On the moonlit wasteland outside town, three figures continuously chased each other through the tall grass.
Before long, because the enemy leader was holding his breath, bleeding, and fighting off potent toxins, his speed drastically slowed. This allowed Kyosuke and Kiichiro to easily flank and successfully intercept him.
"Damn brats!" the leader roared, stumbling to a halt. "I have the Kirigakure backing me! Kill me, and you'll be hunted relentlessly by the Anbu of the Hidden Mist! You won't escape death in the end. It's better to let me go. I swear, I absolutely won't seek revenge!"
The leader felt his stamina draining away into the dirt. The area around his wounds was completely numb, and that cold paralysis was rapidly spreading toward his heart. This was the effect of the venom diffusing through his bloodstream.
Like a cornered beast on the brink of death, the leader roared loudly, dark blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He threatened them with empty words, desperately hoping it would buy him his life.
"Fine. Put down your weapons, leave behind anything valuable, and we'll let you go."
Kyosuke let out a light, forgiving laugh. His gentle voice was full of absolute sincerity—yet in that exact same millisecond, his wrist flicked, launching a lethal shuriken directly at the man's throat.
Simultaneously, Kiichiro charged forward without a sound. The blade of his short sword gleamed coldly under the moon as he thrust directly at the leader's exposed heart.
"Deceitful little brat!"
The leader cursed angrily, adrenaline surging through his veins. He barely managed to twist his neck to dodge the shuriken, bringing up his kunai to block Kiichiro's incoming blade.
Shnk.
Suddenly, the leader felt a sharp, agonizing pain erupt from his chest. Looking down in disbelief, he saw a sword tip protruding right through his sternum, bright red blood dripping from the steel.
Kyosuke had used the shuriken as a distraction to close the distance, cleanly running the man through from behind.
Kyosuke pulled out his sword with a wet tear, glanced coldly at the collapsing corpse, and then looked over at Kiichiro.
"Problem solved. I need to hurry back to Konoha before my absence is noted. Goodbye."
After saying that, Kyosuke vanished into the night with a Body Flicker technique.
Kiichiro meticulously disposed of the enemy's body, utilizing acid and fire to destroy all identifying evidence and minimize any potential retaliation. Then, he returned to town to start working on his new property.
First, he chose a name for the establishment. Kiichiro named it after his own surname: Kurasaka Tavern, Branch One, hoping to one day open massive, luxurious branches throughout the entire Ninja World.
The tavern had two floors. Kiichiro spent his remaining funds hiring local carpenters to renovate the interior, purchasing elegant statues and paintings that blended the aesthetics of this world with the modern styles of his previous life.
The first floor was transformed into a bustling main dining hall, while the second floor was reserved for high-paying VIP private rooms. He even built a small stage in the main hall where musicians and performers could be invited to entertain guests in the future.
Finally, Kiichiro recruited new staff. The chef needed to be excellent, and the front desk hostesses needed to be charming and beautiful.
After flawlessly executing all this, his butler, Mikuri Tomokazu, approached him with a ledger and some deeply concerning news: the household's entire startup capital was completely gone.
Kiichiro rubbed his forehead helplessly. "Ah... my grand, world-conquering ambitions have taken exactly one step forward before being violently strangled by impoverished reality."
In the following days, Kiichiro had no choice but to slowly and meticulously operate the tavern to accumulate capital, while simultaneously intensifying his daily physical training.
...
Meanwhile, far across the vast ocean, in the treacherous waters of the Land of Water.
Mishu sat silently on the deck of a large transport ship, his pale blue eyes watching the eerily calm ocean surface.
At this time in history, Kirigakure proudly bore the terrifying title: "The Village of the Bloody Mist."
Not only did the ruling Mizukage govern the village internally with an oppressive, high-pressure policy, but the management of the Ninja Academy was also notoriously, unspeakably brutal.
Although they had only studied basic forms for a few months, Mishu's class of academy students was about to undergo a cruel, elimination-based practical training exercise.
Crammed onto this ship were all of Mishu's classmates. Within hours, they would all become his mortal enemies.
In the distance, an island slowly emerged from the sea fog. The island featured a range of undulating hills that rose like a jagged spine, lush and densely covered with ancient vegetation.
As the ship dropped anchor in the shallows, a massive man stepped up to the bow. His wild, orange hair fluttered in the sea breeze like ferocious serpents.
It was Suikazan Fuguki.
Fuguki was one of the legendary Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, a highly respected and feared elite Jonin currently in charge of overseeing the academy's graduation protocols. This particular practical training was personally orchestrated by him.
"Heh heh heh."
Fuguki stood at the ship's bow, the massive, bandage-wrapped broadsword Samehada strapped to his back. He crossed his thick arms over his chest and grinned, revealing two rows of horrifyingly sharp, shark-like teeth.
