Chapter Thirty-Two ــ A good offer.So, when do we go to this gate ?
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(One week after the incident where a National Rank Hunter fought.)
The elegant silence of a five-star hotel suite in America was broken only by the low murmur of a news anchor. The TV screen glowed, casting a pale blue light across the plush, minimalist furniture. On it, footage looped: shaky aerial shots of a scarred island, analysts with serious faces, and scrolling headlines in bold, accusatory text.
Slouched in a deep armchair that probably cost more than a small car, (Uchiha Sasuke) watched with an expression of profound, icy boredom. His fingers tapped a slow, rhythmic tap-tap-tap on the chair's leather armrest. He wasn't really seeing the news; he was using it as a focal point while his mind churned elsewhere.
Behind him, the faint, muffled sounds of a phone call concluded. A click as a flip phone was snapped shut, followed by the soft shuffle of dress shoes on thick carpet.
(Uchiha Sasuke) didn't turn. His voice cut through the room's ambiance, cold enough to make the expensive champagne in the mini-fridge shiver.
"You still haven't found where that bastard disappeared to?"
The question wasn't just cold; it carried a weight that made the very air in the suite feel denser, like the moment before a thunderclap. A week. It had been an entire week since (Song Jin-Woo) had vanished from the face of the earth—or at least, from the middle of their personally sponsored natural disaster.
In that week, the Korean Hunter Associations had moved with the speed and grace of a legal sharknado. They had announced lawsuits against the Japanese Hunter Association for the "unprovoked attack." They had circled the wagons, spun the narrative, and dumped the entire blame squarely onto the broad, emo shoulders of (Uchiha Sasuke). The surveillance footage from the few drones that survived the initial moments—sent to American national security—clearly showed the ninja making the first move. The court of public opinion on social media had flipped faster than a pancake on a griddle.
"Sir, there have been... many complications,"
said(Goto Ryuji), his voice carefully neutral. The 'complications' were, simply put, a political and informational blackout. America and Korea were, for once, in harmonious agreement: they were burying any data that could lead the walking calamity in their hotel to the walking shadow. The message was clear: Back off.
"Damn it. I don't care about this ridiculous talk,"
(Sasuke)hissed, the tap-tap-tap on the armrest stopping abruptly. His hand clenched. "I just want you to know where that bastard is. Furthermore, get me information on that hunter called (Song Il-Hwan)."
(Goto Ryuji) paused. The request hung in the air, almost tangible. He'd spent the last week combing through every channel, calling in every favor, digging with the desperation of a man who knew his life might depend on it. The result? A big, fat, encrypted zero.
Finding traces of the Korean hunter was impossible.The 'why' was both simple and infuriatingly complex to explain. He decided to just state the outcome with respectful finality.
"We have been unable to locate any information about him.Because America, in addition to Korea, is sequestering this data. It seems they have reached a unified, solid agreement that you should... stay away from the Korean hunter."
(Uchiha Sasuke)'s eyes, which had been fixed on the TV, slowly shifted. They didn't just turn; they transformed. The dark onyx bled into a spinning, bloody crimson. The Sharingan activated with a nearly inaudible hum of chakra. He turned his head just enough to pin (Goto Ryuji) with that chilling, kaleidoscopic gaze.
"Do you know what you are saying?I need that man. He knows some information that I require."
He didn't specify what kind of information.He never did. This single-minded obscurity was what frustrated (Goto) the most internally. But externally, the Japanese hunter maintained a perfectly neutral mask. Though, to anyone with a shred of perception, the slight tightening around his eyes and the almost imperceptible gulp betrayed his discomfort.
Of course, (Uchiha Sasuke) wasn't interested in his discomfort at all. He was interested in answers he didn't have.
"Sir, we have received word,"
(Goto Ryuji)said, seizing a diversion as his smartwatch gave a soft buzz-bleep. He glanced at it. "It appears Hunter (Thomas Andre) has made contact. He requests a meeting with Hunter (Uchiha Sasuke)."
