The familiar, earthy scent of roasted barley tea and sweet herbal incense welcomed me as I pushed open the heavy sliding wooden doors of the Shimogamo teahouse. The frantic rush of the after-dinner crowd had already completely cleared out for the evening, leaving only the quiet, rhythmic clatter of porcelain dishes being rinsed in the back kitchen area. My mother, Ayame, was methodically wiping down the polished cedar tables with a damp white cloth, her long hair tied back securely while my father stacked the heavy wooden stools near the main service counter.
The soft, warm glow of the paper lanterns cast long, shifting shadows across the empty dining space, creating a serene sanctuary that felt entirely separate from the cold, blood-stained concrete hall of the central tower. I stepped inside, my ninja sandals making a soft, familiar scrape against the entrance floorboards as I pulled off my dusty dark canvas cloak and hung it from the iron rack near the doorway. My mother immediately looked up at the sound of my movement, her soft eyes widening with a sudden wave of profound relief as she noticed my fresh clothes and the steady, unbothered placement of my feet.
I had intentionally chosen to completely omit the grueling, lethal details of the five-day trial in the forest trenches, including the brutal parry against the Sannin and the self-inflicted flesh extraction, wanting to save them from unnecessary panic. They didn't need to know about the dark shadow figures slithering through the high canopy, the overwhelming pressure of the Curse Mark chakra, or the sheer trauma that had painted my previous gear in deep crimson. To them, I was just their thirteen-year-old son returning from a standard academy advancement test, and I intended to keep it that way to protect their peace.
"I passed the second phase, Mom," I said smoothly, my deep voice regaining its flat, commanding consistency as I stepped up to the main cedar counter.
My father let out a booming laugh of pure pride, slamming a heavy iron kettle down onto the copper stove with an explosive, metallic thud that echoed cleanly through the quiet rafters. "We never doubted you for a single second, Ren!" he exclaimed happily, his voice carrying the deep comfort of a parent who knew the true dangers of the forest trials but refused to let fear dictate our household.
My mother immediately dropped her cleaning cloth, her sandals blurring across the floorboards as she pulled my shoulders into a brief, warm embrace, her fingers lightly checking my chest and arms for any hidden wounds.
"You look older every single time you return from a major trial," she whispered softly, her eyes tracing my features with an aggressive, rough affection that completely masked her hidden anxiety. She rushed toward the back pantry, her hands moving swiftly to prepare a fresh bowl of hot rice, grilled river fish, and seasoned wild vegetables to celebrate my safe return. "Sit down right now and eat up, you look like you haven't had a proper meal since you cleared the primary gates."
I reached into my canvas gear bag and pulled the official, leather-bound matchup scroll from my inner vest pocket, unrolling the heavy parchment across the smooth cedar wood to let them review the finalized ranking. The black ink displayed exactly six primary matches for the opening stadium event, a highly unique setup that the proctors had finalized right before we cleared the tower thresholds.
The master drawing sheets clearly detailed the six structural pairings: Match One was Naruto Uzumaki against the genius Neji Hyuga; Match Two pinned Kankuro straight against Shino Aburame; Match Three paired Shiho against Shikamaru Nara; Match Four sat my own name against Temari of the Sand; Match Five featured Sasuke Uchiha against Gaara; and Match Six locked Karin Uzumaki into an immediate trade against Dosu Kinuta.
"Look at this lineup," my father muttered quietly, his thick finger tracing the charcoal ink path across the parchment while he leaned over my shoulder. "The village leaders are clearly testing the boundaries of the foreign clans with these pairings, forcing a lot of hidden bloodlines to showcase their arts directly before the daimyo's lookouts."
A deep feeling of quiet irritation rippled through my chest as I stared down at the ranking, silently wishing my own name had drawn a completely different path instead of being forced into an immediate physical trade on the dirt. I stared at the ink lines, realizing that having to exchange blows with a heavy wind user like Temari was going to test my spatial counters to their absolute limit. Her massive iron-ribbed fan was capable of altering the entire atmospheric balance of the arena, meaning my Mud Style would need to remain completely immovable to absorb her crushing wind paths.
