Seeing the familiar surroundings, Hyūga Shigeo was certain—this was the mysterious, ever-shifting Paradise Island of Kumogakure.
A place steeped in natural energy, it was one of the best locations in the shinobi world for training.
Years later, this very island would become the same one where Naruto Uzumaki and Killer B would hone their powers together.
The three young disciples disembarked, climbing the steep stone paths until they reached the island's central dojo.
At its heart stood a massive building shaped like the Eight-Tails itself, with two horns jutting from the roof and wide circular windows for eyes.
A pair of ninja greeted them at the entrance.
"Ah, it's that time of the month again—the monthly assessment! Welcome!"
They were led inside, through the hallways of the dojo, until they reached the inner training chamber.
There stood the towering figure of Killer B, the jinchūriki of the Eight-Tails.
Two other shinobi flanked him respectfully.
The air was thick with his overwhelming presence—his skin glistened under the torchlight, muscles defined like carved steel, seven swords strapped across his back in crisscrossing angles.
On his right arm, the kanji for "Iron" gleamed like a badge of pride.
"Yo, y'all ready?
My rhythm steady,
Get ready, sweaty! Oh yeah!"
B dropped his rap greeting with a grin, then raised an eyebrow at his three disciples, leaning closer with a whisper:
"So… how's my concert? You sell them tickets?
Bet they're all gone, fans lined up in minutes!"
Shigeo's eyebrow twitched.
Suppressing a sigh, he raised the bundle of tickets. "Oh yeah, Sensei, seems like we didn't sell many, oh yeah—but don't worry! The three of us will definitely be there, oh yeah!"
For a moment, he couldn't help it—his tone matched Killer B's perfectly, rhythm and all.
The Eight-Tails' host froze for half a second… then laughed with absolute delight.
"My man! My prodigy! The next great rapper of Kumogakure! Oh yeah!"
Before Shigeo could react, Killer B scooped him up and lifted him into the air like a trophy.
"Sensei," Shigeo continued, seizing the moment, "these tickets—I'll buy them all. Five ryō each, right? That's three thousand tickets, so… fifteen thousand in total. I'll pay it myself."
He pulled out his coin pouch, counting out a small mountain of ryo bills, and handed them over solemnly.
The dojo went completely silent.
Then—
Killer B's eyes filled with tears, his nose running as he hugged Shigeo tight again.
"My disciple… my loyal fan! You've given me the rhythm of life itself! I—I'm touched, bro!"
He sniffled, clutching the money like it was his newborn child. His eyes practically sparkled with stars.
Off to the side, Karui and Samui looked absolutely devastated.
They'd spent weeks plotting ways to avoid this month's concert.
And now?
Omoi—well, Shigeo disguised as Omoi—had just bought every single ticket.
And worse—he'd promised their attendance.
They both stared at him like he'd lost his mind.
After basking in emotion for a good while, Killer B finally composed himself, carefully wrapping the ticket bundle and setting it aside.
"Alright, enough sentimentality.
Let's move on to the main event—today's assessment! Oh yeah!"
He crossed his arms, and suddenly his voice dropped the playful tone.
"Joy is joy, but discipline is key.
Slack off now, and you're not leaving this island for the next six months."
Shigeo smiled faintly. From the moment he'd seen B, his mirror replication technique had already started recording every trace of the Eight-Tails' chakra and structure.
How long the process would take, though, was anyone's guess.
The test began—three against one.
Three genin-level disciples versus the Eight-Tails' jinchūriki.
Killer B, of course, handled them effortlessly.
Still, he wasn't one to go easy on his students.
Particularly his "favorite"—Omoi—the boy who'd just bought every single ticket to his dream concert.
While blocking Samui's shuriken and dodging Karui's wild kicks, B focused his attacks on Shigeo with gleeful precision.
Every movement of his massive frame was a dance of rhythm and strength, his words mixing seamlessly with battle.
"Yo, your stance ain't whack,
But your legs got no smack!
Hit me harder, no slack—oh yeah!"
"Legs, huh?"
Shigeo grinned. He leapt forward, twisting his body midair, and kicked downward with a burst of compressed force—directly at B's wrist.
"How about now, oh yeah?"
Normally, such a strike—enhanced by even a fraction of Shigeo's true strength—could shatter bone.
Yet when his foot collided with B's wrist, there was only a dull thud.
Killer B didn't even flinch.
Instead, he beamed. "Nice try, my guy! You leveled up by five! Oh yeah!"
"Tch… then let's turn it up a bit."
Even suppressed to a genin's chakra level, Shigeo's taijutsu was still his core talent.
He moved like water and lightning combined—rotating, pivoting, knees striking, elbows driving, kunai flashing in a blur.
His attacks came so fast that Samui and Karui stopped mid-fight, staring in disbelief.
This wasn't the Omoi they knew.
"Whoa," Karui muttered, wide-eyed. "When did he get this good?"
Even B's grin widened, the corners of his mustache twitching upward.
The dojo echoed with rhythmic thuds as master and "disciple" clashed—
Bang! Bam! Crack!
Back and forth, ten exchanges, twenty, thirty—still no winner.
The two watching kunoichi had already dropped out of the match entirely, watching in awe.
Meanwhile, the two bodyguards at the side exchanged concerned glances.
Something was off.
"Lord Killer B," one whispered. "Perhaps… stop the test for now? There's something we must ask Omoi."
But Killer B waved them off with a grin.
"Yo, chill, my bros! Don't break my flow!
Haven't had such a thrill since my big bro's show! Oh yeah!"
With that, he lunged again.
"Rariatto! (Lariat!)"
The words rang like thunder.
Everyone froze.
He was actually using that technique?
Against a twelve-year-old genin?!
"Sensei!" Karui shouted in alarm.
But B wasn't listening. The two side-nin, however, relaxed slightly—confirmation enough.
This wasn't Omoi.
The real one would've panicked, babbled, maybe even hidden behind Samui.
This one fought fluidly, confidently, with frightening precision.
And… no lollipop.
The fake Omoi hadn't had one in his mouth since he arrived.
Shigeo frowned slightly, realizing he'd been exposed.
The Lariat's power surged toward him—crackling with Raiton (Lightning Release).
So. B wanted him to fight seriously.
His lips curved upward.
"Alright then," he murmured. "Let's dance."
Inside his mind, the system interface flickered—
[Eight-Tails replication in progress: 63%…]
It was going to be a long fight.
(End of Chapter)
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