Border of the Land of Grass. A nameless, rundown town.
It was midday. The sun blazed overhead, baking the dirt roads until shimmering heatwaves rose from the ground.
Wind swept through, kicking up dust as it slammed against the low stone-and-mud houses lining the street.
Most doors and windows were shut tight. Only a broken sign creaked in the wind.
On the east end of town, the only door still open was a battered wooden one, barely hanging from its hinges. It led to a small, shabby teahouse.
The lighting inside was dim, the air heavy and stagnant with the smell of dust and stale tea.
A few grimy wooden tables were scattered crookedly around the room.
At one of them sat three people who clearly didn't belong in this desolate place.
Tsunade tapped her knuckle on the table with growing impatience. The dull thudding sound echoed in the silence.
Her brow was tightly furrowed. Her golden ponytail swayed slightly as she moved. Her sharp gaze was locked on the empty end of the street beyond the teahouse door.
"It's been days already, Ryo," she said in a low voice, tinged with urgency and faint suspicion. "Are you sure Kakuzu will show? That bounty network... is it even reliable?" Her gaze drifted momentarily to Nawaki's silent right arm and his lifeless eyes.
The Earth Grudge Fear technique was their only hope now, but it was a faint, uncertain one.
Ryo leaned back against the cold earthen wall, eyes closed, crimson hair hanging loosely over his forehead.
At her question, his lashes didn't even twitch. His lips curved slightly into a cold smirk. "Tsunade, you underestimate how far a money-grubber will go for cash."
He understood all too well the madness that came with that kind of greed.
Across from him, in the shadowed corner, Orochimaru let out a soft, slippery laugh. "Hehehe..."
His golden, slit pupils flickered in the dark as he glanced toward Ryo's calm profile, amusement in his gaze. "Ryo-kun seems to know this legendary shinobi very well. Even his... tastes."
The Earth Grudge Fear technique intrigued Orochimaru deeply, not just because of its value, but because it involved Nawaki, the boy who used to call him "Orochimaru-sensei."
Cold-blooded as he was, even Orochimaru acknowledged the bond.
Ryo didn't respond.
Inwardly, he added, of course. In his eyes, Kakuzu was the "Add-Money Guy" of the shinobi world, greedy to the bone. If the pay was good enough, he'd probably dive into a sewer with a smile.
This time, they were playing directly into that greed.
No need to track Kakuzu's ever-shifting movements. All it took was planting one juicy enough bait at the core of the underworld, the bounty network. A task with an absurdly high price tag, marked for completion by Kakuzu only.
To ensure everything went smoothly, Ryo enlisted Orochimaru.
Only someone like him, who walked the edge of the dark world, would understand the bounty system's back channels and unwritten rules.
In truth, with Ryo's current strength, Kakuzu wasn't an unbeatable target.
But Tsunade had insisted on coming. Earth Grudge Fear could be the only path for Nawaki to return to the shinobi world. It was her last thread of hope, one she had to see with her own eyes.
As for Orochimaru, aside from his tie to Nawaki, he simply couldn't resist the opportunity to dissect Kakuzu, this so-called "living fossil."
Kakuzu's method of snatching hearts, stitching bodies, and stealing chakra attributes to survive for decades—the core of Earth Grudge Fear, its secret of "organic tissue transformation and preservation," was invaluable to Orochimaru's pursuit of immortality.
The air inside the teahouse was thick and oppressive.
Orochimaru silently traced circles on the table with one fingertip. His golden pupils glinted as he scanned every possible approach and escape route through the town.
He was calculating every entry point. Every fallback.
"Be patient, Tsunade," he said, voice slick and unhurried. "A valuable target is worth the wait. Catching a legend always takes time." He lingered on the word "legend," his gaze drifting to Ryo, who still had his eyes closed.
Ryo remained still against the wall, his breathing steady, as if asleep.
But anyone who knew him would recognize the truth. Beneath that relaxed exterior, every muscle was like a compressed spring, wound tight and ready to explode.
He was a blade in its sheath, deadly calm, waiting for the right moment.
Tsunade downed a cup of the bitter, lukewarm tea. The rough taste made her frown deepen.
She slammed the cup down with a dull thud and stood up, striding to the broken door. Her anxious eyes once again searched the empty end of the sun-drenched street. Her shadow stretched long across the dirt.
Time crawled by in the blistering heat.
At the west end of the town, near the entrance of an abandoned mill, the swirling yellow dust slowly settled.
A tall figure stepped into the town.
Kakuzu.
He wore his trademark dark, high-collared, tattered cloak. Its edges were worn and stained, blending almost perfectly into the dusty earth beneath his feet.
His deep green eyes were cold, lifeless, and empty as he scanned the rundown surroundings. Dilapidated buildings, tilted signs, deserted roads, dust, and the stench of poverty.
A faint, barely noticeable glimmer of greed flickered in the depths of his murky eyes.
The bounty's astronomical payout had been enough for Kakuzu to drop all his other side jobs. This score was worth it. Just the thought made the corners of his wrinkled mouth twitch slightly, before falling still again.
Decades of experience and sheer power had allowed him to survive in the shinobi world this long.
As long as it wasn't a direct ambush by a Kage-level figure from one of the Five Great Villages, or a carefully planned encirclement by an elite force, he was confident he could retreat intact.
He was like an aging but sharp-fanged wolf, used to prowling at the edge of danger.
Besides, he always kept a low profile. Like a ghost. He never truly touched the core interests of the Five Great Nations. Why would any of their top players even care about someone like him?
Kakuzu moved silently. Each step left only a shallow print on the soft earth. He instinctively hugged the building shadows, his large figure casting a long, oppressive outline on the wall.
His chakra perception extended outward like invisible tendrils, cautiously sweeping each building ahead.
Still. As still as dead water. Only the wind and a few weak barks in the distance.
The moment he stepped past a narrow alley filled with rotting straw and rusted farming tools.
Because at that very instant.
Three figures appeared.
They struck like leopards, perfectly timed and positioned, sealing off all his escape routes in an instant.
(To be continued.)
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◇ One bonus chapter will be released for every 200 Power Stones.
◇ You can read the ahead chapter on Pat if you're interested: p-atreon.c-om/Blownleaves (Just remove the hyphen to access normally.)