Chapter 231: Chapter 231

“We won!”

Izumi’s cheer broke the silence, her face lighting up.

This mission felt worlds apart from their last one, which was very boring. Against Shinno, the three of them—and even Kurenai—had been powerless.

“That was… a truly thrilling battle.”

Torune exhaled heavily. His insects had failed for the first time, leaving him frustrated but reflective. If his insects were rendered useless, his personal strength alone couldn’t make a difference. He would need to train even harder.

“With Kitazawa-sensei here, it was thrilling… but never dangerous.”

Kabuto pushed up his glasses, his eyes sharp. After this fight, he reassessed his teacher’s strength. In his mind, only a handful of people in Konoha—Hiruzen, Tsunade, perhaps one or two others—could confidently stand above Kitazawa.

Kurenai’s eyes flicked to Shinno, her brows furrowing. “What about him? A side effect of that forbidden jutsu?”

There was no mistaking it—Shinno now looked like a walking corpse, withered skin stretched over bone, his breaths shallow and rattling.

“Yes.”

Kitazawa crouched, placing his hand above the man. A faint green glow of medical chakra lit his palm. “The stronger the forbidden jutsu, the harsher the price.”

He didn’t turn as he called, “Izumi.”

Shinno’s condition was worse than expected, but he couldn’t be allowed to die just yet.

“Kitazawa-sensei.” Izumi hurried to his side.

“Use your Sharingan. Control him.”

Her eyes spun to life, two tomoe forming in each. She fixed her gaze on the hollow husk before her.

Shinno, once a formidable jonin, couldn’t resist. His expression dulled, his will shackled by her gaze.

“Izumi, ask him where the medical forbidden jutsu are. If they’re not on scrolls, have him write them down.”

“Understood.”

Her voice was calm as she relayed Kitazawa’s words.

“…In the control room of the Angkor Fortress…” Shinno rasped.

Kitazawa’s eyes narrowed. The Angkor Fortress—the city beneath Soragakure Village. In the original story, powered by the Zero-Tailed, it could soar into the sky and fire a chakra cannon rivaling a Tailed Beast Ball. A so-called invincible weapon—yet one that Shino had once crippled single-handedly with his clan’s kikaichu.

“Kabuto, stabilize his condition. Izumi, have him record the forbidden jutsus. Kurenai, you’re with me—we’re heading to the Angkor Fortress.”

“Yes, Kitazawa-sensei,” Kabuto and Izumi answered together.

“Let’s move.”

Withdrawing his Mystic Palm, Kitazawa turned toward the shaft the Soragakure shinobi had used earlier and leapt down. Kurenai followed without hesitation.

“There shouldn’t be many enemies left here,” Kitazawa remarked as they landed in a steel corridor.

Kurenai’s curiosity finally broke through. “How do you know so much about this place?”

“I sent a Shadow Clone to scout ahead,” he replied simply.

“I see…” She nodded, glancing around at the metallic walls and listening to the faint grind of gears echoing through the fortress.

“And this Angkor Fortress—what exactly is it?”

“A massive flying fortress,” Kitazawa said. “It’s the pride of Soragakure.”

Kurenai’s eyes widened. “A flying fortress? The shinobi world really is full of absurd things…”

“It doesn’t matter.” Kitazawa shook his head. “To true powerhouses, it’s just a massive target.”

“Fair point,” Kurenai agreed. “If it were truly unstoppable, Soragakure wouldn’t have been destroyed in the first place.”

Kitazawa halted suddenly. “Someone ahead.”

“I’ll handle them,” Kurenai volunteered quickly. She hadn’t contributed much against Shinno, and she wasn’t about to be a burden twice in one day.

Kitazawa gave a nod.

She darted forward.

“Who goes there?!”

Two Soragakure shinobi whirled at the intrusion.

“Ninja Art: Hundred Petal Storm!”

Petals filled the air, swirling in a deadly storm. Kurenai’s form blurred, vanishing into the crimson haze.

When she reappeared, she was behind one of the shinobi. A flick of her wrist sent petals slashing through his throat. Blood sprayed as he collapsed.

The second shinobi froze in terror, whipping his head around—but Kurenai had already disappeared.

A rush of air overhead—then a sharp kick knocked him unconscious.

Kitazawa stepped forward as she landed. “Efficient and clean.”

He pushed open the heavy steel door ahead—and stopped.

A wave of silence pressed down. Inside were huddled villagers, gaunt and trembling, their eyes hollow with fear.

Kurenai’s breath caught. “These people…?”

“They’re batteries,” Kitazawa answered grimly, forming a hand seal and summoning a Shadow Clone. “Fuel for the Zero-Tailed.”

