The war between Kumogakure and Konoha had been forced into a temporary ceasefire, and all because of one thing:
The Fourth Raikage and his brother, the AB combo, had been hit by that mysterious sky attack again.
No—this time, the name had changed.
Not Heaven's Punishment.
Now they called him Tenma – Heavenly Demon.
Too many survivors of that nightmare had cursed the unseen attacker as a devil, a merciless monster, a demon dropped from the sky. "Heaven's Punishment" sounded almost noble; "Heavenly Demon" felt much closer to how they really saw him.
That unknown jutsu had caused a disaster for Kumo's forces.
Over a thousand ninja dead or maimed. The Eight-Tails' jinchūriki, Killer Bee, seriously wounded.
Rumor went that if Bee hadn't thrown himself in front of the blast and blocked most of the impact, the casualty count would've easily doubled. That story spread through the village like wildfire, and the respect and affection people already had for Bee only got stronger.
Soon, the streets around the hospital Bee was in were packed.
Ninja and civilians both came to pray for his recovery, lighting incense, leaving offerings, bowing toward the building. The "foolish" rapper of Kumo had become their hero.
Konoha hadn't exactly profited either.
Right after the explosion, the Leaf had tried to seize the opportunity and pursue—but an enraged Fourth Raikage had exploded into motion on the front lines, unleashing power that absolutely lived up to the legacy of his father.
He soloed an entire Konoha unit.
Fueled by grief and fury over their fallen comrades, Kumo's rank-and-file ninja fought like demons themselves, and their sudden spike in ferocity smashed Konoha's advance. In the end, the Leaf had no choice but to halt the pursuit and pull back.
There's a saying: an army of mourning soldiers cannot be defeated.
This was that, in bloody, ugly reality.
And when they finally finished cleaning the battlefield, Kumogakure raised Tenma's bounty even higher.
Way, way higher.
The price on his head jumped straight to seven hundred million ryo—all paid by Kumo, publicly posted across the entire ninja world. Every exchange hall under the black market's umbrella now had a big, shiny "TENMA – 700,000,000" pinned to its board.
According to whispers from people who'd been sent to inspect the blast zone, the very center of the explosion still reeked like a giant grill—nothing but the smell of roasted meat.
Limbs everywhere. Torn armor. Weapons half-melted into slag.
Some ninja had vanished so completely there wasn't even ash left to bury. Officially, they were listed as "missing in action," but in practice, Kumo had already accepted they were dead. A had personally watched one genin, hiding carefully behind an Earth-Style rampart, get instantly vaporized along with his wall.
That sight alone was enough.
After this battle, the name "Tenma" echoed through the ninja world. He was no longer some unknown nobody.
The only problem was… no one actually knew what he looked like.
There was, however, another little rumor riding on the war's coattails:
One of the legendary Sannin of Konoha, Orochimaru… was allegedly a beautiful girl with golden hair.
Because that was ridiculous even by ninja-world gossip standards, most people didn't believe it.
"Hah? Orochimaru's a woman?"
A very drunk Jiraiya, hunched over a bottle at some roadside tavern, almost smashed his sake jar over the next table's heads when he overheard that line.
What kind of drunk nonsense was that?
He'd grown up with Orochimaru. Trained, fought, and argued with him for years. If anyone in this world knew whether that snake freak was a man or a woman, it was Jiraiya.
And based on his decades of experience, Orochimaru had never shown even the slightest hint of anything remotely feminine.
If Orochimaru was a woman, then—
"—then I'm Miss Konoha!" Jiraiya snorted, pounding his cup down.
"Miss Konoha" was a contest he'd invented himself, purely to select the most gorgeous, most "premium" girl in the village every few years. After every round he'd send a fully illustrated "ranking report" to the Third Hokage.
Sarutobi would scold him for being shameless and wasting his time.
Then quietly stash the booklet away.
Taking another long drink, Jiraiya slapped some money on the counter and staggered to his feet.
He'd once believed Minato was the Child of Prophecy.
But Minato was dead.
So now he was back on the road, chasing a new answer.
A little while ago, the Great Toad Sage had summoned him, croaking out a new vision:
He'd seen the future destruction of the shinobi world.
A lance of light, falling from the heavens—
And in an instant, the continent had been shattered and sunk.
That image had left a knot in Jiraiya's gut ever since.
Maybe only the true Child of Prophecy could stop that kind of disaster.
So he'd started taking things more seriously.
At least a little.
"Kenichi. This is the mission reward from Konoha."
Nagato handed over a thick stack of contracts and sealed money scrolls, his Rinnegan eyes calm. "By our usual rules, the organization should take half. But considering how much you personally invested…"
He paused.
"We'll only take a third."
Amamiya Kenichi stared at the payout, heart pounding.
Konoha had paid very generously this time.
Even after handing over the organization's cut, he was still left with six hundred million ryo.
For a regular jōnin, not eating or drinking and running missions non-stop, it would've taken years—maybe a lifetime—to accumulate that kind of cash.
"Impressive, Tenma."
Off to the side, Zetsu's voice drifted out in a weird, sing-song, passive-aggressive tone.
Kenichi blinked. Ever since he'd joined Akatsuki, the only members he'd barely interacted with at all were Zetsu and Tobi. Their whole "we're weird and we lurk in the ground" thing was a mess he had zero interest in stepping into.
At least… for now.
But for some reason, Zetsu always seemed to have it in for him.
What Kenichi didn't know was that Zetsu's grudge came from a very specific place:
That day back on the battlefield, Zetsu had been hiding in an underground cavern to collect data.
Then the thermobaric bomb went off.
A chunk of the blast had funneled down through a crack, sending a tongue of searing heat roaring into the cave. One of the White Zetsu bodies had been roasted to charcoal on the spot.
Zetsu had been forced to switch to another body.
You never forget your first time being half-cooked by science.
"Senior Gen," Kenichi said, putting on his friendliest smile. "If you've got time someday, we should grab a drink together."
He wanted to test the waters—try and figure out exactly where he'd offended this walking fungus.
"That won't be necessary," Zetsu replied flatly, waving a hand.
He did resent Kenichi for the earlier incident, but the man's power was undeniably useful. For the sake of the Plan, he wasn't about to actually try and sabotage him.
Kenichi felt more confused than ever.
He decided not to push. Staring too hard at Zetsu was dangerous; sooner or later that thing would notice and start wondering why.
Instead, a different thought popped into his mind.
"By the way, Senior Gen," he asked casually, "I heard from the Leader that you're in charge of intelligence for Akatsuki, right?"
"Mhm." Zetsu nodded. "What are you trying to dig up?"
"Sky Ninja Village," Kenichi said, rubbing his hands together.
On the way back from the battlefield, he'd heard something new from Sasori:
There had once been a place called Sky Ninja Village—Sora-nin, the air shinobi. They'd possessed the ability to fly, and it hadn't been ninjutsu.
It had been… technology.
"Sky Ninja Village?" Zetsu's tone shifted slightly. "I know them."
He smiled, and this time it was openly predatory.
"How much are you willing to pay?"
(To be continued…)
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