Chương 130: The Dark-Skinned Child

Shinobi combat is a frantic dance of milliseconds; entire fates are decided in the span of a single breath. The Leaf defector, clutching his shattered arm and howling in agony, scrambled to his feet. He didn't look back, trailing desperately after the Waterfall mole as they vanished into the subterranean gloom. His panicked shrieks had effectively broken the spirit of the remaining rogues. They recognized the voice of their leader—a man who, despite his betrayal, still carried the prestige of a Great Village.

There was a reason defectors clung to their old forehead protectors. It was a pedigree, a diploma from a prestigious academy that commanded an instinctive, albeit fearful, respect among the dregs of the underworld. A man's reputation, much like the shadow of a great tree, precedes him. To these wandering rogues and sell-swords, the Anbu of the Great Five were the ultimate boogeymen. They were the apex predators of the shinobi world, and they required neither permission nor provocation to execute a target.

Any remaining courage evaporated. The prospect of the Hero's Water and the dream of a wealthy retirement were instantly discarded in favor of basic survival. Most of the survivors possessed enough clarity to retreat toward the main tunnels, while the few truly broken by terror plunged blindly into dead-end fissures like headless flies. Zhen led the charge. After casually dispatching two more strangers, he stopped pulling his punches.

He pursued them like a vengeful spirit, his blade leaving a trail of silent finality. Suien quickly reorganized his forces, leaving a few to tend the wounded while he and the rest joined the Owl Squad in the hunt. Desperate to stall their pursuers, the fleeing rogues triggered a sequence of explosive tags rigged along the tunnel walls. They intended to bring the ceiling down—if not to bury the pursuers, then at least to choke their path. But Zhen's sensory net was wide.

The moment the tags flared, he unleashed a flurry of wind blades, precisely severing the connection points and neutralizing the charges before they could detonate. Leading the frantic retreat, one rogue looked back at his dwindling retinue, a flash of deja vu striking him. Two years ago, he had been a shinobi of the Hidden Stone, caught in a skirmish against the Leaf. An entire platoon of his comrades had been harvested like ripened wheat by a Leaf elite squad.

He alone had crawled back from the gates of the Pure Land. He had never returned to the Stone. With no family left, he had chosen the life of a drifter, eventually gathering a small, reliable band of followers. Was history about to repeat itself? No. He refused to lose everything again—not for his subordinates, for whom he felt little, but for the sake of the man who had once been discarded like a weed. He would not die like a stray dog. He skidded to a halt and wove a rapid sequence of seals.

He slammed his palms into the stone floor. [Earth Style: Rock Lodging Destruction]"Die, you Leaf bastards!" His subordinates were moved to tears, amazed that their cold-blooded boss would risk himself to save them. They silently vowed a lifetime of loyalty—provided they survived. In these narrow tunnels, the technique was devastating, designed to bring the weight of the mountain down upon the pursuit. Yet, the cavern remained still. Not a single pebble fell.

Zhen, sensing the surge of chakra, had already extended his left hand. A golden-brown barrier of reinforced chakra surged forward, bracing the cavern walls with absolute rigidity. [Earth Style: One-Horned Great Wall] The barrier, fortified by Zhen's sophisticated sealing techniques, was an immovable bastion. Once the collapse was halted, he slapped his right hand against the wall.

[Earth Style: Hardening Technique] The structural integrity of the tunnel was instantly restored, petrifying the loose rock into a singular, unbreakable mass. While most elemental constructs dissipate once the chakra is withdrawn, this was a manipulation of the natural stone itself. The effect was permanent. The Stone rogue stared at the unique chakra shield, a look of grim realization washing over his face. He laughed, a hollow, self-deprecating sound.

"Of course... the 'Shield of Konoha.' We're dead men." This was the curse of fame. Once a signature jutsu was revealed, a mask became a mere formality. It was like seeing a white-haired shinobi charging with a handful of lightning; everyone immediately knew they were facing Kakashi Hatake. The rogue's assessment was, unfortunately for him, entirely accurate. A massive, crescent wind-scythe tore through the tunnel. It was a singular, sweeping arc of destruction that bisected everyone in its path.

It was a grisly scene. Zhen took no pleasure in such carnage—it was detrimental to one's mental hygiene—but to prevent the rogue from causing further structural damage with his jutsus, a decisive execution was necessary. As is well known, a man bisected at the waist does not die instantly. The Stone rogue looked up at Zhen, a bloody, bitter smile on his lips.

"To think... I'd end up under a Leaf blade after all. Damnable luck."

"Does it matter?" Zhen asked, his voice echoing in the stone.

"We all fall to someone eventually. That is the world we chose. Safe travels." A final strike ended the man's suffering. The few who had managed to slip away were long gone, but Suien didn't care. The immediate threat to the village had been neutralized. Now knowing the identity of the Anbu before him, his demeanor shifted to one of profound reverence.

