Kirigakure was shrouded in dense mist as always. Another overcast day.
After preparing his gear pouch, Mizumori stepped out and headed toward the Academy, passing pedestrians moving briskly through the fog.
Unlike Kyosuke, Mizumori was the son of a shinobi. Knowing some ninjutsu and taijutsu from the start was perfectly normal. That allowed him to present himself as even more talented and formidable from day one.
Before enrollment, he had already beaten up most of the local troublemakers and established a reputation.
"I heard you're pretty vicious. At school, I'll show you what a real shinobi looks like."
"Don't leave after class. Have the guts to fight me."
"Blue-eyes, you're dead today."
Compared to Konoha, Kirigakure was far more… straightforward.
On his first day, Mizumori received multiple challenges. He accepted them all.
"Challenge me? Fine. Loser pays. I could use the extra money. Don't waste time—come at me together."
In this environment, kindness only invited trouble. Mizumori acted even more arrogant than the rest, openly belittling them.
"Damn it!"
"We'll see if you're still talking like that when you're begging!"
"I'll kill you!"
Thanks to the dream-space synergy, Mizumori's strength far exceeded most children. Even those with kekkei genkai couldn't match him at this stage.
Taking some minor injuries, he defeated three opponents in short order. Two passed out cold. One lay vomiting on the ground.
"You're stronger than the rumors say."
From the far end of the alley, a masked boy approached—eyes cold.
Zabuza Momochi.
"Hmph. Just a brat pretending to be fierce. You'd look better if you smiled. Actually, never mind—you don't have eyebrows. Smile or not, still ugly."
Whether he could win or not, Mizumori showed no fear. He even teased Zabuza.
Zabuza fell silent for a moment—then turned and walked away.
"A dog that bites doesn't bark," Mizumori muttered. "I think he already wants to kill me."
So much for reforming him with kindness.
Looks like he'd need strength instead.
Better make sure those four work harder.
In the following days, Mizumori waited for Zabuza's challenge—or an ambush.
Instead, the Kaguya clan showed up.
"You're the one who broke my little brother's left arm. Kneel, apologize, and snap your own arm—or you'll regret it."
The speaker looked eight or nine—an upperclassman.
Mizumori remained outwardly dismissive while staying internally alert.
"I've broken so many bones lately, how would I know which one's your brother?"
The Kaguya boy burst into laughter.
"Hahaha! You've got guts. Talking like that to the Kaguya clan? Good. Remember the name—Kaguya Teppei!"
His forearms sprouted sharp bone spikes, which he wielded like blades as he lunged.
Fast!
Mizumori barely raised his kunai in time. The attacks came heavy and relentless. He needed full strength just to withstand the first barrage.
"Not bad! Your taijutsu's decent! This is fun! Hahaha!"
Teppei grew more excited, attacking even more aggressively—completely abandoning defense.
This reckless, injury-trading style put immense pressure on Mizumori.
Kaguya bones were incredibly dense. When Mizumori managed to stab Teppei's arm, the kunai pierced skin—but was stopped cold by bone.
Mizumori didn't have that luxury.
If struck cleanly, he'd be seriously injured. Forced into constant defense, he gradually fell behind.
At this rate, I'll lose.
He suddenly retreated several meters and rapidly formed hand seals.
"Water Release: Wild Water Wave!"
A torrent blasted forward.
Teppei didn't hesitate—charging straight through it, bone spikes cleaving through the water.
The flood crashed down, pooling into a large puddle.
Using the water curtain to block sightlines, Mizumori quickly performed the Clone Technique and Transformation Technique—leaving behind a Water Clone while his real body transformed into part of the puddle itself.
For a shinobi's son, such basics were nothing unusual.
Teppei burst through the spray and shattered the Water Clone instantly.
From behind—
Mizumori struck.
A precise blow to the back of the neck knocked Teppei unconscious.
"Upperclassman bullying juniors and still losing. Reflect on that."
Leaving him lying in the puddle, Mizumori walked away.
Compared to the others, Kiichiro's life was comfortable.
His family operated mining businesses, having secured rights to an iron mine in the Land of Lightning. Income was steady.
For convenience, they had built a two-story house near the mine, where Kiichiro lived most of the time.
There was no compulsory education in this world. Instead of attending an academy, Kiichiro studied under a hired tutor—learning knowledge, ninjutsu, and swordsmanship.
Eat. Sleep. Train. Dream-space banter.
His routine was orderly.
In the courtyard, he sparred with Shimizu-sensei, wielding an unsharpened blade. After a brief exchange, the forty-year-old instructor disarmed him.
"Kiichiro, your stamina is excellent. Your swordsmanship improves steadily. One day, you'll become a powerful samurai."
Shimizu stroked his graying goatee approvingly.
"Sensei, this is the age of shinobi. That's outdated thinking."
"You brat!"
They were still bickering when—
BOOM.
A thunderous explosion echoed from the direction of the mine. Thick black smoke rose into the sky.
"What happened?!"
Kiichiro's heart lurched. His parents had just gone there on business.
He started running.
"Stop!"
Shimizu grabbed him, face stern.
"If shinobi attacked the mine, it's dangerous. You can't rush in."
"But—"
His adoptive parents had treated him well. He couldn't just do nothing.
"Trust me," Shimizu said firmly. "They'll be fine."
Soon after, surviving workers arrived with grim news.
"Young master… the mine was attacked by shinobi. Many are dead. The tunnels were destroyed. The master and mistress… they didn't survive…"
"What?!"
Rage surged.
"Who did it?! What shinobi?!"
The worker, soot-covered and wounded, could barely stand.
"I—I don't know… they were too fast…"
Shimizu spoke gravely.
"If shinobi have invaded the Land of Lightning, we must inform Kumogakure. They won't ignore this."
Kiichiro forced himself to calm down.
"Right. Kumogakure won't tolerate this. Send word immediately."
That very day, he oversaw the burial of the dead and dispatched messengers to Kumogakure.
He inspected the mine himself.
The attackers had been professional.
No obvious traces remained.
He couldn't identify them.