"What's wrong, Ren?" my mother asked softly, setting the steaming clay plate of roasted chicken down onto the table as she noticed the sharp, unyielding furrow of my brow. "You look completely bothered by the results of the draw, even though you managed to clear the entire wilderness test well ahead of your old academy classmates."
"It's complicated," I murmured dryly, my amber-green eyes remaining fixed on the fourth slot of the bracket sheet where the ink was completely dry. "I drew the matchup against Temari of the Sand for my very first match on the stadium floor."
My mother stopped her movements for a brief moment, her hands holding the wooden chopsticks as a sudden, knowing look flitted across her gentle features, completely misinterpreting my quiet reluctance. She silently concluded that her teenaged son must have developed a secret crush on the beautiful foreign Sand princess after their brief encounter behind our apothecary counter, though she kept the romantic theory entirely to herself.
We finished our late dinner in comfortable silence, the warm steam of the herbal soup filling the quiet room as the first night of our one-month preparation window finally closed over the neighborhood.
The crisp morning sun cut sharply through the heavy glass panes of our backyard herb greenhouse, casting long shadows across the rich black soil of our cultivation beds. I walked past the rows of thriving toxic roots and sweet ginger sprouts, my ninja sandals stepping onto the soft grass as I neared the ancient, massive cedar tree dominating the center of the yard. This tree was completely separate from the surrounding vegetation, its bark so dense and nearly indestructible that low-power academy jutsus and standard tree-walking accidents had never managed to scratch its weathered surface.
My past-life memories suggested that this ancient trunk had been directly manifested by the Wood Style of the First Hokage during the very founding of the village, serving as a permanent biological anchor over our property foundations. I centered my internal energy, actively deploying my mother's inherited Bloodline Limit power, the Yang Style Flora Attunement, to connect my chakra directly with the living cellular life of the massive roots.
Because this unique elemental gift relied on my own physical vitality rather than the spontaneous creation of massive timber, I could fluidly interact with pre-existing nature, channeling my internal energy straight through the wood without disrupting the natural flow of the roots.
I pressed my palms flat against the rough, ancient bark, my body smoothly sinking straight into the dense wood as my botanical affinity allowed me to pass through the plant life without a single drop of friction or resistance. The sensation was completely unique, a heavy rush of natural life force mashing through my sensory paths as my body aligned with the cellular structure of the timber. I lowered my physical body through the dark center of the trunk, sinking deep into the cold clay earth beneath the primary root systems until my sandals hit the flat stone floor of a long-lost underground tunnel.
The air inside the dark chamber was heavy with the scent of damp soil and ancient stone masonry, the smooth, curved architecture of the walls looking exactly like the secret subterranean tunnels Orochimaru utilized for his hidden bases. My grandfather had meticulously hollowed out this hidden passage during the early wars, using a specialized elemental jutsu that left the structural foundation completely fortified against standard collapse or detection sweeps. It was highly likely that the Sannin had encountered my family's old building techniques in the past, adopting the smooth, curved clay design for his own hideouts across the nations.
I walked down the dark corridor until I reached a collapsed stone archway that had been purposely converted into a reinforced storage vault, my hand tracing the smooth clay bricks. Sitting on a stone pedestal in the center of the room was a massive, heavily sealed clan scroll, its ancient parchment thick with protective formulas designed to shield our family's hidden techniques from foreign spies. I carefully broke the primary wax seal and unfurled the immense scroll across the stone floor, my amber-green eyes scanning the legendary high-level techniques of our natural Mud Style Bloodline Limit.
"Mud Style: Bottomless Mud Hole, Mud Style: Hardened Mud Varnish, and Mud Style: Landslide," I read aloud into the environment, my deep voice echoing hollowly off the curved stone walls. "These high-rank techniques are still way too far out of my league for the time being, requiring a level of chakra control and elemental transformation that I can't hope to master for a long while."
I ran my fingers along the inked formulas, a heavy wave of serious calculation settling into my thoughts as I considered the approaching threat of the sand and sound alliance. "But with the Leaf Village Crush rapidly approaching, I can't simply leave this location abandoned anymore, because this hidden tunnel will probably be discovered once the enemy forces begin tearing the village infrastructure apart."
I carefully rolled the massive parchment back up, securing the heavy container tightly against my waist belt as I prepared to return to the surface.
