Traveling by ship from the Land of Waves into the Hidden Mist Village proved to be far more troublesome than Natsuhiko had anticipated.
The Land of Water's blockade was tighter than he'd imagined. It wasn't hard to picture what would happen if one encountered a patrol vessel crewed by Mist ninja out on the open sea—the outcome would be all but certain.
Still, none of this posed any real challenge to him. As the commander of the ANBU, Natsuhiko was privy to far too many secrets.
The isolation of the Land of Water had, in fact, given rise to an enormous underground network—smuggling.
Once a nation sealed itself off, its goods could no longer flow outward. Demand in the outside world naturally rose, and with it, prices. At the same time, foreign goods that the Land of Water depended on could no longer enter, causing their prices within the country to skyrocket as well.
It was nothing more than basic supply and demand—but under these conditions, the profits it generated were staggering.
Back in his previous life, Natsuhiko had learned a simple truth: when profits exceed three hundred percent, there will always be those willing to trample over any law.
Ninjas were no different. They were still human, and they needed money to survive.
It was only natural, then, that a vast smuggling industry had emerged within the Land of Water—one backed from the shadows by ninja, with profits great enough to tempt anyone.
With intelligence like that in hand, handling the situation became much easier.
All he had to do was seize control of a merchant ship involved in smuggling and follow their route along the safest sea passage into the Land of Water.
Though he noticed there were ninja aboard these ships, that was hardly a problem for him.
"The aftermath might be a bit troublesome, though…"
Watching the smuggling ship slowly sink beneath the waves, Natsuhiko muttered to himself before turning and leaving without another glance.
Sinking an entire ship was… a novel experience for him.
Having spent most of his time deep within the inland regions of the Land of Fire, this was, strictly speaking, his first real voyage across the sea.
In his previous life, he had once traveled to Hainan by boat, so he didn't suffer from seasickness—but even so, sea travel was painfully slow. On the way back, he had no intention of taking such a leisurely route again.
Along the way, he had marked numerous small islands and reefs with the Flying Thunder God technique, leaving behind seals as anchors for his return.
As he pressed forward toward the Hidden Mist Village, Natsuhiko didn't bother to change into local attire.
Strictly speaking, it would have been wise. The craftsmanship of the Land of Fire differed noticeably from that of the Land of Water, especially in materials—small details that could help avoid exposure.
But Natsuhiko wasn't here to blend in. He was here to stir up trouble.
Besides, his sensory abilities would help him evade unnecessary inspections.
All he really needed to do was dye his silver hair black.
His pale hair, combined with his refined features and fair complexion—reminiscent of the Second Hokage—made him strikingly handsome. But that same appearance also drew far too much attention.
So when necessary, he would conceal it.
If it came down to it, he could even pretend to be Kakashi.
Moving swiftly, and pausing only occasionally to gather information, Natsuhiko covered the distance in less than three days, drawing ever closer to the Hidden Mist Village.
But the nearer he got, the more he sensed something unusual.
The entire village seemed to have entered a heightened state of alert.
Even the ANBU had been mobilized, and inspections of unfamiliar individuals had grown increasingly strict. The closer he approached, the more oppressive that vigilance became.
What made it even more absurd was that these "suspicious individuals" weren't outsiders at all—they were people from within the Land of Water itself, sometimes merely from a neighboring village or town.
"It seems Obito's control over the Land of Water has reached an extreme… He's practically tearing the entire country apart."
Natsuhiko's gaze grew thoughtful as he pieced it together. The towns and villages had been deliberately isolated from one another, all communication severed by design.
Under such enforced division, the people's perspectives would inevitably shrink, their awareness confined to a tiny corner of the world.
And if the right kind of propaganda were layered on top of that, then over time, they would come to recognize only their immediate surroundings as their entire world—losing any sense of a unified Land of Water altogether.
He had to admit, this move made him see Obito in a slightly different light.
…Though, on second thought, it probably wasn't Obito's idea.
