Thick fog draped the clearing like a dirty gray blanket, so soupy you could barely see the charred, twisted stumps ten feet out.
Terumi Mei stood dead-center, spine straight, emerald eyes cutting through the mist like laser beams locked on the two holdouts—Honglian and Shiro—hanging back in the treeline.
The kid in the middle? Too slippery to drop clean. Fine. She'd crack the sidekicks first.
Except they didn't charge in like your average rescue clowns. That ice-cold judgment hit her like a gut punch. Trouble.
These three? Freaks, every last one.
Ice Release on the pretty boy. Pink Crystal Release on the girl.
But the real headache? The chill-ass punk in the fog. Sharingan glowing demon-red, Cloud's secret Lightning Chakra Mode crackling like he stole it from the Raikage's safe, chakra deeper than the Mariana Trench, and some freaky insta-kill jutsu she still couldn't read.
Oh, and the face. God-tier cheekbones, jawline sharp enough to shave with. Even Mei—stone-cold vet, seen more corpses than birthdays—caught herself staring a beat too long.
Purely talent appreciation. Zero to do with him being illegally hot.
Kiri was drowning in the Bloody Mist era. Fourth Mizukage Yagura running the village like a slaughterhouse—purges, backstabbing, enemies at every border. Village on life support.
Mei had plans. Big ones. She needed game-changers, wild cards, power. Rope in these three—especially Mystery Uchiha—and boom, leverage.
A tiny smirk tugged her lip. She flicked her wrist. Fog thinned like stage curtains, revealing the war zone: snapped trees, scorched earth, steaming craters. Two minutes of slugfest turned paradise into post-apocalypse.
Even elite jonin couldn't wreck this hard.
Mei's gaze landed on Makoto. Voice dropped back to that lazy, smoky purr—but heavier now. "Time out."
Pause. Eyes scanning. "You three… interesting."
Glance bouncing between Makoto, then the wary duo farther back. "Kiri brass already has your scent. Slip me today? Doesn't matter."
Tone darkened, warning laced with bait. "ANBU hunts forever. Add the Five Great Nations' joint bounty? World's big, but safe spots? Running low."
Testing. Scare easy or stay cocky?
Makoto just cocked a brow, chill as a fridge. Like she'd mentioned rain tomorrow.
Mei leaned in, smile playful but dead serious. "Pledge to me. My wing? You get breathing room. One catch—you obey."
Boss-bitch energy on blast. She could already see them folding.
Makoto grinned. No panic. Just "I know your whole deck" vibes.
"Afraid you got it twisted," he said, calm but every word a gut shot. "You need us. Not the other way."
"What's your offer? Sweet enough, I could love Kiri."
Mei's pupils pinched.
He kept going, scalpel-smooth. "Terumi Mei. Rough patch in the village lately? Dual bloodlines—Melt and Boil Release. Insane talent."
"But under Bloody Mist? Gift or death sentence?"
He let it hang, then: "Oops, word gets out to the higher-ups… wonder how that plays?"
Mei went rigid, killing intent flashing.
"Oh, and your ANBU buddy who 'died in the line of duty'?" Makoto added, casual as hell. "Real cause of death."
"Miss Mei, you wouldn't want those files on Yagura's desk, right?"
Air crackled. Mei's lazy vibe boiled over—literally. Lava and steam churning under her skin.
How the hell does he KNOW?! Never met the kid. Dual bloodlines? Top-secret. Dead teammate? Buried.
Naked. That's how she felt. Stripped bare.
"You—" Hands flying for seals, ready to melt his face off.
"Ninja world's got no secrets from me." Makoto shrugged, lightning exploding around him—chirp chirp chirp like a thousand angry birds. Sharingan spinning slow. "We don't have to fight. But if you want round two? I'm down. Fighting's fun."
Dude was serious. Death? Whatever. Opponent? Bring it. Thrived on the edge.
Mei froze mid-seal. He's not bluffing. He'd enjoy this.
"Kiri's endless hunt?" Makoto laughed. "Come at me, bro. I kill. Can't kill? I bounce. Can't bounce? Big sleep. Whatever."
"Live light, fight dirty."
Mei stared into those black-hole Sharingan. Murder vibe faded, swapped for… respect? Intrigue?
Then she laughed—crystal chimes, full seductress mode back online like the death threat never happened.
"God, you're a pain, kid."
Head shake, real amusement. Ambitious types like her? Love a challenge. And this brat? Peak flavor. Especially the face.
Makoto blinked. "Pain, huh? That mean you're tight… or just narrow?"
Mei paused, then purred, voice dripping sin: "Tight? Narrow? Test it yourself and find out."
"Still got my first kiss on lock, by the way."
Makoto smirked. "Jokes like that? I take literal. I'm pure. Try me, you'll cry hard."
Mei arched a brow—full send, revving for more—when bam. Honglian and Shiro materialized half a step behind him, silent as ghosts.
Mei dialed it back, tone shifting to business. "Save the foreplay. Real talk: within my rules and Kiri's interests, name your terms. We negotiate."
Blink. "Hell, take me if the deal's right."
Makoto's eyes flickered. Quick math: Mei's rising faction = asset. Flying Thunder God = escape hatch. Win-win.
Glanced back. Shiro and Honglian—sweaty, roughed up, but eyes crystal-clear. Your call, boss.
"Deal," he said, crisp.
Road to Kiri? Makoto kept trying to "get cozy." Mei shut him down hard—flirty, but her gut screamed danger if he actually touched her.
Makoto pouted. Why can't people just be real? Less games, more honesty. He's not some succubus-tattooed fuckboy.
Under future-Mizukage protection, they crashed in a hidden outpost outside the village. No way Makoto was strolling into Kiri proper—not yet. Still gotta stack power before tangoing with "Madara" (read: Obito in a mask).
But if Obito pushed? Flying Thunder God straight to Konoha. Drag big bro Itachi, sis-in-law Shisui, then flex new Uchiha clan head status in Kumo—invite Fourth Raikage Ai to the party.
Luxury squad vs. one emo eyeball. Ninja world mafia style.
Out here? It's all about connections and backup. No network? You're just a side chick waiting to get played.
Next six months? Makoto stayed on his grind—love the game, stack the bag.
With Mei's subtle intel drops, "bait ops" went surgical. Targets? Her political enemies' goons, or straight-up irredeemable rogue crews.
Cash + resources and kneecapping rivals? Double tap.
Sometimes Mei "accidentally" fed them gold-tier tips. Wink.
Seasons flipped. Cherry blossoms fell like pink snow on their secret training ground.
Mei rolled through "for progress checks," coaching Shiro and Honglian on bloodline finesse.
Makoto? Obsessed with juicing Lightning Chakra Mode—faster, harder, meaner.