He did not want to listen to those damned orders anymore.
He did not want to go to war for the interest groups hiding behind the ninja system, all in the name of some nonsense like the Will of Fire.
He did not want to fight powerful enemies who could take his life.
And he especially did not want to keep killing children around his own age, children who were also forced to slaughter one another for rotten reasons, some of whom were not even ten years old yet!
Run.
That had been the strongest thought in Kurō’s heart at the time.
It was pathetic.
Truly pathetic.
But after witnessing that cruel battlefield with his own eyes, that “pathetic” thought had arisen in him, and through the violent emotions it brought, he awakened the three-tomoe Sharingan.
With those eyes, he saw through the chakra flow of the Lightning Style Armor used by the Third Raikage.
The flow of chakra, the contraction of muscles, the transformation of energy… Everything became clear before his eyes!
Although with the brain he had back then, he still had no way to fully understand it.
After that, with his mind in chaos, he witnessed the Third Raikage finally die from exhaustion, then returned to Konoha with the mission of reporting that information.
At that time, there was no one by his side.
He simply held on to one thought, sealed himself away, and frantically researched with that little spark of inspiration in his mind.
There was only one thought in his head.
Run.
Be faster than everyone.
Make sure no one could ever catch up.
Only then could he survive.
Only then could he live!
After a period of closed-off research that even Kurō himself did not know how he got through, he relied only on his incomplete study of the Third Raikage’s Lightning Style Armor and created a jutsu of his own.
Lightning Style: Thunderclap.
Rank: A.
The principle and effect of this jutsu were very simple.
It referenced the physical activation caused by lightning-nature chakra in the Lightning Style Armor, bringing about extreme speed.
Because the chakra flow was different, and because hand signs were added for control, the requirement for the user’s physical strength was lowered.
However, it greatly increased the demands on reaction speed, chakra control, and understanding and mastery of Lightning Style ninjutsu.
Its learning difficulty was extremely high.
And the result it brought was obvious.
Fast.
Absurdly fast.
It had even earned sincere praise from Minato Namikaze, the Yellow Flash, who had once fought the A-B Combo of Kumogakure.
At that time, Kurō could not help thinking, “Could I really be a genius?” But the reality that followed proved that it had been nothing more than a miracle that had happened to descend upon him once.
The chakra secreted by the brain during Sharingan evolution: Kid, this brain doesn’t belong to you!
In an instant, Kurō had already returned to Kirigakure.
He flipped in through the open window of his residence, then glanced at the wall clock.
From the cave to Kirigakure.
Fifty kilometers.
Seven seconds.
‘Seven seconds, huh…’ He silently calculated in his heart.
‘Looks like I’m still a little short of surpassing the Fourth Raikage at full power.’ ‘Well, if I stack the Eight Gates on top of it, that should probably do it…’ He murmured softly and was just about to walk toward the bedroom when, as if sensing something, his steps suddenly stopped.
His gaze swept across the living room.
Then he quickly walked to the sofa and sat down.
He casually grabbed a book from the coffee table, opened the first page, and pretended to read it with a deep, thoughtful expression.
His posture and expression were exactly like a middle-aged uncle waiting for a guest to arrive.
A moment later, a spiral-shaped spatial distortion appeared in front of him.
A man wearing the Akatsuki’s black cloak with red clouds and an orange spiral mask stepped out from that twisted space.
His foot landed on the floor with a dull sound.
“Yo.
You’re later than I expected, Obito.” Kurō theatrically moved his eyes away from the first page of the book and gave Obito a roguish, handsome smile.
That smile carried a bit of teasing and smugness.
Obito looked at his usual punchable expression, and the corner of his mouth twitched beneath the mask.
He had been about to follow instinct and verbally knock him down a few pegs, but the moment he glanced at the book in Kurō’s hand, he suddenly choked.
His gaze froze on the book’s cover.
Kurō instantly noticed that something was wrong.
He frowned slightly, and some of the laziness in his eyes faded.
“What?
Did you huff so much you broke your own lungs?” Obito did not fire back.
Instead, he coughed awkwardly, then looked away with silent understanding.
“…No.
I just didn’t expect you to like that kind of thing too.” His voice was a little stiff, as if he were trying to hide something.
“Hm?” Kurō seemed to realize something.
He lowered his head and looked at the cover of the book he had casually picked up.
It was a magazine.
On the cover was a fashionable girl with a bright smile and clear eyes.
Beside her were several large words: Fashion Girls Photo Collection: Models Limited to… Girls Between Eighteen and Twenty Years Old?!
Kurō’s eyes slowly, very slowly, widened.
“Wait, what?!” His voice rose several degrees, and his handsome face was filled with complete confusion.
“I don’t remember buying this book!
Who put this in my house?!” He flipped the magazine back and forth, as if trying to confirm whether it was some kind of genjutsu.
At the same time, at Mei Terumī’s home.
In the bedroom, the lighting was soft.
Mist drifted outside the window, filtering the moonlight into a hazy white glow.
Mei Terumī wore a pale purple night robe.
It was loose and comfortable, but it could not hide her graceful figure.
Her face still carried a trace of girlishness, creating a strange contrast with her mature figure.
She stretched lazily, then picked up her pen and finished writing the last letter at her desk.
After standing up, she walked to the bookshelf, planning to casually take down the magazine she had liked most as a child and make up for the girlhood that training and missions had once stolen from her.
Her fingers moved across the shelf.
One book.
Two books.
Three books.
‘Huh?
Strange.
Why is one missing?’ She muttered softly, a trace of confusion flashing through her emerald-green eyes.
“Did I leave it at Sora’s place when I went there before?” She thought about it.
When she had gone to Sora’s residence earlier to discuss work, she had indeed brought a few magazines with her, planning to flip through them while waiting for him.
Later, she had left in a hurry, so she might have left one there.
“Well, after this trip is over, I’ll just ask him for it!” She smiled softly, her expression carrying a bit of relaxation and anticipation.
She pulled another magazine from the shelf, held it in her hands, then curled up in the soft blankets and began reading with great interest.
Outside the window, the mist continued to churn.
The night remained deep.
At this moment, at Kurō’s home.
Kurō raised his head and met Obito’s deeply meaningful gaze.
‘It’s over…’ Kurō thought blankly.
‘Kids, Uncle Kurō may have just suffered a tiny bit of public humiliation…’