"I disappeared from your line of sight—aren't you worried I might be a transformed enemy?"
Kiyohara said it with half a grin, mostly joking.
"No. I know it's you."
Kakashi stared directly at him.
The Transformation Jutsu was a basic part of the Academy's Three Fundamental Jutsu. In theory, a skilled user could replicate someone's form almost perfectly—but that required deep mastery. Most ninja could be seen through easily unless they dedicated their lives to the technique.
Kakashi simply added, "You're fine, and that's all that matters."
Yūhi Kurenai's crimson eyes lingered on Kiyohara a little longer before turning away.
"Where's the Mist ninja?"
"Overdosed on a stimulant. Botched a jutsu mid-cast and died in the struggle. Lucky on my part."
Kiyohara shrugged, voice calm.
He'd wiped every trace of the true story. No one would ever know.
"...I see."
Kurenai nodded, then approached.
Her feet padded softly over the damp earth in standard-issue open-toe ninja sandals—her toes pale, neatly arranged, nails faintly pink like crescent moons.
Kiyohara caught himself noticing.
Yep. Definitely "jade feet."
But this wasn't the time for poetic appreciation. He just wanted to return and finish digesting the inheritance from Future Kiyohara.
Power meant nothing if you didn't learn to use it.
Even the so-called Progenitor of Chakra, Ōtsutsuki Kaguya, had lost—despite having power far beyond even Six Paths Madara. She'd turned her overpowered kit into a complete disaster.
Joke of the day? Kaguya's 360° Byakugan couldn't see Sakura sneaking up from above.
"Poetic justice, really," Shiranui Genma muttered, still holding a senbon between his teeth. "Push your chakra past the limit, and you'll mess up a jutsu sooner or later."
"Let's go."
Kakashi made the call.
They'd gathered more than enough intel. A ninja capable of interfering with the Byakugan was serious business. No need to linger and risk more exposure—Mist would surely tighten security now.
"Wait."
Kiyohara stepped forward.
He looked down at the eight or nine bodies littering the ground.
Loot time.
"You guys don't want any?"
He kept stuffing flak jackets and gear into a sealing scroll. When the others looked stunned, he glanced over his shoulder.
"Alright, I'm taking it all then."
He worked fast—his loot routine practiced and precise.
Money was always useful.
His chainmail undershirt had taken damage in the fight—might as well secure parts to repair or replace it.
Ninja missions were always about profit vs. risk. If the mission reward didn't cover expenses… you better loot the bodies to break even.
Sometimes you got lucky and found chakra-conductive metal. That stuff sold for a fortune.
Kurenai gave him a sideways glare.
'This guy… he's completely hopeless.
Has he no dignity as a ninja? Always chasing coin like a scavenger.'
When the packing was done, the group headed back.
The journey was smooth—they reached the base without incident.
Konoha Forward Base – Command Tent.
Under dim lamplight, Orochimaru held the freshly delivered mission report.
His pale fingers paused over one section—eyes narrowing.
The Red Eye.
"Interesting…" His golden serpent eyes flared with interest.
"I've only ever seen scattered mentions in fringe records. Didn't expect it to be real."
And even more curious?
It was a kid named Kiyohara who figured it out.
"There aren't many ways to interfere with the Byakugan…"
If it were a barrier, the Mist would've mass-produced it. But no—this had to be the Red Eye. And that made Kiyohara a kid with brains, not just guts.
'He even deduced the truth during battle and drew Ao away. Not bad.'
Orochimaru's tongue flicked across his lips.
He valued intellect far more than raw brawn.
Most ninja were little better than thugs with chakra. Six years at the Academy meant nothing—unless you self-studied, you were basically functionally illiterate.
Bloodline secrets like the Red Eye? Considered arcane trivia these days. Hardly anyone bothered to study them anymore.
"What is it, Orochimaru-sama?"
A member of the Nara clan stepped inside. The man was a strategist—a cousin of Nara Shikaku, by the name Nara Shikatan.
He ran this particular outpost.
"Nothing much. Give that Kiyohara kid a bonus. Ten thousand ryo. Say it's from me personally."
Orochimaru's lips curled into a smile.
Seeing someone else like himself—even a little—always made him strangely pleased.
Like finding another reader in a room full of grunts.
"Understood."
Shikatan collected the report, his eyes briefly scanning the name.
So this was about that squad who spotted the Red Eye…
He bowed and left.
Orochimaru remained in the tent, gaze sliding to the battlefield map.
"This war… should yield plenty of bloodline samples."
His tongue slithered out again.
For someone like him, the dead weren't corpses—they were raw materials.
Meanwhile…
Back at his tent, Kiyohara had just started resting.
He'd only gotten a short nap before the flap rustled open—
"You've got a delivery."
It was Kurenai.
"Danzō's trying to kill me already?" Kiyohara asked, deadpan.
"Nope. You caught Orochimaru's eye."
Her voice held both surprise and exasperation.
"You got a personal bonus. From him."
Kiyohara blinked as she tossed him a money pouch.
'Damn. That's unexpected.'
"Why is it always me running your errands?" she added, annoyed.
"Go outside once in a while. I always end up being the messenger when the higher-ups swing by."
"You want a reward?"
Kiyohara pulled out a lollipop and held it out like a peace offering.
A small token, sure. But she had helped him a lot over the years—passing messages, checking in.
They'd been classmates since they were kids. If she grew up, matured a little more—he wouldn't mind seeing where it led.
"…?"
Kurenai stared, incredulous.
A lollipop? Seriously?
"Don't want it?"
He made to pull it back.
This was one of his limited-edition stock. Reserved for post-mission sugar crashes.
"Wait—I'll take it!"
She snatched it quickly.
Fine. She'd take the loss this time.
After all, out on missions, all they ever had were dry rations. A rare sweet like this?
Was gold.