Chapter 168: Exchange of Intelligence
Cold. Shivering.
The hospital corridor reeked of antiseptic. As the girl in red lay on the bed, her eyes fluttered shut.
Wheels rolled beneath her as the hospital staff pushed her into the ward.
The overpowering scent of disinfectant stung her nose, dragging her out of a dream she wished she'd stayed in. The moment she opened her eyes, the image burned into her mind was of a silver-haired man—blood-soaked and unmoving.
"Gin-chan!"
Kagura bolted upright. Reacting instinctively, she swung her leg out toward the nearest person.
Thud.
But before the full force of her kick could land, a warm hand caught her ankle mid-air.
Despite the strength packed in her strike, Ryosuke didn't so much as flinch.
"You look energetic. I'd say you're recovering nicely."
His voice had changed. Gone was the cold, surgical tone from the battlefield. It was that same calm, almost gentle voice she'd first heard when they met—except now it rang hollow, hypocritical in her ears.
"You...!"
Fury burned in her throat as she prepared to unleash another attack, but something in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head—and froze.
Two familiar figures lay in adjacent beds, wrapped in white bandages from head to toe.
"Gin-chan! Glasses!"
She stood up on her bed, her voice ringing out with disbelief and relief. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at her two family members, both of whom were somehow conscious—though clearly worse for wear.
"What kind of name is that? Can't you just use my real—hngh!"
Shinpachi tried to scold her, but the moment he moved, pain lanced through his bandaged chest, cutting him off mid-sentence.
Gintoki, meanwhile, had resumed his usual dead-fish expression, lazily lying back on the pillow like nothing had happened. "Sheesh... yelling first thing in the morning. You trying to kill me for real?"
"But… what is going on here?"
Kagura looked between her injured comrades and the smiling Ryosuke beside her. Her brow furrowed.
Weren't we supposed to kill this guy?
"It's just this annoying guy's idea of a good time," Gintoki muttered bitterly. "What a piece of work. Nearly kills us just to test our strength."
"If I didn't go hard," Ryosuke replied with a chuckle, pulling up a chair beside Kagura's bed, "would a slacker like you take things seriously?"
Gintoki rolled his eyes.
"Besides," Ryosuke continued, "I was extremely careful with every strike. Don't be misled by the display of power—I also have a pretty solid grasp of medical ninjutsu."
He smiled like a friendly doctor. "I knocked you all unconscious, yes—but I also healed you. In fact, I even took the liberty of treating some of your old injuries."
He turned to Gintoki. "For example… your blood sugar levels were alarmingly high. Severe diabetes. Your kidneys weren't functioning properly. And then there's your prostate—"
"Okay, okay!" Gintoki groaned. "No need to recite my medical history in public."
Ryosuke shrugged, amused. "My point is: I was confident in every move I made. And my control is precise."
To demonstrate, he vanished.
In the blink of an eye, Ryosuke reappeared in front of Gintoki's bed, arm cocked back with crackling blue lightning spiraling around his fist.
The sound was deafening—like a thunderbolt crashing down on the hospital itself.
Kagura instinctively reached for her nonexistent umbrella. Shinpachi screamed.
But the fist stopped.
Just inches from Gintoki's face, the lightning fizzled harmlessly.
Only a faint arc danced across Gintoki's chest—just enough to sting.
"You didn't have to go that far to prove your point," Gintoki muttered, unfazed.
"It's not about showing off," Ryosuke replied, stepping back with a casual smile. "I just didn't want to leave unnecessary hostility between us. I'm not your enemy. In fact, I like the three of you."
He returned to his seat like nothing had happened.
"I prefer to think of you not as 'invaders from another world'… but as guests."
"…"
Shinpachi stared at his tightly wrapped legs and sighed inwardly.
This is hospitality?
He said nothing, but his glare spoke volumes.
Ryosuke went on, still composed.
"As for what Gintoki said—about your fighting style placing strain on the body—he's not wrong. I noticed it during our fight. You're drawing out strength using dangerous methods. And from what I've seen, it's not chakra-based."