Kurenai’s stomach twisted. Even without knowing what the Zero-Tailed truly was, she understood the cruelty of using human beings as living energy sources.

“They’re all kidnapped from nearby villages,” Kitazawa continued. “Get them out.”

At the word out, the captives stirred, hope flashing in their hollow gazes.

“Are you… here to save us?”

“Thank you!”

“We’ll never forget this kindness!”

Tears of gratitude streamed down their faces as the clone guided them away.

“Shinno deserved worse than death,” Kurenai muttered darkly, rage bubbling at the sight.

“Kurenai.” Kitazawa’s voice was steady. “Let’s head deeper. The energy gathered here flows to the next level—the control room. That’s where the Zero-Tailed is.”

Together, they descended. Any remaining Soragakure shinobi fell swiftly under Kurenai’s strikes.

At last, Kitazawa halted. “This is it.”

A suffocatingly cold chakra seeped through the steel door ahead.

Kitazawa raised his hand, pressing the release. With a hiss, the door slid open.

Before them loomed a massive cylindrical tank of reinforced glass.

Inside, coiled like some foul serpent, was a creature with a shifting, mud-like body and a mask-shaped face.

The Zero-Tailed.

The moment its eyes found them, it slammed into the glass with terrifying force—yet the container held firm, humming with power.

“This is the Zero-Tailed? Tch… it’s hideous.”

Kurenai wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Ugly or not, the fact that Shinno managed to create the Zero-Tailed is proof of his… peculiar talent.”

Kitazawa studied the grotesque mass before him, eyes narrowing. He had never laid eyes on an actual Tailed Beast, so he couldn’t make a direct comparison—but one thing was certain. This creature was leagues beneath the real thing.

In the original story, Naruto and Sasuke had torn it apart with sheer chakra. That alone revealed its greatest weakness: a limit.

Kurenai frowned. “So, what do you intend to do with it?”

“For now… nothing.” Kitazawa’s answer came after a pause.

The Zero-Tailed thrived on darkness—the festering malice in people’s hearts. To feed it was to harvest negative emotions. Shinno’s method had been simple: abduct innocents, torment them, force them to generate despair. Cruel, but effective.

Kitazawa had no need for such ugliness. He had his own system—and moral lines he refused to cross. Besides, a creature bound by a chakra ceiling could never rise to the level of a true Tailed Beast. Even if it could, where would he find such an endless supply of hatred to sustain it? Shinno had devoted decades, and still it wasn’t enough.

No, Kitazawa wouldn’t waste time fattening this mockery of a beast. But nor would he discard it. Once he mastered the Four Symbols Seal, he planned to lock it away inside a scroll, a living power bank. Its chakra—born of Yin Release—was perfectly suited for Genjutsu and other Yin-based jutsus.

With that thought, Kitazawa pulled his gaze away from the writhing creature and began rifling through Shinno’s study.

“Here!” Kurenai called out, already holding three sealed scrolls.

They contained Shinno’s forbidden works: Cellular Activation, Body Regeneration.

Kitazawa accepted them and skimmed through, nodding with quiet approval. Body Regeneration, in particular, resembled the system-granted version he already possessed. It also explained much about Shinno’s faux strength.

No wonder his Eight Gates Formation felt like a counterfeit. Glossy on the outside, rotten within. On the surface, he seemed formidable, but compared to Gai or Dai, whose strength was forged through years of grueling training, Shinno’s foundation was laughably brittle.

“Let’s head out.” Kitazawa tucked the scrolls away.

They retraced their steps back to the surface, where Izumi hurried over.

“Kitazawa-sensei,” she said, offering another scroll. “These are Shinno’s original notes on the jutsus.”

Kitazawa skimmed the parchment. They were identical to what he’d already acquired—untampered, authentic.

“Kabuto,” he ordered without hesitation, “end his wretched life.”

“Understood.”

Kabuto ceased the healing chakra flow, and Shinno’s labored breaths quickly stilled. To be certain, Kabuto drove a kunai into the man’s heart.

“A clean finishing blow. Good habit,” Kitazawa remarked approvingly.

Kurenai chuckled softly. “Kabuto looks more like a true shinobi than I do.”

Kitazawa elbowed her lightly. “Then train harder. Don’t let my student leave you behind.”

Rolling her eyes, Kurenai huffed. “Yes, Kitazawa-sensei.” But inside, she knew talent wasn’t something sheer effort could bridge.

Turning to his team, Kitazawa unfurled a separate mission scroll. “Kabuto, take Izumi and Torune. Finish this bandit suppression mission. Kurenai and I will handle the fortress.”