The alert had chimed clearly in the quiet room. (Sasuke) had heard it, but he barely registered it. His mind was elsewhere, circling a single, frustrating sensation.
That presence.
The one he'd felt at the very end of the fight on the American island.That overwhelming, ancient darkness that had dwarfed anything he'd ever sensed in his life—even the chakra of the Ten-Tails. It was a feeling that was profoundly threatening to someone who had reached the pinnacle of power in the ninja world, someone who only felt truly threatened by beings like (Uchiha Madara) or, at the very least, (Kaguya Otsutsuki).
"Tell him I'm not interested in meeting."
(Sasuke)said the words dismissively, already wanting to sink back into his analysis. At the same time, he needed to train. He had felt it—something was wrong with his energy. It felt like the power of the Six Paths was... diminishing within his body. It was lowering his capacity to use the Rinnegan, and was even causing strain just to maintain flight. For (Uchiha Sasuke), this was a critically severe issue, especially since he was hell-bent on tracking down that terrifying presence he'd sensed.
"Sir, we conveyed your disinterest to Mr. (Thomas Andre),"
(Goto)continued, his voice taking on a note of forced calm. "But he told us to inform you that he knows some... interesting information. Information that could be very useful to you."
(Uchiha Sasuke)'s gaze, which had started to drift back to the meaningless news report, snapped to (Goto)'s wristwatch. His Sharingan eyes blazed a deeper red instantly.
"Make him come here,"
he said,his voice decisive and leaving no room for argument. Then he fell silent, his crimson stare now fixed on the doorway.
(Goto Ryuji) gave a swift, shallow bow—more a jerky nod of the head—and hurried out, his shoes making a rapid pit-pat on the marble floor of the hallway outside.
What in the hell is going to happen here? I truly hope no problems occur.
(Goto Ryuji)couldn't help but think as he walked, his mind racing. He couldn't imagine what reason would compel the strongest American hunter to come calling on (Uchiha Sasuke). But he arrived at a conclusion; he wasn't stupid. After all, every National Rank hunter had witnessed Sasuke's power on the island, in addition to the battle with that Korean hunter, (Song Jin-Woo). This was about power, plain and simple.
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While he was lost in these thoughts, he arrived directly at the reception lounge. The air here was different—thicker, charged with a lazy, arrogant confidence.
There, sprawled on a sofa like he owned the building (which, for all Goto knew, he might), sat (Thomas Andre). He was taking a slow, appreciative sip from a crystal tumbler of obscenely expensive whiskey he'd probably brought himself. The ice cubes clinked musically. He swallowed with deliberate slowness, his Adam's apple bobbing.
He raised his lion-like blue eyes the moment (Goto) entered, but said nothing. Instead, a slow, enigmatic smile spread across his face. It was the smile of a cat who not only got the cream but also knew where the whole dairy farm was hidden.
(Goto Ryuji) didn't understand a single thing about that smile, but he knew his place. The power gap between an S-Rank and a National Rank was the difference between the sky and the earth. It was impossible for him to risk his life just for a bit of pride—pride that could only be reclaimed through strength, which he currently did not possess against this man.
He bowed, a deep, respectful bend at the waist, and kept his head lowered.
"Sir,(Uchiha Sasuke) awaits your arrival,"
he said,his voice steady but subdued.
The American hunter let out a sigh—a bored, gusty huff—and heaved himself to his feet. The sofa creaked in relieved protest. His blond hair, wild and untamed, shifted slightly as he stood. Without a word, he gestured for (Goto) to lead the way, falling into step behind him with a ground-eating, casual stride that made the Japanese hunter feel like he was scurrying.
Just before they reached the heavy oak door to Sasuke's inner suite, (Thomas Andre) stopped. He looked at the door, then spoke in a voice that was loud, conversational, and utterly unconcerned with whether anyone heard him. It was a statement tossed into the universe.
"Seems the aura this kid has has gotten a little weaker than before.Now that's interesting. Was he affected in that fight? Is there something wrong with him? Or is it just... instability?"
