Chapter Eighteen
"So that's the brat you mentioned," Tsunade said, dropping the paper she was reading onto the polished surface of her desk. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, catching motes of dust that drifted like forgotten secrets in the still air of the Hokage's office.
"Yes, Hokage-sama," Shikaku confirmed, his voice a low, steady counterpoint to the tension thickening the room.
"We just lost Sasuke. You think I'm going to let a child you raved about leave on a suicide mission? We have Jiraiya, the spymaster, for that."
The scent of old paper and ink clung to the space, underscored by the faint, clean aroma of medicinal herbs from Tsunade's own pouch.
"Well, I didn't rave about him," Shikaku replied, offering a strained smile that didn't reach his weary eyes. "And Jiraiya-sama is training Naruto. He couldn't fulfill the… conditions the kid proposed."
"So, you agree with his plan?" Tsunade's gaze was sharp, her fingers drumming a silent, impatient rhythm on the wood.
"We don't have a choice. As his character profile suggests, he has little loyalty to Konoha. Him suggesting this mission means he's tired of Konoha's scenery—which would mean he's likely leaving soon, with or without your permission. The tone of his suggestion implied that."
"Then tighten security. He won't be leaving. We've been deprived of two genin, Naruto and Sasuke. A potential Special Jōnin will not be left to his own devices."
"Yes, Hokage-sama." Shikaku bowed slightly, the motion crisp and formal, before he turned and walked out of the office, his footsteps echoing softly on the wooden floor.
Sigh. That brat has probably already prepared his things. Since he's disobeying the Hokage's direct order, we can justly tag him an S-Rank missing-nin. Especially if he's able to get past security.
What a drag.
---
"Ahh, done."
Kenshin gave a sigh of relief in the quiet solitude of his small room. The space felt hollow, stripped of personal effects. He had packed all his belongings into the intricate storage seal inscribed on his forearm—a design he had studied and perfected during the long, monotonous missions of the past months. The only physical item of consequence was a single, tightly rolled scroll containing the forbidden jutsu he had copied from the secret archives.
Time to dip.
Road to Amegakure.
70% completion rate. Lord Madara will soon be revived.
Hahaha.
A faint, eager smile touched his lips as he opened the window, letting in the cool dawn air that smelled of damp earth and waking leaves.
---
The main gates of Konoha loomed ahead, sunlight slicing through the early morning mist. Kenshin walked with casual purpose, hands in his pockets, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The path was unusually quiet—too quiet for a village still repairing itself.
"Stop."
The voice was calm, authoritative. Kenshin didn't break stride.
A figure dropped from the arch of the gate, landing with a soft tap of sandals on packed earth. Another slid from the shadows of the guardhouse. A third remained perched on the wall, cross-legged, a senbon glinting between his teeth.
"Sorry, guys," Kenshin said without looking back, his voice carrying lightly in the still air. "I have to leave through that gate."
He could have escaped any other way—vanished into the sewers, teleported beyond the walls—but he had to earn his S-Rank missing-nin status.
And I want to flex on Tsunade and Shikaku.
"We have been instructed not to let you pass, Kenshin Yogen."
Kenshin finally paused, turning his head just enough to catch the speaker's eye. Genma stood firm, his posture relaxed but ready, the senbon in his mouth catching the light.
"Ahh, Genma-senpai. Have you made a full recovery? Nice. Who's getting their ass beat first?"
He grinned, rolling his shoulders with a loose, confident ease. With a thought, chakra flared at his wrist—a storage seal tattoo glowed briefly, and Playful Cloud materialized in his grip, the three-section staff humming with restrained energy.
Genma sighed, a cloud of vapor forming in the cool air as he removed the senbon from his mouth. "Junior, you have to understand… you brought this upon yourself."
---
The fight began without another word.
Genma's hands flickered—Shuriken Shadow Clone Technique. Dozens of spinning metal discs filled the air, glinting like deadly petals in the morning light.
Kenshin didn't move until the last second.
Silent Steps erased his footfalls as he slid sideways, Playful Cloud spinning lazily in one hand. He deflected the first wave with ringing clangs, each impact vibrating pleasantly up the staff. He was holding back, his movements efficient, almost bored.
