Gary had made a decision.
It was, in retrospect, probably a terrible decision. But Gary had made a lot of terrible decisions in his life—like the time he'd tried to cook a frozen pizza without removing the cardboard, or the time he'd agreed to cat-sit for his neighbor and discovered that the "cat" was actually three cats and one of them was pregnant, or the time he'd walked in front of a taco truck while holding instant ramen.
That last one had really been the worst decision.
But going to Konoha was definitely going to give it competition.
The morning after his encounter with the Sannin, Gary had woken up from a surprisingly comfortable sleep in his mochi cocoon to find a small delegation waiting at the edge of his clearing. Apparently, Tsunade had wasted no time in sending people to "assist" him.
The delegation consisted of four shinobi in standard Konoha gear and one very nervous-looking administrator clutching a scroll like it was a lifeline. They had all taken one look at Gary—all sixteen-plus feet of him, sitting on a throne made of solidified rice cake, looking like the final boss of an extremely difficult video game—and promptly frozen in place.
Gary had waited.
The silence stretched.
One of the shinobi made a small whimpering sound.
Finally, the administrator had stepped forward, his knees visibly shaking, and delivered a formal invitation from the Hokage himself. Would the esteemed Katakuri-sama please consider visiting Konohagakure at his earliest convenience? The village would be honored to host such a distinguished warrior. Accommodations had been prepared. Refreshments would be provided. Please don't kill us.
The administrator hadn't actually said that last part, but Gary's Observation Haki had picked up on it anyway.
Gary had considered refusing. He really had. The smart move was to stay away from the ninja village, avoid entanglements, and figure out his situation from a safe distance.
But his Observation Haki had also picked up on something else—a familiar chakra signature among the delegation. Tsunade wasn't there in person, but her presence lingered on one of the shinobi like perfume. She had touched them recently, probably giving them instructions.
Instructions that almost certainly involved bringing Gary back to Konoha one way or another.
And if Gary was being honest with himself—which he tried to avoid because it was uncomfortable—he was curious. He was in the Naruto world. He had the chance to see Konoha in its prime, during the era when the Third Hokage was still young and powerful, when legends were being born. How could he pass that up?
Besides, if he didn't go to them, they would keep coming to him. And Gary didn't want to accidentally kill any more people with mochi projectiles.
So here he was. Walking toward Konoha. Surrounded by an escort that was desperately trying to pretend they weren't terrified of him.
The journey took about two hours at a pace slow enough for the shinobi to keep up. Gary could have covered the distance in minutes if he'd been alone, but he was trying to project calm, controlled power rather than "absolute monster that moves faster than sound." First impressions were important.
Also, walking gave him time to think.
Okay, Gary thought as trees passed by on either side. Game plan. Be mysterious. Be intimidating. Answer questions vaguely. Don't reveal anything about my origins. Don't accidentally destroy anything. And for the love of God, figure out how to handle Tsunade without making things weird.
That last part was going to be the hardest, he suspected.
The gates of Konoha came into view, and Gary felt his breath catch.
He had seen the village in the anime hundreds of times. He knew what it looked like—the massive walls, the gates with the symbol of the village, the Hokage monument carved into the mountain behind it.
But seeing it in person was different.
The walls were enormous, easily a hundred feet tall, made of some kind of reinforced stone that practically hummed with protective seals. The gates were open, revealing a bustling village beyond—buildings and streets and people going about their daily lives.
And the Hokage monument... in the anime, it had four faces, then five, then eventually six. But here, now, there were only two. The First Hokage and the Second Hokage, their stone visages gazing out over the village they had built.
I'm in the past, Gary thought, the reality of it hitting him fully for the first time. I'm in the actual past. Before Naruto. Before the Kyuubi attack. Before everything.
The weight of that realization settled on his shoulders like a physical burden. He knew things. He knew what was going to happen—the tragedies, the deaths, the wars that were still to come. He knew which of the people he might meet today would die in the future, and how, and why.
Don't think about it, he told himself firmly. You're not here to change history. You're just here to... exist. Quietly. Without causing problems.
He had already killed Hanzo the Salamander by accident. "Without causing problems" might be a bit optimistic.
The escort led him toward the gates, and Gary became aware of the stares.
Everyone was staring at him.
Which, fair. He was sixteen feet tall, covered in tattoos and muscles, dressed like the villain of a very stylish anime, and walking through a village of normal-sized humans. Of course they were staring.
But some of the stares felt different. Heavier. More intense.
His Observation Haki picked up on whispers as he passed.
"—killed Hanzo—"
"—single attack—"
"—from miles away—"
"—Tsunade-sama said—"
My reputation is already spreading, Gary realized. It's been less than twenty-four hours and people are already talking about me.
This could be a problem. Or an opportunity. Gary wasn't sure which yet.
The escort led him through the village, along streets that had been subtly cleared of traffic. Gary noticed ANBU on the rooftops, watching him with the careful attention of trained killers. He counted at least twelve, probably more.
They're scared of me, he realized. They're trying not to show it, but they're terrified. I killed someone they couldn't touch. They don't know what I am or what I want.
Good. Fear was useful. Fear meant they would be careful around him, cautious. Fear meant they wouldn't try to manipulate or control him.
Probably.
The Hokage's office was in a large building near the center of the village, topped by the kanji for "fire." Gary had to duck significantly to enter the building, and even then his head brushed against doorframes. The interior corridors were not designed for someone of his stature.
Add "architectural limitations" to the list of things I need to deal with, Gary thought as he squeezed through a doorway that had clearly been designed for much smaller beings.
The Hokage's office itself was larger, thankfully. Large enough that Gary could stand at his full height without hitting the ceiling, though it was a near thing.
And there, behind a desk covered in paperwork, sat Hiruzen Sarutobi. The Third Hokage. The Professor. The God of Shinobi.
He looked... younger than Gary had expected. In the anime, Hiruzen had always been an old man, weathered and tired. But here, now, he was in his prime—probably in his thirties, with sharp eyes and an aura of quiet power that Gary's Observation Haki registered as genuinely dangerous.