There was that ancient monster lurking at his side—the one who had lived for over a thousand years. Even if he was nothing more than a rat hiding in the shadows, his vision and intellect far surpassed Obito's.
"Still, this complicates things. With the Hidden Mist tightening inspections like this, getting inside won't be easy."
It wasn't that Natsuhiko lacked a way in. The real problem was that he wasn't familiar with the village's barrier techniques. Forcing his way through was possible, but it would almost certainly lead to unpredictable complications.
Which meant… he needed another approach.
Perhaps he could disguise himself as a Mist ninja and slip in with them?
The moment the thought surfaced, a clearer plan began to take shape in his mind.
If that was the case, then he'd simply eliminate an ANBU operative… and take their place.
After all, Natsuhiko himself was ANBU—more than that, he was their commander. No one understood their systems, their habits, and their rules better than he did. And after rising to the position of commander, his grasp of their inner workings had only deepened.
Besides, ANBU operatives wore masks. That alone made concealing one's identity far easier. If he had to impersonate an ordinary mission ninja instead, he wasn't entirely confident he could act the part convincingly.
And there was another advantage.
Within the Hidden Mist, there wasn't just one ANBU faction.
"Though… it does feel a bit like the relationship between the ANBU and Root. Still, the differences are significant."
Lost in thought, Natsuhiko moved without hesitation, heading straight toward a ninja squad he had already detected earlier.
According to the intelligence archives, the Hidden Mist's ANBU had effectively been split into two factions. To put it bluntly, even the Mizukage's authority wasn't absolute.
The village operated under a rather peculiar system—perhaps out of fear that the Mizukage might one day monopolize power and lead the village astray.
So they had created the position of Elder, a role that held authority equal to that of the Mizukage.
And the current holder of that title… was Genji.
Natsuhiko remembered him clearly—the bald old man who leaned on a serpent-shaped staff, looking as though he might collapse at any moment.
Yet it was precisely this seemingly frail elder who had firmly held all power in his grasp during the long, leaderless years of the Hidden Mist.
He had never chosen a new Kage. Perhaps it was because both the Third and Fourth Mizukage had inflicted too much damage upon the village.
Or perhaps… he had his own ambitions, and chose to keep that authority for himself.
It wasn't until much later—on the eve of the Fourth Great Ninja War, during the Five Kage Summit—that Genji seemed to feel it inappropriate for him, as an elder, to attend such a meeting.
And besides, he had simply grown too old.
So in the end, he handed the position of Mizukage over to Mei Terumi, personally placing upon her the Kage's hat that had remained sealed away for decades.
But that was still far in the future—decades away.
For now, as someone who wielded authority equal to the Mizukage, Genji firmly controlled a portion of the ANBU.
"With two ANBU factions, there's bound to be significant gaps in information… which makes things much easier for me."
With that thought in mind, Natsuhiko had already closed in on the squad he had sensed earlier. He understood their limits well—more importantly, he recognized them for what they were: a standard ANBU unit.
—
On the outskirts of a small town in the Land of Water, a group of ANBU operatives maintained silent surveillance over everything within their sight.
They had been carrying out this watch for quite some time now, and unease had begun to creep into their hearts.
As ANBU, they were bound to obey orders from above.
But as citizens of the Land of Water… they couldn't shake the feeling that something about this mission was deeply, fundamentally wrong.
"Captain… what exactly are we doing here?"
That sense of unease had been gnawing at them for a long time, filling their hearts with confusion and quiet unrest.
At last, one of the ANBU couldn't bear it any longer. Almost without realizing it, he spoke up and questioned his captain.
Under normal circumstances, doubting a mission like this would be absolutely forbidden. But the situation now was anything but normal.
It wasn't just him—everyone in the squad, perhaps even all the ANBU and regular ninja assigned to this operation, harbored the same doubts deep down.
Yes, they had gone through the brutal "Bloody Mist" era, but even then, the core principle had always been to protect the village—to protect the Land of Water.
The captain fell silent when faced with the question. In truth, he already had his own answer.
"…Enough."