“Understood.” Kabuto glanced through the mission details—straightforward, nothing troublesome. With a nod, he led his teammates toward the mountains.

As for Angkor Fortress, Kitazawa gave no quarter. “Slaughter every Soragakure shinobi inside, then collapse the entrance.”

This was the shinobi world: kill or be killed. Every ninja’s hands dripped with blood. Perhaps that was why men like Jiraiya still clung desperately to the dream of peace, pinning hope on a destined Child of Prophecy. But the path remained unseen.

Once the fortress was purged, Kitazawa and Kurenai waited for the others to return. Their B-rank mission concluded swiftly, and by dawn the next day, the group was back in Konoha.

“You’ve all done well. Go rest,” Kitazawa told them, patting Kabuto’s shoulder.

The three chorused, “Yes, Kitazawa-sensei,” their spirits lighter despite the lack of official reward. After all, surviving Shinno had been reward enough in experience.

“You too, Kurenai,” Kitazawa said more softly. “I’m heading to the Mission Hall.”

She simply nodded and let him go.

After submitting the B-rank report, Kitazawa returned home and unrolled the scroll for Cellular Activation.

He finally understood the difference between Shinno and the Fourth Raikage. Shinno’s method was a balloon—temporarily inflated to seem strong, constantly requiring maintenance with Body Regeneration. The Raikage, on the other hand, was a solid iron weight: naturally durable, no artificial upkeep required.

Just like Shinno’s false Eight Gates compared to Gai’s authentic ones.

Rubbing his chin, Kitazawa considered. He wouldn’t use the jutsu as it was. Instead, he’d reshape it into a Yang Release Chakra Mode—a far more sustainable, efficient path.

At that moment, his system chimed:

Current Mission: Modify Cellular Activation into Yang Release Chakra Mode.

Reward: Water Release: Water Severing Wave.

Kitazawa raised his brows, pleasantly surprised. An S-rank water jutsu, one of Tobirama’s finest—capable of slicing through even the roots of the Divine Tree.

There was no hesitation. He accepted.

The next morning, he headed for Konoha’s gates. Crowds gathered, eager to glimpse the Hidden Mist delegation. Kitazawa had a different motive: he wanted to confirm if Obito had indeed slipped into the village during these talks.

By the time the Mist delegation arrived, Konoha’s team—Tsunade, Shikaku, and ten others—was already in place, granting the Mist considerable face.

And among the Mist shinobi, Kitazawa’s sharp eyes immediately locked onto one figure: Suikazan Fuguki, hulking frame and Samehada strapped to his back.

That blade wasn’t a mere weapon—it was alive, feeding on chakra itself. A fickle partner, loyal only to the flavor of its feast. Someday, it would betray its wielder for a more “delicious” host.

Just as it once abandoned its master for Killer B and the Eight-Tails.

Kitazawa’s eyes swept slowly across the Hidden Mist delegation.

With so many onlookers, he couldn’t risk activating his Byakugan. Not that it mattered—he doubted he’d be able to pick out Obito even if he did.

He wasn’t disappointed. This was what he expected.

Once Tsunade led Fuguki and the others toward the Hokage Building, Kitazawa turned back toward home.

Obito’s Kamui was troublesome, yes—but the original story had already shown plenty of ways to deal with it. And here, inside Konoha, Obito wouldn’t linger. At most, he’d make a fleeting appearance.

Still, Kitazawa’s mind turned to another angle—Kakashi.

If Obito had truly returned to the village, he would have to seek Kakashi out. That bond between them ran too deep, too bitter to ignore. But there was no need to rush. If Obito had slipped in with the Mist delegation, then he’d be locked in meetings all day. Negotiations over Lightning Blades: Kiba would drag endlessly, especially since Konoha had no intention of giving it up.

The next morning, Tuesday

Kitazawa was midway through breakfast when a knock came at his door.

He rose, opened it—

“Tenten?”

“Kitazawa-sensei, you really do have great foresight!” she said brightly, holding a scroll.

Kitazawa blinked. “You came this early? Don’t tell me the Kiba have already been reforged?”

“Exactly!” she beamed. “Didn’t I say one month? That was only an estimate. My father gained new insights while reforging it, so the process finished in half the time.”

“I see.” Kitazawa smiled faintly. “A double blessing, then.”

“Sensei, I’ve brought both swords.”

She unsealed the scroll with practiced hands. Two sheathed ninja blades materialized before them.

“Thank you.” Kitazawa accepted them with a nod.

“Then I’ll be off. Goodbye, sensei.” Without lingering, Tenten turned and left.

Kitazawa stored the blades away, finished his meal, and made for the Ninja Academy.