Not dangerous enough to threaten Gary, probably. But dangerous nonetheless.
"Katakuri-san," Hiruzen said, rising from his chair. His voice was calm, measured, giving nothing away. "Welcome to Konohagakure. I am Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage."
Gary inclined his head slightly. A small gesture of acknowledgment, nothing more.
"Thank you for accepting our invitation," Hiruzen continued. "I apologize for the accommodations—I'm afraid our buildings were not designed with someone of your stature in mind."
"I will manage," Gary said. His voice came out deep and resonant, filling the room.
Hiruzen's eyes flickered—a brief moment of reassessment. Gary's Observation Haki caught it. The Hokage was evaluating him, trying to read him, and finding very little to work with.
Good.
"Please, sit," Hiruzen said, gesturing to a chair that was obviously too small for Gary. "Or if you prefer, we can speak standing."
Gary created a mochi throne with a casual wave of his hand, letting it materialize from his palm in a swirl of pink. He sat down, crossing his arms over his chest.
Hiruzen's eyes widened fractionally. Gary's Observation Haki caught a spike of surprise, quickly suppressed.
"A remarkable ability," the Hokage said. "I've never seen anything like it."
"No," Gary agreed. "You haven't."
Silence stretched between them. Gary waited. Katakuri would wait. Katakuri never rushed conversations.
Hiruzen seemed to recognize this. He settled back into his own chair, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.
"I'll be direct," the Hokage said. "You killed Hanzo the Salamander. In doing so, you've changed the course of this war. Amegakure is in chaos without its leader. Peace negotiations that would have taken months or years are now progressing rapidly. You've saved countless lives on both sides of the conflict."
Gary said nothing. He hadn't intended to do any of that. He'd been testing his powers and had accidentally committed assassination.
"Konoha owes you a debt," Hiruzen continued. "A significant one. I've called you here to discuss how we might repay it."
They want to recruit me, Gary realized. Or at least get me on their side. A being that can kill Hanzo with a casual attack is too valuable to let slip away.
"I have no interest in your wars," Gary said. "Or your politics. I was merely passing through this region. Hanzo's death was incidental."
"So I've heard." Hiruzen's expression didn't change, but Gary caught a flicker of something—disbelief? Amusement? "You killed one of the strongest shinobi in history 'incidentally.' You'll forgive me if I find that difficult to accept."
"Accept what you wish. It changes nothing."
Hiruzen studied him for a long moment. Gary felt the weight of that gaze, the calculation behind it. The Hokage was trying to figure him out, to find an angle, to understand what he wanted.
The truth was, Gary didn't know what he wanted. He was a data entry clerk in the body of an anime character, dropped into a different anime's world during a war he barely remembered the details of. He was making this up as he went along.
But Hiruzen didn't need to know that.
"Very well," the Hokage said finally. "If you have no interest in political entanglements, I won't press. But I hope you'll at least allow us to show you hospitality during your stay. A tour of the village, perhaps. Accommodations for as long as you wish to remain."
"I will consider it."
"That's all I ask." Hiruzen paused. "There is one other matter I should mention. Several of my shinobi have expressed interest in meeting you. Learning from you, if you're willing. Your abilities are unlike anything in our records. Even a demonstration would be invaluable to our understanding."
They want to study me, Gary translated. Figure out how my powers work. See if they can replicate or counter them.
He couldn't blame them. If he were in Hiruzen's position, he would want the same thing.
"I may demonstrate," Gary said vaguely. "If the mood strikes me."
"Of course. At your convenience." Hiruzen rose from his chair. "Shall I have someone show you to your accommodations? I've had a building cleared for your use—one of our larger warehouses, modified for comfort. I'm afraid it's the best we can offer on short notice."
A warehouse, Gary thought. They're putting me in a warehouse. Which is actually probably the only thing in this village big enough to fit me.
"That will be acceptable."
"Excellent. I'll have—"
The door burst open.
Gary's Observation Haki had sensed her coming, of course. He'd felt her chakra signature approaching from the moment he'd entered the building—bright and warm and focused directly on him like a spotlight. He'd been hoping she would wait until after his meeting with the Hokage to make her entrance.
He should have known better.
Tsunade Senju swept into the room like she owned it. Which, technically, she kind of did—the Senju clan had founded this village, after all.
She had cleaned up significantly since their last meeting. Her blonde hair was styled perfectly, cascading down her back like spun gold. Her clothes were clean and pressed, and she was wearing what Gary suspected was her "nice" outfit—fitted and flattering and designed to emphasize her figure.
And what a figure it was.
Gary had seen Tsunade in the anime plenty of times. He knew she was attractive—everyone knew she was attractive, it was one of her defining characteristics. But the anime hadn't prepared him for the reality of her presence.
She was beautiful. Stunningly, distractingly beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made people walk into walls.
And she was looking at him with those bedroom eyes again.
Oh no.
"Katakuri-san!" Tsunade said brightly, completely ignoring the Hokage. "I heard you'd arrived. I wanted to personally welcome you to Konoha."
"Tsunade," Hiruzen said, his voice tinged with resignation. "We were in the middle of a meeting."
"It looked like you were wrapping up." Tsunade waved a dismissive hand. "I'm sure Katakuri-san doesn't want to spend all day cooped up in an office. He needs a proper tour. The village, the training grounds, the hot springs—"
"I don't believe hot springs are appropriate for—"
"Nonsense. Everyone likes hot springs." Tsunade turned back to Gary, and there it was again—that look. That heated, intense, thoroughly inappropriate look. "Don't you, Katakuri-san?"
Gary's brain was not working properly. It was difficult to think when a beautiful woman was looking at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world.
Say something. Katakuri would say something. Something cool and mysterious and—
"I have no opinion on hot springs."
Nailed it. Very mysterious. Very cool. Definitely not the verbal equivalent of tripping over your own feet.
"Well, we'll have to change that." Tsunade's smile widened. "Come on. I'll show you around."
She reached out and grabbed his arm.