He shook his head sharply, cutting the man off before he could continue.
"We are ninja. More than that, we are ANBU. That means we do not have the right to choose."
His voice was steady, but heavy.
"Our duty is to carry out orders—even if those orders seem unreasonable."
"But—"
The ANBU operative tried to speak again, but when he met his captain's gaze, he clenched his teeth and swallowed the rest of his words.
"…Understood, Captain."
"Resume patrol." The captain let out a faint sigh, then added in a quieter tone, "Focus on the mission. Don't forget who we are."
"Yes, Captain."
The response came in unison, yet it was utterly devoid of spirit.
There was no passion in their voices—no conviction, not even the slightest hint of determination. It was little more than a hollow formality.
The captain didn't press them. He understood all too well that everyone was struggling inside. Saying more would only make things worse.
Before long, the squad dispersed to continue their patrol. The ANBU who had spoken up earlier drifted off to one side, letting out a quiet sigh.
What he didn't know… was that his every move had already been observed.
He moved quickly, but there was no real purpose in his actions. It was clear he was going through the motions, his heart not in it.
Eventually, he found a secluded spot with no one around and slipped into hiding.
The turmoil inside him was overwhelming—pain, frustration, helplessness.
If not for the mask covering his face, his sorrow would have been laid bare for all to see.
ANBU were supposed to be strong. They were meant to embody coldness, to show nothing but their most ruthless side to the world.
He knew that. He knew he was breaking those rules.
But right now… the weight of it all was simply too much.
"Feels terrible, doesn't it?"
A gentle voice suddenly spoke from behind him.
His body stiffened instantly. He spun around, every nerve on edge.
What he saw was a young man standing there, wrapped in a black cloak, his expression calm and almost disarmingly warm.
He looked no older than fourteen or fifteen. There was a natural gentleness about him—something that might have drawn people closer under normal circumstances.
But here, now, that very warmth only heightened the ANBU's vigilance.
To approach him so silently… this was no ordinary person.
"Who are you?" the ANBU demanded, lowering his stance as his hand slid toward the ninja blade at his back.
"Who I am isn't something you need to concern yourself with."
Natsuhiko studied him from head to toe, his gaze sharp despite his relaxed tone.
"Not very tall… good, I won't need to adjust the transformation technique too much. The clothing will do. Right-handed, too—perfect."
"—!"
Without another word, the ANBU struck.
His blade flashed as he lunged at Natsuhiko. No matter how confused he had been before, he wasn't foolish—he knew an enemy when he saw one.
Yet what shocked him was that the young man didn't even try to dodge.
He simply stood there, unmoving.
A flicker of surprise crossed the ANBU's mind—but he didn't hesitate.
He would not let an opportunity like this slip away.
In the very next instant, the ANBU's eyes widened in shock.
Just as his blade was about to strike, Natsuhiko vanished from sight.
A sharp pain struck his back, and before he could react, a hand clamped tightly over his mouth, leaving him unable to make even the faintest sound.
"…How pitiful."
Natsuhiko sighed softly, his voice drifting into the ANBU's ear like a whisper carried on the wind.
"Let me put you out of your misery."
The ANBU struggled violently at those words.
It wasn't fear of death that drove him—it was the horrifying realization that the young man behind him was now speaking in his voice.
What that meant… was painfully obvious.
But no matter how he fought, he couldn't break free. The grip holding him was like iron, unyielding. His strength began to drain away, his thoughts growing sluggish and heavy.
His lungs burned as if they were about to burst, yet he couldn't resist, couldn't even cry out.
At last, after what felt like an eternity, his struggles ceased.
His body went limp, collapsing silently to the ground, never to move again.
Natsuhiko looked down at the corpse and gave a faint shake of his head.
Strictly speaking, the man had died unjustly.
But in this world of ninja, there was no such thing as justice or injustice.
There was only the law of the jungle.
Only kill… or be killed.
It was precisely because of this that people like Hashirama Senju, Madara Uchiha, and Jiraiya had all sought to change the world.