"Now, my immediate objectives have to shift toward meeting Jiraiya near the hot springs and positioning myself to collect the body of Hayate Gekko after his upcoming rooftop encounter with Baki. I will make sure my shadow clone deploys our specialized large storage scrolls to harvest his body, ensuring both Hayate and eventually Jiraiya get resurrected in the future when Pain comes to destroy the village, if only to save Naruto and Nagato Uzumaki from that crushing despair."
I stood entirely motionless in the damp darkness for a long second, a bitter, complicated sigh escaping my teeth as my mature filter grappled with the absolute weight of my meta-knowledge. I knew that letting the Third Hokage fall during the upcoming invasion was a necessary catalyst to keep the broader timeline intact, but the moral guilt still sat like a heavy piece of lead inside my stomach. "Am I doing the right thing by letting Lord Hiruzen die for the sake of the bigger picture, because knowing the future truly sucks," I muttered quietly into the empty vault. "And as for Danzo, hah, just wait till the final matches begin on the stadium floor. I'll make sure his shadow divisions find absolutely nothing but dust."
The following evening arrived with a heavy downpour of rain that rattled violently against the tiled roof of the teahouse, the wind whistling fiercely through the bamboo screens near the side paths.
My parents and I were sitting near the low charcoal brazier in the central dining space, listening to the thunder echo off the distant stone walls, when the front sliding door was suddenly thrown wide open with a loud, crashing slam. Anko Mitarashi stepped cleanly into the warm room, her beige trench coat dripping wet as she carried two massive, newly bought travel bags packed to the brim with clothes and daily supplies.
Karin Uzumaki stepped timidly behind her shoulder, her long crimson hair slightly damp as she clutched a brand-new Leaf uniform against her chest, her bespectacled red eyes looking nervously at the floorboards. Her official twenty-four-hour Anbu quarantine and security screening had been successfully finalized that afternoon, leaving her completely cleared of any foreign espionage suspicion by Inoichi's team.
"Good evening, folks!" Anko called out loudly, her chaotic voice instantly breaking the quiet atmosphere as she dropped the heavy bags onto the wooden floorboards with a dull thud. "Lord Hiruzen has officially completed her registration papers, and she is now a full member of our active independent squad to handle sensory missions for the intelligence division."
My mother blinked in total surprise, her eyes darting between Karin's bright red hair and my deadpan expression as she stood up to offer the girl a dry towel and a warm cup of tea. My father quietly adjusted his spectacles, his sharp gaze reviewing the official administrative assignment stamps pressed onto the documents Anko unrolled across the table.
"The Hokage wants her to live directly inside this teahouse as her official residence for her own long-term protection," Anko smoothly explained, her tone turning uncharacteristically serious as she gave my father the official administrative order sheets. "Living alone in a standard civilian apartment would make her a prime target for hidden shadow operatives, so keeping her within a highly visible family environment boxes out any unwanted interference from the dark divisions. She's part of your family structure now, meaning anyone who wants to touch her has to march right through your very public front door."
Karin looked up timidly from behind her tangled bangs, her fingers trembling slightly as she accepted the warm towel from my mother's hands, her advanced sensory filter instantly picking up the complete absence of greed or hostility within our home. "Thank you for letting me stay here," she whispered softly, her deep red eyes shining with a sudden wave of happy tears as she realized her life as a disposable tool was officially over.
My mother accepted the paperwork with a warm smile, but her mind immediately entered a massive state of romantic confusion as she looked at Karin's shy, blushing face. She silently concluded that her thirteen-year-old son was becoming absurdly popular with the girls of his graduation year, her thoughts wildly jumping between Karin's sudden arrival, Ino's constant neighborhood visits, and that foreign Sand princess from the tournament Chunin Exams. She kept her matchmaking theories completely to herself to avoid breaking the peace, but her eyes carried a mischievous, dangerous gleam that promised to cause an immense amount of hilarious relationship trouble for me in the future weeks.
With Karin officially settled into our upper guest room and her gear organized along the shelves, the first couple of days of our one-month preparation window officially came to an end, the steady sound of the rain locking our new squad into a silent, unyielding alliance.