Facing the gazes of the Leaf ninja, Saiki furrowed his brow and asked, "What are you looking at? Is there a problem?"
As his eyes swept across them, one by one, the ninja instinctively averted their stares.
In this single battle, Saiki had become a literal god of slaughter.
He had single-handedly butchered nearly a hundred Cloud ninja.
Even though not a single drop of blood stained his clothes, a dense, frigid killing intent had manifested around him.
It was a bone-chilling aura that made those around him tremble with primal fear.
Without a word, they all turned back to the grisly task of clearing the battlefield.
Only Shinku Yuhi and Inoichi Yamanaka summoned the courage to walk toward him.
"Saiki, how are you feeling? Are you alright?" Shinku asked with genuine concern.
Saiki had transitioned from a state of hating the conflict to a total, hollow numbness.
He had saved many Leaf lives, yet because of the monstrous power he displayed at such a young age, they looked at him with dread.
Saiki found their reaction utterly pathetic.
It was just like how they treated Tailed Beasts and Jinchuriki: they craved the power to win, yet loathed the source of that power out of fear.
Just because he was "too strong," they had already branded him an "other."
Faced with Shinku's concern, Saiki sheathed his blade with a sharp click.
He shook his head and spoke with a flat, eerie calm. "I'm fine. Just a heavy drain on my chakra. I need rest."
Saiki had been a whirlwind of violence just moments ago, and the lingering murderous intent was still thick in the air.
Seeing him maintain his logic despite the carnage allowed Shinku to let out a breath of relief.
In a place like the front lines where life is snuffed out in a heartbeat, the psychological pressure is crushing.
It wasn't uncommon for ninja to snap and go into a permanent "battle-lust" state, but without Saiki's level of power, they usually just died quickly.
Inoichi Yamanaka, the reinforcement commander, offered a forced smile and a compliment.
"Saiki, that was incredible! You've earned a massive achievement tonight."
It was an understatement. Saiki had effectively functioned as a one-man army, erasing nearly a hundred enemies, including several high-level elites.
He was the sole reason the Cloud offensive had collapsed into a rout.
Saiki met Inoichi's praise with a deadpan stare. "Do I get paid for it?"
The question hit Inoichi like a physical blow, leaving him momentarily speechless.
Normally, when a ninja achieves such glory, they talk about their record, their "Will of Fire," or their excitement to exchange merit for new jutsu.
Inoichi had never met a brat who opened with a demand for cold, hard cash.
In his mind, a talent like Saiki shouldn't be wanting for money.
How wrong he was. Between the dozens of orphans he supported and the staggering cost of his own high-intensity training—not to mention Tsunade's legendary gambling addiction—Saiki's financial future was a nightmare.
After a stunned pause, Inoichi managed to reply, "I'll file the report. There will certainly be a significant monetary reward."
Saiki simply nodded. "Good. As long as there's money. Otherwise, this was a waste of a good night's sleep."
Both Shinku and Inoichi felt a desperate urge to facepalm.
To them, serving the village was a sacred duty; to Saiki, it was a business transaction.
Saiki didn't care about their internal conflict. He viewed his relationship with the Leaf as purely transactional.
Furthermore, he was fundamentally lazy and harbored zero desire for political power.
Power meant responsibility. Most of the bastards in this village, like Danzo and Hiruzen, craved the power but hated the duty.
If their rights and responsibilities were actually balanced, the Leaf wouldn't be such a mess.
Saiki held no affection for the village, so he held no interest in its fame.
To him, accepting a title meant he'd be expected to bleed for them again. It was too much work.
He looked down the slope. His perception told him the Cloud were fully retreating.
Even with his inhuman constitution, the non-stop sprint since yesterday and the slaughter of a hundred men had left him feeling drained. He was exhausted.
Inoichi, unsure how to continue the conversation about money, followed Saiki's gaze toward the retreating enemy.
"They're gone. The Cloud took too many losses tonight; they won't be back until dawn. Go and get some rest."
The front-line veterans had been under constant harassment; they were actually more worn down than the reinforcements.
By rights, Saiki's unit should have taken the first watch.
But Saiki wasn't one to play the hero. "Fine. Where's my bed?"
Shinku Yuhi wanted to tell him to be more polite to a commander, but remembering the carnage Saiki had just waded through, he bit his tongue.
He turned to Inoichi with an apologetic look. "Commander Inoichi, I'll take Saiki back to the camp to settle in."
Inoichi nodded. "Mm. You've both worked hard. Take him back."
"I'll leave the cleanup to you then, Commander," Shinku added before turning to the boy. "Come on, Saiki."
The moment the conversation ended, Saiki turned and began the trek up the hill toward the main camp. Shinku followed immediately.
Watching them go, Inoichi shook his head with a weary sigh.
"What a monster... but that personality is going to be a problem."
A child prodigy who slaughtered a hundred men with a single blade.
Inoichi thought of Kakashi Hatake. Kakashi was famous, but Inoichi had the distinct feeling that if the two met, Kakashi wouldn't last a single exchange.
Saiki's style reminded Inoichi of Kakashi's father, Sakumo Hatake.
"If that man were still alive," Inoichi muttered, "I doubt he'd be much more terrifying than this kid."
Saiki wasn't yet at the level of the "White Fang"—the man the Sannin themselves respected was a true Kage-level powerhouse.
But Saiki was trending in that direction.
The veterans who had served with Sakumo were all thinking the same thing.
The only difference was the visual. Sakumo's blade was a streak of white light; Saiki was a bolt of lightning that left nothing but bisected corpses in his wake.
As he headed for a massive meal and a long sleep, Saiki was unaware that a new name was beginning to whisper through the ranks.
"Thunder Fang." "The Lightning Fang of the Leaf."
Had he known, Saiki would have been pissed.
"Lightning Fang" sounded generic. He would have preferred something like "The White Flash."