After parting ways with Reiji, Amai spent the entire day buried in work, her mind still preoccupied.
As dusk settled and the workday ended, she left the office right on time and headed home.
Her residence sat high atop a majestic mountain, nestled in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods of Kumogakure.
Even among such upscale surroundings, her home stood out—spacious and elegantly designed.
After a shower, Amai let her damp golden hair fall loosely over her shoulders, wrapped in a relaxed bathrobe. She rubbed her aching shoulders as she slowly walked toward the massive floor-to-ceiling window in her living room.
It was a habit of hers.
Whenever something weighed on her heart, she would stand here—staring down at the glittering lights of the village below—thinking quietly to herself.
Earlier today, she'd tried probing Raimei.
But the results had been unsatisfying.
Her feminine instincts—her sixth sense—told her Raimei was Reiji. That he was the same brat from Amegakure. That he was the mastermind, or at least an accomplice, behind the recent attack on the village.
But her rational mind, honed by years of clerical precision, reminded her: Raimei is Raimei. She had no proof to say otherwise.
His appearance, behavior, way of thinking—everything about him aligned perfectly with the persona of a loyal Kumogakure shinobi.
Even the so-called "evidence" she'd gathered wasn't enough to convince her own logical side.
If Raimei really was Reiji in disguise, and if she herself wasn't from Kumogakure, she'd honestly be impressed by how flawlessly the man had infiltrated the village.
After all, she used to be a covert operative herself. She knew better than anyone how tough the job was.
Infiltrating a village? Easy enough.
But surviving long-term in a place with an already deeply established social web? That was exponentially harder.
She'd gone through hell just to blend into a backwater place like Amegakure.
To keep up appearances, she'd even spent a ridiculous sum opening the shop Hanamichi First District in the most expensive district in Amegakure.
Even then, she'd been harassed constantly.
During inspections, her shop was always a prime target for searches.
That was why, despite being drop-dead gorgeous, her business did so poorly—her only regulars being a handful of folks like Mizukuma.
Living undercover like that was exhausting. She'd become so paranoid, she barely dared to interact with others.
The memory made her sigh deeply.
Just then, a teasing voice suddenly rang out behind her.
"Sighing at your age? Careful, you'll go gray early~"
"Who's there?!" Amai cried, whipping around, eyes scanning the wide, open living room.
Nothing. No one.
But she was sure—absolutely sure—she hadn't imagined that voice.
A chill raced down her spine.
There was no need to second-guess it. It had to be Raimei—or whoever was behind him.
Still scanning the room, she began inching slowly toward the wall, her loose pajamas swaying slightly with each step.
She remembered: mounted on the wall was a ninja blade—a gift from her uncle, the Third Raikage, for her tenth birthday.
Just as she neared it, her rear was suddenly smacked.
"Yah!" she shrieked.
The curvaceous woman sprang straight into the air, completely forgetting how much of her body was now exposed.
Spinning around, she spotted Raimei standing exactly where she had just been—staring down at his own palm with a baffled expression.
"Uchiha-style counter?"
Reiji stared at his palm, deadpan.
What the hell—I was just trying to leave a Flying Thunder God mark, and she nearly bounced my chakra right back at me? That's insane!
Amai, clutching her collar with one hand, was seething with rage, her stunning face flushed bright red.
"No one—no one has ever dared to treat me like this! You're dead!"
As she spoke, she dropped her hand from her collar and swiftly began forming hand seals.
Seeing that, Reiji frantically raised his hands.
"Wait, wait—don't! If you break anything in here, I'm not paying for it!"
But Amai, clearly beyond reasoning—whether from fury or embarrassment—was already racing through her hand seals.
Reiji could only sigh internally.
Sorry about this.
In a flash, he reappeared behind her, wrapped one arm around her waist.
"Sorry!"
And with that, both their figures vanished on the spot.
...
The world spun.
When they reappeared, they were in Reiji's underground base.
The vast space was empty, lit only by the dim flicker of candlelight dancing on cold stone.
"Where is this?" Amai shot up immediately, distancing herself from Reiji, her jutsu disrupted.
"Uh..." Reiji paused a moment, then replied seriously, "My happy place?"
Amai stared at him, speechless.
She was now a hundred percent sure—this guy was Reiji.
Not just because he'd manhandled her, but because of that insufferably flippant attitude that made you want to punch a wall.
But right now, she needed to stall him—long enough to get word to her uncle.
The problem was his bizarre space-time ninjutsu. He could pop in and out at will, teleport right next to her. Even if she found an exit, would she even make it out?
Damn it...
She was stuck.
The only option left was to keep him occupied until morning.
By then, if she hadn't shown up for work, Raikage-sama would definitely send someone to her place.
When that happened, ANBU would tell him she'd gone to confront Raimei.
Hmph!
Even if you kill me—
For the sake of the village, I, Amai, will never bow to you!
With that conviction, she decided to give Reiji nothing but a cold shoulder.
Not that Reiji had any intention of hurting her. Honestly, he was just as frustrated.
He was thinking the exact same thing.
That's the thing about people who love playing mind games—they tend to think alike in the worst ways.
As his thoughts spun, Reiji's devious side stirred.
And just like that, a beautiful lie took shape.
He glanced at Amai, who was still watching him like a hawk, then sat down cross-legged and slowly formed a hand seal.
"Magnet Release: Iron Man Technique."
With a soft incantation, the skin around his temples split open. Streams of blood-tinged iron sand oozed out, flowing like water until they solidified in his hands—forming a mask still slick with crimson.
Amai, arms crossed and looking absolutely unimpressed, caught the sight—and her light green eyes narrowed sharply.
Magnet Release.
This guy knew Magnet Release?
And he'd been hiding an iron sand mask under his damn skin?
At that moment, her face began to itch like crazy. She instinctively rubbed her cheeks and shrank back slightly, muttering to herself.
No wonder... No wonder this guy could keep impersonating Raimei. I knew there was no way a normal Transformation Technique could fool Uncle.
Now it made sense.
Reiji peeled the mask away with a slight grin and snapped his fingers.
In an instant, a clone appeared behind Amai—holding a chair.
Then, poof, it vanished.
Amai glanced over her shoulder, the corner of her lips twitching into a faint, contemptuous smirk. She sat down without hesitation.
Watching her stay composed and unfazed, Reiji scoffed inwardly.
Oh? Playing the ice queen now?
That's not gonna fly with me. Your vibe totally clashes with mine!
How am I supposed to mess with you—tear down your defenses—when you act like this?
Tch... fine. Let's see how long that armor holds.