He looked thoughtful. "I assume you've tried to learn chakra control since coming here?"
There was a short pause before Shinpachi spoke again.
"Yes, Mr. Ryosuke. We've tried."
His voice was laced with regret.
"When we first arrived… we were thrown into a battlefield. It was chaotic. We got caught between a squad of Iwagakure shinobi."
"By pure luck, we escaped. And along the way, we managed to steal a scroll on chakra refinement. We studied it—but after all these years, none of us have been able to extract chakra."
Ryosuke's expression didn't change, but inwardly, he felt a flicker of surprise.
"If you're willing," he said slowly, "could one of you try refining chakra now? I'd like to observe it."
He looked at Shinpachi and Gintoki, both still wrapped like mummies.
His gaze then shifted to Kagura, who sat cross-legged, now casually picking her nose.
Perhaps… it really does relate to the fruit of the Divine Tree, Ryosuke thought. The theory from Madara—chakra originating from the fruit brought by the Otsutsuki—seemed more and more plausible.
Technically, chakra is formed by combining spiritual and physical energy. Meaning any human should be capable of producing it.
But this trio had been in this world for years without success.
That pointed to something else.
"I don't want to talk to you, disgusting guy."
Kagura rolled her eyes and looked away, still clearly bitter.
She was simple-minded—but she held a grudge.
"Speaking of," Gintoki interrupted, "you made a promise. You said you'd tell us why we're in this world. So far, all you've done is ask questions. Don't you think it's time we got some answers?"
He wasn't wrong.
From the very beginning, Ryosuke had been extracting information piece by piece—observing them, analyzing their fighting styles, testing their limits.
And they'd learned nothing in return.
"…Fair point," Ryosuke admitted with a faint smile. "I had planned to wait until you recovered before explaining everything—but since you've brought it up now, I suppose we can start."
He leaned forward slightly, the weight of his next words already hanging in the air.
Gintoki stared at Ryosuke, his expression unreadable.
He didn't care whether Ryosuke's words were true or false. He simply raised a hand, silently signaling Kagura and Shinpachi to keep quiet.
"In truth, I don't actually know how you came to this world."
Ryosuke's gentle smile accompanied a statement so baffling it practically begged to be punched.
"…What?"
Gintoki's expression darkened.
"I mean," Ryosuke elaborated, "I know you're from another world—but I don't know how you got here."
He spread his hands, unbothered. "You probably know more about the moment you crossed over than I do. From the beginning, I never said I knew the full truth. It's just that you misunderstood me."
"I only promised to give you some detailed information. Besides…" He smiled faintly. "I came here as a client, remember?"
"…Tch."
None of the trio could find the right words in response.
"He really is a liar," Kagura muttered under her breath.
But Gintoki, ever the seasoned conman himself, didn't flinch. His eyes narrowed as he stared down Ryosuke.
"It wasn't a misunderstanding. You intentionally used vague language to make us think you knew everything."
"You seem awfully familiar with me. With us, actually."
He wasn't buying it. Not for a second.
Ryosuke met his gaze calmly. "As I said, the previous battle was just a test before I made my official commission."
His voice relaxed, casual again. "Now, I'll lay it out plainly. I'll tell you what I want from you—and in exchange, we share information."
"You ask one question, I ask one. Regardless of how useful the answers are, I'll pay you enough to live comfortably in this world."
"Even if what you say turns out to be a lie?"
Shinpachi raised a hand like a student asking a question in class. "So far, Ryosuke-san… you haven't exactly built up a lot of trust."
Ryosuke gave a helpless shrug. "Then it's up to you whether you accept my terms."
He folded his hands on his lap. "I'm not threatening you this time. After fighting you three, I've already seen your capabilities. Frankly, I'm not that interested anymore."
"Even if you refuse, I won't expose your identities. You can lie low here in the Land of Iron and live out your days quietly, doing nothing."
Then he added flatly, "But let me make something clear. I can lie, and you won't know. Just like you can lie to me, and I won't be able to verify it. That's the nature of this exchange."
He laid it bare—no sugar-coating, no manipulation.
