Chapter 234: Chapter 234

After classes ended, Kitazawa made his way to Konoha Hospital.

He didn’t return to his regular office but instead entered a secluded chamber lined with specialized medical instruments. This was the room reserved for the most complex cases—decoding unknown poisons, dissecting rare conditions, or experiments far beyond standard medical work.

As one of Konoha Hospital’s senior medical-nin, Kitazawa had the authority to use it freely.

Once the door was shut, he unrolled a summoning scroll. From its seal, he retrieved two things: White Zetsu’s spores and the severed arm of Obito.

He set them under the instruments and began his analysis.

As expected.

Obito’s arm was a grotesque fusion—Hashirama cells stabilized with White Zetsu tissue. Pure Hashirama cells were too volatile. And the spores… they were nothing less than raw White Zetsu matter.

Kitazawa tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking.

If limb regeneration could be developed using Zetsu cells as the base, the usual side effect—shortened lifespan—might be avoided. The flaw, however, was obvious: the supply. At best, what he had could treat three patients. No more.

Still, if the technique succeeded, perhaps Kosuke could be the first to test it.

His thoughts drifted. Orochimaru…

Had that man not defected, his cloning technology would have changed everything. With Zetsu cells in Orochimaru’s hands, the possibilities would have been limitless. After all, he was the closest thing this world had to a scientist.

Obito’s arm itself was valuable. If Hashirama’s cells and Zetsu cells could be balanced, then in theory, Wood Release shinobi could be manufactured. More importantly, such grafts might even help relieve the Mangekyō Sharingan’s crushing burden.

But again, the obstacle was the same—too few Zetsu cells, too few Hashirama cells. And with Tsunade’s presence, using them recklessly was impossible. Not that Kitazawa needed to. The system’s missions offered him alternate paths to Wood Release if necessary.

He resealed the arm and spores, slipping them back into the scroll. The thought pressed down on him again: he needed his own faction. Without it, he had to rely on the hospital even for basic examinations, let alone advanced experiments.

But laboratories weren’t cheap. Orochimaru’s Hidden Sound Village had been built as much for money as secrecy. Precision equipment cost fortunes—especially in the strange patchwork state of shinobi technology. Kitazawa’s current funds couldn’t even buy half of what he needed.

His mind flickered to Kabuto. Another genius-in-the-making. With guidance, Kabuto could grow into the role of a true shinobi scientist—though without Orochimaru’s shadow, his progress would be slower. Still, it was worth considering.

For now, everything hinged on Tsunade’s rise as Hokage. With her in power, his own influence would grow.

Kitazawa finally returned home.

Kurenai wasn’t inside. He didn’t need to check—she was behind the house, practicing her monstrous strength. Ever since the battle with Shinno, her diligence had doubled. The fight had laid bare her weakness, and she knew if she didn’t catch up, the distance between them would only widen.

Kitazawa sat down on the sofa, turning his mind to Kiba’s new jutsu. The modification he envisioned was less about adding and more about subtracting, stripping it down to something simpler yet brutal. His pen moved across paper, refining the details.

Time slipped by. The door creaked open.

Kurenai stepped in, sweat dripping down her neck, her black hair plastered to her face. She paused at the sight of him, then wiped her forehead.

“When did you get back?”

Kitazawa set his pen aside and patted his thigh in silent invitation.

Kurenai shook her head with a faint smile. “I’m all sweaty. I’ll shower first.”

“I’ll help you wash,” he countered, his eyes glinting with mischief.

The sheen of sweat across her fair skin only made her beauty sharper—messy, dangerously alluring.

“Think you can resist?” she teased, rolling her eyes.

“I can try. Don’t believe me? Test it.”

“I’m not testing anything,” she huffed, cheeks tinged pink. “You’re hopeless with this stuff.” She turned away, heading to the bathroom.

Kitazawa smirked faintly and bent back to his notes, sketching out the new jutsu. He would call it War Stomp—a technique perfectly suited for Kiba and his three-headed hound.

By the time he finished, Kurenai reemerged, hair tied up, draped in a deep crimson nightgown. She crossed the room and perched on his lap.

“What are you writing?”

“Ninjutsu for Kiba,” he replied, one arm circling her waist while the other trailed toward the hem of her gown.

Kurenai’s breath caught. His hand brushed lightly over her stomach, warm and teasing.

“We still need to eat,” she whispered, voice unsteady.

“You’re overthinking again.” Kitazawa’s breath tickled her ear.

“You’re the one being handsy!” Her blush deepened as she elbowed him, though the warmth in her chest betrayed her words.

“What’s for dinner?” he asked evenly, fingertips tracing her side.

“I… I’ll cook,” she stammered, leaning into him.

“Let’s cook together,” he suggested suddenly.

“Together?” She blinked in confusion.

“Hold tight. Don’t fall.”

He stood, then abruptly released his support. Her feet left the ground, and instinctively, she clung to his neck.

“P-Pervert!” she hissed once her heartbeat slowed.

Kitazawa just raised an eyebrow and carried her toward the kitchen. Her protests faltered into hazy breaths, lips biting down on their own tremor.

“Who’s the pervert now?” he murmured, squeezing her curves with a smirk.

“Your fault!” she snapped, though her voice was weak.

Kitazawa only chuckled and stepped into the kitchen. But before he could set her down, she lifted his face into her embrace, ruby eyes gleaming.

