Kurenai began walking toward the residential district, and Kiyohara silently followed.
A few minutes later, the two arrived at the Yuhi family compound.
"My father isn't home right now," Kurenai said, unlocking the door. Her cheeks were slightly flushed; this was the first time she had ever brought a boy into her home.
She leaned against the wall, bending down in the entranceway to unlace her shoes.
As she slipped off her standard-issue ninja sandals, a brief glimpse of her fair soles flashed by before she stepped into soft indoor slippers and walked down the hall with a quiet tap-tap-tap sound.
"This is my first time visiting a woman's home, too," Kiyohara noted dryly, stepping inside.
He glanced around at the furnishings in the living room. Everything was incredibly old-fashioned, austere, and strictly traditional. He guessed Kurenai's father, Shinku Yuhi, was a very stern, old-school patriarch.
"Here. These are the slippers for guests," Kurenai hurried back, setting down a clean pair.
"Thank you," Kiyohara changed out of his combat boots.
The two sat across from each other in the living room.
Slightly nervous, Kurenai fumbled with the delicate ceramic tea set. Hot water poured into the tea bowls, steaming up with a fragrant, earthy mist.
Then, she unrolled a small scroll and summoned her new kitten.
Animals in the ninja world were generally highly intelligent; some advanced Summoned Beasts possessed more tactical wisdom and linguistic ability than actual humans.
Kiyohara looked at the tiny kitten and found that it could, indeed, execute a flawless backflip. Its specialty was likely scent-tracking, marking it as a low-level perception-type Summoned Beast.
"Father went to attend the Joint Jonin Meeting today. He might return very late," Kurenai said, petting the kitten softly before gently sliding the steaming teacup across the table toward Kiyohara. "We can discuss Genjutsu mechanics for a while."
Kiyohara took the tea bowl, feeling the soothing warmth transmit to his palm, and nodded.
That was exactly why he had come here. Unless Kurenai herself was going to perform a backflip for him, he really wasn't interested in the kitten's acrobatics.
Immediately, the two began earnestly discussing the practical application of Genjutsu in live combat.
Kurenai enthusiastically explained the complex theory of combining auditory illusions with physical Taijutsu movements to create continuous, seamless combo attacks that blurred the line between reality and hallucination.
In return, Kiyohara shared his brutal, pragmatic experiences with sensory interference and counter-Genjutsu tactics on the frontline battlefield.
After the massive bloodbath against the Hidden Mist, Kiyohara's combat perspective had broadened considerably.
At the same time, he had come to understand a fundamental, brutal truth: Absolute speed allows one to do whatever they please.
No wonder Minato Namikaze could take on a 1-vs-50 scenario and instantly slaughter fifty elite Iwagakure shinobi without taking a scratch. At that level of velocity, many enemy ninja were decapitated before the electrical signals from their brains could even command their hands to weave a defensive seal.
And a jutsu that couldn't be executed was as good as non-existent. No matter how apocalyptic or complex an ability was, it was completely meaningless if the user's throat was slit before they could cast it.
The two continued their deep exchange.
"So you see... when the opponent's nervous system gets used to you casting Genjutsu exclusively using your eyes as the medium..." Kurenai spoke while demonstrating, her hands rapidly weaving a mesmerizing sequence of seals. "...suddenly switching the medium to your hand movements can catch their brain completely off guard."
"That makes sense," Kiyohara nodded slightly, analyzing the optical trick.
'When Itachi Uchiha fights Naruto in the future, he also uses his finger pointing as the medium to trap Naruto in an illusion, completely bypassing eye contact.'
"Exactly!" Kurenai's ruby eyes lit up with excitement. "The essence of Genjutsu is psychological deception, and the best deceptions always hide within the most realistic, mundane behavioral patterns."
Time quietly passed in deep discussion. The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted westward, lengthening the shadows in the quiet tea room.
Konoha Central Street.
"Uncle Shinku!"
Shinku Yuhi, having just finished participating in the grueling Jonin Council meeting, was hurrying home when he suddenly heard someone calling him.
"Ah. It's Asuma," Shinku turned to look at the approaching teenager.
The second son of the Third Hokage was recognized by almost every shinobi in the village.
"Has Kurenai returned today, too?" Asuma asked, his face flushed with eager anticipation.
He had heard the official military reports that the situation on the eastern coast had temporarily stabilized, and several exhausted units had begun withdrawing to the village for R&R. This made Asuma desperately hope that Kurenai's squad had returned as well.
"Kurenai and I must have missed each other. She isn't home right now; she might be out celebrating with her teammates," Shinku lied smoothly.
