The rank of Special Jonin came with certain privileges. The most valuable among them was the freedom to be eccentric.
Nanami Kento was no longer bound to the standard three-man cell structure for every operation.
While Team 9 ostensibly remained active under Kagami Uchiha, its members had evolved. Sakumo Hatake was tracking targets across borders. Might Duy was punching bears in the Forest of Death.
And Nanami? Nanami was bored.
Once or twice a month, he would stroll by the Mission Desk. He wouldn't browse the scrolls with a critical eye anymore. He would look at Hiruzen Sarutobi with a lazy, lopsided grin.
"Got anything spicy today, Hiruzen-san?" Nanami would ask, leaning on the desk. "Something that might actually make me sweat? The D-ranks are bad for my complexion."
Border of the Land of Hot Water.
A fortress sat atop a jagged cliff, guarded by fifty elite mercenaries hired by a rival daimyo. They were guarding a scroll containing stolen cipher codes for the Hidden Leaf's barrier team.
The fortress was a marvel of defensive engineering. Sensor barriers, pressure plates, and patrols that overlapped every thirty seconds.
Nanami stood at the main gate. He wasn't hiding in the bushes. He was standing right in the middle of the road.
"Zetsu," he whispered.
His aura collapsed inward, shutting off every micropore of spiritual leakage. His presence vanished. To the world, he was no more significant than a stone or a gust of wind.
He walked forward.
A guard on the wall scanned the road. His eyes passed right over Nanami.
Nanami walked through the open gate as a supply cart rolled in. He strolled past two guards arguing about their pay. He stepped over a tripwire that was rigged to explode if it sensed chakra. Since he was using Zetsu, the wire didn't react.
He navigated the fortress like a ghost touring a museum. He critiqued the architecture in his head. Corridors too narrow. Ventilation shafts unsecure. The guard rotation has a three-second blind spot during the shift change.
He reached the heavy oak doors of the commander's office. Two guards stood outside, halberds crossed.
Nanami didn't incapacitate them. He waited.
A servant approached with a tray of tea. As the guards opened the door for the servant, Nanami slipped in behind him, moving in the servant's shadow.
The servant placed the tea down and left. Nanami stayed.
The commander was a large man with a scar running down his nose. He sat at his desk, counting a stack of gold ryo plates. The stolen scroll sat next to the money.
Nanami hopped up and sat on the edge of the heavy mahogany desk, crossing his legs casually.
"Evening," Nanami chirped.
The commander froze. He looked up slowly. He saw a boy in a Konoha flak jacket sitting inches away from him, smiling pleasantly.
"How..." the commander whispered, his hand inching toward the broadsword leaning against his chair. "The sensors... the guards..."
"I walked," Nanami explained helpfully. "Through the front door. Nice carpet in the hallway, by the way. Very plush."
He pointed to the scroll.
"I'm here for that. And I have a proposition."
The commander gripped his sword hilt. "A proposition?"
"We can do this the hard way," Nanami said, "where you try to swing that big piece of metal, and I turn your bones into powder. Or, you hand me the scroll, I leave, and you get to finish your tea. It's still hot. Would be a shame to waste it."
The commander roared, surging to his feet. He drew the blade in a blur of motion, channeling wind chakra that extended the cutting edge by three feet.
"DIE, BRAT!"
He swung. The blade cleaved the desk in half.
Nanami wasn't there.
He was standing behind the commander, examining a painting on the wall.
"A landscape," Nanami mused. "Perspective is a bit off, though."
The commander spun, slashing horizontally. The wind blade sliced through the stone wall.
Nanami ducked. He didn't just duck; he dropped into a squat, letting the blade pass millimeters over his hair.
"Strike two," Nanami said from the floor.
The commander screamed, raising the sword for a downward execution strike.
Nanami sighed. "And I really wanted to avoid the paperwork of a kill order."
He stood up.
His right palm extended. He didn't use a Rasengan. He didn't use a chakra punch. He just tapped the commander's chest plate with his open palm.
It looked gentle.
The force didn't push the commander back. It traveled through him. The armor plate shattered. The commander's back exploded outward, his tunic shredding as the kinetic energy exited his body.
He collapsed, coughing blood, his internal organs rattled to the point of shutdown.
