The western district of Sunagakure— This was where the Suna Clan gathered. Unlike the powerful clans of Konoha who ruled vast territories, the Suna Clan occupied nearly two-thirds of the village's western district. Calling it a "clan" was generous; it was more like a loose community. Whether they'd inherited the kekkei genkai or not, everyone from the bloodline lived here.
Near the village center, in front of a very ordinary two-story house, Rinjin stood in a neat brown robe, politely knocking on the door.
"Coming, coming!" came a voice from within, followed by the creak of the door opening.
Inside, an elderly man who appeared to be around fifty greeted Rinjin warmly. "Mr. Kaza, you've arrived."
Rinjin smiled politely. "Sorry to trouble you, Mr. Honma."
"Not at all, please come in. And this is...?"
"Oh, he's my assistant, Maki. Just pretend he's not here."
Hearing this, Honma gave an awkward smile but didn't take it seriously.
He invited both men to sit in the living room, apologized for any inconvenience, and headed to the kitchen to prepare tea.
Left alone in the living room, Rinjin's gaze subtly swept the surroundings. The decor was typical and unremarkable—sofa, coffee table, family portrait on the wall. The only oddity was a small Buddhist altar positioned on the far side of the room. Inside the altar sat a black-and-white photograph of a middle-aged man. The small urn in front was scattered with incense ash. Clearly, Mr. Honma frequently paid his respects here.
But something felt off—the memorial altar was placed in the guest reception area rather than the family's private living quarters, which went against tradition.
While Rinjin puzzled over this detail, Honma returned carrying a teapot.
"Mr. Kaza, please have some tea."
"Thank you." Rinjin nodded.
After finishing his cup, Honma refilled it and cautiously broached the subject: "Mr. Kaza, the price you mentioned through your intermediary—it's rather low. That batch of iron sand is my brother's legacy, after all. As a fellow member of the Suna Clan, you should understand that iron sand is far purer than regular iron ore."
Rinjin stroked his chin thoughtfully. "True enough. Iron ore requires multiple rounds of refinement, while iron sand needs only one or two. However, Mr. Honma, the quantity you possess is simply too small! Ten tons—what can anyone accomplish with such an amount? To be blunt, only desperate traveling merchants would bother with such a meager quantity."
Honma's expression grew bitter as he nodded. "You're absolutely right. I've approached several merchant caravans, and they all offered rock-bottom prices. Back in my youth, iron sand commanded prices higher than silver!"
At that, Rinjin chuckled. "Are you referring to the Great Iron Shortage?"
"I prefer to call it the Great Celebration," Honma countered. "Back then, the entire ninja world was frantically hoarding pig iron, and my brother's Magnet Release made our whole village incredibly wealthy. Unfortunately, prices eventually crashed back down. That's when I learned the truth—someone from the Fire and Lightning Countries had orchestrated the whole thing to harvest wealth."
Hearing this, Rinjin smoothly continued: "Indeed, that person was extraordinarily talented. Though I lack such abilities myself, I did encounter him once. After that meeting, I realized the ninja world truly is full of hidden dragons and crouching tigers!"
"You met him?!" Honma asked in astonishment.
"I did. Young yet incredibly knowledgeable—truly deserving of the phrase 'heroes emerge young,'" Rinjin nodded, his lightning-tempered face showing no trace of embarrassment.
Honma's pupils contracted slightly as he asked with some unease: "Was he... black-haired with black eyes?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Ah..." Honma sighed softly, doubt flickering across his features. "To be honest, when my brother was in power, he suspected that mastermind might be his... child. He once secretly traveled to the Land of Iron and examined those hollowed-out mine shafts. Though the mines had been deliberately destroyed, he told me that only our bloodline could completely empty an iron vein without damaging the surface—and among us, only my brother and his long-missing son possessed that special Magnet Release talent. Neither I nor my two sons inherited such abilities."
Intrigued, Rinjin pressed further: "What happened next?"
"Next? He sent people to investigate that pig iron shop in the Land of Hot Water, but they all failed. Later, when he heard rumors that the mastermind was Shimura Danzo from Konoha's Shimura clan, he dropped the matter entirely."
Watching Honma's nostalgic expression, Rinjin felt his heart begin to race. Could his previous self really be the Third Kazekage's son? Was the Jashin Cult truly bold enough to kidnap a Kage's child?
Suddenly, the name Sarutobi Asuma flashed through his mind. Well... never mind that. Cultists are all insane anyway.
"Mr. Honma, could you provide more details? I'd like to compare them with my own recollections."
"Certainly," Honma nodded. "The child's name was Rinjin. His mother died in childbirth, so my brother raised him alone, taking him everywhere. Rinjin awakened his Magnet Release kekkei genkai at a very young age—just like my brother, he could manipulate iron sand, and he was exceptionally bright. As he grew older, he began attending the Ninja Academy. His grades were excellent, and all his teachers adored him. That evening, Shukaku suddenly went berserk, throwing the entire village into chaos. My brother was ordered to help suppress Shukaku. When Shukaku was finally sealed and my brother rushed home, the child had vanished."
"How old was he when he disappeared? What year of Sunagakure was it?" Rinjin asked casually.
"Six years old, shortly after his birthday. It should have been Sunagakure Year Fifteen."
At those words, Rinjin's mouth twitched involuntarily. Sunagakure was established only a year after Konoha, so when this child named Rinjin disappeared, it would have been Konoha Year Sixteen.
This... This is definitely my past self! Holy shit, I'm actually a Kage's son?!
Damn! If only I'd transmigrated earlier—becoming the Fourth Kazekage would've been a piece of cake!
With this realization, Rinjin looked up at the expectant Honma and nodded: "The person I know does indeed have black hair and black eyes. Now that I think about it, he really does resemble the Third Kazekage. By the way, do you have a photograph of him?"
Honma shook his head with a smile. "Back in our day, cameras were unheard of, but I do have a portrait."
He stood up, walked to the small altar, bowed respectfully, then opened it and retrieved a scroll. Returning to his seat, Honma handed the scroll to Rinjin.
Rinjin quickly accepted it and unrolled the scroll. The next second, his expression changed completely, and he could only curse internally.
Confirmed—Sasori was his father's killer! An endless cycle of vengeance. Back then, he and "Dog Bro" had killed Sasori's parents, and now it had all come full circle!
...
Rolling up the scroll, Rinjin let out a long sigh and nodded. "No mistake about it. That man must be the Third Kazekage's son."
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