Chapter 64: Mizuki Eats Dirt
Wu—Tiger—Ox—...
At Training Ground 88, Iruka, his hair tied back in a ponytail, was practicing his newly acquired Genjutsu: The Eight Scents of Fire.
After weaving the signs, he picked up the whistle hanging from his neck. Gathering chakra in his mouth, he began to blow into the whistle according to a specific rhythm.
Toot! Toot! Toot!
Screech! Screech!
The birds in the vicinity were startled, seemingly terrified by the unpleasant music. They flapped their wings and fled into the distance.
Some distance away from the training ground, a figure was on his way to practice. Seeing the birds fleeing in panic, he grew curious. Who was practicing a jutsu that could scare away birds from such a distance?
This was a young man with light blue hair and a slender build. A sports-style headcloth covered the upper half of his head, revealing a refined, blue-toned face that looked like a protagonist's. His medium-length hair brushed against his jawline. Currently, he wore a look of intense curiosity.
If Tonbo Tobitake were here, he would surely recognize him—one of Konoha's classic characters, a minor villain with the face of a lead actor: Mizuki.
Mizuki slowly approached the training ground, habitually suppressing his presence. As he drew closer, bursts of unpleasant music drifted from the distance, making him frown. Who was playing such a terrible tune?
However, after walking just a few more meters, he felt something was wrong. His tongue began to produce saliva involuntarily, and as the liquid flowed, a foul stench permeated his oral cavity.
What kind of taste was that...
The moment the flavor filled his mouth, his stomach reacted instinctively. A surge of gas rushed from his stomach up his throat.
Gag!
Mizuki leaned against a tree, dry-heaving for a while and spitting out a mess of bitter fluid.
"What is going on?"
He didn't understand why his body was reacting this way. Had he fallen under a jutsu? Or was the other person's music so bad that it caused a physical rejection?
With these thoughts, Mizuki endured the nauseating taste and continued to creep forward. After a few more meters, the music changed into a different, equally unpleasant melody.
"They have absolutely no musical talent," Mizuki sneered inwardly.
But before he could savor his mockery, his face distorted. A wave of bitterness he had never experienced before spread from his mouth. His features instantly scrunched together as his mouth produced more saliva, trying to dilute the bitterness to spit it out. But it was useless; the bitterness remained.
"Is this some kind of secret technique?"
Mizuki was an experienced ninja. After the third "accident," he knew the music was definitely the problem. Thinking of "secret techniques," a look of jealousy flashed in his eyes.
Why was he a commoner? Why wasn't he born into a great clan? He had learned the basic Three Academy Jutsu and performed countless missions just to trade for his own techniques, while others were practicing powerful ninjutsu and secret arts since childhood.
With this resentment, Mizuki suppressed his aura even further, wanting to get close enough to see if he could steal the technique or find out who was practicing.
Cong, cong, cong—
The rhythm changed again.
Mizuki sensed danger, but a burst of wasabi flavor exploded in his mouth, instantly rushing to his head. He felt as if his skull was being pierced by the pungency, and his senses were assaulted by the kick of the mustard.
"Damn it, I have to see who it is!" With this obsession, Mizuki pushed on.
Spicy, foul, cilantro, fishy, sour...
After experiencing the next five flavors, the sound finally stopped. With a distorted, aching face, Mizuki quickened his pace. He could no longer maintain his stealth; he just wanted to see who the musician was.
Tap, tap!
Iruka lowered the whistle from his lips, a smile appearing on his face. After several days of practice, he could finally manage to use the Genjutsu his teacher had given him. Although the power control wasn't perfect yet, with his chakra control, it would be no problem with more practice.
Suddenly, he heard someone approaching. He turned around.
A familiar yet strange figure appeared before his eyes. His features were a bruised mix of red and purple, looking as if he were deathly ill, and his steps were shaky.
"Mizuki?" he asked in confusion. "Are you here to practice too? Are you... injured?"
Mizuki approached slowly. Hearing the familiar voice, his mask of pain slowly lifted to reveal his face. "Iruka?"
Iruka? How could it be Iruka—the guy he looked down on with pity?
"Big Brother Mizuki, it's me. Are you alright?" Iruka asked worriedly.
Mizuki didn't answer. Instead, he quickly scanned the training ground. "Where are the others?"
He didn't see any other ninjas besides Iruka. He assumed they were either hidden or had already left.
"Ah? It's just me here," Iruka said, puzzled. Are there supposed to be others?
"You bastard! After how well I've treated you! I'm talking about the guy who was just playing that music—that incredibly awful music! Quick, tell me, where is he?" Mizuki roared, his face contorted with rage.
Iruka was startled by his expression and stammered, "That... Mizuki, the person playing the music... might be... me..."
He held up the whistle on his chest to show him. "I was blowing this."
Mizuki froze. Iruka's expression didn't look like a lie, but he was still unwilling to accept it. How could Iruka have such a secret technique? After double-checking that Iruka wasn't lying and that there were no traces of anyone else nearby, he finally believed it was Iruka's handiwork.
"Damn it, how did he get his hands on a secret technique like this?"
While he thought this, his face resumed its usual friendly smile, and he pretended to sigh in relief. "Iruka, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I was just passing by when my body reacted like that. I thought it was an enemy attack! Since it was you, then that's great. By the way, what kind of ninjutsu was that? Why do you have to play such... unique music?"
Seeing Big Brother Mizuki return to his usual smile, Iruka felt deeply embarrassed. His teacher's notes on the scroll mentioned that even if the enemy lacked human taste buds, the sound itself would assault their ears, providing an extra point of attack.
But having Mizuki call it "incredibly awful" was awkward. Would people start saying he had no musical talent?
He laughed nervously. "Ahaha, it's a gift from my teacher. It's a Genjutsu called The Eight Scents of Fire."
Then, realizing something, he asked cautiously, "Mizuki... you didn't... get caught in the crossfire, did you?"
He finally took a good look at Mizuki's face. It was the exact same shade of "misery" he himself had worn when he was hit by his teacher's jutsu. He felt even more guilty. Mizuki had been very kind to him after his parents died, comforting and encouraging him. Now, to have accidentally hit him with that Genjutsu—and apparently all eight variations—Iruka was so embarrassed he could have curled his toes through his sandals.
Only someone who had experienced all eight flavors at once knew how miserable it was. Iruka felt a strong urge to cover his face and run away.
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