Or tried to, anyway. His arm was roughly the size of her entire torso. She ended up sort of wrapping herself around his forearm, pressing against him with her whole body, and—
Why is she pressing her chest against my arm? Is that intentional? That has to be intentional. She's pressing her chest against my arm ON PURPOSE.
Gary's Observation Haki confirmed what he already suspected. Tsunade's emotions were a roiling mix of interest, curiosity, and something that could only be described as desire. She was attracted to him. Very attracted. And she was making absolutely no effort to hide it.
Why is this happening? I'm a mochi man. I'm not even human. Why is she—
"Tsunade," Hiruzen said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Perhaps you could give Katakuri-san some space."
"He doesn't mind." Tsunade looked up at Gary, her eyes wide and innocent. "Do you, Katakuri-san?"
Gary's brain continued to malfunction.
In his previous life, Gary Henderson had not been what anyone would call "experienced" with women. He'd had a few girlfriends, mostly brief relationships that fizzled out due to his complete lack of interesting qualities. He'd never been pursued. He'd never been the object of anyone's focused romantic attention.
And now Tsunade Senju—legendary kunoichi, future Hokage, one of the most beautiful women in anime history—was literally pressing her breasts against his arm and looking at him like she wanted to eat him alive.
This is a lot. This is too much. I did not sign up for this when I got hit by that taco truck.
"I am... indifferent," Gary managed.
"See?" Tsunade shot Hiruzen a triumphant look. "He's indifferent. That means I can stay."
"That is not what that means."
"It's close enough."
Hiruzen sighed, the sound of a man who had dealt with Tsunade's stubbornness for years and knew when he was beaten.
"Fine," the Hokage said. "Give Katakuri-san a tour. But Tsunade—"
"Yes?"
"Try to be professional."
"I'm always professional."
Gary's Observation Haki confirmed that this was a blatant lie.
Tsunade led Gary out of the Hokage's office, still clinging to his arm like she was afraid he would disappear if she let go. Gary allowed himself to be led, mostly because he had no idea how to extricate himself from the situation without making it awkward.
It was already awkward. It was so awkward that Gary wanted to sink into the floor and never emerge.
The streets of Konoha parted before them like the Red Sea before Moses. People stared. Of course they stared—a sixteen-foot-tall monster man and one of the village's most famous kunoichi walking together was not an everyday sight.
Gary caught whispers as they passed.
"—Tsunade-sama is—"
"—look at the size of him—"
"—killed Hanzo—"
"—are they together?"
We are not together, Gary thought desperately. We just met yesterday. I accidentally saved her life by murdering someone. This is not a relationship. This is a hostage situation and I'm the hostage.
"So," Tsunade said conversationally, still pressed against his arm. "Tell me about yourself, Katakuri-san."
"There is nothing to tell."
"I don't believe that. A man like you must have stories. Adventures. A mysterious past full of danger and intrigue."
My past consists of entering numbers into spreadsheets and dying to a taco truck. The most dangerous thing I ever did was eat gas station sushi.
"I prefer not to speak of my past."
"Ooh, mysterious. I like it." Tsunade's grip tightened on his arm. "What about your abilities? I've never seen anything like what you did to Hanzo. That projectile—it was like nothing in our records. And the way you made that chair in the Hokage's office..."
"My abilities are my own."
"But where do they come from? Are they kekkei genkai? Some kind of specialized ninjutsu? A summoning technique?"
They come from a completely different anime. A world where people eat magic fruits and gain superpowers. A world that has nothing to do with chakra or ninjas or any of this.
"They are simply a part of me."
Tsunade pouted. It should not have been as attractive as it was.
"You're not going to tell me anything, are you?"
"No."
"That's okay. I like a challenge." She pressed closer, and Gary felt her chest squish against his arm in a way that was definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent intentional. "I'm very good at getting what I want, Katakuri-san."
I'm going to die. Not from combat. From this. From whatever this is.
They continued through the village, Tsunade pointing out landmarks and important buildings while maintaining constant physical contact with Gary's arm. She showed him the Academy, where young shinobi trained. The hospital, which she mentioned she helped found. The Senju compound, which was mostly empty now but still maintained out of respect for the clan's legacy.
Through it all, Gary maintained his stoic facade. He nodded when appropriate. He gave monosyllabic responses. He pretended that having a beautiful woman plastered against his side was completely normal and not at all affecting him.
He was not succeeding.
His Observation Haki was constantly feeding him information about Tsunade's emotional state—her interest, her attraction, her determination. She was treating this like a mission, he realized. A mission to get him to open up. To let his guard down.
She's seducing me, Gary thought with dawning horror. This is a seduction attempt. She's using her looks and her personality to try to manipulate me.
The realization should have made him more guarded. Instead, it just made him confused.
Why? What does she want? What's her endgame here?
His Observation Haki didn't give him answers, only data. Tsunade wanted him. That much was clear. But whether she wanted him for political reasons, personal reasons, or something else entirely, Gary couldn't tell.
"And this," Tsunade said, stopping in front of a large open field, "is Training Ground Seven. One of our largest training areas. Normally it's reserved for jonin-level exercises, but I pulled some strings to get it cleared for us."
Gary looked at the training ground. It was impressive by normal standards—about the size of two football fields, with targets and obstacle courses set up around the perimeter. Various terrain features had been built into the landscape, including a small lake and a rocky outcropping.
For Gary, it was almost comically undersized.
"You mentioned you were 'testing your abilities' when you encountered Hanzo," Tsunade said, finally releasing his arm. (Gary did not feel a sense of loss at this. He did not.) "Would you be willing to demonstrate some of them here? The Hokage would appreciate it, and I admit I'm curious myself."
She wants to see what I can do, Gary thought. Evaluate my threat level. Report back to the Hokage.
But there was something else in her expression too. Genuine curiosity. Maybe even excitement.
She's not just doing this for the village. She actually wants to see.
Gary considered. Demonstrating his abilities meant giving them information they could potentially use against him. It meant revealing his capabilities to potential enemies.
