Amegakure main camp.
After Natsuki departed, Yahiko's shattered body was carried into a tent.
Nagato paced outside the entrance, jaw clenched, eyes flicking toward the distance every few seconds.
He was waiting for Natsuki.
"Nagato, sit down." Konan's composure held where his had fractured. "Trust Natsuki-sensei. Yahiko will be fine."
"But—"
He couldn't finish the sentence. It wasn't a matter of trust. It was that Yahiko's injuries looked fatal by every medical standard he knew.
"Yahiko isn't human anymore. He's a demon."
Konan said it quietly, reminding him of what panic had made him forget.
"What?"
"Wounds like these should have killed him instantly. He's still breathing. That's what demon immortality means."
She and Yahiko had both been turned. She understood his current state intimately, even if she'd never experienced damage this severe herself.
"Immortality?"
Genuine surprise broke through Nagato's distress. He knew about the demon conversion — knew about the Blood Demon Arts. But the specifics of what "demon" actually meant, beyond combat techniques, hadn't fully registered until now.
"As long as a single drop of his blood remains, he won't die." Konan nodded. "Once Natsuki-sensei returns, Yahiko will recover completely."
The words had barely left her mouth when an Air Door materialized.
Relief washed over both their faces.
Natsuki stepped through and waved off their greetings before they could speak. He crossed to Yahiko's bedside, assessed the damage in a glance, and raised his hand.
Blood surged from his palm — dense, dark, alive with chakra — and enveloped Yahiko's ruined body like a cocoon.
Moments later, the injuries sealed. Flesh knit. Bone reset. The burns and shrapnel wounds vanished as though they'd never existed.
"Incredible," Nagato breathed.
For a fleeting instant, he understood the appeal of becoming a demon himself.
"He'll need a short rest, then he's fine." Natsuki withdrew his hand and turned to them. "What are the Rain's casualties?"
"Roughly fifty killed." Konan's report was precise. "The first wave of explosive tags detonated before anyone could react. That's where we lost most of them."
After that initial devastation, she, Yahiko, and Nagato had stabilized the situation quickly. And Natsuki's arrival had prevented the damage from spiraling further.
"How did they infiltrate the camp?" Nagato's confusion was genuine. After the Explosion Corps raid, they'd relocated to a more concealed position. With Konoha's expanded presence, the camp was now surrounded on all sides by Leaf strongholds and outposts. Stone shinobi shouldn't have been able to slip through.
"They found the Ryūchi Cave serpents."
That was part of it. But only part. Discovering the snakes gave the Stone a defensive advantage — they could avoid the surveillance network. But navigating past Konoha's positions to locate the Rain's camp required intelligence capabilities the Stone hadn't previously demonstrated.
The answer was obvious: White Zetsu had been feeding them.
"Don't worry too much about it." Natsuki considered for a moment. "I'll have the Ryūchi Cave station more serpents underground permanently. If anyone tunnels in again, they'll be detected. Beyond that, I'll have Konoha's forces reinforce your barriers."
"Thank you, Natsuki-sensei." Konan and Nagato spoke in unison.
"Nagato — stay with Yahiko. Konan, take me to the wounded."
"Yes, Sensei."
She led him through the camp. The scale of injuries was sobering — over half of Amegakure's shinobi had been hurt to some degree.
Natsuki drew Minazuki and released it into its manta ray form. The creature moved through the makeshift infirmary with gentle efficiency, healing each casualty in turn. The entire process took minutes.
Every conscious shinobi in the tent stared in open-mouthed silence. None of them had ever seen a ninja tool with healing capabilities on this scale.
"Natsuki-sensei."
Yahiko appeared at the tent's entrance — fully restored, moving with his usual energy. Nagato stood beside him.
"You've all had a hard night. Get some rest."
Natsuki looked him over and was satisfied with what he saw.
"You're the one who worked hardest, Sensei." Yahiko shook his head. "Without you, the losses would have been far worse."
And he'd have been dead. The explosive tags would have left nothing — not even bone fragments. The only reason he was standing here was the demon's immortality.
"Save the pleasantries. I'm heading out. Next time."
Natsuki smiled, stepped through an Air Door, and vanished.
He returned to Konoha's main camp. Still deep night.
He chose not to inform anyone about the Rain's camp being hit. It could wait until morning.
He slipped under the covers, pulled Mikoto's warm body against his, and let sleep take him.
Somewhere underground.
"You're certain?" Uchiha Madara's frown deepened.
"Confirmed." Black Zetsu's tone was flat. "A White Zetsu observed Yahiko in person. Not only alive — completely uninjured."
"That's impossible."
Dozens of explosive tags detonating at point-blank range. No shinobi should survive that — not without a technique like Izanagi.
But Yahiko didn't possess the Sharingan. Izanagi was out of the question.
Had Natsuki taught him some comparable forbidden technique?
If so, the implications were deeply troubling.
Madara considered.