"…Because this world truly is despairing. Though, perhaps someone like me only makes it worse."
—
Inside an office in the Hidden Mist Village, two young ninja knelt before an elderly man.
One male, one female.
If Natsuhiko had been there, he would have recognized them instantly.
They were Mei Terumi… and Ao.
Neither of them looked well. Their grim expressions spoke volumes, and much of it stemmed from the mission they had been assigned.
Both belonged to the faction of ANBU under the Elder, Genji.
And what they were doing now, in a sense, could already be considered a betrayal of the Mizukage.
Ever since the latter stages of the Third Great Ninja War, suspicions had begun to take root—was something wrong with the Mizukage?
The policies of the Hidden Mist had grown increasingly extreme, increasingly terrifying. Instead of strengthening the village, they seemed intent on weakening it.
What baffled them most was that the Mizukage had even set his sights on the Three-Tails—and had nearly acted on it.
Fortunately, in the end, only its chakra had been used rather than the beast itself.
Otherwise… the Fourth Mizukage would likely have already perished.
As a jinchūriki, losing the tailed beast meant certain death. That meant what had been extracted was only the Three-Tails' chakra.
Even so, it was still the chakra of a tailed beast—an act serious enough on its own.
When the war ended and the Fourth Mizukage took power, they had hoped things might begin to change.
At the very least, they had believed things wouldn't continue to worsen.
But reality had shattered those expectations.
Not only had nothing improved—it had grown even more extreme.
The Bloody Mist policies expanded further, condemning countless young ninja to cruel fates.
The isolation of the Land of Water crippled both the nation's and the village's economy.
And the internal blockades—dividing the country into isolated cities, towns, and villages—threatened to tear it apart from within.
Every village had its wise individuals. Every place had people who could see clearly.
Yet the Mizukage's actions had become so incomprehensible that they were left with no choice but to seek a way to confront… and resolve it.
"Rise."
Genji looked at the two kneeling figures before him, letting out a quiet sigh.
"What is the situation over there now?"
"…It's very bad."
After a brief hesitation, Mei Terumi spoke.
"You know what the Kaguya clan is like. After being humiliated like this, there's no way they would simply endure it."
She paused, her expression tightening.
"And the Mizukage… it seems he intends to use them as an example. The situation is already starting to spiral out of control."
Hearing Mei Terumi's report, Genji let out a quiet, weary sigh. The village had become something strange… something almost frightening.
He could vaguely sense that the Mizukage intended to radically reshape the Hidden Mist—to change the very nature of the Land of Water itself.
But the way he was going about it was deeply troubling. Genji had thought about it countless times, yet he still couldn't understand why the Mizukage had chosen this path.
This wasn't reform.
It was ruin.
And now that dissent had begun to surface within the village, the Mizukage was clearly preparing to demonstrate his authority.
The Kaguya clan, though not among the largest families in the Hidden Mist, was still far from insignificant.
In the past, they had been feared.
But as their kekkei genkai declined, what remained of them seemed to be little more than their reckless courage.
Even so, they still clung to their former pride. Faced with the Mizukage's provocations, resentment had taken root deep within their hearts.
And now… things had escalated to the point where they might even attempt a coup.
The Mizukage had chosen his target well.
The Kaguya were no longer as powerful as they once were, but their reputation still carried weight. Striking them down would not only intimidate other restless factions within the village, but also give him justification to push his policies even further.
It was a calculated, effective move—one that even Genji couldn't help but acknowledge.
And yet, no matter how effective it was, he could not allow it to happen.
Because once it did, the other great clans would be next, and the entire village would be dragged into an uncertain, dangerous future.
He had already dispatched his own ANBU forces to investigate the situation, and had even instructed them to quietly make contact with the Kaguya clan.
But judging from the current developments…
That mission had failed.
"…I understand."
Genji shook his head lightly before forcing himself to speak with composure.
"Continue observing the situation. Do what you can—subtly."
"Yes, Elder."
Ao immediately lowered his head, his response firm and resolute.
