Inoiki stood alone in an open clearing just beyond the Iwagakure camp, his right arm extended forward, fingers splayed, eyes fixed on the empty space ahead. The world around him was still, silent—only the subtle rustling of the wind broke the quiet.
He stood like that for several minutes, completely focused. Then his brow furrowed.
Something's off.
His thoughts sharpened with frustration. My mental abilities have grown rapidly over the years, and lately, they've been accelerating—evolving, even. I felt like I was on the brink of something greater... like my mind was reaching into a new dimension altogether. But now, it's stopped. Just like that. Stalled right at the edge.
He clenched his hand slightly, sensing the forces around him. I can feel it—the presence of gravity and space itself. I'm aware of them as if they're tangible, manipulable. But no matter how hard I try, I can't reach out and control them. Not yet. My current mental power just isn't enough. Damn it.
Frustration tightened his jaw, but he caught himself. He exhaled slowly, steadying his breath, letting the tension bleed away with the wind.
"No," he muttered aloud, voice calm but resolute. "Getting agitated won't help. That's the quickest way to lose progress."
He let his arm fall back to his side and stood upright, his posture steady.
"If I've hit a wall, then I'll polish what I have. I'll refine my current mental strength to its limit and train my body while I wait. The breakthrough will come when it's ready. And when it does—I'll be more than ready to handle it."
He turned his gaze to the sky above Iwagakure camp, quiet determination in his eyes.
Having steadied his resolve, Inoiki turned and began walking back toward the Iwagakure camp. As he approached, he immediately noticed a shift in the atmosphere. The camp, once bustling with semi-permanent setups, was in motion. Iwagakure shinobi moved in coordinated formation, folding tents, loading gear, and breaking down the perimeter in a methodical rhythm.
Tents were disappearing by the minute. They were preparing to move.
Just then, an Iwagakure ninja stepped in front of Inoiki and bowed slightly. "Lord Inoiki, Lord Kitsuchi has requested your presence."
Inoiki gave a silent nod, his mind already working. They must've found something. Maybe they've located Han.
He followed the ninja through the shifting camp, weaving past ninja and supplies, until he reached a tent where Kitsuchi and Kurotsuchi were waiting. The mood was tense but composed.
Kitsuchi turned as Inoiki entered, his expression a careful balance between formality and unease.
"Inoiki," he said, "it seems your prediction was right. Our Five-Tails Jinchūriki has indeed encountered a serious situation. We're launching a full-scale operation to search for him."
He paused, then continued, his tone more diplomatic. "Because of that, we'll be occupied for some time and won't be able to properly host you here at the camp. If you'd like, you're welcome to return to Iwagakure itself—visit the village, explore our customs, rest for a few days."
Inoiki caught the real meaning beneath the words. Kitsuchi wasn't offering a tour—he was making a polite request for him to leave the front.
They want me out of the way, Inoiki thought. Whether it's to avoid further reliance on a foreign shinobi… or to keep me from learning something more.
He met Kitsuchi's eyes for a beat, then gave a neutral nod.
Truthfully, Inoiki wasn't eager to linger in the Land of Earth any longer. The barren landscape offered little in the way of beauty or peace, and more importantly, he understood the unspoken rules at play. Even in times of relative peace, no village wanted a powerful shinobi from another nation—especially one as strategically sharp and high-ranking as Inoiki—wandering freely in their territory. Especially not now, with tensions high and a Jinchūriki missing.
He gave a polite smile and replied, "No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I'll be returning to Konoha. I've completed what I came here to do, and there are other responsibilities waiting for me. Besides, the Hokage needs to be informed immediately—another Jinchūriki has fallen into Akatsuki's hands."
Kitsuchi gave a nod, clearly relieved by the decision. "Understood. And thank you again, Inoiki—for everything."
Inoiki gave a slight bow. "I'll set off now. It's still late morning—I have plenty of daylight ahead, and if I keep a steady pace, I'll be back in Konoha within a few days."
Kitsuchi nodded once more, his voice more sincere now. "We're in your debt for saving my daughter."
Inoiki accepted the thanks with a silent nod.
Kurotsuchi stepped forward, her voice softer but firm. "Thank you very much for saving me."
Inoiki met her eyes, and for a brief moment, there was a flicker of quiet understanding between them.
Inoiki gave a final nod and stepped out of the tent into the open. He reached into his jacket, unsealed a scroll, and unfurled it with practiced precision. With a flash of chakra, he formed a quick series of hand seals. In response, a massive sword materialized before him—its surface smooth and imposing.
Without touching it, he willed the blade into motion. It hovered horizontally, perfectly still in the air. With effortless control, he stepped onto the broad, flat surface, balancing as if it were solid ground. He turned slightly, giving one last respectful nod to Kitsuchi and Kurotsuchi, then rose upward into the sky.
The sword carried him higher, cutting through the morning air. As he ascended to cruising altitude, his form blurred—until he became a streak of sky-blue light darting across the sky.
Kurotsuchi watched him go, lips parting slightly as if she meant to say something—but no words came. Whatever thoughts she had, she held them back.
Kitsuchi glanced sideways at his daughter. He didn't need her to speak to see what was on her mind. The look in her eyes told him everything.
She's falling for him, he realized. But our villages are not the same. Not now, maybe not ever.
He didn't say anything either. He knew some things were best left to time—and to fate.
—
Inoiki moved fast, slicing through the skies toward Konoha. But after barely covering ten kilometers, something shifted.
A faint tremor passed through his senses. Not physical—but mental, intuitive. A quiet jolt deep within his consciousness.
He slowed, his expression sharpening.
Danger...
His sixth sense, honed through years of mental discipline and combat, pulsed with a warning he couldn't ignore. Without hesitation, he halted mid-air and guided the sword to descend. Once near the ground, he dismissed the blade into his storage scroll with a flick of his fingers.
Better not to burn chakra unnecessarily.
He hit the ground running, feet silent against the rocky terrain, his body moving swiftly and fluidly. Flying was efficient—but also exposed, and it consumed chakra far too quickly if something were waiting for him.
If my instincts are reacting, I can't afford to take chances, he thought. Mental power like mine doesn't sound false alarms.
And so, he ran—not out of fear, but out of precision. Alert. Controlled. Ready for whatever lay ahead.
----
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