“You’ll block my sight like this—mmph!”

Her lips silenced him.

Dinner could wait. Shinobi could skip meals. And besides—there was always fruit.

It was another sleepless night.

Wednesday

Only a single day remained before the monthly exam.

Kitazawa was still half-asleep when a knock echoed against his door. He cracked his eyes open, glanced at the clock on the wall—already half past eight. Normally, he’d be on his way to the Academy by now. But today… he had lingered in bed a little longer—with Kurenai.

“You should go back to sleep,” he said softly, noticing the faint tremble of her eyelashes.

“Mmm…” Kurenai, sore and exhausted from last night’s stubbornness, gave a weak reply before drifting back into deeper slumber. She had paid the price for challenging him. After all, seventy percent Senju bloodline wasn’t exactly gentle—it was voracious.

Kitazawa slipped out of bed, dressed, and went to answer the door.

When he opened it, he froze.

“Itachi? What brings you here so early?”

“I have something to ask you.” Itachi’s tone was calm but deliberate. Originally, he had intended to seek out Tsunade. After some thought, however, he had chosen Kitazawa instead.

“What is it?” Kitazawa asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes. Could Obito have contacted him? Impossible. Even with Hashirama’s cells, wounds like a severed arm and a pierced heart wouldn’t heal overnight.

“Yesterday,” Itachi began slowly, “Hokage-sama ordered the Anbu to search the village for a man missing an arm. But he gave me a separate mission—to depart for Sunagakure.”

Kitazawa’s brow arched. So, it was Obito. And Itachi had been deliberately kept out of the matter. Was Hiruzen suspicious of a link between the Uchiha and Danzō? Or wary that the masked intruder was an Uchiha himself?

It wasn’t hard to see the logic. Sharingan—whether transplanted or natural—always traced back to the clan. And if it was natural, suspicion toward the Uchiha was inevitable. Hiruzen’s doubts, though frustrating, were only human.

What he could never have imagined was that the masked man was none other than Uchiha Obito—a war hero believed long dead. With Kamui in play, the Anbu’s search would prove fruitless.

“I want to know,” Itachi asked, voice steady but laced with unease, “did something happen yesterday? And is it tied to the Uchiha?”

His greatest fear was clear: open conflict between the clan and the village. Things had been improving under Tsunade, yet suddenly yesterday, the fragile balance seemed to tip.

“I know a little,” Kitazawa said after a pause. “Tell me… have you ever seen a shinobi with the Sharingan who wasn’t from your clan?”

Itachi stiffened. His mind flickered first to Kakashi. But that didn’t fit—not enough to justify the Anbu’s mobilization. Then, another memory surfaced. A masked man he’d once encountered on a mission—who had slaughtered his teammates, yet spared him after seeing his Sharingan. The aura that day… it had felt distinctly Uchiha, but he’d found no trace of the man in the clan’s records.

“Yes,” Itachi admitted. He described the man in detail.

Kitazawa feigned surprise. “Then it’s the same person. He appeared in Konoha last night. Kakashi and I managed to break one of his arms.”

Itachi’s eyes narrowed. No wonder Hiruzen had kept him away—he must have believed the man tied to the clan. Yet in truth, they were adversaries. The realization ignited killing intent within him. That masked man had not only murdered his comrades, but now threatened to shatter the clan’s hard-earned progress. Unforgivable.

Kitazawa noted the shift in his expression. Exactly as intended. By feeding this resentment, he ensured Itachi would view Obito only as an enemy, leaving no room for cooperation as in the original tale.

“What should I do?” Itachi asked firmly.

“Exactly what you’re meant to,” Kitazawa replied with a faint smile. “Let the Anbu do their work. Only then will the suspicions be cleared.”

“I understand. Thank you.” Relief passed through Itachi’s features.

“Let’s walk and talk,” Kitazawa said, slipping on his shoes. “I’ll share what I know of his techniques.”

“Alright.”

“He uses space–time ninjutsu,” Kitazawa explained. He didn’t mention Kamui by name, but the description made Itachi think of the Mangekyō Sharingan. But why only one ability? Was the other eye missing—or simply unused?

“And,” Kitazawa added, “he wields Wood Release.”

Shock flickered across Itachi’s face. Sharingan and Wood Release together? No wonder Hiruzen was rattled. The implications for Konoha were enormous.

“I understand,” Itachi said darkly. “If I encounter him again, I’ll capture him.” His pride and confidence radiated in that moment.

Kitazawa wasn’t surprised. Itachi had always been like this—prideful, determined to shoulder everything alone. Whether in the Uchiha massacre or in molding Sasuke, he bore every burden himself. And with his endless array of abilities, it was no wonder he was jokingly considered Kishimoto’s “golden child” in another life.

Still, Kitazawa’s goal was met. Obito was badly injured, unable to return to Konoha soon. And Itachi now despised him as an enemy. The clan massacre that once loomed had no chance of unfolding.

“Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Kitazawa warned.

“I understand,” Itachi said solemnly. Secrets involving Wood Release and Sharingan were matters of the highest classification. That Kitazawa had shared them at all… he assumed it was at Tsunade’s command.

“Good. I’m off to class. Until next time.”

With a casual wave, Kitazawa dismissed him. Itachi nodded once before vanishing.

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