But on the other hand... he was pretty sure nothing in this world could actually threaten him. And a demonstration of power might reinforce the fear that was keeping people cautious around him. Show them exactly why they should be afraid.
"Very well," Gary said.
He stepped into the training ground, Tsunade trailing behind him at what she probably thought was a safe distance. (It wasn't. There was no safe distance from Gary's abilities.)
Gary considered what to demonstrate first. He needed something impressive but controlled. Something that would show his power without causing catastrophic damage.
He started with the basics.
Gary extended his arm, and mochi flowed from his palm—a river of pink, sticky substance that coated the ground in a ten-foot radius. He willed it to harden, and it did, creating a platform of solid mochi beneath his feet.
Tsunade's eyes widened. "You can create terrain?"
Gary didn't answer. He was just getting started.
He willed the mochi to move. The platform rippled like water, waves rolling across its surface. Then it began to expand, spreading across the training ground, coating the grass and the dirt and the rocks in a thin layer of pink.
"The ground," Tsunade breathed. "You're covering the entire—"
Gary raised his hand, and the mochi-coated ground rose up in a wave. Twenty feet high. Thirty. Fifty. A wall of solid mochi, shaped by nothing but his will.
He let it crash down, reshaping it as it fell—not into a wall, but into a forest of pillars, a maze of mochi structures that covered half the training ground.
Tsunade was staring with her mouth open. Gary took a moment to appreciate that—a legendary kunoichi, rendered speechless by his power.
Okay, maybe I'm enjoying this a little, he admitted to himself.
He wasn't done.
Gary created a donut in his palm—not a small one, but a ring of mochi about three feet in diameter. He threw it into the air, where it hung suspended, spinning slowly.
Then he punched through it.
His fist entered the portal and emerged from a second donut that had appeared across the training ground, slamming into one of the mochi pillars with enough force to shatter it.
Tsunade made a sound that Gary's Observation Haki identified as "aroused."
Oh no.
He should stop. He should definitely stop. But something had gotten into him—maybe the thrill of having an audience, maybe the joy of finally being able to show off powers he'd only dreamed of in his previous life.
Gary created a cannonball of mochi, smaller than the one that had killed Hanzo but still impressive. He superheated it until it glowed white-hot, then coated it in Armament Haki until it turned black and gleaming.
He threw it at the rocky outcropping across the training ground.
The explosion was spectacular. The rock didn't just shatter—it vaporized. A crater appeared where the outcropping had been, smoking and steaming, at least twenty feet deep.
Gary turned to Tsunade, who was staring at the crater with an expression of pure, undiluted want.
Definitely aroused. Very aroused. Why is destruction arousing to her? Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know.
"Is that sufficient?" Gary asked.
Tsunade blinked, seeming to come back to herself. "That was... that was..."
She didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she walked toward him—strode, really, with purpose and determination—and stopped directly in front of him.
Then she reached up, grabbed his vest, and pulled.
Gary, caught off guard, bent down slightly.
Tsunade pressed her chest against his torso.
"I need to examine you," she said, her voice husky. "For medical purposes. To understand your physiology."
"I—what—"
"You're clearly not human. At least, not entirely. Those abilities, that body—" She pressed closer, and Gary felt things that he was definitely not supposed to be feeling. "—I need to understand how it works. For science."
This is not science. This is the opposite of science. This is—
"Tsunade-hime."
The voice came from behind them. Gary's Observation Haki had detected the approach, but he'd been too distracted to process it properly.
Jiraiya stood at the edge of the training ground, his expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. Behind him, Gary could see several other figures—shinobi who had probably been attracted by the explosions. And lurking in the shadows, barely visible, a pale face with golden eyes.
Orochimaru.
"Jiraiya," Tsunade said, not releasing her grip on Gary's vest. "What do you want?"
"I want you to stop sexually harassing our guest." Jiraiya crossed his arms. "You're representing the village, Tsunade. Try to act like it."
"I'm not harassing anyone. I'm conducting a medical examination."
"You're pressing your breasts against his chest."
"It's a very thorough examination."
Gary was frozen. He didn't know what to do. In his previous life, he would have gently extricated himself from the situation and fled. But Katakuri wouldn't flee. Katakuri was unflappable. Katakuri—
Katakuri had never dealt with anything like this.
"Perhaps," Gary said, his voice slightly strained, "we could continue this examination at a later time."
Tsunade looked up at him, and Gary saw something in her eyes—a flash of calculation beneath the desire. She was playing a game, he realized. Testing him. Seeing how he would react.
She's not just attracted to me. She's trying to figure me out. And she's using attraction as a tool.
The realization was both reassuring and alarming. Reassuring because it meant Tsunade wasn't completely out of control. Alarming because it meant she was much more dangerous than she appeared.
"Of course," Tsunade said, finally releasing his vest. "Later, then. I'll hold you to that, Katakuri-san."
She stepped back, and Gary felt like he could breathe again.
Jiraiya approached, shaking his head. "I apologize for my teammate. She can be... intense."
"I noticed."
"I'm not intense," Tsunade protested. "I'm passionate. There's a difference."
"The difference is whether or not you get arrested," Jiraiya muttered.
Gary's attention was drawn to Orochimaru, who was still lurking at the edge of the training ground. The snake sannin wasn't approaching, just watching, those golden eyes fixed on Gary with unsettling intensity.
His Observation Haki read Orochimaru's emotional state: curiosity, fascination, hunger. Not romantic hunger—something else. The hunger of a scientist confronted with an unknown specimen.
He wants to study me, Gary thought. Take me apart and see how I work.
That was concerning. Orochimaru in canon became one of the most dangerous criminals in shinobi history, and his methods were anything but ethical. Gary had no intention of becoming an experiment.
But Orochimaru wasn't approaching. Wasn't making demands. He was just... watching.
He's gathering information, Gary realized. Observing my abilities. Waiting for an opportunity.
Gary filed that away as a potential future problem and turned his attention back to Jiraiya.
"The demonstration was impressive," Jiraiya said. "I've never seen abilities like yours. The way you control that... substance... it's incredible."
