"Master Aizen, what's wrong?"
Seeing Aizen suddenly fall silent, Pakura tilted her head and asked.
"No, it's nothing."
Aizen's eyes shifted slightly behind the mask. He glanced toward the Sand Jōnin who had accompanied him.
"Ryū, how many Konoha Anbu are surrounding us?"
"Yes," the sensory ninja replied immediately. "From what I can detect, there are seven. Of course, there may be others skilled in concealment beyond my perception."
Ryū's voice was steady. Every team was assigned at least one sensor or medic—that was standard practice.
"No, there are indeed only seven," Aizen said with a faint smile. "No mistake."
He turned his gaze back to the view outside the window. Raising one hand, he whistled softly, and a small bird fluttered down to perch on his fingertip. The creature seemed unbothered by his strange mask and chirped cheerfully.
"A beautiful village," Aizen murmured. "Don't you think so?"
"Yes, Master Aizen."
Jinnaruo spoke up quickly, his tone almost reverent.
"To be honest, though it may sound rude, I can't help but feel it's a blessing to be born in a land this rich…"
His voice grew heavy with resentment.
"But why must we Sand Shinobi be forced to live in endless desert? Even the most basic necessities—water, food—are always scarce!"
"Kinnaruo!" Pakura's brow furrowed. "Be careful with your words. The Anbu are still watching us."
Kinnaruo bit back his anger and lowered his head. He didn't dare argue—Pakura outranked him.
Aizen chuckled softly.
"I understand your frustration. But believe me… one day, I will see to it that the people of the Sand live as comfortably as those in Konoha."
"Master Aizen… do you mean… against Konoha?" Kinnaruo asked eagerly, his eyes burning.
"Master Aizen, what are you saying…?" Pakura and Ryū both grew tense.
"Relax," Aizen said, waving his hand. "They can't hear us."
His voice dropped lower, calm but commanding.
"If such an opportunity arises… would you follow me?"
"If that is your wish, I would gladly give my life to you, Master Aizen!" Kinnaruo's face flushed with zeal, eyes shining with the same blind devotion Tousen Kaname once showed Aizen Sōsuke.
"…As a shinobi, I obey the orders of my superiors," Pakura answered after a moment's hesitation.
"Me as well," Ryū added.
"Haha, no need to make the atmosphere so heavy." Aizen smiled easily. "We are all loyal to the Kazekage. It's getting late—rest well."
But inwardly, he couldn't help but marvel at himself. The way his words could shape others, without even trying—it was almost second nature now.
Unlocking Kyōka Suigetsu's true potential had nothing to do with personality, yet somehow, his influence only grew.
Meanwhile, Konoha's Anbu kept silent watch over the four Sand envoys in the hotel.
Their orders were clear: ensure the delegation didn't attempt anything suspicious under the guise of "negotiations."
But none of those Anbu were above average Jōnin level. If Aizen wanted to slip away, he hardly needed Kyōka Suigetsu—ordinary stealth was enough.
And so, deep into the night, not one of them noticed when the leader of the Sand party disappeared from the hotel.
Not even Pakura, Ryū, or Kinnaruo realized he was gone.
By now, Konoha had grown quiet. Most of the village slept, yet a few souls still stirred restlessly.
One of them was Uchiha Sasuke.
Since the Uchiha clan's downfall, their compound had been sealed off. No one was permitted to enter—not even Sasuke, the clan's last surviving heir.
The Third Hokage claimed it was to spare him from painful memories. But in the two months since the massacre, Sasuke had not set foot inside even once. He didn't need to. The visions of Tsukuyomi still haunted him vividly enough.
Another was Kurenai Yuhi.
In the same two months, her mission roster had shifted strangely—no more S-rank, almost no A-rank assignments. No matter how often she was teased by Kenya for being naïve, she wasn't blind. She could feel it clearly now: the higher-ups were watching her.
The realization left a bitter taste. She never cared for fame or bounties—only for growing stronger. But to be distrusted, to be marked… it gnawed at her.
Even though Uchiha Kenya was dead, this shadow of suspicion still lingered over her.
Sarutobi Hiruzen, the man she once respected, now seemed far less noble in her eyes.
All because she had once been spared by Kenya. A trivial mercy, yet enough for the elders to assume there must have been some hidden connection.
It only proved how deeply rooted their paranoia ran.
Kurenai lay tossing in bed, her slender figure outlined beneath her nightclothes. Just as she began drifting toward sleep, a voice whispered into her ear—familiar, teasing.
"Yo. Been doing well lately?"
Her ruby-red eyes flew open. She bolted upright as if struck by lightning, the loose neckline of her pajamas slipping and exposing pale skin in her haste.
And there, lounging casually on the chair beside her bed, smiling as though he had never left—
Uchiha Kenya.