The entire field was silent.
Shinji stood up straight, passed through the crowd that automatically made way for him, and came to a halt in front of Kisame Hoshigaki.
Kisame Hoshigaki sized him up: neither tall nor short, with an ordinary appearance, but those eyes were very quiet.
When meeting his gaze, there was no fear, no flattery—there was nothing at all.
"top of the grade," Kisame Hoshigaki said.
Shinji nodded: "Mm."
Kisame Hoshigaki stared at him for a few seconds, then turned around: "Follow me."
Shinji followed behind him, passing through the crowd and those complex gazes: envy, jealousy, fear, and something else.
It wasn't until the two figures disappeared around a corner that the crowd came back to life, with discussions rising and falling.
At the edge of the crowd, Mei Terumī had squeezed out at some point; she just looked in Shinji's direction, her face devoid of expression.
After a moment, she lowered her head and continued searching for her name on the notice board.
Her finger slid across row after row of densely packed characters, stopping at a certain spot:
Squad Number: Team 7. Instructor Jonin: To be determined. Teammates: Two unfamiliar names.
She looked at it for a few seconds, then withdrew her hand and turned to leave.
...
Night.
Shinji and Kisame Hoshigaki had spent the afternoon at the training ground familiarizing themselves with each other's abilities, and were now walking back.
The two crossed the training ground and walked along the gravel road leading out of the Village; neither spoke a word along the way.
It wasn't until there was no one else around that Kisame Hoshigaki stopped in his tracks.
He didn't turn around, only tilting his head to the side:
"You care a lot about that little girl?"
Shinji was taken aback for a moment.
Earlier today at the notice board, he had only glanced at Mei Terumī—a very brief glance.
But Kisame Hoshigaki had noticed.
He thought about it and nodded: "Mm."
He didn't offer further explanation.
He did indeed care, but the reason could not be said aloud.
Kisame Hoshigaki was silent for a few seconds before turning around, his eyes behind the mask staring at him.
Those eyes were very cloudy, but as they stared at him now, something seemed to be churning within them.
"Brat."
His voice came from ahead, his tone carrying an indefinable quality:
"Since you care about her, don't blame me for not warning you.
That girl might be in danger tonight."
Shinji's footsteps halted, his mind racing.
He instantly realized the reason.
The next moment, he said:
"I need to request a leave of absence."
Kisame Hoshigaki didn't stop him. He only remained silent for a few seconds after hearing this, then waved his hand:
"Go. Be back before dawn."
Shinji turned and ran.
He didn't know why Kisame Hoshigaki was helping him.
Perhaps he too had someone he cared about when he was young, or perhaps it was something else.
It didn't matter.
What mattered was that he had to save Mei Terumī.
How could the Fifth Generation Mizukage of this world be so weak?
He was acting like a nanny; he only hoped that his current efforts would yield rewards in the future.
...
The Hidden Mist Village at night was even grayer than during the day.
Mei Terumī walked on the way home; from the Village center to the edge of the slums, she had to pass through a stretch of abandoned old streets.
Back when the Blood Mist policy was at its craziest, this place had been purged three times; now only broken walls and ruins remained, leaning precariously on both sides of the road.
She didn't walk fast. Her knees still hurt, and the place she had scraped during the day had just scabbed over; every step tugged at that thin layer of skin.
But she was used to it.
Pain, isolation, walking the night road alone.
As she walked, she stopped in her tracks.
There were people in the mist.
More than one.
She didn't turn around, just tilted her head to listen.
The sound of breathing, extremely light, but from three locations.
Two in front and one behind—a standard encirclement formation.
Mei Terumī slowly bent down and placed the items in her hands on the ground.
A bundle of supplies just collected from the Village center: a Genin uniform, a forehead protector, and basic ninja tools.
Then she straightened up and turned around.
Three figures emerged from the mist.
The two in front came out first.
Then came the one behind, footsteps neither rushed nor slow.
The moment she saw them clearly, Mei Terumī's pupils constricted slightly.
Ichima Shirataka. Morimoto Makoto. And... Miki Ayano.
Her team's Jonin.
The woman who was listed on the assignment sheet as 'Female, twenty-six years old, Special Jonin' was now standing five paces behind her, a gentle smile on her face.
That smile was exactly the same as when she had posted the assignment sheet at the notice board during the day—gentle and kind.
"Mei Terumī-san."
Miki Ayano spoke, her voice as gentle as if she were explaining Ninjutsu in a classroom:
"It's so late, it's not safe to go home alone. So we've come to see you off. See you on your way."
The last few words fell into her ears, light as a feather.
But the instant those words fell, Ichima Shirataka and Morimoto Makoto had already moved.
Their coordination was even more seamless than during the day.
Ichima Shirataka lunged from the front, his fist aiming straight for her face.
Morimoto Makoto slid from the side, a kick sweeping toward the back of her knee.
Mei Terumī dodged the straight punch and simultaneously raised her arm to block the side kick.
With a muffled 'thud,' she was jolted back two steps.
Before she could steady herself, Ichima Shirataka's second strike had already arrived.
This time it was a Kunai, a sharpened one.
She twisted her body to avoid it, the Kunai grazing her clothes. Morimoto Makoto took the opportunity to kick toward her waist.
She couldn't fully dodge in time and could only turn her body to shed some of the force, but she was still kicked into a stagger for several steps, her back slamming heavily against a broken wall.
Gravel fell from the top of the wall with a rustle.
Ichima Shirataka and Morimoto Makoto stopped five paces away, one on the left and one on the right, sealing off all her paths of retreat.
Mei Terumī leaned against the broken wall, her chest heaving violently. The wound on her knee had split open, and warm liquid was trickling down her calf.
But she didn't look down; she just stared at the two people in front of her, her peripheral vision locked firmly onto Miki Ayano behind her.
"You guys!"
"Don't blame us." Ichima Shirataka licked his lips, his eyes gleaming. "Blame that Kekkei Genkai of yours."
Morimoto Makoto chimed in, clutching his ribs where she had just blocked him:
"Keeping that kind of thing around is bound to be a disaster sooner or later. Everyone in the Village knows it."
Mei Terumī didn't speak.
She didn't wonder how it had been exposed. Because in this Village, secrets never stayed hidden for long.
Those eyes watching her, those whispered discussions—she had known this day would come.
She just hadn't expected it to be so soon. The very first day of graduation.
She took a deep breath, raised her hands, and began to form hand signs.
Ichima Shirataka and Morimoto Makoto froze for a second, then their killing intent grew even stronger.
But it was already too late.
"Yōton: Melting Apparition Technique!"
A thick, orange-red liquid erupted from her mouth like a stream of scalding lava, heading straight for the two in front of her.
The air hissed as it was corroded by the heat.
The two men's expressions changed drastically as they scrambled to dodge to either side.
Ichima Shirataka barely avoided the direct impact; the orange-red liquid grazed his shoulder and hit the broken wall behind him.
The wall was instantly corroded, leaving a large hole.
Morimoto Makoto was a bit slower; a few drops of the liquid splashed onto his arm.
"Aaaah!"
A blood-curdling scream tore through the mist.
Morimoto Makoto stumbled back, clutching his arm; those few drops of orange-red liquid were spreading wildly across his skin, leaving charred, peeling flesh and white smoke in their wake.
"It really is that cursed, evil power!"
Shocked and enraged, Ichima Shirataka instinctively backed away two more steps:
"Captain!"