he could wield it at full force, every cut sharp, every strike precise. His ceiling wasn't just Kakashi's level—it was higher.
"Still, no point dreaming too far ahead." He shook his head, clearing away the ambitious sparks buzzing in his mind. "Right now, what matters most is finishing this side mission. The reward's gotta be solid."
According to the timeline, this was about when a mission should drop. He rubbed his chin, intuition pricking him.
Whistle!
Right on cue. Within minutes, the call came—delivered by falcon.
"A solo assignment, huh? Already sending me out alone? They really think I'll screw it up?" His lips curled into a confident grin. After two missions' worth of blood and experience, he wasn't the green rookie anymore. Unless something wildly unexpected happened, failure wasn't even on the table.
Solo B-rank missions rarely meant clashing with elite-level shinobi. Compared to elite B-ranks, the risk was leagues lower.
Anbu protocols were clean and cold: receive intel, move. Yō collected the mission scroll, then launched into the night.
Target: Land of Fire, central region. Jingkoku-sha. A place of lanterns and wine, steeped in fleeting pleasures.Objective: eliminate one man—Umegawa Jōsuke.
叮!System Notification: Extermination Mission detected!Mission: Kill target Umegawa Jōsuke.Reward: EXP +30, Gold +100!
"So it's an execution order, huh?" Yō smirked as the system text lit his mind. "Not bad. For a solo B, the reward's on the juicy side."
Yet even as he advanced into Jingkoku-sha, a strange twitch gnawed at his chest. His heartbeat felt uneven, like a drum warning of danger.
Far away, inside a lofty pavilion just eight hundred meters off, a burly, bearded man frowned into his cup. The chill crawling up his spine refused to leave.That man—Umegawa Jōsuke, Yō's mark.
"A bearded drunk, huh? Target profile's easy enough." Yō glanced at the dossier, chuckling.
But Jōsuke stepped onto the balcony, lifted his gaze—and froze. He spotted Yō in an instant. The blank mask, the aura. His heart sank."Anbu!"
No hesitation. He bolted.
"Heh. Running the moment you saw me?" Yō laughed coldly. "Shame for you… once Anbu lock on, there's no escape." His figure blurred, hunting down the fleeing man.
—Thirty minutes later. A forest clearing, moonlight dripping through the branches.
"Damn it… don't push me too far!" Jōsuke roared, panting, sweat streaking his dirtied face. "Even a rabbit will bite when cornered!"
He faced Yō, who stood before him calm, smiling faintly, blade at his side.
"You think I'll give you that chance?" Yō's eyes sharpened. His voice dropped into a killing edge.
"Wind Swordsmanship!"
The short blade flashed free of its sheath—air shuddered, sharpness rippled like invisible fangs coiling around his body. Yō surged forward, steel already whispering of death.