"Thank you."
"But I have to ask—what are your intentions? You've helped Konoha, whether you meant to or not. Hanzo's death has changed everything. But we don't know anything about you. Where you come from. What you want."
Gary considered the question. It was a fair one. From Konoha's perspective, he was a complete unknown—a being of immense power who had appeared out of nowhere and killed their most dangerous enemy almost as an afterthought.
They had every right to be suspicious.
But Gary couldn't tell them the truth. He couldn't say, "I'm a data entry clerk from another world who died to a taco truck and woke up in the body of a character from a different anime." That would be stupid. That would be the kind of thing that got you locked up for psychological evaluation.
Keep it vague. Keep it mysterious. Let them fill in the blanks.
"I wander," Gary said. "I fight when I choose. I rest when I choose. I have no home, no allegiance, no goal beyond my own satisfaction."
It was the most Katakuri thing he could have said. And it was, technically, true. He had no home in this world. He had no allegiance. And his goal was survival, which was definitely a form of personal satisfaction.
Jiraiya studied him for a long moment. "You're a strange man, Katakuri-san."
"Yes."
"But I believe you're not our enemy. Whatever your reasons, you helped us. And that counts for something."
Jiraiya extended his hand. It took Gary a moment to realize what was expected—then he carefully took the hand in his own massive grip and shook it gently. He could have crushed every bone in Jiraiya's hand without effort, but Katakuri was always precise.
"If you ever need anything," Jiraiya said, "Konoha will remember what you did for us."
Gary nodded. It was, he supposed, a start.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Gary was led to his "accommodations"—a warehouse that had been hastily modified with furniture sized for a giant. The bed was actually three beds pushed together and reinforced. The chairs were cargo containers turned on their sides. The bathroom was... well, Gary didn't want to think about the bathroom.
He was brought food, though he didn't need it. He could create mochi whenever he wanted, and mochi was apparently sufficient to sustain him. But he accepted the meals anyway, not wanting to reveal more about his abilities than necessary.
Visitors came and went. Shinobi who wanted to see the man who had killed Hanzo. Officials who wanted to discuss "future cooperation." And Tsunade, who found excuses to stop by approximately every forty-five minutes.
"I brought you tea," she said on her third visit, holding up a pot that looked comically small compared to him.
"I don't need tea."
"Everyone needs tea. It's good for you."
She set the pot down and, somehow, ended up pressed against his side again. Gary had no idea how she kept doing that. It was like she had a magnetism that specifically targeted his personal space.
"You're very tense," Tsunade observed, running a hand along his arm. "Your muscles are incredibly developed. Have you always been this... large?"
I was five foot nine and had the muscle tone of a wet noodle. I died holding instant ramen.
"Yes," Gary said.
"Fascinating. The structural requirements alone—your skeleton must be incredibly dense to support this mass. And your cardiovascular system—"
"Is there a point to this?"
Tsunade smiled up at him, and it was not an innocent smile. "I told you. Medical examination. For science."
"You seem very interested in science."
"I'm very interested in a lot of things."
She pressed closer. Gary felt his brain short-circuit again.
Why does she keep doing this? What does she want? Is this normal behavior for kunoichi? Is this a cultural thing I'm not understanding?
His Observation Haki provided no answers, only confirmation that Tsunade was enjoying herself immensely and had no intention of stopping.
"I should rest," Gary said, somewhat desperately.
"Of course. You've had a long day." Tsunade finally stepped back, but her eyes remained fixed on him with that unsettling intensity. "I'll check on you in the morning. Make sure you're... comfortable."
She left, and Gary collapsed onto his makeshift bed, staring at the ceiling.
What is happening to my life?
He was a data entry clerk. He entered numbers into spreadsheets. He was not equipped to handle legendary kunoichi with boundary issues.
But he was Katakuri now. And Katakuri could handle anything.
Probably.
Maybe.
Gary groaned and covered his face with his hands.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would establish some boundaries. He would make it clear that he was not interested in "medical examinations" or "scientific studies" or whatever Tsunade was calling her aggressive flirtation.
He was mysterious. He was powerful. He was the man who had killed Hanzo the Salamander.
He could definitely handle one determined woman.
Right?
The night passed. Gary did not sleep well.
His dreams were filled with fragmented images—futures that might or might not come to pass. He saw war. He saw peace. He saw faces he didn't recognize and places he'd never been. And through it all, a pair of honey-colored eyes watched him with an intensity that made his soul itch.
When morning came, Gary was exhausted and confused and absolutely certain that today was going to be even worse than yesterday.
He was right.
The knock on his warehouse door came at dawn. Gary was already awake—his Observation Haki had sensed the approaching presence before they'd even reached the building.
"Come in," he called.
The door opened, and Tsunade entered.
She was dressed differently today. Her outfit was more... practical. Combat-ready. And she was carrying a bag that clanked with what sounded like medical equipment.
"Good morning, Katakuri-san," she said brightly. "I thought we could continue our examination from yesterday."
It is dawn. The sun has been up for ten minutes. Why is she here at dawn?
"I believe I said later."
"It's later. It's the next day." Tsunade set down her bag and began pulling out instruments. "Now, if you could just remove your vest—"
"No."
Tsunade pouted. It continued to be unreasonably attractive.
"I'm a medical professional. I've seen plenty of bodies."
"You have not seen this body."
"That's rather the point of the examination."
Gary stood up, forcing Tsunade to crane her neck to look at him. He drew himself to his full height, letting his presence fill the room.
"I am not a specimen," he said, his voice cold. "I am not a curiosity. I am Katakuri. And I do not submit to examinations."
Tsunade's eyes widened slightly. For a moment, Gary saw something flicker in her expression—uncertainty, perhaps. Or reconsideration.
Then she smiled.
"You're right," she said. "I apologize. I've been too forward."
Gary blinked. That was... unexpected.
"You're a guest in our village," Tsunade continued. "I should treat you with more respect. I got excited—your abilities are unlike anything I've ever seen, and I let my scientific curiosity get the better of me."