The second guard—Raidō, Kenshin recognized—charged in low, kunai aimed for his legs. Kenshin hopped, using Playful Cloud as a vault, and landed behind him with the grace of a falling leaf.
"Too slow."
A gentle tap of the staff to the back of Raidō's knee sent him stumbling forward.
The third, Aoba, was already weaving signs. Crow Clone Technique. A flock of dark, cawing clones descended, the sound grating against the morning calm.
Kenshin almost yawned. With a flick of his wrist, he channeled a whisper of chakra into Playful Cloud—the sections glowed faintly. A single, sweeping strike dispelled the clones in a puff of feathers and dissipating chakra.
Genma lunged next, senbon between his knuckles, aiming for pressure points with clinical precision. Kenshin parried with the staff, the metal ringing sharply. He leaned into the blow, letting Genma think he had the upper hand—then dropped low, sweeping Genma's legs out from under him with a controlled spin of Playful Cloud.
Genma hit the ground with a grunt, but rolled with the momentum and came up throwing a fan of explosive tags.
Kenshin didn't bother dodging. He let the tags land around him—then clapped once.
Boogie Woogie.
In a blink, he swapped places with Aoba, who was still perched on the wall.
The tags exploded harmlessly against the stone in a flash of light and a puff of smoke. Aoba yelped, tumbling from his perch with ungainly surprise.
"Sorry, senpai," Kenshin called, not sounding sorry at all.
Raidō came at him again, this time with Earth Release—Earth-Style Wall. The ground rumbled, and a barrier of compacted earth and stone rose between Kenshin and the gate, blocking his path.
Kenshin didn't break stride. He simply walked up the vertical surface with Light Steps, as if it were flat ground, and kicked off at the top, flipping neatly over Raidō's head.
He landed between all three of them, Playful Cloud held loosely at his side, his breathing even and calm.
"Last chance to stand down," Kenshin said, his voice calm, almost conversational. "I don't want to hurt you."
Genma spat dust, his eyes narrowed. "Orders are orders."
They came at him together—a coordinated Jōnin assault. Kunai flashed, tags fluttered, taijutsu combos flowed in practiced harmony. Kenshin moved like water between them, blocking, redirecting, never striking to maim. He used Precise to tap chakra points with the tipped ends of his staff—just enough to numb a limb, slow a reaction.
Raidō went down first, a light but perfectly placed jab to the solar plexus leaving him wheezing on the ground, clutching his midsection.
Aoba followed—Kenshin disarmed him with a subtle twist of Playful Cloud, swept his legs from under him, and pressed a gentle but immovable foot to his chest. "Stay."
Genma was the last. Breathing heavily, he stared at Kenshin with something between frustration and reluctant respect.
"You really are Jōnin level," Genma said, his voice grudging.
"Obviously."
"Lord Shikaku was right. You're a dangerous genius, just like them."
"I enjoy the glaze."
Then Kenshin moved—with pure, refined speed, no flashy jutsu needed. He closed the distance in a blur, Playful Cloud dissolving back into its seal. His palm tapped Genma's forehead.
Gentle Fist, but softer. Just enough chakra to disrupt the flow for a few seconds.
Genma's eyes rolled back. He slumped to his knees, then sideways into the dust, unconscious.
Kenshin stood over the three fallen Jōnin, the morning sun now fully above the walls, casting long, sharp shadows. He could hear shouts in the distance—reinforcements, probably, their chakra signatures flickering like approaching torches in his senses.
He brushed a speck of dust from his sleeves, adjusted the strap of his travelling cloak, and walked calmly to the great gate.
He paused at the threshold, looking back once at the village—at the Hokage Tower gleaming in the distance, at the trees rustling in the breeze, at the pale, stunned faces of a few civilians watching in silence from behind windows and cracked doorways.
Then he turned, stepped beyond the boundary, and vanished into the dense green of the forest without a sound.
---
By noon, the missives would be written, sealed, and sent to every major village, every bounty office, every hidden network in the shinobi world:
Kenshin Yogen. Former genin of Konoha. S-Rank missing-nin. Wanted for desertion, assault on Jōnin, unauthorized departure, and theft of classified information and scrolls.
Status: Alive. At large. Approach with extreme caution.