Namuki's body collapsed fast.
As the poison flared, his flesh rotted visibly, and within less than a minute, the last trace of life drained from him.
There was no struggle. No resistance.
The moment Hikaru's senjutsu chakra entered Namuki's body, the outcome had already become irreversible.
Hikaru's Sage Mode hadn't come from any of the great holy lands—but that didn't mean his senjutsu chakra was something you could casually control.
Senjutsu chakra was always dangerous.
Otherwise, how could the entire shinobi world count true Sage Mode users on one hand?
And Hikaru's senjutsu chakra carried the same cruel property.
Petrification.
If you let it invade your body without preparation or defense, the end was always ugly.
Namuki was proof of that.
The instant Hikaru's chakra seeped in, Namuki's body locked up—only because Namuki was strong, and because Hikaru's senjutsu was still at an early stage, it hadn't turned into full petrification on the spot.
Which suited Hikaru just fine.
He needed a Namuki who died of poison.
Not a Namuki who died as a stone statue.
"…Why does Sasori's poison look so much like viper venom?"
Hikaru frowned at the corpse.
Namuki's body had already necrosed beyond recognition, and the sight made his stomach twist.
Even after five years in ANBU—after seeing every grotesque way a person could die, and even causing a few of them himself—this still hit a different kind of disgusting.
The way the flesh rotted… it reminded him too strongly of a certain venomous snake from his previous life.
The kind people called a "rotting king."
"…Whatever. Why am I even thinking about this?"
Hikaru shook his head.
Now wasn't the time.
He could already feel three ANBU signatures closing in rapidly.
He had to clean up the "scene" immediately.
He drew a slow breath.
The dark markings around his eyes—along with the faint patterns of Sage Mode—vanished in an instant.
His presence dropped sharply, like a blade being sheathed.
Then he began to adjust his breathing.
With every breath, his posture sagged a fraction.
With every breath, his "condition" worsened.
With every breath, the face beneath his mask "paled."
By the time he finished, he lowered himself into a half-crouch beside Namuki's corpse, gaze turned distant, unfocused—heavy with grief and exhaustion.
In just a few breaths, Hikaru had built the image of a man left hollow and drained by loss.
Acting?
Hikaru had no shortage of it.
If anything, as an ANBU operative, it was mandatory.
In this era, whether you were a war veteran or an ANBU shinobi, you learned early how to wear any expression you needed.
Right as Hikaru finished setting the stage, two silhouettes burst through the trees—
no, three.
They looked wretched.
Their bodies were covered in cuts and bruises. Some were from earlier fighting, others from rocks and branches tearing at them during the retreat.
Clearly, Lizardmaru's battle with Sasori had reached farther than they'd hoped. Even with a detour, they couldn't completely escape the shockwaves.
But they made it.
Only to arrive at the worst possible sight.
When they saw Nightingale crouched beside a corpse whose body had rotted almost beyond human shape, the air around them went heavy.
They all knew Namuki had been poisoned.
They were poisoned too—each of them, to some degree.
And Namuki's arm had been sliced earlier when he shoved a teammate out of the way. None of them had forgotten that.
"What happened?"
One ANBU rushed up, eyes fixed on Namuki's body as if willing it to move.
His teeth clenched hard enough to creak.
"Earlier… earlier he was still holding on. Why—why is he…"
"I don't know."
Hikaru's voice was low, raw, threaded with weakness.
"After we broke away, Captain's condition got worse and worse. And once I summoned Lizardmaru to hold back that monster… Captain couldn't suppress it anymore…"
He spoke evenly, with just enough confusion to sound real.
No hesitation. No cracks.
And as his words sank in, the three ANBU fell silent.
They had all felt it themselves—something inside their bodies had started going wrong not long ago.
Now, it wasn't hard to imagine what had happened.
Their captain's injury had simply been more severe.
His poison burden heavier.
His collapse… faster.
Hikaru watched them from the corner of his eye.
Their breathing. Their posture. The way they avoided looking too long at the corpse.
Good.
They believed him.
As for the inspection waiting back in Konoha…
Hikaru wasn't worried.
With five years of ANBU under his belt, how could he not understand Konoha's interrogation and verification protocols?
He was a transmigrator. He knew the future. He knew the system.
And he knew that dealing with the Yamanaka clan's mind techniques was where most people broke.
Yet in five years, no one had ever found anything.
Outside of mission-related memories, they couldn't see a thing.
Even mission memories were only what Hikaru allowed them to see.
He had been controlling that process from the start.
So no—he didn't fear a Yamanaka examination.
That was one of the reasons he dared to meet the Fourth Hokage in secret…
and one of the reasons he could calmly wait for the Third Hokage's side to come knocking.
It was also the foundation that let him kill Namuki without hesitation and turn the outcome into leverage.
Hikaru didn't even fully understand why it worked.
His mental defenses weren't strong enough to shrug off genjutsu.
But whenever the Yamanaka tried to search his mind, it was like they hit a wall—an empty darkness they couldn't penetrate.
He could choose what they saw.
He could choose what remained hidden.
Whether it was the result of crossing worlds…
or the "system" doing its work…
it didn't matter.
It was useful.
"…So that's how it is."
One of the ANBU let out a long, bitter breath, staring at the ruined corpse.
His voice dropped.
"I understand. You did what you could. Good work, Nightingale."
"Too bad I couldn't bring him back."
Hikaru shook his head, exhaustion and regret layered perfectly into his tone.
He lifted a hand and slowly removed his mask.
The face beneath was pale—bloodless, drained, haunted by loss.
His eyes swept over the three ANBU, and he asked in a calm, subdued voice,
"What do we do now? We don't have much time."
"…Follow ANBU protocol."
The ANBU who seemed to be the point of contact shook his head and patted Hikaru's shoulder.
"Don't take it too hard. Death is normal for us. And the mission isn't a total failure. Put your mask back on—we're moving out."
"…Understood."
Hikaru nodded, and slid the mask back over his face.
And beneath that mask—
his lips curled again, just slightly.
A quiet, satisfied smile.
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