Would such a technique carry a cost? Almost certainly. Izanagi itself demanded the sacrifice of a Sharingan. Any equivalent would have limitations.
"Whatever method Yahiko used, it will have significant restrictions," Madara said slowly. "Continue looking for opportunities."
"As a precaution," Black Zetsu added, "I recommend adding Konan to the target list."
"Agreed."
Konan would serve as a control case. If Natsuki had developed a survival technique, he wouldn't have taught it to Yahiko alone. Konan and Nagato would likely have access to it as well — though not necessarily the ability to use it.
If Konan couldn't use it, she became the easier kill. If she could, the comparison between her and Yahiko's responses would reveal the technique's mechanics.
"The problem is that after tonight, their vigilance will be at maximum." Black Zetsu raised the practical concern. "Another raid on the Rain's camp will be exponentially harder."
"That's not the only problem. Natsuki's response speed is equally concerning." Madara's expression turned grave. "I suspect he possesses space-time ninjutsu similar to the Flying Thunder God."
The Stone's raid had been a complete surprise — Madara was certain Konoha had received no advance intelligence. The Rain's camp had been unprepared. Yet Natsuki had arrived within minutes.
The only explanation was instantaneous transportation.
"Natsuki is a Ryūchi Cave contractor," Black Zetsu analyzed. "If a summoning snake in the camp performed a Reverse Summoning, it could pull him there immediately."
"Possible."
If it was Reverse Summoning, the threat was manageable. But if it was true space-time ninjutsu — the Door-Door Fruit equivalent of the Flying Thunder God — the implications for their plans were devastating.
"Two-pronged approach." Madara's decision came quickly. "First, watch for opportunities to catch them isolated. Second, push Iwagakure toward a full-scale offensive."
The following morning.
Konoha main camp, command tent.
Natsuki briefed the assembled jōnin on the previous night's events.
"How did the Stone's intelligence capability improve so dramatically?" Tsunade's question cut straight to the anomaly.
She'd caught the key issue immediately. Knowing about the Ryūchi Cave serpents gave the Stone a defensive edge — but it didn't explain how they'd located the Rain's camp or navigated past Konoha's perimeter.
"The cause is unclear at present." Natsuki kept his voice measured. "But from this point forward, everyone operates at heightened alert."
He knew the answer — White Zetsu. But saying so would accomplish nothing. They couldn't catch what they couldn't detect.
"I say we counterattack!" Nawaki's fist clenched. "Hit them with a surprise assault!"
"Since when is a surprise attack that simple?" Tsunade frowned.
Raids were high-risk, high-reward. Success yielded enormous gains. Failure meant total loss — as the Stone had just demonstrated. And they'd sent their best infiltration specialists, all of whom were now dead.
"Actually... it's not impossible."
Natsuki had gone quiet for several seconds. When he spoke, the room stilled.
"Wait — seriously?" Nawaki's energy spiked.
"You have an idea?" Tsunade looked at him, surprised.
"Sis — when I suggest it, you shut me down. When he says it—"
"Remind me — who's the Commander-in-Chief here?"
Nawaki's mouth closed.
"Nothing concrete yet," Natsuki said. "I need time."
Nawaki's suggestion had triggered something. Wood Release.
Three Wood Release users were currently deployed to this front: himself, Tsunade, and Nawaki. If the three of them hit a Stone position simultaneously — a camp, a major stronghold — using large-scale Wood Release techniques, the effect would be devastating.
And beyond the tactical value, there was a symbolic dimension. Both Konoha and the Senju Clan wanted Wood Release's return announced to the shinobi world. This war was the stage. Natsuki just needed to find the right target.
"Then we'll wait for your plan!" Nawaki was practically vibrating.
"Dismissed."
The jōnin filed out.
The Stone's improved intelligence was concerning, but Konoha's own network remained strong. At worst, the advantage had been neutralized — not reversed. The strategic balance hadn't shifted dramatically.
And Natsuki understood Madara and Black Zetsu's actual objective. They weren't helping the Stone win a war. Everything they did orbited three targets: Nagato, Konan, and Yahiko.
Natsuki traveled to the Hidden Mist.
This time, he bypassed Mei entirely and went straight to Ringo Ameyuri.
"Have you made contact with Hōzuki Mangetsu?"
Direct. No preamble.
"I've spoken to him. He's interested." Ameyuri's response was equally clipped.
She understood Natsuki's intention — use Mangetsu's terminal illness as leverage for a demon conversion, the same way he'd converted her. A month ago, she would have resisted. Mangetsu was a fellow Swordsman, a comrade.
But she was a demon now. Natsuki's authority superseded the Mist's.
"Set a time. Next visit, take me to him."
"Yes, Lord Natsuki."
He nodded and left.
Back in the Land of Earth, Natsuki drew Minazuki and released the manta ray.
He rose to extreme altitude — over ten kilometers above the surface. At this height, only a handful of sensory techniques had sufficient range to detect him. Kagura's Mind's Eye was one of the few.
