Kisame Hoshigaki would occasionally stare at them for a while.
It wasn't a look of scrutiny or observation; he was simply watching.
Watching them spar on the training grounds, watching them cooperate to complete missions, and watching their figures as they walked back side by side.
Then he would look away without saying a word.
But in those cloudy eyes, something would occasionally flicker.
It was also during this process that Shinji gradually realized something.
The Hidden Mist Village of this world was somewhat different from the one in his memories of the main world.
The Third Mizukage was gone.
Or rather, the Third Mizukage and the Fourth Mizukage seemed to have been fused into one person in some way.
The one currently sitting in the Mizukage's seat was Yagura.
It was the same Yagura who should have succeeded the position over a decade later, becoming the Fourth Mizukage at the young age of thirteen.
But now, he had already been in power for twenty years.
He had begun implementing the Village Hidden in the Bloody Mist policy twenty years ago, ruling this Village with fear ever since.
A full twenty years.
This meant that from the moment a child was born, all they saw was betrayal and death.
Everyone in this Village had lived through twenty years of suffocation, having forgotten what normal breathing felt like.
There was one more thing that wasn't right.
The timing of the outbreak of the Third Ninja World War.
In the main world, the Third War broke out just two years after the Second Ninja War ended.
But now, this interval had been stretched very long.
So long that Shinji sometimes wondered if this war would even happen at all.
Regardless, personal strength was the foundation for solving subsequent problems and the key to the path of the strongest.
He continued to practice diligently.
Every day, he woke up before dawn and practiced on the training grounds until dark.
Chakra control, Taijutsu, Ninjutsu, and swordsmanship.
Over and over again, until his body remembered every movement and his muscles formed instinctive reactions.
Mei Terumī would sometimes stand by and watch.
Watching him swing his blade, watching him form hand seals, watching him sprint, fall, and climb back up again and again on the training grounds.
Sweat streamed down his back, glistening in the sunlight.
The days passed like this.
[One year later, you are officially promoted to Chunin. That day, Kisame Hoshigaki uncharacteristically patted your shoulder. He said nothing, but something flickered in those cloudy eyes.]
[Mei Terumī stood nearby, watching the scene, and something in her heart was gently touched.]
[You can sense that this future Mizukage, peerless in her elegance, harbors an affection in her heart that she hasn't even discovered herself.]
[At this point, you begin to steer the course sharply, deliberately maintaining a cold attitude while showing care through your actions. Only in this way can you keep Mei Terumī within your grasp in this game of love.]
[Then came the second year. Mei Terumī's talent began to show. Yōton and Boiling Release became increasingly proficient in her hands, her Chakra control grew more precise, and her Taijutsu was no longer at the level of being pinned to the ground.]
[Kisame Hoshigaki would occasionally stare at her for a while, then look away without saying a word.]
[Everything seemed set to reach a conclusion filled with a happiness that didn't belong to the Village Hidden in the Bloody Mist—among the silent master, the warm senior brother, and the sensible junior sister—but in the third year after graduation, everything changed.]
When news of the Third Kazekage's disappearance spread across the Five Great Nations, Shinji was practicing Chakra control on the training grounds outside the Village.
The sun was pleasant that afternoon; sunlight leaked through the gaps in the clouds and fell upon the river's surface, shimmering like crushed gold.
Standing by the river, he practiced the flow of Chakra repeatedly, trying to improve his control precision just a bit more.
Then he saw Kisame Hoshigaki approaching from a distance.
His pace was faster than usual, and the kubikiribōchō on his back swayed more violently with each step.
Jūzō walked up to him and stopped.
"Return to the Village."
Just four words.
Shinji didn't ask why. He packed his things and followed Jūzō back.
Jūzō didn't speak the whole way; only the kubikiribōchō on his back swayed gently with his steps, rhythmically.
The atmosphere in the Village changed from that day on.
A crowd gathered in front of the bulletin board, but no one spoke.
Everyone stared at the newly posted notice, staring at those few words: Third Kazekage missing. Konoha suspected.
That silence was more oppressive than any clamor.
Kisame Hoshigaki packed his things that night and headed straight for the front lines.
On the day he left, Jūzō stood at the Village entrance with his back to them.
"Watch over her," he said.
No looking back, no extra words.
Just that one sentence, and then he stepped into the mist. The kubikiribōchō swayed on his back as he was quickly swallowed by the fog.
Unfortunately, it wasn't long.
Shinji was urgently promoted to Special Jonin and joined the Anbu.
Leaving Mei Terumī all alone to go on missions.
The master and his two disciples were thus scattered.
The Third Ninja World War finally broke out.
Unlike the original story where it was only two years after the Second Ninja World War, this time the war was delayed by over a decade, giving the nations time to recuperate.
This also meant the intensity of this war would be even more brutal.
Naturally, the Hidden Mist Village joined the war.
Like other Villages, they sent batch after batch of young people to the front lines, then posted batch after batch of names back on the bulletin board.
Shinji first noticed it while turning in a mission.
There were fewer and fewer pedestrians on the streets, supplies were becoming tighter, and every so often, a new batch of names would be posted on the bulletin board.
It was the casualty list.
At first, people would still gather to look.
Some knelt on the ground unable to get up, some covered their mouths crying silently, and some stroked a name over and over as if they could bring the person back.
Later, fewer people looked, and fewer people cried.
Eventually, when the list was posted, passersby would only spare a glance before walking away with their heads down.
By the second year of the war, too many people had died in the Hidden Mist Village.
The streets were empty; even the daytime felt like late night.
The training grounds that used to be crowded with Genin were now mostly empty, the grass growing tall and rustling in the wind.
The windows of every household were tightly shut. Occasionally, someone would walk by, head down and footsteps hurried, as if afraid of being caught by something.
One evening in April, Kisame Hoshigaki found Shinji.
The sun had just set, and a final streak of dark red remained on the horizon, like dried blood.
Shinji had just returned from the Anbu; before he could even take off his mask, he was intercepted by Jūzō on the riverbank outside the Village.
Jūzō stood in the water, his boots submerged in the ankle-deep river, with the kubikiribōchō resting on his shoulder.
With his back to Shinji, he looked at the misty mountain silhouettes in the distance. His voice drifted over, carrying a hint of a weary smile.
"Shinji, you're doing pretty well for yourself now, kid."
Shinji didn't speak.
He stood there, looking at Jūzō's back.
This man who had led him for two years seemed somewhat like a stranger now.
It wasn't because of the blade, nor because the Anbu uniform had been replaced by a standard Jonin flak jacket, but because of a certain resoluteness that seeped from his very bones.