"My lord, we are in your debt. The Leaf has honored its bond." The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"It was a mission," Zhen replied.

"The rest is in your hands. Send word if you require further assistance." The oppressive aura that had choked Takigakure had finally lifted. The Jinchuriki transfer was complete. The previous host was dead, and a new soul had inherited that unenviable, cursed fate. The Jinchuriki was the village's most guarded secret, but those close to the ritual—and those who knew the former host—could sense the shift. Their eyes, filled with a mixture of fear and loathing, would be the first thing the new host encountered.

It was the genesis of the isolation that defined a Jinchuriki's life. People don't care if a beast has never rampaged; they simply don't want to live next to a ticking time bomb. The Sand's sealing techniques were notoriously shoddy, leading to the frequent instability of Gaara. Honestly, looking at them, even the Waterfall seemed more competent. If not for the providence of the Sage of the Six Paths, Gaara and Naruto might have razed their respective villages to the ground by puberty.

Zhen's goal here went beyond the contract. He was here to study the symbiosis between host and beast—a reconnaissance mission for the inevitable Night of the Nine-Tails. If he could prevent the fox's release, wonderful; if not, he had to be prepared for the worst. Obito's Kamui was an absolute nightmare of a variable, and one could never be too prepared. He had expected to have to step in, but the Waterfall had managed on their own. He wasn't disappointed; he always had a contingency.

He was preparing to depart when Shibuki, looking weary and aged, arrived at their quarters. He bowed low.

"Suien has briefed me. Your intervention saved us from a catastrophe."

"Leader Shibuki, a shinobi lives for the mission," Zhen said.

"If the matter is settled, please sign the completion forms. We must return to the Leaf immediately."

"So soon? Surely you can stay the night."

"Speed is a shinobi's greatest asset. We leave tonight."

"Very well. I shall have the seal applied immediately. However..." Shibuki paused, his gaze wavering.

"Captain Athene, might I ask you to accompany me for a moment?"

"Certainly." Zhen signaled his team to remain vigilant. Outside, Shibuki spoke in a low voice.

"I assume you've surmised why we specifically requested a sealing expert from the Leaf. I would like you to examine the state of the Jinchuriki." He produced a non-disclosure agreement. Takigakure was taking a massive risk, but they trusted the Leaf's reputation for integrity. Had it been any of the other Great Four, they would have sooner faced a rampaging beast than let an outsider near their host. This was the dividend of the Leaf's "face"—people were more willing to trust you in a crisis. Zhen was stunned.

Such a stroke of luck? He signed the document with his codename and followed Shibuki into a heavily fortified chamber. Six elder shinobi stood guard around two sacrificial altars. On one lay the withered corpse of an elderly man—the former host.

"May I examine him?" Zhen asked.

"You may." The beast was gone, and the seal on the man's abdomen had been broken, but the residual patterns were still visible. Zhen recognized them instantly. It was a textbook Four Symbols Seal. A Leaf technique, Zhen realized. So, decades ago, the Waterfall didn't even have the capacity to seal the Seven-Tails. They had to beg the Leaf for help. The First Hokage truly was a saint. Not only did he sell the Bijuu, but he provided the packaging service to boot. No wonder he was revered as the God of Shinobi.

Zhen moved to the second altar. Lying there was a small girl with cyan hair and dark skin. She couldn't have been more than two years old. This was Fuu, the future Seven-Tails Jinchuriki. Zhen looked at her skin and wondered briefly if the Waterfall had a habit of "adopting" children from the Land of Lightning. The girl was awake, her orange eyes wide with innocent curiosity, completely unaware of the mountain of chakra now anchored to her soul. Zhen examined the seal.

It was a crude, imperfect imitation of the Four Symbols Seal. It seemed that while Takigakure had declined over the decades, they had at least tried to reverse-engineer the Leaf's techniques. They had created something functional, but they didn't trust their own knock-off. They needed a professional to verify the work.

"The foundation is sound," Zhen remarked after a moment.

"However, the trigrams at the Li and Dui positions are not properly coupled. It will cause spatial instability, which will eventually interfere with the chakra synchronization." He placed a hand on Fuu's stomach, channeling his chakra to rectify the flaws in the imitation seal. As he worked, he surreptitiously probed the connection between the girl and the beast. The six Waterfall elders didn't dare dismiss him due to his age.

Seeing him identify the flaw instantly, they hung on his every word, recording the corrections with religious fervor. Shibuki breathed a sigh of relief. The gap between a minor village and a Great Power was truly staggering; a random Anbu from the Leaf could dismantle decades of their research in a glance. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. During the tragedy of the Uzumaki clan, Takigakure hadn't even been invited to the table; they only heard of the destruction after the dust had settled.

Had they secured even a fraction of the Uzumaki archives then, they wouldn't be begging for help today.