At 8:30 sharp, before the Genius Class began, he found Kakashi.

“Kakashi, here.”

Kakashi glanced at the sword, then drew it carefully. “So this is the reforged Kiba? Hn. Doesn’t look like much.”

“You’ll know once you try it.” Kitazawa gestured. “Let’s not test it here—we might fry some poor student.”

“…Fair enough.” Kakashi led him to a remote training ground, the same one he sometimes used to try Lightning Release: Kirin.

“It should respond just by channeling lightning chakra,” Kitazawa explained, recalling Raiga’s use of the weapon.

Kakashi raised the blade, flooding it with chakra.

In an instant, arcs of lightning raced down the metal, bursting into dazzling brilliance.

“A fine sword,” Kakashi admitted, genuine admiration slipping into his tone.

He knew swords. His father had been Konoha’s White Fang, a name as feared as the Sannin. Kakashi himself had once wielded Sakumo’s short sword before it was lost at Kannabi Bridge. Along with Obito.

Now, holding a blade once more, something long buried stirred within him.

He thrust it skyward. Lightning shot from the tip, splitting the heavens as storm clouds gathered overhead.

“It really is simpler than shaping lightning release manually.” He exhaled, withdrawing his chakra but unable to resist a few more test swings.

Kitazawa tilted his head. “Could this be the legendary Hatake-style Swordsmanship?”

“You know of it?” Kakashi asked, surprised.

“Only in name.”

A shadow of nostalgia passed through Kakashi’s eye. Hatake-style Swordsmanship—hardly spoken of now, overshadowed by the fame of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist. Yet once, it had shaken the shinobi world.

“You speak as though you’d like to see it for yourself,” Kakashi said.

Kitazawa coughed lightly. “It would be an honor.”

“Then spar with me.” Kakashi’s grip tightened.

“Go easy on me,” Kitazawa replied with a grin, drawing Zangetsu. He wasn’t foolish—his kenjutsu couldn’t match Hatake-style at its peak.

Kakashi exhaled slowly. It had been years since he last felt this—blade in hand, old instincts waking.

In a flash, he lunged.

“So fast—!” Kitazawa’s eyes narrowed, barely managing to intercept with Zangetsu.

Clang!

Kakashi twisted, his blade darting for Kitazawa’s eyes with assassin-like precision. Kitazawa squinted instinctively. No wonder Sakumo had been called White Fang.

He bent back, avoiding the thrust, then swept upward with his own blade.

“Good!” Kakashi’s excitement flared. This was like sparring with Obito in his youth—except now, his opponent’s raw strength forced him to push harder.

Steel clashed, sparks flying in the morning sun.

From a distance, someone watched.

Obito.

Dragged to the village under the Mist’s banner, he had wasted yesterday in endless negotiations. Konoha refused to hand over the Kiba, and on the second day, he’d ditched the talks entirely.

Now, arriving at the Academy, he found Kakashi wielding the reforged blade. Understanding hit him at once: Konoha had never intended to give it away. They had handed it to Kakashi instead.

His fists clenched. Why him?

Kakashi—always praised, always chosen. While he—Obito—had been overlooked, scorned, called worthless.

The only time Rin had looked his way, it was never just him she saw. And in the end, Kakashi himself had killed her.

Why? Was Konoha more important than Rin? Why had Minato, the Yellow Flash, arrived too late to stop it?

That day, Obito’s heart had shattered. He had returned as a wraith of vengeance, unleashing the Nine-Tails upon the village. And now…

“Good strike!” Kakashi’s voice rang, jolting him back.

Obito’s gaze snapped to his former teammate, a familiar silhouette etched in the clash of blades. His teeth ground together.

What are you doing? he thought bitterly. Smiling? Laughing? Have you forgotten you killed Rin?

“Kakashi seems happy,” a lazy voice murmured at his feet.

Obito turned, glaring. “Shut up.”

White Zetsu smirked. “I’ve picked up some intel. You know why Kakashi’s teaching classes? Hiruzen’s orders. Something about a ’Genius Class.’”

Obito’s lip curled. “A class for little brats? Hmph. If it had existed back then, I never would’ve qualified. I was always dead last.”

Yet dead last or not, here he stood—the strongest Uchiha alive.

“And that’s not all,” White Zetsu added with a sly chuckle. “Kakashi’s taken on a student. A boy named… Uchiha Sasuke.”

Obito froze.

An Uchiha?

His jaw tightened. Why? Out of everyone, why choose an Uchiha?

Was this his replacement?

Obito’s eyes burned as he watched Kakashi spar with Kitazawa, displeasure twisting inside him like a knife.

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