The incident involving Chiyuki was swiftly investigated by Sunagakure.
In the end, the conclusion was clear and officially recorded: Chiyuki, a genin, was confirmed to be a spy from the Hidden Rain Village. She had stolen weapons from the village armory, poisoned her comrades, and attempted to flee—only to be exposed by Shiraishi and killed during her escape.
From a logical standpoint, everything made sense.
And yet, several ANBU captains responsible for the investigation felt that something was… off.
Years of experience had honed their instincts, and those instincts were telling them there were gaps they could not quite articulate.
Especially the two cards.
They had supposedly been destroyed by Chiyuki using some special method—but since when did the Hidden Rain possess techniques capable of destroying what were considered among the most durable ninja tools in the shinobi world?
The only plausible explanations were either that the tools had been swapped beforehand… or that this genin named Shiraishi had somehow interfered.
Naturally, the ANBU proposed using invasive interrogation techniques on Shiraishi.
They were immediately shut down.
Pakura intervened—forcefully.
Unlike Konoha's more refined mind-probing methods, Sunagakure's equivalent techniques were crude and dangerous, often leaving the subject mentally crippled or outright brain-dead.
Pakura had only been Shiraishi's jōnin instructor for a few days, but she absolutely refused to allow her student to be subjected to such treatment. More importantly, she genuinely valued Shiraishi's talent.
Regardless of anything else, Chiyuki had been strong—easily among the upper tier of genin. The fact that Shiraishi had managed to kill her using chakra threads and layered traps was proof enough of his potential.
That potential was worth offending ANBU over.
Fortunately for Shiraishi, his instructor was Pakura. Had it been another jōnin, they might still have recognized his value—but under pressure from ANBU, compromise would not have been impossible. Shiraishi could very well have ended up dragged into interrogation.
Although invasive techniques were avoided, routine investigations were unavoidable.
Heart-rate monitoring, psychological observation, chakra fluctuation tests—Shiraishi cooperated calmly throughout, explaining everything he knew with clarity and composure.
As for the rest, he said little.
He had noticed something off about Chiyuki while working at the institute. When he approached her to ask a few questions, she suddenly attacked. After a fierce struggle, he had barely managed to kill her.
That was all.
ANBU also conducted a thorough search of Shiraishi's home.
Watching them rummage through his belongings—scattering his neatly organized notes, dismantling his assembled devices with brute force—Shiraishi's expression stiffened for a moment before he forcibly suppressed it.
Pakura noticed.
She nodded with quiet satisfaction.
Such composure was exceedingly rare at his age.
This kind of emotional control was what allowed a ninja to survive long enough to grow strong. Pakura knew that better than anyone. Back when she was a student, her class had also been filled with talented peers.
Now, they were nothing more than cold bones buried on distant battlefields.
After hours of searching—including Shiraishi's glasses—the ANBU found nothing of value.
With no evidence and visible annoyance, they left. From that day on, their impression of Pakura only worsened.
"Thank you, Sensei," Shiraishi said quietly.
"You're my subordinate," Pakura replied flatly. "That means you're under my protection. Your injuries haven't fully healed—rest for three days, then report back."
As she spoke, Maki was huddled in a corner like a nervous kitten, clutching a bento box tightly while watching the two of them.
"I won't disturb you any longer."
Pakura glanced at Maki and sighed inwardly.
The girl's feelings were far too obvious.
She was constantly thinking about how to get closer to Shiraishi—and Pakura strongly disapproved of that mindset.
Playing house with childish romance would only waste talent.
They were teammates. Growing stronger together—supporting each other through training and battle—was the best kind of companionship. Not this behavior, hovering around like a caretaker.
At the medical station, after learning that Chiyuki was a traitor who had poisoned him—and that she was now dead—Kitajima collapsed completely.
The light had gone out of his eyes.
Deep down, Kitajima had always suspected something about Chiyuki. But he refused to believe it. He clung stubbornly to the image of the girl he cherished, forcing himself to forget his doubts.
Now, the truth crushed him.
The blow was devastating.
Shiraishi went to see him once.
But the senior's eyes were hollow. When Shiraishi apologized, Kitajima could only manage a bitter smile. He had no grounds to blame his junior.
In that situation, had their positions been reversed, he would have killed Chiyuki himself.
That was the life of a ninja.
Ninjas were tools for completing missions.
Chiyuki had her stance. Shiraishi had his.
"I'm… not a qualified ninja…"
Kitajima's retreating figure left a deep impact—but Shiraishi forced himself to suppress his emotions.
He could not afford pity.
He could not allow himself to be influenced by their pain.
Shiraishi left the medical station in a near panic and never visited again.
That was the last time he ever saw Kitajima.
Ten days later, on the border near Kikyo Mountain, Kitajima died gloriously—detonating explosive tags on himself and taking two Konoha chūnin with him.
The Chiyuki incident had been an enormous gamble.
But the reward made it worthwhile.
The two cards had been successfully unlocked.
And unlike before, both skills could be used immediately.
Like High-Speed Movement, they were both classified as Normal-type techniques.
The first was Iai Slash.
Iai Slash was a specialized quick-draw sword technique. When combined with High-Speed Movement, it allowed for devastatingly fast executions. Judging by its initial mastery level—around twenty percent—it was far easier to train than Telekinesis or High-Speed Movement had been.
In his courtyard, Shiraishi replayed the technique in his mind as his silver blade danced through the air.
Faster.
Sharper.
The blade began to hum, the vibration growing stronger—a clear sign of improvement.
From afar, the ANBU assigned to monitor him were mildly surprised.
After everything that had happened, this boy still had the energy to train.
But as they watched the speed, power, and precision of his draw-and-slash technique, several of them nodded in approval.
Whatever else could be said, his swordsmanship was undeniably solid.
At the genin stage, ninjutsu options were limited. Even powerful techniques consumed chakra rapidly and were often impractical in prolonged combat.
Relentless taijutsu and weapon training, like Shiraishi's, was a far more reliable path.
Shiraishi didn't need telekinetic sensing to know he was being watched.
He didn't care.
If he was going to be observed anyway, he might as well turn it into publicity—let the reputation of a civilian-born genius genin spread a little faster.
With that thought, his blade flashed.
A silver arc cut through the air—
And the wooden training post before him was cleaved cleanly in two.
Compared to Iai Slash, which he could train openly, the second skill he had obtained left Shiraishi genuinely conflicted.
Its name was strange.
But… it seemed powerful.
Treasure-Gathering Technique.