"Hyūga Shigeo, isn't this place called the Sky Country? Why do the villagers call it Minamo no Kuni (South Ink Nation)? Pretty nice name, oh yeah!"
Killer B twirled around the office, inspecting every corner with wide-eyed curiosity, humming a little beat as he went.
"I finally understand why everyone in Kumogakure fears going to your concerts," Shigeo said dryly, glancing at him over a stack of mission reports. "You're terrifying—you don't let a single person escape."
"Hahaha! Yō, yō, yō! A real rapper never lets a true fan slip away, oh yeah!"
Still laughing, Killer B turned toward the door. "It's my first time in Minamo, and I'm lovin' it, yo! I gotta check this place out! Maybe I can hold a massive concert right here—Minamo City looks packed, those cliffs and fortresses would make an epic stage, oh yeah!"
Shigeo raised a brow, then sighed. "Wait a second. I think your concert's missing something…"
Before B could ask what, Shigeo grabbed his arm—and the next instant, the office vanished.
In the blink of an eye, both of them reappeared miles away, standing once again on the shores where they'd first landed in the Land of Fire.
Shigeo released him with a small smile.
His hidden nation was not a place for outsiders to wander.
Even if Killer B didn't mean harm, Shigeo couldn't risk him reporting what he'd seen to the Fourth Raikage.
The peace of Minamo no Kuni wasn't something he'd allow anyone to disturb.
"Your little octopus sucker—how long can it track me?" Shigeo asked, rubbing his back in irritation. "If it lasts forever, I might have to cut out a chunk of skin to get rid of it."
"Yō! No worries, my man, it fades after half a month, oh yeah!" B said, flashing a thumbs-up. Then he pointed toward a nearby street stall. "Hey, check that out! You think that outfit's fire enough for my next show, yō?"
Shigeo smirked. "Looks good, oh yeah."
If nothing else, traveling with this strange man for a bit might be… entertaining.
B's laughter boomed through the market as he grabbed the outfit and squeezed into the cramped stall. Despite his age, his energy burned like a kid's, his enthusiasm impossible to contain.
He emerged a moment later, wearing a shirt several sizes too small, his muscular belly peeking out. "Yō, Shigeo, how's the fit?"
Shigeo gave him a thumbs-up.
B grinned, relaxed—and the shirt burst apart with a loud crack as his chest expanded.
"YOOOO! My shirt! My shirt!"
The stall owner lunged forward, furious.
B fumbled for his wallet, pulling out a wad of bills. "Yo, don't stress, I'll pay, I'll pay!"
Only when the man accepted the money did he finally get released.
Then came the food.
They hit every street stall along the row—grilled fish, scallops, crab, and shrimp—thankfully, no grilled octopus.
B devoured everything like a storm, and Shigeo didn't bother holding back either. After all, B was the one paying.
They drank, toasted, laughed, and rapped together under the firelight, their voices mixing with the beat of the drums.
For a night, there was no hidden village, no politics—only rhythm, fire, and joy.
Later, they stumbled into a small-town Rap Battle Festival, where local amateurs performed three-man shows.
When B heard that, his eyes lit up like stars. "Yooooo! We gotta join this, oh yeah!"
And so they did.
That night, the venue was packed to the brim.
Flames and colored lights pulsed with the crowd's cheers as the three-man rap crew took the stage.
Sweat poured, voices roared, and words flew like Bakuton (Explosion Release)—rapid, rhythmic, unstoppable.
B stood in the front row, eyes sparkling like a child's.
He jumped, shouted, and waved his arms wildly, his excitement so great that traces of his Tailed Beast chakra began to leak out.
From a higher railing at the back, Shigeo smiled faintly.
Their friendship was strange, but in its own way, it was a rare and precious experience—something that could never happen in his past life.
After a night of madness, the two returned to their inn, bathed, slept, and spent the next few days wandering from town to town.
They ate, drank, explored, and laughed without restraint.
By the end of it, B had burned through all the money Shigeo had given him for tickets—and another thirty thousand of his own.
When his wallet finally ran dry, reality hit him like a punch.
"Man, I can't keep playin' around like this! My concert's in five days! Gotta head back, oh yeah!"
Dragging Shigeo along by the arm, he raced back toward the Land of Lightning.
From a distance, Shigeo gazed at Kumogakure's great stone gates, his expression calm yet thoughtful.
"Old man, you sure you want me walking in there?" he asked softly.
B froze for a second, then waved his hands frantically. "NONO! You can't go in as yourself, oh yeah! Transform into Omoi, my dude—then we can rap all day, oh yeah!"
With that, he zipped through the gates, where a few guards greeted him.
Turning back, he waved at Shigeo—now perfectly disguised as Omoi—beckoning him inside.
Together, they entered the village and stayed at B's home.
The next day was the concert.
B didn't rest once that afternoon, running around the village, shouting, and handing out flyers to everyone he met.
And that night—
the long-awaited concert began.
In the front row sat Shigeo, still disguised as Omoi.
But ten seats away, the real Omoi sat frozen beside Karui and Samui.
Their eyes darted toward the look-alike next to them, faces pale.
Karui nudged her master, pointing at the impostor. "S-sensei… look! Over there…"
But B didn't hear her at all.
The beat dropped—
and his voice thundered through the arena:
"Yō, yō, yō! Oh yeah!
We're all gathered here tonight,
To welcome my man, Hyūga Shigeo in the light!
They say he's cruel, a villain, a sin,
But I say they don't know the man within!
His Taijutsu's strong, his will unbent,
His Tailed Beast power heaven-sent!
So why y'all whisper? Why y'all hide?
You know nothin', step aside!
If you don't understand, then zip your lips—
And respect this man, oh yeah!"
The crowd erupted in stunned silence—
and Shigeo buried his face in his hand.
(End of Chapter)
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