Usually, at this time of day, his daughter would be out training with her peers.
"I... I see," Asuma was visibly disappointed, but quickly forced a smile. "Since Kurenai has returned, I'll have a few days to spend with her before we deploy again."
"Uncle Shinku, I'll be going then," Asuma bowed slightly.
"Mm," Shinku nodded imperceptibly.
Regarding Asuma's incredibly obvious romantic intentions, Shinku could easily discern them. But his attitude toward such matters was strictly hands-off; he would only intervene if Kurenai asked him to.
When Shinku arrived at his compound a few minutes later, he clicked open the front door as usual.
Suddenly, at the entrance, he stopped dead in his tracks.
He stared at a pair of muddy, heavily worn combat boots. By the size and make, they were undeniably worn by a young man.
This made Shinku frown deeply. Had his daughter brought a boy into their home while he was away?
Shinku's heavy footsteps, echoing from the hallway, were instantly heard by the two in the tea room.
Kurenai stood up abruptly like a startled rabbit, her knee bumping the table and almost knocking over her teacup.
"F-Father?! Why are you back so early?!" her voice cracked with sudden, guilty panic.
Shinku slid the paper door open, appearing before Kiyohara and Kurenai.
He wore standard Jonin attire: a black, tight-fitting combat suit, with the green flak jacket zipped over the chest. His face was stern, marked by the harsh lines of a veteran illusionist.
His sharp gaze first fell on his daughter's slightly flushed cheeks and flustered posture. Then, his eyes slowly, dangerously shifted to the black-haired youth sitting calmly opposite her.
Kiyohara stood up and bowed respectfully. "Senior Yuhi, hello. I am Kiyohara. I apologize for the sudden intrusion."
"Kiyohara..." Shinku repeated the name, tasting the syllables.
He certainly knew this name.
Just two hours ago, in the highest-level command meeting, this exact name had been specifically praised by Lord Orochimaru. The boy's recent, monstrous military achievements were debated, and he was even formally nominated for a special, accelerated promotion directly to Jonin.
Shinku hadn't thought it was a political issue; neither the Hokage nor the Village Elders had opposed the nomination. Just ten minutes ago, walking home, Shinku had been thinking about how terrifyingly promising the youth was—another absolute genius emerging from the civilian ranks—and lamented that they hadn't crossed paths yet.
He never expected to meet the rising demon of the eastern flank in his own tea room, sitting across from his teenage daughter.
"Father! Kiyohara just came over to exchange theories and help me learn Genjutsu mechanics!" Kurenai hurriedly explained, her hands unconsciously twisting the fabric of her skirt together.
Shinku didn't respond immediately.
It was the primal, instinctive vigilance of a father who had just discovered his daughter had smuggled a highly lethal, teenage boy into his house.
"I know of your record," Shinku finally spoke, his voice dry. "Magnet Release. Kenjutsu mastery. The absolute slaughter on the eastern flank. Orochimaru spoke incredibly highly of you during the council meeting."
"You flatter me, Senior. The vast majority of the true enemy powerhouses were stalled by Lord Orochimaru and Lord Jiraiya. I merely picked up the scraps," Kiyohara replied smoothly, neither humble nor arrogant.
He hadn't parked a loud motorcycle on the front lawn, nor had he done anything inappropriate to Kurenai, so naturally, he wasn't afraid of anything the old man could say.
Shinku fell silent for a long moment, analyzing the boy's micro-expressions.
'This kid truly is neither arrogant nor overly submissive.' In a military command environment, this was an exceptionally excellent psychological quality.
But right now, standing in his own home, Shinku suddenly felt as if the precious little cabbage he had carefully tended for over a decade was about to be ruthlessly uprooted by some black-haired stray.
So his tone shifted, growing colder. "I heard your foundation in Kenjutsu is very solid?"
Shinku walked toward the weapon rack mounted on the wall of the living room, where several unsharpened, heavy wooden bokken (training swords) were displayed.
"Father!" Kurenai gasped, instantly realizing his intent.
Shinku ignored her. He took down one long sword and one short wakizashi, tossing the long bokken directly at Kiyohara.
"I put in quite a bit of effort into the blade when I was young. Since you're standing in my house... let me see what you've got."
This wasn't a polite invitation. It was a demand.
Kiyohara steadily caught the heavy wooden sword out of the air.
He was genuinely curious about exactly how skilled Kurenai's father was in close-quarters combat. In the original timeline, the lore descriptions of Shinku were incredibly sparse; it only noted that he was an elite master of Genjutsu and Kenjutsu, and ultimately died defending the village during the Nine-Tails Attack.
