Her lips pressed together as she thought. One of her eyebrows arched slightly, almost cute despite her cold face.

The Suna headband was long gone, leaving her fair forehead bare, strands of green-orange hair hanging loose.

“…Chakra reserves,” she admitted finally. “Just now, I felt my bloodline finally reach its peak maturity. My Scorch can now do more with less, but my overall chakra is still the bottleneck. I can’t sustain it.”

Ryusei nodded. “And how did that special chakra I used feel to you?”

She paused, remembering the alien green frost that had shaken even the Hyūga. Her eyes flicked toward him. “…It wasn’t human. External. Wasn’t it?”

Ryusei nodded once. “Exactly. External. If you follow me, I can find sources like that for you, too. Even elevate your essence itself, your body, your chakra, push it beyond human limits. Think of what your Scorch Release could become with that kind of fuel.”

Pakura’s pulse jumped. She tried to hide it, but the thought alone seared in her chest. “…If you’re lying, or planning to trick me, you’ll regret it,” she warned, her tone sharp but measured.

Ryusei only grinned. “If I meant you harm, you’d already be dead. You saw it. I saved you more than once today. Besides…” his head tilted slightly, “…it’s you who could trick me. Pass word about me, feed details to the right people, and cause me all kinds of problems. So maybe we should trust each other, hm?”

Pakura exhaled slowly. He was right. She had no better path left.

She was already a missing-nin, and the only future awaiting her otherwise was scraping through the underworld, chained to gangs until she withered.

Better to cooperate, at least for now.

Ryusei reached into his cloak and withdrew a sealed scroll. He unrolled it just enough for her to see two Sharingan sealed within, both gleaming with three tomoe.

Pakura’s breath caught. Her eyes widened faintly behind the mask. “…You… you have Sharingan too?” Her heart thudded faster, realization hitting all at once.

‘Byakugan. Sharingan. Both in his hands.’ And not weak eyes, perfect tomoe. She knew what that meant. That level of Sharingan was no trinket; it was a strength that rivaled or surpassed elite jōnin.

Ryusei’s tone was calm, but edged with pride. “Now you see. I’m not just spinning words. I mean what I say when I talk about research, about progress. About strength.” He let the scroll close with a snap. “And from my stature, you can probably guess, I’m only in my early teens. Yet I stand here, stronger than most men twice my age. What does that tell you?”

Pakura stared, her throat dry. She hated admitting it, but her voice betrayed a trace of awe. “…That you’re dangerous. And that if anyone could turn those promises into reality… it might actually be you.”

However, surprisingly, in the next moment, Pakura’s full lips curved faintly, a strange softness breaking through her usual steel.

Her hazel eyes glinted with something uncharacteristic, teasing.

“…I already guessed who you are now, no use hiding it anymore,” she said, almost offhand, though the smug undertone was clear.

Ryusei tilted his head at her, just slightly, his grin behind the mask pausing. “…Oh?”

A small, melodic chuckle slipped from her throat, light and surprisingly pretty for someone who had spent the day drowning in blood and betrayal. It startled even her, but she didn’t stop.

“I am now the only one who saw you use all those multiple releases back then when you saved me,” she explained smoothly. “And I also didn’t miss the way you moved then. Your taijutsu level. Later, I noticed your amazing sensing. And now…” her gaze sharpened as if piecing the puzzle together, “…you’ve as much as confirmed your age. You’re no drifter.” She leaned in a little, hazel eyes narrowing with smug satisfaction. “…Ryusei Nishida, that young talent from Konoha, the one just making waves in this war lately. That’s you, isn’t it?”

However, instead of anger or further shock, Ryusei’s lips only curled as he tilted his head.

“So you’ve been following me that closely, hm? Should I take it as flattery or concern?”

His slit-eyed gaze lingered on her narrowed hazel eyes, a sly grin tugging at his mouth.

“Careful, Pakura. You almost sound impressed. And you’re looking far too smug for your own good.”

However, before she could reply with her usual steel, he raised a hand and slid the mask away.

His face was revealed: sharp yet youthful, dark brown hair messy from battle, framing foxy, almond-shaped eyes.

One was an ordinary black that gleamed with wry amusement, the other an uncanny violet Byakugan, narrowed into that slit-eyed, “gentle” look of his.

Pakura’s breath caught against her will.

Her eyes flicked over his features, caught off guard by how handsome he actually was, too handsome, almost irritatingly so, for someone so sly and manipulative, always plucking people’s eyes like it was nothing.

She felt her cheeks heat again, but forced her expression to be cold.

Ryusei’s grin widened at her reaction. “What’s this? Don’t tell me you’re staring.”

Her brows knitted, a glare snapping back into place as she huffed. “Keep talking like that, and I’ll melt that smug face off, Nishida.”

“Fair,” he said lightly, unbothered. Then his voice evened, returning to business.

“Anyway, now that you know who I am, it’s easier to explain. While you wait for me to finish my research, ways to push power, including yours, higher, I have a semi-permanent undertaking for you. But nothing that chains you. Just something useful for me now.”

Pakura crossed her arms, her stance regaining that soldier’s edge, though her flush hadn’t fully faded. “A new job, huh? You really don’t waste time.” Her lips pressed into a thin line before curling faintly again. “…Fine. Tell me, Nishida. What exactly do you want me to do?”

Ryusei didn’t stop at admitting his name this time. Strange, even to himself, how freely the words left his mouth.

He told her everything.

About the Senju, how the clan had chosen self-destruction, assimilation into Konoha, leaving only a handful of hardliners.

About the revivalists who clung to their identity and were slowly hunted into extinction under Hiruzen’s rule.

About his parents, how he was cornered by impossible traps and assassinations, more than once.