His cold gaze swept over the trembling students.
"For the next five days, you will fight on this island. In exactly five days, I will return with this ship to pick up one hundred survivors."
Fuguki's grin widened cruelly. "Heh heh. Only one hundred people."
Hearing Fuguki's absolute decree, the students' expressions morphed into sheer panic.
Some were completely terrified. There were over two hundred students currently on the ship. Fuguki's words guaranteed that more than half of them were about to be slaughtered by their peers.
Some of the crueler students simply sneered coldly. They immediately began sizing up the classmates standing next to them, silently locking onto their first hunting targets.
Others remained expressionless, ruthlessly hiding their inner turmoil.
However, completely intimidated by Fuguki's overwhelming, bloodthirsty aura, absolutely no one dared to speak. Even if they had questions, they could only swallow them in terror.
Mishu leaned silently against the ship's wooden railing. He tapped the ninja tool pouch tied to his waist and slowly drew the short sword from his back.
"You're afraid."
A voice spoke from beside him. Zabuza Momochi stood there, his tone freezing cold from beneath the bandages covering the lower half of his face.
"Yes," Mishu answered honestly, his eyes scanning his surroundings. "The world is so beautiful. I don't want to die here at the hands of these brats."
As he looked around, Mishu spotted several highly malicious gazes locked onto him. Some came from arrogant classmates he had previously beaten up in spars. Others came from the stronger, clan-backed students analyzing him as a threat.
"I heard some guys from the noble Ninja Clans plan to team up specifically to kill you first. They invited me to join them yesterday," Zabuza revealed bluntly.
"Hah." Mishu let out a soft, mocking laugh.
For those prestigious Ninja Clans, getting prior knowledge of this island battle royale was probably incredibly simple, Mishu thought.
He didn't ask why Zabuza had refused. In this exam, everyone was going to kill anyway. Assassinating a promising civilian ninja like Mishu in the process was just a bonus objective for the arrogant clan heirs.
Mishu was only a bit curious as to why Zabuza was telling him this intelligence.
"You're not suggesting we team up, are you?" Mishu asked, raising an eyebrow.
Zabuza was silent for a moment before replying. "My life's goal is to become one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist. To do that, I must demonstrate my absolute value to the village. The severed heads of these pampered Ninja Clan scions are my best stepping stones. If we work together, we can slaughter them all."
Killing the elite descendants of the major clans, completely outperforming everyone else, and brutally forcing the village to acknowledge his supreme talent—that was Zabuza's objective.
As for earning the eternal hatred of those powerful clans and facing countless assassination attempts in the future? Zabuza simply didn't care.
Should I team up with Zabuza? Mishu analyzed the proposal in his mind for exactly two seconds before decisively refusing. "No. I don't trust you. I can't safely give you my back."
Mishu had another, far more important reason he couldn't voice: his true, reincarnator-enhanced strength still needed to remain a closely guarded secret.
If he fought alongside Zabuza, given Zabuza's incredibly keen combat instincts, the boy would quickly realize Mishu was hiding massive reserves of strength and technique. That would create a terrifying hidden danger for the future.
For Mishu, simply surviving this training and passing the quota wasn't difficult. He didn't need to team up with anyone to live.
After being rejected, Zabuza showed no emotional reaction whatsoever. He simply turned and silently walked away into the crowd.
At that moment, the ship jolted to a halt in the shallow coastal waters.
Suikazan Fuguki looked down at the students. "Disembark."
Although it was considered shallow water, the drop was still three to five meters deep. Students without strong swimming abilities or chakra control would be incredibly vulnerable to attack while in the water, making them remarkably easy targets.
Sure enough, the strongest students jumped off the ship immediately, charging towards the island at full speed to secure advantageous tactical positions. They wanted to avoid being ambushed while simultaneously searching for perfect spots to ambush the slower students.
Mishu even saw several elite clan students utilizing advanced chakra control to run directly across the water's surface.
At the same time, many of the less capable students hesitated by the railing, absolutely terrified to jump into the bloodbath. Some even planned to wait until the main group had left the beach before swimming ashore, hoping to avoid the initial slaughter.
Suikazan Fuguki looked at the crying, hesitant students and snorted coldly. Several of his Jonin subordinates walked menacingly toward the stragglers, physically tossing them overboard by their collars or kicking them brutally off the deck, violently forcing them into the freezing seawater.
Mishu didn't wait to be kicked. He jumped gracefully off the side of the ship.
Although he had already mastered the ability to walk on water thanks to his dreamscape training, to perfectly hide his inexplicable strength, he chose to swim instead. Like a nimble, predatory shark, he powerfully cut through the choppy sea surface, trailing white foam behind him as he charged towards the nameless island of death.