"Do you have anything else you need?"
Kusamori's expression was sour as he clearly tried to usher him out.
The report he'd sent—one that should have exaggerated his own contributions—had ended up being brutally honest instead.
With that, how was he supposed to catch Lord Hanzo's attention?
He might throw his weight around among genin, but in Hanzo's eyes, he was nothing more than an insignificant chunin. Without some truly outstanding achievement, there was no guarantee Hanzo would ever notice him.
"Nothing important," Hyūga Ming replied with a bright smile. "I just wanted to check whether Kusamori-sama was asleep."
…Are you insane?
Who in their right mind comes over just to see whether someone's asleep?
Kusamori nearly cursed out loud.
Then—
his expression stiffened.
His eyes locked onto the bronze blade in Hyūga Ming's hand.
This… didn't look like someone checking in out of concern.
This looked more like someone making sure he'd never wake up again.
Seeing Kusamori's guarded stare, Hyūga Ming sighed in disappointment and slowly put the blade away.
"Well, since Kusamori-sama isn't asleep, I'll head back and sleep myself."
Why do you look disappointed about that?!
Kusamori's scalp tingled.
If he had been asleep… would he even have seen tomorrow's sun?
"Good night, Kusamori-sama."
Hyūga Ming tapped two fingers against his forehead protector in a casual salute, then turned and left the room.
Only after the door closed did Kusamori finally let out a long breath.
"This kid… after losing his memory, he's completely changed."
"…No."
His teeth clenched as he recalled Ming's behavior.
"He's becoming less and less human by the day."
The things Ming did—no normal shinobi would ever do them.
"I can't stay in this room anymore."
He glanced around the room he'd lived in for years. Ever since Kimu had gone insane, this place no longer felt safe.
He used to worry about enemies sneaking in to assassinate him.
Now he was worried his own subordinate would do it.
Even if that subordinate was "just" a genin.
There were no absolutes in this world.
Teammates couldn't be trusted.
"At this rate, he's going to drive me insane before anyone else kills me."
Kusamori hurriedly packed his things, planning to sleep somewhere else.
He might not have achieved much over the years—but safehouses?
Those, he had plenty of.
The Next Morning
When Kusamori returned to the tower, the first thing he saw was Hyūga Ming doing one-handed handstand push-ups.
"1022."
"1023."
Only after noticing Kusamori did Ming stop, his body drenched in sweat.
Hyūga Ming had a very clear understanding of himself.
Ninjutsu could be learned directly through the system.
Levels could be raised with EXP.
But his physical body?
That still required real effort.
Most of his free time wasn't spent researching techniques—it was spent training his body or refining chakra control.
That said, his training wasn't suicidal like Might Duy's or Might Guy's.
Breaking limits once or twice was fine.
Doing it repeatedly in a short time would cause irreversible damage.
Ming trained within strict limits.
"You're more diligent than you used to be," Kusamori said, his gaze complicated. The old Kimu had never been like this.
"Better than regretting it later when I realize I can't beat my enemies," Ming grinned.
He had his eyes on the coming war.
Without capital, he'd be nothing more than cannon fodder.
"Kusamori-sama," Ming said eagerly,
"when are we going to ambush the shinobi sent to replace you?"
Kusamori tossed him a scroll.
"They arrive tomorrow. One chunin leading three genin."
"A standard squad?" Ming took the scroll, skimming the intel, his face clearly disappointed.
Three genin simply weren't worth much EXP—unless they were unusually strong.
In the shinobi world, a four-man squad was standard:
one chunin, three genin.
A high-end version—four jōnin—was extremely rare. Jōnin were top-tier assets, each carrying heavy responsibilities. Getting four together was almost unheard of.
Kusamori hesitated, then asked,
"…Why do you look disappointed?"
Ming sighed helplessly.
"One chunin and three genin. Not enough to kill."
…Then how many would be enough?
A hundred chunin? Two hundred?
Let's see if you don't run faster than me then.
Kusamori forcibly swallowed the flood of colorful insults threatening to escape and said darkly,
"We move tomorrow. Be ready."
The poison was gone. A night's rest had restored most of his strength.
He could handle one chunin.
As for Kimu—ordinary genin probably weren't his match.
Still, one mystery remained unsolved.
Where did all those weapons come from?
He'd never found a sealing scroll on Ming.
Summoning techniques made noise and required preparation.
Yet that small pouch at Ming's waist could barely fit a single Fūma Shuriken—
and it looked flat.
Was this some bizarre kekkei genkai?
Weapon Creation Release?
…Did something that ridiculous even exist?
"Don't worry, Kusamori-sama," Ming said casually.
"I'll make sure the mission succeeds."
Kusamori stared at him for a moment, then barked,
"And don't leave today. Stay here and do your job!"
He absolutely did not want Ming going after wandering ninja again.
Killing wanderers was one thing—but if Ming accidentally blew the cover on a hidden Konoha squad?
That would be catastrophic.
"Got it," Ming replied, picking at his ear dismissively.
The intel here was mostly trivial anyway. Nothing worth sending back.
Kusamori left, off to handle his own matters.
Ming was left alone with the incoming reports.
They were filled with mundane city nonsense.
"…Rain ninja shouldn't be called ninja anymore," Ming muttered.
"They should be called voyeurs."
One report had even recorded the color of a girl's underwear.
His face darkened.
He kept reading.
"And what's the point of writing about what a man wears?!"
Ming slammed the reports onto the floor.
These Rain ninja did nothing but collect pointless garbage all day.
Two pages in and he already felt like he needed eye bleach.
How bored were they?
Still—there was useful information buried inside.
They'd discovered several Konoha infiltrators gathering intelligence in the Rain Country.
Whether sending that back would just make Biriru curse him out… was another matter entirely.
In the end, Ming sent only one thing back:
Konoha operatives had been exposed.
He also packaged all the eye-burning "intel" and sent that along for good measure.
The tower was empty.
Hyūga Ming casually performed a summoning and sent everything back in one batch.
Just another ordinary day in the Land of Rain.
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