Is this... is she actually backing off?
Gary's Observation Haki detected sincerity in her words, but also something else. A subtle undercurrent of... amusement? Satisfaction?
She's not giving up. She's changing tactics.
"Allow me to make it up to you," Tsunade said. "There's a training ground—a private one, away from prying eyes. If you'd like to test your abilities further, I could take you there. No examinations. No medical equipment. Just... observation."
Gary considered. It was obviously a trap of some kind. Tsunade wanted something from him—his cooperation, his trust, maybe just his presence. But he couldn't figure out her endgame.
And if he was being honest, the idea of testing his abilities in a less restrictive environment was appealing. Yesterday's demonstration had been careful, controlled. He wanted to see what he could really do.
"Very well," he said.
Tsunade's smile widened. "Excellent. Follow me."
She led him out of the village through a back gate that required her personal authorization to open. The guards stared as they passed—the legendary Tsunade Senju and the mysterious giant who had killed Hanzo—but said nothing.
The "private training ground" was about two miles outside the village, in a valley that had been carved out by some ancient geological event. The walls were steep and high, providing natural containment, and the floor was barren rock—nothing to accidentally destroy.
"This is where the Hokage trains when he wants privacy," Tsunade explained. "The walls are reinforced with seals. Anything you do in here won't affect the surrounding area."
Gary looked around, evaluating. The space was impressive—about a mile across, with plenty of room to move. Better than yesterday's training ground.
"Good," he said.
He stepped into the center of the valley and began to stretch. Not because he needed to—his mochi body didn't cramp or strain—but because it felt right. A ritual before combat, even if this was only practice.
Tsunade settled against one of the valley walls, arms crossed, watching him with undisguised interest.
Gary ignored her.
He started with speed.
Katakuri, in canon, was fast. Not quite as fast as the very top tier, but fast enough to keep up with Luffy in Gear Fourth. Gary wanted to know if he could match that.
He moved.
The world blurred around him. One moment he was standing in the center of the valley; the next, he was at the far wall, nearly a mile away. The transition took less than a second.
Gary looked back at where he'd been standing. A crater marked the spot—the force of his acceleration had shattered the rock beneath his feet.
Okay. So I'm fast. Very fast.
He moved again, pushing harder this time. The air screamed around him. He crossed the valley twice in the time it took to blink.
When he stopped, he could see Tsunade staring at him with her mouth open.
Still got it.
Next, he tested his mochi on a larger scale.
Gary spread his hands, and mochi flowed from his palms—not a trickle, but a flood. It poured across the valley floor, covering the rock in a layer of pink that spread outward like a living thing.
He willed it to rise.
Pillars erupted from the ground. Walls. Towers. An entire cityscape of mochi, growing and shaping according to his will. He created spires that touched the top of the valley walls. He created bridges that spanned the empty air. He created a palace of pink that would have made architects weep with envy.
Then he unmade it all, watching as the structures collapsed back into formless mochi and were reabsorbed into his body.
The limits of creation. I can make anything I can imagine, as much as I want, for as long as I focus. But it requires concentration. If I'm distracted, if I lose focus...
He filed that information away. A potential weakness.
Next: destructive power.
Gary created a cannonball—the largest one yet, nearly ten feet in diameter. He superheated it until the rock beneath his feet began to glow, then coated it in the deepest Armament Haki he could manage.
He threw it at the far wall of the valley.
The explosion was... substantial.
The wall, reinforced with seals or not, cracked. A section of it collapsed entirely, sending tons of rock sliding into the valley. The shockwave knocked Tsunade off her feet—Gary caught her with a tendril of mochi before she could hit the ground, setting her gently upright.
She stared at him with an expression he couldn't read.
Okay, maybe I overdid it a little.
"That..." Tsunade's voice was hoarse. "That was equivalent to... I don't even know. High S-rank, at minimum. Maybe beyond."
Gary shrugged. "I was not aiming for maximum power."
Tsunade made a sound that was definitely not appropriate for polite company.
Why does destruction turn her on? Seriously, what is wrong with—actually, no, I don't want to know. I really don't want to know.
He continued testing, moving through his repertoire of abilities. Portal punches. Ground manipulation. Mochi clones. Haki infusion. Each demonstration pushed his limits a little further, showed him a little more about what he could do.
And through it all, Tsunade watched.
She didn't interrupt. She didn't ask questions. She just... watched. Her eyes followed his every movement with the intensity of a hawk tracking prey.
It was, Gary admitted, a little flattering.
Finally, he decided to test his Conqueror's Haki. Not at full power—that would be idiotic—but enough to see how it affected this world.
He reached into himself, found that wellspring of spiritual pressure, and released a controlled burst.
The valley shook. Rocks cracked. The air itself seemed to grow heavy.
Tsunade dropped to one knee, her face pale, sweat beading on her forehead.
Gary immediately suppressed the Haki, rushing to her side.
"Are you injured?"
Tsunade looked up at him, and despite her obvious distress, she was smiling.
"That," she breathed, "was the most incredible thing I've ever felt."
"I—what?"
"That pressure. That power. It was like the whole world was telling me to kneel." She laughed, shakily. "I've faced Hanzo. I've faced enemy jonin. I've stared death in the face a dozen times. But I've never felt anything like that."
She's not scared. She's excited. Why is she excited?
Gary's Observation Haki confirmed it. Tsunade wasn't afraid. She was exhilarated. The brush with his Conqueror's Haki had affected her, yes, but not in the way he'd expected.
It had, for lack of a better term, impressed her.
"You are..." Tsunade stood, slowly, her legs still unsteady. "You are something else, Katakuri-san. Something entirely new."
"I am simply myself."
"And what a self it is." She stepped closer—right into his personal space, close enough that he could smell her shampoo—and placed a hand on his chest. "Thank you. For showing me."
Gary froze. Her hand was warm through his vest, and she was looking up at him with those eyes, and her chest was very close to pressing against him again, and—
"I should return to the village," he said quickly.