Pressure had forged him sharper, harder.

Stronger than they ever wanted him to become.

The only reason he wasn’t still living on the edge of paranoia was because, somehow, he had managed to open Tsunade’s eyes, and that leverage he now had on the Fire Daimyō himself.

Enough to keep breathing. Enough to keep moving.

He even mentioned Orochimaru, almost casually.

Called him the world’s secret greatest research genius, someone whose mind was too valuable to ignore, and that he would visit him soon again, trade insights, and together they would keep climbing toward their own peaks, so she should have even more confidence.

Then Ryusei’s slit-eyed gaze fell back on her. “You understand, don’t you? The Kage only ever see threats. You had it happen to you today. I’ve lived it since birth. That’s why I’m telling you this. You’re the only person I’ve ever opened up this much to.”

Pakura didn’t reply, her eyes sharp, watching him carefully. They stayed locked on him, sharp and searching, like she was trying to pierce through the mask and into the truth of him.

“What I want from you,” he continued, “isn’t complicated. I need you to connect with those six Senju remnants and their new network of control over the Daimyo and his royal family. Stay with them, protect them. They’re backup if Konoha’s leadership ever decides to pull something clever, which I feel like they probably would as more time passes and they think of countermeasures. If they somehow break the Daimyō free, or kill my six guards, you’ll be the one to stop the attack, or at least buy enough time to escape, with the Daimyō in tow.”

Pakura’s gaze darkened. “That’s what you want me for? A bodyguard?”

Ryusei smirked under his mask. “Not just that. My real plan… is to seal away your chakra while you’re there. You’ll look like nothing more than an… ordinary attendant. No one would ever factor you into their plans.”

Her eyes snapped wide, heat flashing across her face. “…Seal my chakra? You want to strip me down to nothing and make me play servant?” She almost hissed it, embarrassment mixing with anger. “Are you out of your mind?”

Ryusei’s grin didn’t waver. “Think, Pakura. If they know a shinobi of your caliber is stationed with the Daimyō, you’ll be in danger from the moment they move. They’ll plan around you. This way, they’ll overlook you completely. You’ll be the card they don’t account for. at all”

She clenched her fists, jaw tight, still glaring at him.

He leaned back slightly, voice calmer now. “Besides, I won’t leave you alone there. I’ll keep a clone sealed on-site permanently. But clones aren’t as durable as my real body, and I can’t waste too much chakra feeding one constantly. If something happens, it might be too late by the time I’m alerted.”

His eyes narrowed faintly. “But that’s where you come in. If danger breaks out, my clone can summon Katsuyu. Katsuyu can reverse-summon my real body instantly. Until I arrive, or if I’m tied up elsewhere, you’ll be the one to hold the line. Or run with the Daimyō if it comes to that, you understand?”

Pakura stared at him for a long time, lips pressing tight. Heat still lingered in her face from the humiliation of his proposal, but there was no mistaking the logic in his words.

“You’re insane,” she muttered coldly, though her eyes betrayed that she was already weighing the plan.

Her hazel eyes flicked toward him, narrowed. “I don’t like it. Being sealed, playing servant. You strip me down to nothing and make me wait for your signal? It feels like another cage.”

Ryusei’s lips curled into a grin behind the mask. “A cage? No. A sheath. Even the sharpest blade needs one until it’s time to cut.”

She held his gaze for a moment, her face hard, but the faintest tremor passed through her chest. The words landed sharper than she wanted to admit.

Pakura exhaled slowly. “You make it sound easy. But you’re asking me to trust you. Completely. If you vanish, if your clone fails, I’ll be exposed and powerless.”

Ryusei tilted his head, slit eyes glinting. “And if I wanted you gone, I could’ve left you in Sasori’s threads. Or let the Hyūga’s secret power erase you minutes ago. But I didn’t.”

Her lips pressed tight again, but her chakra aura shifted just slightly, less brittle, more steady.

“…Tch,” she muttered, finally turning her gaze aside. “I’ll think about it. But don’t expect me to enjoy pretending to be weak.”

Ryusei’s grin widened faintly. “Good. I don’t want you weak. I want you overlooked. There’s a difference. And when the time comes, I’ll be right there when you unsheathe yourself.”

Pakura’s jaw tightened at the phrasing, but she said nothing more, stepping forward with him into the shadows of the forest.

On the way to the hidden point where Ryusei said he’d message the six Senju remnants, regarding the subsequent arrangements for her and his clone, Pakura found her thoughts circling him more than she cared to admit.

He had saved her when she was seconds from death, when even her own comrades had looked away.

He had seen through her pain, spoken to her as though she wasn’t just a weapon. He had promised her power, trusted her, and shielded her, even when it meant slowing himself down.

And all the while, he’d carried himself with a strange confidence that unsettled her.

Somehow, in a single day, this boy had become the anchor she leaned on in some way.

It felt dangerous, reckless, even wrong. She had been betrayed by her own only hours ago.

Yet here she was, walking alongside someone who felt nothing like them.

Ryusei wasn’t competing with her, wasn’t trying to control her, wasn’t dangling empty words like the Suna council had.

Instead, he spoke of power as something real, something to be built and shared, of human nature with a clarity that cut through her doubts.

What unnerved her also was his growing, brazen teasing. He spoke to her as if their ages were reversed, as if she were the younger one.

He didn’t hold back or treat her with solemn pity; instead, he provoked, needled, and made her glare and flush like she hadn’t in years.

It was absurd. And yet… her heart felt lighter than it had in months, maybe years.

The previous weight of war and the most recent stab in the back seemed to fade just walking beside him.

As if, for reasons she couldn’t name, he always had everything under control.

Her gaze slid briefly to him, the edges of her lips tightening. She refused to admit it all aloud.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep