It really did happen just like that.
Namikaze Minato, golden-haired and radiant, stood surrounded by the wounded, his warm voice comforting the broken. His kind words melted through the trauma like sunlight through snow, and then came his signature smile—so bright it felt like someone had hoisted a massive golden lantern above his head.
Reassurance radiated from him like chakra—an aura of hope.
And yet, after the handovers were complete, Minato was off again in a blur, efficient and untouchable. Not once did he look at Tsukasa Kaede. Not a glance. Not a pause.
Kaede had no opportunity to approach, let alone speak.
This, of course, was exactly the kind of treatment a future legend was due. A genius like Minato wasn't someone a no-name genin like Kaede could simply "connect" with.
But Kaede felt nothing.
His heart was still, flat as glass.
Anyone who truly studied Minato and later, Naruto, could see the contrast clearly: Minato was far colder. Always rational. Never reckless. In every situation, he'd choose the option with the highest calculated probability of success—no matter the cost.
Dealing with someone like that—Konoha's shining star but also its coldest sun—wasn't something Kaede's current station could afford.
Everyone gushed over Minato. His charisma, his genius, his gentle aura.
But Kazeya Fūsai didn't share their adoration.
"Kaede... that thing," Kazeya rasped from his stretcher, twisting his head to look at him, "was that what you told me about before…?"
Kaede nodded without flinching. "Yes. The technique I've been practicing all this time… is Dead Soul Jutsu. You're a seasoned medic-nin—you've heard of it, right? I don't have talent. So I practiced something suited to me."
Kazeya looked troubled.
Dead Soul Jutsu—Shikon no Jutsu—was once the hallmark of Yakushi Kabuto. A jutsu that reanimated corpses, manipulating them like puppets to disguise, deceive, or delay enemies. The bodies moved, spoke, and could mimic humans, but their actual combat capability was trash-tier.
Kabuto had famously used it to puppet an ANBU corpse into looking like himself, buying time to escape from Kakashi while disguised as a fallen ally.
Kazeya was a medic-nin. He knew how Konoha handled war orphans.
But he never imagined Kaede had mastered something so controversial.
In wartime, it might be overlooked.
But in peace?
The Dead Soul Jutsu would become a target for accusation and fear.
Kazeya lowered his voice. "Even Nono Yakushi didn't use that jutsu herself. You should use it sparingly. If the village questions me, I'll explain what I can. No matter what, you saved us. That's fact. Without that jutsu, none of us would've made it."
He wanted to ask more.
Why had the zombified Mist-nin been so… wrong?
Why hadn't he felt pain? Why did he continue to fight after being mangled by Ao?
And why did the corpse stay animated for so long, fighting with taijutsu well beyond what Dead Soul Jutsu normally allowed?
But Kazeya didn't press further. Hearing "Dead Soul Jutsu" aloud was already Kaede's cover story—a shield.
A shinobi who risked everything to save comrades deserved some trust.
Kazeya would protect that.
After all, everyone else who witnessed it—except Ao and himself—was dead.
Kaede watched him being carried away. They understood each other without words.
As for Fly-Bamboo Dragonfly? He had already passed out. Had Minato not arrived when he did, the genin would've died. In the original timeline, Fly-Bamboo would become one of the chūnin exam proctors during Naruto and Sasuke's era.
But Kaede's arrival had already rewritten that future. In his world, death might not mean what it once did. Maybe death could become… a different form of life.
Two hours later.
Kaede, having recovered some stamina, arrived at the mission desk to report the outcome.
Unsurprisingly, his report was marked:
Mission Failure.
Yes, he had slain enemy shinobi.
But he'd failed to obey Aburame Ryoma's direct order to reach the northern border.
Failure to execute mission parameters = failure.
"The usual," Kaede muttered. "Another failure on my record. My genin dossier must be a tragic joke by now. I bet by Naruto and Sasuke's era, kids will read my file and laugh."
He didn't care.
In this era, mission success was everything. "Protecting comrades" wasn't doctrine. That would only become canon after years of loss and change—when the generation of Naruto and Sasuke redefined shinobi values.
He was preparing to leave when a man in a mask blocked his path.
"Genin Tsukasa Kaede. Lord Ryoma has summoned you."
"Lord Ryoma… understood."
Kaede bowed slightly, expression unreadable.
Around him, other shinobi paused. Eyebrows raised. Whispers began.
"That mask… Is that ANBU?"
"No, wait. The mask markings are off… not ANBU. Root?"
"Why's someone from them summoning a genin?"
But their curiosity faded fast.
Orders called. War loomed. Each shinobi returned to their mission prep, rushing to the front.
Technically, Root was a subdivision of ANBU.
In truth, it was its own world.
Aburame Ryoma summoned Kaede not as Root's vice-commander, but as deputy chief of the Medical Corps.
"I've heard Kazeya's report," Ryoma said, cloaked in shadows, voice cold behind shaded glasses. "He said you killed an enemy using Dead Soul Jutsu."
Kaede stood still as Ryoma's gaze pierced him.
"That 'Wandering Shrine Maiden'… she actually taught you that technique?" Ryoma's tone sharpened. "You were one of the ones I discarded. So why would she bother?"
The room dropped several degrees.
Kaede met the man's stare. His answer, if any, would decide much more than just this conversation.
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300 Stones in this story = 1 Bonus chapter in every fanfic currently translated