"Of course." Tsunade stepped back, but her smile didn't fade. "I'll escort you."
The walk back was silent, but not uncomfortable. Tsunade seemed content to simply walk beside him, her earlier aggressive flirtation replaced by something more contemplative.
Gary used the time to think.
He had revealed a lot today. His speed. His creation abilities. His destructive power. His Conqueror's Haki. Any competent analyst could use that information to start building a profile on him.
But he had also learned something important: his power was overwhelming by this world's standards. Nothing he'd seen suggested that anyone in the Naruto world could actually threaten him. He was, for all practical purposes, invincible.
That was both reassuring and boring.
What am I supposed to do with all this power? he wondered. I didn't ask for this. I was a data entry clerk. I entered numbers into spreadsheets. Now I'm a walking natural disaster in a world of ninjas.
What's the point?
He didn't have an answer.
They reached the village gates, and Gary was immediately aware that something had changed.
More people were watching him. The whispers were louder. And his Observation Haki detected a significant increase in emotional intensity from the villagers—fear, yes, but also awe. Respect.
Word has spread, he realized. About yesterday. About what I can do.
The demonstration had been witnessed by more people than just Tsunade. The shinobi who had gathered at the training ground, the ANBU who had certainly been watching—they had all seen him crater a rock formation with a casual throw.
And they had talked.
"Your reputation is growing," Tsunade observed. "By tomorrow, everyone in Fire Country will know your name. By next week, the whole continent."
Gary wasn't sure how he felt about that.
On one hand, reputation was useful. A strong enough reputation could prevent conflicts before they started. If everyone believed he was invincible, no one would challenge him.
On the other hand, reputation attracted attention. And attention attracted trouble.
"I did not ask for reputation," Gary said.
"Heroes rarely do." Tsunade smiled. "But you have it now. What you do with it is up to you."
I'm not a hero. I'm a data entry clerk who got hit by a taco truck.
But he couldn't say that.
So he said nothing at all.
That evening, Gary had three more visitors.
The first was Jiraiya, who came bearing sake and apologies.
"I heard about this morning," the white-haired man said, settling onto a cargo container that served as seating. "Tsunade can be... a lot. I wanted to make sure she hadn't scared you off."
"I am not easily scared."
"No, I don't imagine you are." Jiraiya poured two cups of sake—one normal-sized, one that he'd apparently brought specifically for Gary. It looked like a small bucket. "But I also wanted to talk. Man to man."
Gary accepted the sake but didn't drink. He wasn't sure if alcohol would affect his mochi body, and he didn't want to find out in front of an audience.
"Speak."
Jiraiya took a long drink from his cup, then sighed.
"You're dangerous," he said. "More dangerous than anyone I've ever met. And that includes Hanzo, and the Hokage, and pretty much every other monster I've encountered in this war."
Gary said nothing.
"But you're also... weird." Jiraiya frowned, as if searching for the right words. "You don't act like someone with your power should act. You're not arrogant. You're not aggressive. You're just... there. Existing. Like you don't know what to do with yourself."
Uncomfortably accurate, Gary thought.
"I've seen a lot of powerful people," Jiraiya continued. "They all want something. Power, wealth, revenge, peace—everyone has a goal. But you? I can't figure out what you want."
"Perhaps I want nothing."
"Nobody wants nothing. That's not how people work."
Gary considered. Jiraiya was right, in a sense. Even in his previous life—his boring, mediocre previous life—Gary had wanted things. Comfort. Stability. For Karen in accounting to stop sending him passive-aggressive emails.
But here, now, as Katakuri? What did he want?
To survive, he thought. To understand this world. To figure out what I'm supposed to do.
To maybe, possibly, find some kind of meaning in all this.
He couldn't say any of that.
"I want to be left alone," Gary said instead. "To live as I choose, without interference."
Jiraiya studied him for a long moment. "That's a lonely way to live."
"Perhaps."
"Well." Jiraiya stood, finishing his sake. "If you ever change your mind—if you ever want company, or purpose, or just someone to drink with—Konoha will be here. We owe you that much."
He left, and Gary was alone with his thoughts.
The second visitor was Orochimaru.
Gary had sensed him coming long before he arrived—that distinctive chakra signature, cold and slithering, approaching the warehouse with careful deliberation. The snake sannin had been waiting, Gary realized. Waiting for Jiraiya to leave. Waiting for Gary to be alone.
"May I enter?" Orochimaru asked from the doorway, his voice smooth and polite.
Gary could have said no. Probably should have said no. But curiosity got the better of him.
"You may."
Orochimaru entered, his golden eyes sweeping the warehouse with analytical precision. He was cataloging everything, Gary realized. The layout. The furniture. The exits.
He's always calculating. Always planning. Even this conversation is data for him.
"An interesting day," Orochimaru said, settling into a seat across from Gary. "I observed your demonstration at the training ground. Impressive work."
"You were watching."
"I'm always watching. It's a hobby." Orochimaru smiled, and it was the smile of a snake eyeing a mouse. "Your abilities are fascinating. Unlike anything in our records. The substance you create—it has properties of both solid and liquid. You can superheat it. You can infuse it with that strange black coating. And you can create apparently infinite amounts from nothing."
"You have been paying attention."
"I make it a point to pay attention to interesting things." Orochimaru leaned forward. "I have a proposition for you, Katakuri-san."
"I am not interested in propositions."
"Hear me out." The snake's smile didn't waver. "You are powerful beyond measure, but you are also clearly unfamiliar with this world. You don't know the political landscape. You don't know the threats. You don't know where the bodies are buried, so to speak."
"And you do?"
"I make it my business to know everything." Orochimaru spread his hands. "I could be useful to you. Information, resources, connections—I have access to all of these. In exchange, I ask only for the occasional favor."
He's trying to recruit me. Or manipulate me. Probably both.
Gary's Observation Haki read Orochimaru's emotional state: calculation, anticipation, and something that might have been hunger. The snake wanted something. Something specific.
"What kind of favors?" Gary asked carefully.