Ryosuke wasn't looking for blind faith. He was offering an arrangement built on choice.
The truth was, after their battle, Ryosuke had already drawn his conclusions. Gintoki and his companions had potential, yes, but their fighting style didn't offer anything new to him. Their methods relied on instinct, willpower, and brute survival—not systems of cultivation or refinement.
If he'd wanted to, Ryosuke could have overwhelmed them with ease. The fight had never been equal.
Their power wasn't what he sought. Not like Blueno's had been.
As for the secret of world travel—there were more than three outsiders in the ninja world. Ryosuke knew it was only a matter of time before he learned the truth.
Right now, power was his true priority.
Gintoki and Shinpachi said nothing.
But Kagura snapped.
"Hey, hey, hey! What do you mean you're not that interested in us?!"
Ryosuke turned to her and grinned. "It's the truth. You pose no threat to me or to this world. There are far too many people here who could defeat you."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
All three understood exactly what he meant.
"Bastard…"
Kagura clenched her fists tightly. The insult burned.
A tense silence fell across the ward. Gintoki's eyes lowered slightly in thought.
Ryosuke waited. Patient. Still.
Eventually, Gintoki looked up.
"…Fine. I'll play along. I agree to exchange information."
"But," he added, "I get the first question."
"Fair enough," Ryosuke replied smoothly.
"Why do you know us?"
"That's easy." Ryosuke's smile returned. "You're not the only ones who crossed into this world. I learned your names, faces, and abilities from someone else."
A vague answer, delivered with too much ease.
Gintoki didn't buy it.
"What's the name of the person who told you this?"
Ryosuke didn't flinch. "That's the second question. It's my turn now."
"When did you arrive in this world?"
"Six years ago," Gintoki replied bluntly.
Now he waited for Ryosuke's answer.
"Jiraiya," Ryosuke said. "White-haired, middle-aged man. Claims to be a wandering writer. Said he was traveling with you—"
"That's enough," Gintoki cut him off. "Next question."
Ryosuke blinked. "He's not from your world?"
"I don't care who he is," Gintoki muttered. "He's a pervert, that's all I need to know."
"…Fine. How did you end up in this world?"
"A glowing gate appeared out of nowhere. Pulled us in before we could even react."
Gintoki leaned back with a tired sigh. "And for my third question… Forget Jiraiya. I want to know—what happened to the other people from outside our world?"
Ryosuke's eyes darkened slightly.
"Dead," he said. "Or rather, I can't speak for all of them. But the only other outsider I encountered was hostile to Konoha. I eliminated him."
"…Describe that glowing gate," Ryosuke followed up.
"It was white. The light was blinding. It came out of nowhere, and the suction force was too strong. We didn't have time to react."
"What was the name, appearance, and ability of the person you eliminated?"
"That's three questions," Ryosuke pointed out. "But I'll give you those for free."
He leaned back.
"He wasn't from your world. Not even close…"
—
What began as a tense trade of questions soon became a steady exchange.
One question for another.
At first, both sides measured each other carefully, testing the boundaries of truth and lies.
But as the conversation continued, the rhythm became more natural. The topics expanded beyond world-hopping—touching on chakra, ninjutsu, the history of the ninja world, and even cultivation systems.
It became clear—Gintoki and the others weren't just surviving. They wanted to improve.
They wanted strength.
They just didn't know how.
In return, Ryosuke finally gathered the information he sought.
Six years ago, three people and a giant white dog had been pulled into this world while eating hotpot at the Yorozuya. A rift opened—a glowing gate that appeared without warning—and only they were taken. The hotpot, the table, the room—none of it came along.
It wasn't random.
The gate had chosen them.
The suction had been selective. Targeted.
That precision told Ryosuke it wasn't coincidence. No natural phenomenon could act with such intent.
Which meant…
Someone—or something—had chosen Gintoki and his companions.
For what purpose?
That remained unclear.
But one question lingered in Ryosuke's mind even after all was said and done:
Am I an invader too?
He didn't remember how he came to this world.
He didn't even remember how he died in the last one.
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