In Kiri.
During the Fourth Mizukage's rule, there was no trace of the "Blood Mist Policies" remembered from Saitama's past life.
As a Jinchuriki, Yagura fully understood the importance of bloodline families.
This world wasn't one for ordinary ninja—it was a world ruled by bloodlines, dominated by bloodline users.
Of course, among all shortcuts to becoming strong, being a Jinchuriki ranked in the top tier, while bloodline users were second.
Therefore, determined to reform the village, Yagura didn't implement any oppressive policies against bloodline users. Instead, he introduced many favorable regulations that provided significant benefits for bloodline families.
But then again, being too kind could be problematic. If you always treat someone kindly, they'll start taking your kindness for granted. Then when your benevolence stops, they won't feel at ease—they might even quietly harbor misunderstandings.
Inside the Mizukage Tower.
Yagura sat on his chair, with Terumi Mei beside him, serving as the Fourth Mizukage's assistant.
They had known each other since childhood, practically childhood sweethearts, but Yagura was older and played the role of an older brother.
Right now, he flipped through documents on the desk, clearly showing signs of impatience.
Sigh.
Finally unable to bear it any longer, Yagura put down the papers and sighed deeply.
"What's wrong?"
Mei glanced up from her freshly painted crimson nails, half-distractedly. She didn't think anything serious required her attention—after all, there was always Big Brother Yagura.
In this timeline, Kirigakure hadn't closed its gates.
After making peace with Konoha Village, the village quickly resumed normal interaction with the entire Shinobi World, with continuous commercial exchanges flowing in.
Without large financial support from the Water Daimyo for daily expenses, Kiri also placed heavy emphasis on self-development.
Kiri's situation was slightly better than Suna's.
The Wind Daimyo had transferred all missions originally meant for Suna to Konoha and completely cut off their operational funds.
The Water Daimyo, however, treated things differently. Although he was displeased about Kiri losing the war against Konoha, he hadn't cut off funding entirely, only reducing it slightly to express dissatisfaction.
As a Jinchuriki-turned-Mizukage, Yagura felt unhappy about this behavior, but remained helpless.
Ninja villages existed solely to serve their daimyos, who maintained total control over funding.
"This month's financial report came out. Won't you take a look?"
Yagura slapped the table with his right hand. His violet eyes flicked toward Mei's blazing red nail polish, triggering an unexpected twinge in his teeth.
"Aren't I here for that, Big Brother?" Mei lifted her head, revealing her increasingly mature face. Her wine-colored hair added extra charm.
"Never mind that for now," Yagura said. "Recently, the atmosphere in the village has been strange—you should keep an eye on things."
Yagura nodded; he knew this woman hated dealing with tedious paperwork.
"Mm, I know what it is," Mei responded slowly. "Possibly starting now, you're going to be quite busy."
Terumi Mei grew serious as she spoke, sitting upright and fixing her gaze on Yagura.
"Is there no way to avoid this with that clan?" Yagura looked at Terumi Mei, his eyes darkening.
"Hmph, a clan whose brains were filled with bone—completely unreasonable!"
Terumi Mei let out a cold snort, her face icy with disdain.
"Tell the Anbu to prepare. I dislike unnecessary casualties."
After a long silence, Yagura rose and stared out the window at the village slowly blooming below.
No one would be allowed to shatter this peace. Anyone who so much as lifted a hand—he'd crush their skull without hesitation!
Yagura was indeed ruthless. As the Mizukage, he was decisive, daring to think and act!
...
This place was a gloomy dungeon, damp and chilling—the dominant atmosphere here.
Deep within the dungeon lay a narrow cell.
The cell door, made of thick iron bars, seemed indestructible at first glance.
In the shadows crouched a frail figure. Sitting in the corner, hugging his knees, he buried his head between his thighs.
This child had pure white hair; however, after prolonged confinement in such an environment, much of it clung together messily.
Though referred to as a child, he was actually about seven or eight years old—only malnutrition had stunted his growth.
Perhaps already accustomed to this life, Kimimaro hugged himself tightly without uttering a sound.
After a long while, Kimimaro lifted his head, revealing his pale face. Two red dots appeared on his forehead—alongside uncommon green pupils.
"It should be mealtime now, right?" Kimimaro's eyes showed contemplation, mixed with anticipation.
Ever since he was very young, displaying the unique Kekkei Genkai of his clan, he had been locked away here.
So from a tender age, he started wondering: Why was he locked up here? What was he even meant to do? Questions like these, somewhat unfounded.
Creak! As he pondered, the heavy door creaked open, and a rough-looking man stepped inside.
The man was dressed much like Kimimaro, bearing the same two red dots on his forehead—a mark of their bloodline.
Now, the man held a large tray containing some food—something Kimimaro had never eaten before.
Inside this cell, Kimimaro had only ever tasted one thing: rice balls carrying the scent of moisture and mold.
He swallowed hard, his eyes locked onto the man bringing him food.
"Kimimaro, this is your meal for today. Finish this dish, replenish your strength, because tonight is our great festival!"
The man threw the plate in front of Kimimaro, his face twisted in indescribable madness—as if a psychiatric patient who knew he would soon leave the hospital.
Kimimaro said nothing, keeping his gaze solely on the food in the plate.
He didn't care what activity awaited tonight; as long as there was food now, he felt happy.
"As the weapon of the Takehaya Clan, tonight is your time to show your power! Devour all this food, then let's give it our all!"
The man briefly glanced at Kimimaro, curling his lips upward before finally turning around and walking out.
This time, when he left, he did not lock the cell door behind him.
Kimimaro hesitated as he watched the man walk away, a flicker of confusion rising in his mind.
Why was there delicious food he had never seen before? Why didn't the man lock him up again this time?
The aroma of the food quickly drowned out both questions. Kimimaro snatched the food from the plate and shoved bite after bite into his mouth.
No matter what awaited him next, he was determined to finish everything here.
At that moment, a strange sense of liberation settled over Kimimaro.
...
Outside Kiri, a snake coiled within the grass, flicking its tongue.
Its pure white body was covered in fine scales. Though not large, it bore a striking resemblance to the pet snake Saitama once had.
This snake had golden vertical pupils, and through them shone an unsettlingly human-like expression.
"After all this time... has it finally begun?"
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