"Nothing you would find objectionable, I'm sure. The occasional demonstration of power. Perhaps assistance with a research project. Your unique physiology raises questions that I would very much like to explore."
He wants to study me. Just like I thought.
"I am not a specimen," Gary said flatly.
"Of course not. I would never suggest such a thing." Orochimaru's smile didn't change, but something shifted in his eyes. "I merely propose a mutually beneficial arrangement. You have power. I have knowledge. Together, we could accomplish great things."
Gary considered. In canon, Orochimaru was a monster—a man who had experimented on children, betrayed his village, and caused untold suffering in pursuit of his ambitions. But this was early Orochimaru. Before the descent into true darkness. Before Sarutobi-sensei's disappointment had curdled into hatred.
Could Gary use him? Take his knowledge without becoming complicit in his crimes?
It was tempting. But it was also dangerous. Orochimaru was not someone you allied with safely. His "favors" would start small and grow larger. His "research" would become increasingly unethical. And eventually, Gary would find himself drawn into something he couldn't escape.
"No," Gary said.
Orochimaru's smile finally flickered. Just for a moment. "No?"
"I have no need of allies. Or information. Or arrangements." Gary stood, forcing Orochimaru to look up at him. "I am Katakuri. I do not deal with snakes."
For a long moment, Orochimaru was silent. His golden eyes studied Gary with an intensity that might have been unsettling if Gary hadn't known he could crush the man like an insect.
Then Orochimaru laughed.
"Fascinating," he said. "Most people don't refuse me. They're too scared, or too greedy, or too stupid to recognize the danger." He rose from his seat, still smiling that serpent smile. "You are none of those things. I respect that."
"I don't need your respect."
"No, you don't. But you have it nonetheless." Orochimaru moved toward the door, then paused. "This isn't the end of our conversation, Katakuri-san. I am very patient. And I always get what I want. Eventually."
He left, slithering into the night like the predator he was.
Gary stood alone in the warehouse, contemplating what had just happened.
He'll be back, Gary thought. He won't give up. He sees me as a puzzle to solve, a power to acquire. He'll keep probing, keep testing, until he finds a weakness.
I'll have to be careful.
The third visitor arrived just as Gary was preparing to sleep.
It was Tsunade, of course. Because apparently the universe had decided that Gary's life needed to be as complicated as possible.
She knocked on the door—actually knocked, rather than barging in—and waited for permission to enter. That was new.
"Come in," Gary called, bracing himself.
Tsunade entered, but something was different about her. She wasn't wearing the calculated seductive expression from before. She looked... tired. Genuine.
"I'm not here to examine you," she said immediately. "Or to flirt. Or to press my chest against anything."
"That is... appreciated."
Tsunade settled onto a cargo container, tucking her legs beneath her. She looked smaller like this. More human.
"I owe you an apology," she said. "For how I've been acting."
Gary blinked. He hadn't expected that.
"You don't—"
"Yes, I do." Tsunade cut him off. "I've been treating you like a prize to be won. An asset to be secured. That's not fair to you."
She paused, seeming to gather her thoughts.
"When you killed Hanzo... I was there. I saw it happen. One second he was about to kill us, and the next there was a hole through his chest and he was dead." She looked at Gary, and there was something raw in her expression. "I've never seen anything like that. I've never felt so completely, utterly outmatched."
"I did not mean to—"
"I know. It was an accident. That's what makes it worse." Tsunade laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You killed the man who was about to end my life, and you did it by accident. What does that say about me? About everything I've worked for?"
Gary didn't know how to respond. He hadn't thought about it from her perspective.
"I've been acting crazy because I don't know how to process what happened," Tsunade continued. "I'm attracted to you—that part is real—but I've been using that attraction as a distraction. A way to avoid thinking about how powerless I felt."
"You are not powerless."
"Compared to you, I am." Tsunade met his eyes. "Compared to you, everyone is."
Silence fell between them. Gary's Observation Haki detected a complex mix of emotions from Tsunade—vulnerability, confusion, and beneath it all, a genuine warmth that surprised him.
She wasn't trying to seduce him anymore. She was just... talking to him. Like a person.
It was, oddly, more disconcerting than the flirtation.
"I don't expect anything from you," Tsunade said finally. "I'm not asking for a relationship or a promise or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that I see you as a person, not just a walking weapon."
She stood, smoothing her clothes.
"That's all. Goodnight, Katakuri-san."
She moved toward the door, and Gary found himself speaking before he could stop himself.
"Tsunade."
She paused, looking back.
"Your examination," Gary said slowly. "If you still wish to conduct it... perhaps we could discuss terms."
Tsunade stared at him. "You're serious?"
"I am." Gary wasn't entirely sure why he was saying this. Maybe it was the genuine vulnerability she'd shown. Maybe it was the loneliness of being the only person in this world who knew the truth. Maybe he just wanted someone to talk to.
"I have conditions," he added quickly. "No invasive procedures. No samples taken. And no information shared with anyone else."
Tsunade's face slowly transformed into a smile—not the predatory grin from before, but something softer. Genuine.
"I can work with that," she said.
"Then we will discuss it tomorrow."
"Tomorrow." She nodded, and for the first time since they'd met, Gary thought he saw a hint of shyness in her expression. "Goodnight, Katakuri-san."
"Goodnight, Tsunade."
She left, and Gary lay back on his inadequate bed, staring at the ceiling.
What am I doing?
He didn't know.
But for the first time since waking up in this world, he didn't feel completely alone.
That was something.
Maybe.
The stars wheeled overhead, visible through the gaps in the warehouse roof. Gary closed his eyes and let his Observation Haki spread outward, sensing the village around him—the sleeping civilians, the watchful ANBU, the three legendary shinobi who had somehow become entangled in his existence.
Tomorrow, there would be more challenges. More questions. More complications.
But for now, there was peace.
Gary, formerly a data entry clerk, currently a sixteen-foot-tall mochi man in a world of ninjas, fell asleep.
And if his dreams were haunted by honey-colored eyes and the echo of a woman's laughter—
Well.
That was a problem for tomorrow.