But Mei Terumi did not answer right away. Her gaze flickered with hesitation… and a trace of confusion.
In the end, she clenched her teeth and spoke.
"Elder… you could stop the Mizukage, couldn't you? After all, you hold half of the—"
"That's enough."
Genji cut her off before she could finish.
"I know what you're wondering," he said calmly. "You want to know why I don't use my authority to oppose him."
He paused briefly, then continued.
"It's simple. Yes, I hold half of that power—but I am not the Kage."
"I am an elder. I am, ultimately, subordinate to the Kage. That fact does not change—no matter the circumstances."
His voice grew firmer.
"If I were to act against him openly, then what happens in the future? What if those who inherit my position do the same? Wouldn't that plunge the Hidden Mist into chaos?"
"Never forget this—"
"The Kage… is the Kage."
He fell silent after that.
There was more he could have said—but he didn't.
Because if he truly acted, the consequences would be beyond imagination.
It might even drag the Land of Water back into the kind of internal warfare it had suffered decades ago.
This was not a land that produced figures like Madara Uchiha or Hashirama Senju—individuals capable of ending chaos through overwhelming strength.
If such people had existed here, they would never have been driven to the sea by Madara in the first place.
And worst of all—if he moved openly, those who opposed the Mizukage would lose their protection.
Once the Mizukage turned his attention toward them, they would all be wiped out.
As for what the Hidden Mist would become after that…
No one could say.
"…I understand, Elder."
Mei Terumi lowered her head, her voice steady despite the weight behind it.
"I'll leave immediately with Ao and keep watch on the situation."
"Go," Genji said with a quiet sigh. "What the Land of Water becomes from here on… depends on us—but even more so, on you."
—
After dealing with the body, Natsuhiko proceeded with his original plan, slipping seamlessly into the ANBU squad and continuing their mission alongside them.
In truth, he had to thank the unfortunate ANBU he had killed. The man's recent low spirits had worked in Natsuhiko's favor, sparing him a great deal of trouble.
Someone in a foul mood tended not to speak much—and the less one spoke, the fewer chances there were to make mistakes.
Natsuhiko simply hadn't had the time to study every minute detail of the man he was impersonating. All he could reliably replicate was his voice, the fact that he was right-handed, and a handful of surface traits. Beyond that, there wasn't much to go on.
After a full week of blockades and inspections, the mission finally came to its end. As the squad prepared to hand over their duties, Natsuhiko followed them naturally, making his way into the Hidden Mist Village.
Now that he had entered, his plan was only halfway complete.
From here on, he would have to act alone.
The problem was, ANBU operatives were constantly busy, always moving, always being assigned new tasks. To avoid complications, Natsuhiko needed to make preparations—specifically, he needed to figure out how to make his current identity… die convincingly.
Only by "dying" could he free himself from unnecessary scrutiny.
...
"…Quite the spectacle."
Late at night, Natsuhiko stood at a distance, watching as flames roared from the house that had belonged to the ANBU he had replaced.
He adjusted his black cloak, pulling the hood over his head, then put on a plain fox mask—one he hadn't crafted himself—before quietly setting off.
That ANBU had served his purpose well. Without him, Natsuhiko would never have infiltrated the Hidden Mist so smoothly.
After killing him, Natsuhiko had sealed the body inside a scroll. Earlier tonight, he had taken it out, written a suicide note in the man's name, and staged the scene—leaving the body to burn within the fire he himself had set.
He knew exactly what that man had hated.
And so, he didn't hesitate to twist the knife—using the letter to disgust and provoke Obito as much as possible.
The contents were simple: confusion over the Mizukage's policies, an inability to understand why the Hidden Mist and the Land of Water had fallen into such a state, and the unbearable pressure that had driven him to despair. In the end, it spoke of a hope—that perhaps his death might awaken others.
When it came to cruelty, Natsuhiko wasn't just capable—he could be exceptionally ruthless.
It wasn't something to be proud of. In fact, by most standards, it might even seem twisted.
But when that cruelty was directed at his enemies, he felt no hesitation.
