"Leaving the village turns you into a rogue ninja, huh? Though these seem to be the kind that still have a shred of ambition," Nara Kazuki mused as he grilled some meat, eyes skimming through the intelligence file provided by the intel division.
Useful.
But not completely trustworthy.
The intel division worked hard, sure—but sometimes they had to avoid alerting their targets, which meant the intel, while valuable, wasn't always complete or reliable.
"Some bastards, after defecting, just went to tiny nations and started living like local lords," Kazuki muttered, a smirk playing on his lips.
Not every shinobi pursued grand ideals or a personal ninja way—especially rogue ninja. The pressure of defection twisted many. Some settled in remote villages, ruled over civilians, and lived out their lives as feudal tyrants. In Kazuki's previous world, these guys would've been characters in some hentai farming simulation—brutal, direct, and perverse.
Still, the two Chūnin in this case seemed more driven than most. They'd joined a squad of rogue ninja who operated like mercenaries, taking on missions and banditry alike. Some of these raider squads were even backed by major villages. Like the sea-roaming groups that plundered merchant fleets—many were former Kirigakure shinobi.
That wasn't surprising.
In his past life, some queens even issued letters of marque for state-sponsored piracy. To Kazuki, this kind of primitive capital accumulation was just par for the course.
These rogue ninja bands often used their earnings to buy jutsu and equipment, gaining real strength through life-and-death missions. Some even caught the attention of major villages and were offered recruitment. But despite the offers, few accepted.
Most defectors had personal grudges with their former villages. Rejoining wasn't appealing—and those who did were treated poorly. Distrust ran deep.
Even without racial divides, the shinobi world had its own ingrained biases.
"A rogue ninja squad with a jōnin-level leader... sounds like a perfect opportunity to farm some chakra," Kazuki said, rubbing his hands.
According to the file, the group had at least fifteen members.
Fifteen shinobi = 15% chakra capacity increase = more ninjutsu training.
Simple math. Glorious math.
"Still, wiping out the whole squad will take prep." He summoned a shadow clone. The clone silently stared back—its eyes gleaming with the Sharingan.
Only a single tomoe, though. Observation progress on Kakashi was still at 50%.
Once he hit 100%, Kazuki could replicate a clone with full three-tomoe Sharingan—essentially a Kakashi clone.
"If I can copy the Sharingan... does that mean the Mangekyō, too?" Kazuki's heart raced.
If he could copy the Mangekyō Sharingan, he'd have one that never went blind. Kakashi's Mangekyō was Kamui—a top-tier ability. The sheer surprise factor would be devastating in combat.
And if Mangekyō was on the table… then what about—
The Rinnegan?
Kazuki's pulse spiked.
Naruto had once been called a series about eye techniques for a reason. Dōjutsu outclassed nearly all other kekkei genkai. Even the final boss, Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, wielded a Rinnegan.
In his long-term plans, Kazuki fully intended to obtain the Rinnegan.
But it wouldn't be easy. Unless he awakened it himself, the only viable targets were Nagato and Kaguya.
Between those two, Nagato was the more realistic option.
"What if I accept a mission, defect from Konoha, infiltrate the Akatsuki, and get close to Pain so I can 'absorb' him daily?" Kazuki thought, his eyes gleaming.
If he could copy all of Nagato's abilities…
He'd win the jackpot.
One clone with the Rinnegan. One with Mangekyō. Kazuki would be broken-tier early game.
For late game? He'd deal with Uchiha Madara and Kaguya then. As long as Kaguya wasn't released, he could focus on stopping the Eye of the Moon Plan, defeating Obito, and sealing Black Zetsu.
Joining the Akatsuki might be the easiest route.
But first—he needed that jōnin rank.
Kazuki finished his grilled meat, packed up, and began heading toward the location the intel team had provided. Rogue ninja rarely stayed put, so even if he got there fast, he'd need to confirm the group's current whereabouts.
Still, having a starting point saved him a lot of effort.
When he arrived, the area was deserted. Not a trace of activity. If he hadn't known better, he'd never guess a rogue ninja camp had been here.
"Pretty good at covering their tracks…" he muttered, scratching his head.
