The streets of Konoha were quiet under the fading sun.
Even the marketplace, usually bustling with merchants shouting prices and children weaving between carts, felt subdued.
Shadows stretched long across the stone paths, hiding secrets in their folds.
Ezumi moved among them, unnoticed.
Her steps were deliberate. Precise. Calculated.
Inside her, the ruthless mind of Zack pulsed like a second heartbeat.
The girl who had once existed was gone.
Completely devoured.
Now, the body was a vessel.
And the predator inside had awakened.
The battlefield had taught her many lessons.
But it had also shown her danger.
Too many missions, too many survivors returning alone.
Patterns would be noticed.
The Hokage would ask questions. The ANBU would scrutinize more closely.
No. Growth had to be silent.
Invisible. Methodical.
Every life absorbed had to leave no trace.
Every act of power had to remain hidden until fully realized.
She began in the Uchiha compound.
Watching. Waiting. Calculating.
Every movement. Every routine. Every heartbeat cataloged in her mind.
A boy delivered water across the courtyard.
Alone. Distracted. Vulnerable.
Ezumi approached.
Lips brushed his in a fleeting moment.
Chakra and life-force surged into her. Warm. Potent.
The boy shivered, faltered, then recovered.
None the wiser.
Next, a young Uchiha practiced jutsu alone.
Veins of chakra pulsed beneath his skin. Focused. Determined.
Ezumi timed her move perfectly.
The kiss was longer this time.
Strength. Stamina. Potential. Flowed into her.
The child faltered, weakened, but survived.
Every encounter honed her patience.
Every act refined her control.
Every moment sharpened her ruthlessness.
She moved deeper into the village as the sun dipped lower.
Servants walking alone. Children sent on errands. Traders closing stalls.
She memorized routines. Patterns. Weaknesses.
Even a slight twitch in a guard's posture, a distracted glance, a child's carefree laughter—every detail mattered.
The Black Market had taught her much.
Twisting alleys. Hidden vendors. Whispered secrets.
She had been there once, and now she knew its paths by memory.
Ezumi did not enter openly this time.
She lingered at the edges, observing.
The flow of power, of influence, of hidden opportunity, slipped past Konoha's official eyes.
Opportunities were abundant.
A smuggler with unusually strong chakra.
Neglected children wandering in alleys.
A healer with rare medical knowledge of forbidden ninjutsu.
Each could feed her growth.
Each could teach her something new.
Even small amounts of chakra absorbed from these innocents were carefully measured, leaving them alive but weakened.
Precision mattered more than raw power.
Night fell, and Ezumi moved like a shadow.
Alleyways emptied. Windows closed. The hum of life receded into silence.
She paused. Listened. Felt the currents of chakra around her.
A child practicing shuriken alone.
A servant carrying water through the darkened streets.
Perfect.
She struck.
A kiss. A pulse. Life drawn into her.
Each victim left alive, subtly weakened, ensured no suspicion would arise.
Her power grew silently.
Her control became sharper.
In the heart of the village, she observed patrols and patrol patterns.
Even the ANBU's movements were cataloged.
She learned which streets were dangerous. Which gates were lightly watched.
Every shadow became a lesson.
Every unnoticed moment became a training ground.
Every life became a source of growth.
By dawn, she returned home.
The first beams of sunlight cut through the dust in her room.
She moved with ease, fluid as water.
Her mind calculated. Planned. Predicted.
The world around her was a chessboard.
Every pulse of chakra. Every life. Every heartbeat was a piece to be manipulated.
She tested herself silently.
Her ruthlessness. Her restraint. Her ability.
The predator within had already awakened.
Ezumi's body was merely a mask.
The darkness inside thrived.
By the time anyone noticed a missing life—or a weakened child—it would be far too late.
Ezumi sat in her room, reviewing the village in her mind.
The young. The weak. The strong.
All had value.
Her power grew in silence.
Her understanding of life, of control, of subtle dominance, became sharper with every passing moment.
She was patient. Calculating. Ruthless.
And she would not be stopped.
The world would not see her coming.