The analysis was precise,swift, and delivered with a chilling calmness in the American hunter's mind.
The Japanese hunter who heard this, (Goto Ryuji), felt his eyes widen to saucers. A cold jolt shot down his spine.
What? Is there something wrong with (Uchiha Sasuke)? How can that be? He didn't lose the fight! Plus, he didn't look damaged! Why would (Thomas Andre) say such a thing?
His thoughts raced,a frantic tumble of worry and confusion. But he couldn't find any idea that was applicable. In the end, he couldn't sense what a National Rank hunter could sense. There was a vast gap in their abilities—in perception, prediction, and understanding an opponent's power. He could only sigh inwardly, a mental huff of helplessness.
I have to find a way to figure out what's going on. Even if (Uchiha Sasuke) doesn't tell me anything.
(Goto) reached out, his hand hovering for a second before he pushed the heavy door open with a soft creeeak.
(Thomas Andre) strode in, and his energy entered with him. It wasn't an aggressive push, but a natural, pervasive diffusion—like smoke filling a room, or gravity increasing just a tad. It was the aura of raw, physical power, of tectonic plates shifting.
Inside, (Uchiha Sasuke) hadn't moved from his armchair. His eyes were closed. He was in a state of meditation, or something like it. Yet, he was acutely aware of the new presence that had invaded his space. He didn't open his eyes.
Unfazed, (Thomas Andre) ambled over to a nearby couch, the fine leather groaning pleasantly under his weight as he sat down. He took another sip of his whiskey, the clink of ice absurdly loud in the tense quiet. Then, he began to stare. Not a glance, but a full-blown, unblinking appraisal of the meditating ninja.
A minute passed. It felt like an hour to (Goto Ryuji), who stood awkwardly by the door, completely unable to read the situation. The silence was a physical thing, thick and awkward, broken only by the occasional crunch as (Andre) chewed on an ice cube.
Finally, (Thomas Andre) spoke.
"We agreed on a competition to hunt down that Korean hunter,didn't we?"
His voice was casual,conversational. "I don't like my competitions to be easy. So, I decided to share some information with you. Information that seems to have been... withheld from you."
He said this and then stopped, not elaborating further. He took another slow sip, savoring the tension he was stirring up—the anxiety churning in (Goto Ryuji)'s heart, the forced stillness of the figure in the armchair.
(Uchiha Sasuke) also didn't seem interested. However, the corners of his eyelashes trembled, just slightly. A tiny, almost invisible twitch. It was enough to confirm he was listening.
(Thomas Andre) noticed this micro-reaction. A predator spotting a tell. He didn't delay.
"Soon,a very powerful gate will appear,"
he began,his tone taking on a cheerful, almost mischievous note, laced with underlying cunning. "I want you to come with me to that gate. If you want that information, you shouldn't get it for free, right? If you go with me and... pay your dues, I'll give you the information about the Korean hunter. Plus, I'll help you with anything you want in the future. What do you think of that?"
There was another beat of silence. The hum of the central air conditioning seemed to grow louder.
Then, (Uchiha Sasuke)'s eyes opened. They weren't the Sharingan, just his usual dark onyx, but they were sharp, focused entirely on (Thomas Andre).
His answer was simple, devoid of any hesitation or negotiation.
"A good offer.So, when do we go to this gate?"
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End of Chapter.
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Alright, folks, let's unpack this diplomatic disaster!
So, Sasuke's battery is running low? Thomas Andre shows up smelling not just of expensive whiskey, but also of opportunity? And what's this about a "very powerful gate"? Is this a dungeon, a dimensional rift, or just a very fancy door that requires two National Ranks to open? The plot thickens like a poorly made pudding!
What did you think of the shift from all-out battle to tense, political maneuvering in a fancy hotel? Did the subtle power plays and unspoken threats come through? Is Thomas Andre being helpful, or is he about to lead our favorite emo ninja into the world's worst timeshare presentation?
Let me know in the comments! Your theories on the gate, Sasuke's diminishing power, and what Andre really wants are what keep this story going. Don't be shy!