Made sense. Rogue ninja with poor counter-surveillance didn't live long.
He wasn't worried, though. If the intel team couldn't provide an update, he'd just keep training his Wind Sense Perception Technique. It had been one of his priorities lately, since he knew his tracking skills were subpar.
Two or three more days of grinding, and he'd probably level it up.
He headed into a nearby town—just a standard small settlement—and began using his old ANBU experience to locate the local intel post.
These ops weren't always manned by shinobi. The shinobi world was too vast, and the Land of Fire itself too big, to cover entirely. Sometimes the network relied on civilian informants—civilians who were rewarded for reporting useful intel.
Kazuki thought of them as the "Chōyō People's Militia."
"Hmm… hmm?" Kazuki paused, spotting a familiar figure.
A young blonde woman strolled into a gambling hall, hands clasped behind her back. At her side: a young kunoichi.
"Lady Tsunade?" Kazuki blinked, stunned.
He hadn't expected this. He'd only come here to get intel—but now he'd run into Tsunade.
Immediately, a long-term ANBU mission came to mind:
[Persuade Lady Tsunade and Master Jiraiya to Return to the Village]
Orochimaru had originally been part of the mission too—but after his defection, that part was quietly dropped.
The mission had a high priority. Unless you were working on major intelligence operations, everything else could be set aside if you had a shot at bringing Jiraiya or Tsunade back. The reward was very generous.
Not that Kazuki cared much for the payout.
He was already rich. Technically, a first-generation tycoon.
But Tsunade herself? She piqued his interest.
"She should still have hemophobia, right? So maybe…" Kazuki's thoughts drifted.
He recalled certain doujinshi plots—how weakened Tsunade, crippled by her phobia, had been "conquered" by younger shinobi. Back then, she wasn't old either—thanks to her regeneration technique, her youthful appearance and her legendary figure made her a top-tier muse in the lewd arts.
Alongside Hinata and Sakura, of course.
Kazuki strolled after her. The intel team could wait—he wanted to see Tsunade up close.
After all, she always lost at gambling. If she ever won, something terrible was guaranteed to happen. Like Hiruzen's death. Like Jiraiya never coming back.
She had probably sensed bad luck the moment she won against Jiraiya that fateful day. Still, the idiot had insisted on going—and died at the hands of his own student.
But right now? The timing was safe.
Which meant Kazuki had a free win streak lined up.
He casually adjusted his clothes and walked into the gambling hall.
No disguise. With someone of Tsunade's caliber, pretending only increased suspicion. It was safer to walk in bold.
Once inside, a quick scan revealed her instantly.
No surprise—Tsunade drew a crowd.
"Have these guys realized she's an easy mark?" Kazuki wondered. But as he moved closer, he realized the men weren't here to gamble—they were staring at her… assets.
Kazuki edged in. Tsunade gave him a brief glance, then focused on the table again.
They were playing dice. A variant on high-low. The crowd wasn't large, but spectators hovered close.
Kazuki exchanged some chips and sat down. The pot was respectable.
He had a thought—maybe he'd clean the place out. Enlighten the world with the light of justice.
Gambling halls usually housed loan sharks. A quick smash-and-grab with a mask might make him rich.
Assuming he could wipe out security.
"This one's definitely high!" Tsunade shouted, tossing her chips with flair.
Kazuki bet low.
"High! It's gotta be high~" one guy drooled as he stared.
Kazuki twitched. These fools had no self-preservation.
Sure, Tsunade had hemophobia—but before she saw blood, she could still punch someone through a wall.
She ignored the idiot and stared intently.
Then Kazuki won.
His chip stack grew.
He grinned wide. Tsunade slammed the table in frustration.
"I'm still betting high!" she growled, tossing more chips. She shot a glare at the dealer, who immediately started sweating—especially after she crushed a steel dice cup into a crumpled mess.
Kazuki said nothing.
Tsunade might be a walking bankroll, but she played fair—and she hated cheaters.
He bet low again.
And won again.
A few other gamblers were starting to catch on. They weren't here just for the view anymore. Veterans knew when the tide turned.
The room echoed with cheers—except Tsunade's face, which darkened with every round.
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