"After all… ever since Madara Uchiha drove those clans—who once lived in the Land of Fire but refused to cooperate in building the Hidden Leaf—out to sea, forcing them to settle here and form the Land of Water…"
"…they've declared war on Konoha in nearly every major conflict."
So far, there had been three great ninja wars.
And in every single one, the Hidden Mist had been among the first to declare war on Konoha.
Among Konoha's ninja, there was little doubt—if there was one village they hated most, it was the Hidden Mist.
The Sand Village might cause trouble from time to time, even breaking alliances and turning against Konoha, but their conflicts were rooted in geography and competing interests. Besides, alliances were never truly reliable.
And every time the Sand Village picked a fight, they were beaten badly enough to quickly surrender.
Reckless, overconfident, and often outmatched—that was perhaps the best way to describe them. Because of that, Konoha's hatred toward them never ran particularly deep.
But the Hidden Mist was different.
Whenever the ninja world stirred, they would seize the chance to strike at Konoha—relentless, like a rabid dog that simply wouldn't let go.
And it made even less sense when you considered geography.
There was no direct territorial conflict between Konoha and the Hidden Mist. An entire sea lay between them, with even the Land of Whirlpools situated in between.
And yet, despite all that, they still came biting.
It was only natural that Konoha's ninja would despise them.
So when Natsuhiko acted, he felt no burden whatsoever—
Even if, technically, they were in a time of peace.
"If I didn't get the direction wrong… it should be this way."
Natsuhiko glanced around at his surroundings before continuing toward the outskirts of the village.
His destination was the territory of the Kaguya clan.
Originally, the Kaguya had lived within the village proper, but their temperament—brutal, arrogant, and almost willfully uncultivated—had alienated countless others.
Over time, step by step, they had driven themselves to the very edge of the village.
Though in Natsuhiko's eyes, that wasn't entirely a bad thing.
It made his job easier.
"…Hm? They're already being watched?"
Midway through his approach, Natsuhiko suddenly paused, his gaze shifting subtly toward a concealed corner.
In a place like this, he naturally kept his sensory abilities active at all times. After all, this was enemy territory—one misstep, and he could easily find himself surrounded.
Through his perception, he could clearly sense several squads lurking in the shadows, quietly observing the Kaguya clan.
What he couldn't determine, however, was which faction those squads belonged to.
"Though it doesn't really matter. I'll just keep a low profile and see if I can find Kimimaro first."
Having made up his mind, Natsuhiko became even more cautious in his movements.
His primary goal in coming to the Hidden Mist was, of course, to find Obito.
But before dealing with him, Natsuhiko didn't mind taking a look at the remnants of power inherited—albeit in a severely degenerated form—from Kaguya Ōtsutsuki.
In truth, he had long believed that only a handful of clans in the ninja world had truly inherited the power of the Ōtsutsuki lineage.
The Uchiha were one. The Senju were another. The Uzumaki might count as half, though their traits weren't expressed through a distinct kekkei genkai.
Beyond them, there were the Hyūga… and the Kaguya.
Without exception, these clans exhibited bloodline abilities rooted in physical transformation—manifestations of the body itself—rather than evolutions derived purely from chakra manipulation.
Even the final battle against Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, fought by Naruto and Sasuke, seemed to affirm this pattern.
"…Hmm?"
Lost in thought, Natsuhiko continued forward, but before long, his brows drew together slightly.
He had sensed something.
Two figures were rapidly approaching his position.
"Sensory-type ninja…?"
The thought flickered through his mind, and his expression grew more focused.
If they were sensory ninja, then he needed to be careful.
If they alerted others, his presence would be half-exposed—and that was the last thing he wanted.
Yet, only a moment later, his expression turned rather strange.
Because his perception told him something unexpected—
Only those two were moving.
The other squads monitoring the Kaguya clan remained completely still, not reacting at all.
"…Am I being underestimated? Or are they not on the same side?"
The thought had barely formed in his mind when—
A ninja blade thrust silently toward him from the darkness.
...
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