Hidden Mist Village.
A thick, oppressive fog enveloped the entire settlement. It was another overcast, dreary day in the Land of Water.
Mishu checked his tool kit, adjusting the straps tightly across his chest, and headed out into the mist. He ignored the hurried, paranoid passersby on the street as he walked toward the Kirigakure Academy.
Unlike Kyosuke over in Konoha, who had to play the part of an ignorant civilian orphan, Mishu was the son of a deceased Genin. Because of his bloodline, he was expected to naturally know basic Ninjutsu and Taijutsu before entering the Academy. This allowed him to act talented and ruthless right from the start without drawing Anbu suspicion.
In fact, before classes even officially began, he had already brutally beaten several of the rowdiest kids in his neighborhood, making quite a name for himself.
"I heard you're a fierce one. When we get to the sparring ring, I'll show you what a real shinobi can do."
"Don't leave after school. If you have the guts, fight me to the death."
"Hey, blue-eyes. You're dead meat today."
Compared to the relatively peaceful environment of Konoha, the culture in Kirigakure was much more "straightforward and enthusiastic." On his very first day of school, Mishu faced violent challenges from half a dozen classmates.
He didn't refuse a single one.
"Challenges are fine," Mishu sneered, dropping his bag. "But if you lose, you pay up. I need the money to buy better rations. Don't waste my time; all of you come at me together."
In the Bloody Mist, being broad-minded, humble, or benevolent only invited more predators. To survive, Mishu had to adopt an insanely arrogant attitude, scorning everyone with his words to establish dominance.
"Damn you!"
"Hmph! When you're bleeding on the ground begging for mercy, I hope you're still this stubborn!"
"I'm going to kill you!"
Thanks to the shared physical stats and advanced combat knowledge from his other lives—especially Sensuke's recent training with Pakura—Mishu's actual combat strength was terrifyingly superior to these six-year-old children. Even if some of them possessed dormant Kekkei Genkai, they simply didn't have the physical specs or tactical experience to match him yet.
At the cost of a few superficial bruises and a bloody lip, Mishu dismantled three opponents in quick succession with a hyper-efficient, ruthless style. Two of them were knocked completely unconscious via precise strikes to the jaw, and the third was left curled on the ground, vomiting violently while clutching a bruised liver.
"I didn't expect you to be even stronger than the rumors said."
From the shadows of a nearby alley, a boy stepped out. His face was wrapped in bandages, and his eyes were cold and dead. It was Zabuza Momochi.
Mishu wiped the blood from his lip. "Hmph. You're just a little brat, why act so edgy and fierce? You'd look much better if you smiled! Wait, I misspoke. You don't have any eyebrows, so you look incredibly ugly whether you smile or not."
Regardless of whether he could actually win a deathmatch against the future Demon of the Hidden Mist right now, Mishu showed absolutely no fear, choosing instead to mercilessly mock Zabuza's appearance with a bright smile.
Faced with such blatant disrespect, Zabuza surprisingly fell silent. His dead eyes locked onto Mishu for a long, heavy moment before he simply turned and vanished back into the fog.
A dog that bites doesn't bark, Mishu thought, the smile dropping from his face. I can feel his killing intent. He already wants to slaughter me. It seems there's no way to talk him down or pacify him. I have no choice but to grind my stats and kill him first. I need to properly urge my alternate accounts to work harder tonight.
For the next few days, Mishu stayed on high alert, constantly expecting a challenge or a lethal sneak attack from Zabuza. However, the attack didn't come from Zabuza. Instead, he was cornered by a member of the infamous Kaguya Clan.
"You're the rat who broke my little brother's left arm yesterday," the boy snarled. He looked to be about eight or nine years old—definitely an upperclassman. "Kneel down in the mud, apologize immediately, and then snap your own arm. If you don't, you will deeply regret it."
Mishu secretly heightened his guard, but his face showed nothing but pure disdain. "I've broken so many bones these past few days, I've lost count. How the hell am I supposed to know which weakling was your little brother?"
Hearing Mishu's sheer disrespect, the Kaguya boy laughed heartily, a manic glint in his eyes. "Hahahaha! I didn't expect a no-name orphan to have such guts! Daring to be so arrogant in front of the Kaguya Clan! Very good. Remember this well: the one who crippled you today is Kaguya Teppei!"
Schlick.
With a sickening, wet tearing sound, Teppei extended two massive, jagged bone spikes directly out of his forearms, wielding them like twin swords as he lunged at Mishu.
So fast!
Mishu barely managed to raise a kunai to block before the attack was already in his face. The impact was horrifyingly heavy. Mishu had to use his full body weight just to withstand the first flurry of savage strikes.
"I didn't expect your Taijutsu to be this solid! This is getting interesting! Hahahaha!"
Seeing his initial assault blocked, Teppei's bloodlust spiked. He became visibly excited, intensifying his onslaught and completely abandoning all forms of defense.
This suicidal, berserker fighting style—happily trading injuries for injuries—put immense pressure on Mishu.
The Kaguya Clan's Shikotsumyaku (Macabre Bone Pulse) made their skeletons denser than steel. Mishu managed to slip past the boy's guard and stab him square in the forearm, but his iron kunai merely pierced the skin before violently sparking against the bone, completely unable to cut deeper.
Mishu, on the other hand, did not possess a steel skeleton. If those bone spikes grazed him even once, he would be severely maimed. Therefore, he was forced to devote 90% of his energy purely to evasion and defense, instantly putting him at a massive disadvantage.
If this continues, my stamina will break and I'll lose!
Finding the close-quarters combat increasingly suffocating, Mishu decided to radically change the battlefield. He violently kicked off Teppei's chest, retreating seven or eight meters in a single bound, and rapidly cycled through a sequence of hand seals.