The manta ray carried him north, crossing into the Stone's operational zone.
He scanned the terrain below, searching for a location suited to Wood Release's strengths.
By sunset, he'd found it: a Stone stronghold positioned adjacent to a dense forest.
Wood Release could create forests from nothing. It could also control existing ones. An established tree line meant drastically reduced chakra expenditure — the existing biomass served as raw material and amplifier.
He returned to camp, satisfied. Once he'd mapped the stronghold's defenses and garrison in detail, they could move.
Evening. Konoha Village.
Natsuki stepped through an Air Door into Konoha Hospital.
"Nonou."
He walked up to her. "What do you want for dinner tonight?"
"Anything is fine." Yakushi Nonou showed no surprise at his sudden appearance. He came back regularly to see her and Kushina — she'd long since stopped startling.
"Then how about you?"
He studied her face — fair skin carrying a faint flush — and smiled.
Nonou blinked. She met his eyes, her lashes trembling, and gave a small nod.
Something tightened in his chest. The way she accepted the suggestion — gentle, unhesitating, warm — was so at odds with what he'd actually proposed that the contrast hit him physically.
He leaned in and bit her cheek softly.
She laughed — quiet, radiant, the happiest expression she wore.
"Come on. I'm buying you something first."
He stepped back, appraised her, and opened an Air Door.
They emerged onto one of Konoha's commercial streets. The after-work crowds were thinning but still substantial.
Natsuki led her into a clothing shop. His gaze swept the displays and locked onto a white fitted miniskirt set.
"What do you think of that one?"
"It seems more suited to Kushina," Nonou said after a moment's consideration.
She wasn't wrong — the outfit radiated a youthful energy that was more Kushina's register than hers.
"A change of style never hurts."
She understood. "Then let's get it."
He bought the outfit — and a pair of white thigh-highs to match.
They went home.
In the bedroom, he set out the outfit with undisguised anticipation.
Nonou realized what this was actually about. The clothes were for her to wear. For him to enjoy.
She was long past being surprised by this.
She undressed in front of him without hesitation — pale skin emerging as each layer fell away. Her figure was slimmer than Tsunade's or Pakura's, but the proportions were flawless, long-limbed and elegant.
She stepped into the skirt, pulled the top into place, and rolled the white thigh-highs up her legs.
Natsuki's eyes sharpened.
The fitted top hugged her frame, exposing a strip of flat stomach. The white skirt sat at her waist, ending mid-thigh. The stockings traced her long legs, skin showing through the sheer fabric in a warm undertone.
"One more thing."
He stepped forward, gathered her golden hair, and tied it into a high ponytail.
He stepped back. Nodded.
The transformation was striking — Nonou looked like someone ten years younger, all bright energy and clean lines. A completely different person from the gentle, composed woman she usually presented.
Though as she'd predicted, the effect was slightly undercut by her expression. She was simply too serene, too soft-eyed, to fully sell the youthful edge.
He closed the distance and pulled her against him.
His hand found her thigh — the white fabric smooth and taut over warm skin beneath. He couldn't stop touching her.
She shivered. Turned her head and pressed her lips to his neck, breath coming hot and unsteady.
He swallowed hard. His hands moved up. He lifted her.
Her arms looped around his neck. Her legs left the ground, the stockinged calves crossing behind him.
She looked up at him — and her eyes were liquid.
A tearing sound.
The new stockings didn't survive the first ten minutes.
Two hours later, Natsuki closed the bedroom door behind him.
He turned — and froze.
Kushina stood at the end of the hallway.
A beat of silence.
He recovered, walked toward her, and ruffled her hair.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"You were loud." She pursed her lips.
He blinked — then realized. The new outfit and the stockings had distracted him so thoroughly that he'd forgotten to set up a sound barrier.
Carelessness.
At least it was only Kushina. If Tsunade had still been in the compound, he and Nonou would have needed to flee Konoha under cover of darkness.
"I'm better than her," Kushina muttered.
"What?"
He looked at her.
Her face went crimson.
"What a little glutton you are." He laughed.
"I am not."
She turned away, refusing to look at him.
The thought crossed his mind — whether she and Nonou might eventually reach a genuine understanding. Not just tolerance, but something closer to partnership.
He felt the odds were surprisingly good.
"I'm hungry, Natsuki."
She turned back.
"Kitchen. Let's go."
He scooped her up.
"I mean actually hungry!"
She stiffened in his arms, caught the possible misinterpretation, and corrected course immediately.
"And you said you're not a glutton?"
He smacked her bare thigh.
"This is YOUR fault! I wasn't like this before!"
Face burning, she buried it against his shoulder.
He carried her to the kitchen and made ramen.
After she'd eaten, Kushina leaned into him of her own accord.
Natsuki considered for a moment — then had her change into black stockings.
Another two hours.
He finally returned to the main camp.
He'd barely sat down before Mikoto pressed herself against him.
"What a life," he murmured, shaking his head.
He rose to meet her.
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