"Inefficient durability," Nanami noted.
He walked over to the split desk and picked up the scroll. He verified the contents. Authentic.
He looked at the unconscious commander.
"I did warn you about the tea."
Nanami pulled a three-pronged kunai from his pouch. He weighed it in his hand.
He slammed it into the wall above the commander's head.
"I might come back for the painting later," Nanami said to the unconscious man. "Consider this my reservation."
He focused on the marker he had left in a tree three miles away.
Zip.
The room was empty. The guards outside were none the wiser.
---
When he wasn't teasing enemies, Nanami was in his playground.
The Gravity Chamber.
It was his sanctuary of sweat. The hum of the geothermal siphon was the only music he needed.
He stood in the center of the room, shirtless, his body glistening.
"Level Six," Nanami commanded with a grin.
The pressure slammed down. The air became heavy, a physical weight trying to crush him into the floor. The floorboards—reinforced stone—groaned under the stress.
Most people would grit their teeth. Nanami laughed.
"Oh, that's the stuff," he chuckled, rolling his neck. It popped loudly. "A nice, warm hug from Mother Earth."
He assumed the stance.
"Nine thousand..."
His fist blurred. Even in 6x gravity, his punch created a sonic boom that echoed in the confined space.
The door at the top of the stairs creaked open.
"Kento?"
"Come on down, Tsunade!" Nanami called out, not breaking his rhythm.
Tsunade walked down the spiral stairs. She wore her training gear—a sleeveless top and loose pants. She stopped at the bottom, looking at the glowing runes on the floor.
"Grandma said you were down here," she said. "She said you were 'playing'."
"I'm just stretching," Nanami said, throwing a punch that cracked the air. "Care to join me? It's a bit stiff today."
Tsunade stepped onto the stone floor.
As she crossed the boundary of the seal, her knees buckled.
"Whoa!"
She stumbled, slamming her hands onto the floor to catch herself. The weight hit her instantly.
"What... is... this?" she gritted out, straining to push herself up against the invisible hand crushing her down.
"Six times gravity!" Nanami announced happily, as if introducing a carnival ride. "Isn't it great? It feels like you're carrying a cow on your back. Good for the posture!"
Tsunade glared at him, sweat already forming on her brow. She channeled chakra into her muscles—the beginnings of her monstrous strength technique—forcing her body upright.
"You... enjoy this?" she asked, panting.
"I enjoy the squeeze," Nanami smiled, his eyes twinkling. "When the world tries to crush you, pushing back is the only way to feel alive, right?"
He walked over to the pedestal and dialed it down to zero.
Tsunade gasped as the weight vanished. She felt light enough to fly. She jumped, nearly hitting her head on the ceiling.
"That was..." She clenched her fist. She felt incredibly strong. "Turn it back on."
Nanami grinned. "That's the spirit! But let's start you at Level 2. We don't want you to turn into a pancake on your first day. It would be a waste of a good sparring partner."
From that day on, the Gravity Chamber became their clubhouse.
They didn't just train; they competed.
"I bet I can do a hundred handstand push-ups in 3G before you finish your set!" Tsunade would shout, veins popping in her forehead.
"You're on, Princess!" Nanami would laugh. "Loser buys lunch at Yakiniku Q!"
They pushed each other to the breaking point, sweating, cursing, and laughing. Nanami's playful demeanor took the edge off the brutal training. He made the pain feel like a game—a game they were winning.
One evening, after a particularly grueling session at Level 4, they lay on the floor, staring at the stone ceiling.
"Do you think we're ready?" Tsunade asked quietly. "For the next war?"
Nanami turned his head. He looked at her.
"We are never ready," Nanami said, his voice losing its playful lilt for a moment. "But we are getting harder to kill. And that's the point."
He sat up, wiping sweat from his face.
"Besides," he grinned, the Netero mask slipping back into place. "War is just a bigger dojo. More opponents. More fun."
Tsunade snorted. "You're insane."
"I am efficient," Nanami corrected, standing up and offering her a hand. "Now come on. I'm starving. I heard they have a discount on beef tongue tonight."
Nanami pulled her up.
He checked his internal clock. His body was sore, his chakra was low, but his spirit was soaring.
The grind never stopped. And Nanami Kento wouldn't have it any other way.