"Water Release: Water Severing Wave!"
Mishu expelled a highly pressurized, localized stream of water from his mouth, aiming to blast Teppei backward. But the Kaguya maniac didn't care. He roared and charged straight through the jutsu, his bone spikes cutting through the high-pressure water like it was wet paper.
The bisected water crashed to the courtyard ground, instantly forming a massive, muddy puddle.
However, taking full advantage of the momentary water curtain obscuring Teppei's vision, Mishu smoothly executed a combination of the Clone Jutsu and the Transformation Jutsu. He left a flawless Water Clone standing in his original position, while his true body used the Transformation Jutsu to seamlessly blend into the massive puddle on the ground.
(As the son of a Kirigakure ninja, executing basic water-natured misdirection was perfectly normal for his cover identity.)
Teppei burst through the fading water curtain and savagely impaled Mishu through the chest.
Splash.
The body burst into a harmless shower of water. Teppei's manic grin faltered. A clone?!
Before Teppei could react, the puddle directly behind him rapidly swelled upward. Mishu materialized from the water, driving a devastating, chakra-enhanced punch directly into the base of Teppei's skull.
The Kaguya boy's eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed face-first into the mud, completely unconscious.
"Bullying a lowerclassman and getting counter-killed," Mishu scoffed, shaking the water from his knuckles. "You can stay in the mud and reflect on your failures."
Mishu didn't bother looking back as he walked away.
Compared to the brutal, blood-soaked realities of the other four, Kurasaka Kiichiro's life in the Land of Lightning was incredibly comfortable and prosperous.
His civilian parents were wealthy merchants who had recently contracted a massive, highly lucrative iron mine. This monopoly provided them with an incredibly stable and luxurious income.
For ease of management, they had built a sprawling, two-story manor near the mining facility. Kiichiro basically lived there in absolute comfort.
Because there was no compulsory Academy education for civilians in this world, Kiichiro didn't need to attend a formal school. His parents simply hired private tutors to teach him mathematics, literature, and the basics of samurai swordsmanship and chakra theory.
Eating rich foods, sleeping in a soft bed, training his body, and chatting with his alternate selves in the Dream Space—Kiichiro's daily routine was peaceful and incredibly regular.
In the manor courtyard, Kiichiro swung a heavy, unsharpened bokken, continuously sparring with his hired instructor, an ex-samurai named Shizumi. A few moments later, after a fierce exchange of blows, the forty-year-old veteran easily disarmed the boy.
"Excellent, Kiichiro," Shizumi praised, sheathing his own wooden blade and stroking his grayish-white goatee. "Your stamina is truly monstrous for your age, and your swordsmanship fundamentals have improved remarkably. You will surely become a powerful samurai when you grow up."
Kiichiro wiped the sweat from his brow and rolled his eyes. "Teacher, this is the era of the shinobi. The samurai ways are totally outdated."
"You brat—!"
Before Shizumi could scold him, a deafening, earth-shattering BOOM echoed across the valley.
A massive plume of thick, oily black smoke violently erupted into the sky from the direction of the iron mine.
"What happened?!" Kiichiro gasped, his heart plummeting. He immediately dropped his wooden sword and sprinted toward the manor gates. His parents had just left for a business inspection at the mine less than an hour ago.
"Stop!"
Shizumi moved with shocking speed, grabbing Kiichiro by the collar and hauling him back. The old samurai's expression was deadly serious. "The mine has likely been attacked by bandits or rogue mercenaries. You cannot go down there, boy! It's far too dangerous!"
"But my parents are down there!" Kiichiro yelled, struggling against the man's iron grip. Even though they weren't his original parents, they had treated him with nothing but overwhelming love and kindness since he had reincarnated into this body. He couldn't just stand by and do nothing.
"Don't worry," Shizumi lied, his voice tight. "They have armed guards. They will be fine."
They were not fine.
Not long after the explosion, a handful of surviving, bloodied mine workers stumbled up the road to the manor, delivering terrible news.
"Young Master!" one of the workers sobbed, falling to his knees. "The mine... the mine was attacked by shinobi! So many people are dead! They blew the main support pillars in the tunnel! The Master... the Madam... they were crushed in the cave-in..."
"What?!" Kiichiro's blood ran cold. A wave of suffocating, blinding fury washed over him. He grabbed the worker by the collar. "Damn it! What kind of shinobi did this?! Did you see their headbands?!"
The worker's face was completely covered in soot, and he was bleeding from several shrapnel wounds; it was a miracle he had survived the blast at all. How could a terrified civilian have paid attention to the identity of highly trained killers? The man could only shake his head, weeping uncontrollably.
Shizumi placed a heavy hand on Kiichiro's trembling shoulder. "Kiichiro, listen to me. Since foreign shinobi have brazenly invaded the borders of the Land of Lightning and destroyed critical infrastructure, we must notify Kumogakure immediately. The Raikage definitely will not ignore an attack on the Daimyo's iron supply."
Kiichiro forced himself to take a deep, shuddering breath, suppressing the burning rage in his chest. He nodded slowly. "You're right. Kumogakure won't let foreign rats run rampant in their backyard. We send a messenger bird to the hidden village immediately."
That day, Kiichiro's peaceful, wealthy life came to an abrupt, violent end. He spent the afternoon organizing the surviving workers to dig out the collapsed tunnel and collect the bodies for burial, before officially sending a distress summons to Kumogakure.
He also personally inspected the blast site. However, the attackers were terrifyingly professional. They had used standard, untraceable explosive tags and left absolutely no obvious tracks, footprints, or identifying weapons behind.
Kiichiro stood in the smoking ruins of the mine, his fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. He couldn't determine the enemy's identity, but he swore to the heavens he would find out.
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