"Please instruct me, Senior Yuhi," Kiyohara bowed, accepting the challenge.
The two men stepped out into the enclosed courtyard.
The setting, blood-red sun stretched their shadows long across the gravel, the cool evening breeze brushing past the bamboo walls.
The exact millisecond Shinku assumed his starting stance, his entire aura violently shifted.
It wasn't raw, bloodthirsty killing intent like the Mist assassins, but a suffocating, crushing sense of psychological pressure forged through decades of lethal trials.
Shinku took a sudden, gliding step forward. His wooden katana transformed into a gray blur as it thrust straight at Kiyohara's throat with lethal intent.
Kiyohara's bokken slanted upward from below, flawlessly deflecting the incoming blade tip. Riding the momentum of the parry, Kiyohara allowed his blade to slide down the shaft, slashing brutally toward Shinku's sword-wielding wrist.
The speed and vicious efficiency of the counterattack far exceeded Shinku's expectations.
'Hmm?!' Shinku was genuinely surprised internally. He flipped his wrist to rapidly spin his blade and parry the counter, his footwork chaining seamlessly as he instantly closed the distance to a grapple range.
The wooden sword light suddenly became a dense, suffocating storm, enveloping all of Kiyohara's vital points like a hurricane.
CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! CLACK! CLACK!
The deafening, rapid-fire sound of heavy wood colliding echoed across the courtyard.
The longer Shinku fought, the more astonished he became.
The techniques Kiyohara used were all the most basic foundational forms of Konoha-Style Kenjutsu. Slash, chop, sweep, thrust, parry, block. There were absolutely no fancy, acrobatic variations or wasted movements.
But in the boy's hands, these basic, textbook moves flowed seamlessly into one another like running water, as if he had been slaughtering men with a blade for three decades.
Twenty-five rapid-fire exchanges passed, and Shinku couldn't gain a clear tactical upper hand.
Thirty moves, and Kiyohara's precise counterattacks began to become increasingly threatening, forcing Shinku onto his back foot.
At exactly thirty-five moves, Kiyohara used a brilliant, subtle parry to completely unload the kinetic force of Shinku's heavy overhead chop. He instantly pivoted, reversing his grip and slashing a brutal backhand directly toward the fatal opening under Shinku's ribs.
The wooden blade stopped exactly one inch from Shinku's ribs, hovering there flawlessly.
"Go, Kiyohara!" Kurenai couldn't help but cheer softly from the porch, her ruby eyes sparkling with excitement.
Shinku's sword momentum paused completely. He caught sight of his daughter's adoring gaze, entirely fixed on Kiyohara, full of pride.
That sour, agonizing feeling of 'the carefully tended little flower is about to be taken away, pot and all' surged up fiercely in the old man's heart.
He snorted almost imperceptibly through his nose, his sword momentum violently changing again.
This time, there was absolutely no probing. He was entirely, genuinely serious.
Faster speed. Heavier kinetic force. Each strike was aimed ruthlessly at the microscopic, theoretical gaps in Kiyohara's sword transitions.
The physical pressure on Kiyohara suddenly skyrocketed.
But Kiyohara's response remained terrifyingly cold and steady. He flawlessly matched the veteran's escalating speed.
Fifty brutal exchanges passed, and the two were still locked in a dead-even, high-speed blur of wood.
The surprise in Shinku's eyes gradually turned to absolute gravity. 'This young man's talent... it does have some terrifying merit.'
At sixty-five moves, Shinku feinted a low strike, leaped back lightly across the gravel, and lowered his sword, standing perfectly still.
His breathing was completely steady, but the way he looked at Kiyohara had fundamentally, permanently changed.
Kiyohara also stopped, breathing slightly heavier. A bead of sweat slid down his cheek, but the hand gripping his wooden sword remained as stable as carved stone.
He bowed respectfully. "Thank you for your guidance, Senior Yuhi."
Shinku waved his hand silently, returning his sword to the wooden rack.
After a long moment of heavy silence, the patriarch slowly spoke. "Your technical foundation is absolutely flawless. Your practical application under strain... is extremely good."
He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words.
"You have experienced a massive amount of real, lethal combat."
Shinku's tone wasn't questioning; he was stating an absolute, undeniable fact. He recognized the brutal efficiency of a killer.
Kiyohara nodded calmly. "Yes."
"The battlefield truly is the only place that hones people into true weapons," Shinku sighed, looking at his daughter with a highly complex tone.
"Kurenai. Your... friend... is very good." He deliberately, heavily emphasized the word "friend" to set boundaries, before turning away to walk inside.
"But training should also be mindful of the hour. It is getting late."
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