"Ah."
Kin gently cradled a teacup in his hands, blowing softly on the steam.
Outside, the courtyard stretched under a sky of blue and white, framed by lush grass and clear water.
All fatigue seemed to melt away.
The struggles of the past only made him savor this moment more.
"What a peaceful day," he mused. "Don't you think so, Kiyoshi?"
He glanced at Hyuga Kiyoshi, who sat rigidly at the table.
Lately, Kiyoshi had become a frequent visitor to Kin's home. To the outside world, they were close friends.
In reality—
"With the fires of war extinguished," Kiyoshi answered solemnly, "only unseen battles remain. Nothing disrupts your tranquility, Lord Kin."
"You're overcomplicating it, Kiyoshi."
"My apologies, my lord."
Kiyoshi bowed, acknowledging his error with practiced humility.
Kin sighed, staring at the ceiling. He wasn't fond of such formality—it stifled the easy atmosphere.
After a pause, he offered, "Kiyoshi, relax when you're with me."
"Respect is non-negotiable, my lord."
Kiyoshi remained unmoved. Rules were his creed, and he adhered to them fiercely.
"Fine."
Suit yourself. Kin took a sip of tea. He wouldn't dictate how others lived.
"How leisurely, Kin-kun."
A puff of smoke announced Orochimaru's arrival. He settled at the table as if he'd been expected.
Kin poured him tea without missing a beat.
"Lord Orochimaru." Kiyoshi greeted him with deference.
Orochimaru nodded, though his gaze lingered curiously on the Hyuga. Ever since acquiring Might Dai, the "shinobi trafficker" had been keen to recruit more talents—even lesser ones would do.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, sensei?" Kin smiled.
"Your jonin certification." Orochimaru slid a document from his sleeve. "Your ID is now in the jonin registry."
"As of today, you're an official jonin."
"You may form a squad, select missions freely, or shadow elite jonin."
Jonin marked the pinnacle of a shinobi's career—only the Hokage's seat lay beyond.
Theoretically, Kin now stood equal to Orochimaru. Elite was just a title; jonin was the rank.
"A squad, huh." Kin rubbed his chin.
Jonin had that privilege, though it typically applied to genin and chunin. Academy students were assigned by the village.
In practice, most jonin stuck to their original teams or worked solo. Few exercised this right—strong shinobi didn't need deadweight, and the weak sought protectors.
Jonin missions were lethal.
"Kiyoshi, you'll join my squad. We'll find one more."
Teams were usually trios. Four meant a instructor role.
"My gratitude, Lord Kin." Kiyoshi bowed.
"And which elite jonin will you follow, Kin-kun?" Orochimaru's tongue flicked.
Konoha had many elites: the Sannin, the White Fang, clan heads, advisors, even Danzo.
The Hokage stood apart—the entire village was his, save for Root.
"Any suggestions, sensei?" Kin feigned ignorance, though he'd guessed Orochimaru's intent.
"Your talent for jutsu research is... exceptional." Orochimaru's smile widened. "Would you consider being my lab assistant?"
Kin sipped his tea. "Haven't I already called you 'sensei'?"
His answer was clear. Research with Orochimaru beat life-threatening missions.
And unlike the White Fang, Orochimaru wouldn't exploit him.
In many ways, Kin was already Orochimaru's successor—he just never used most of the man's techniques.
Why settle for lesser tools?
"How decisive, Kin-kun." Orochimaru chuckled.
If only Nawaki had been this sharp.
The same烤肉店 (BBQ joint).
The owner beamed as the trio entered. Business had boomed since Konoha's victory, but no customers matched these three.
Their bill alone covered a month's revenue.
In a corner booth, Kushina scowled, shoving meat into her mouth like it owed her money.
"What's with you?"
"Stop stealing my meat before pretending to care!!"
Chopsticks clashed as Kin's hand blurred, snatching slices faster than Kushina could react.
"Your slow reflexes aren't my problem."
"Today ends this!!" Kushina blocked his next strike.
Their faces sharpened, auras clashing.
Minato's chopsticks darted for the meat—only to be intercepted by both sets of utensils.
Now his face hardened too.
"Barbecue is a Battlefield," Minato declared.
"In the Art of Meat Seizure, I Stand Above All," Kin sneered.
"Mommy, those people are scary!" A nearby girl whimpered, eyeing them like prehistoric beasts.
Instantly, the trio deflated.
"Sorry!"
"Our bad!"
"We'll behave!"
The girl's features suddenly turned chiseled. "Pathetic."
One line had shattered their resolve.
"Kurenai! Why'd you switch art styles!?"
The girl blinked innocently. "Huh?"
...
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(End of Chapter)