A few days later in the Land of Waves, inside a cabin.
"541." Devan read the number in his mind from the Fractured Mind Counter. He scratched his head lightly while looking at the huge garden outside the cabin he had just bought in the Land of Waves.
"Stealing that money from the Mayor of the Land of Waves to buy this cabin might not have been the best choice," Devan squinted his eyes as he clicked his tongue. The smell of food coming from the kitchen not far away made his stomach growl slightly.
"However, I don't think they've noticed. Anyway, if something goes wrong, I can always…" The necromancer narrowed his eyes and looked at himself, his body, his hands. "No, Rider of the Apocalypse… summoning him would leave me bedridden for days. Better not depend on him. Then, What do I do?" Devan clicked his tongue again.
He was in a difficult spot. He couldn't return to Konoha because he was afraid of Danzo and that Sarutobi might side with him. Counting all his spells except the Rider of the Apocalypse, he barely reached Jounin level.
Summoning Rider of the Apocalypse wasn't an option, it would leave him too vulnerable. "If the enemy attacks before I can summon Rider, or if one appears when the summoning ends, my life will be over," he analyzed quietly.
His hands tapped the wooden table for a moment before a forced smile appeared on his face. "However… I have this," Devan nodded to himself. "Fractured Mind Counter, last time you gave me a Summoning spell when I reached a thousand points, so… Will you give me another spell if I reach a thousand again?" Devan thought hopefully.
Sound of footsteps.
"D-dear, dinner's ready…" Anko entered with a few dishes from the kitchen, and with agility began setting the table.
Anko's eyes focused on Devan's face, which was still staring out the window at the garden outside. "Is there something out there?" she wondered aloud. "Hmph, no, must be something else…" Anko thought. She finished setting the table and calmly walked up to Devan, standing in front of him. However, her actions didn't draw the necromancer's attention.
"Devan…" She placed a hand on the necromancer's forehead, her face full of concern. Seeing that Devan didn't react, she puffed her cheeks slightly, tilted her head, smiled a bit, and crouched down.
Her hands soon moved down from Devan's forehead to touch his stomach, and finally kept going until they reached a forbidden place.
"Hmmm."
The sound of fabric sliding could be heard as the necromancer quickly turned his head, only to see Anko near his crotch.
"What are you—?" however, before Devan could ask, Anko got to work.
...
...
Some time later.
Anko sat quietly on Devan's lap, leaning against the necromancer's chest as he tilted his head from time to time.
The woman's hands calmly moved over Devan's chest, her soft, fragile voice humming a little tune as she relaxed. "Dear, Is something wrong?" she finally asked after a moment.
The necromancer, however, kept staring at the ceiling. His eyes occasionally dropped to Anko's messy hair, and he couldn't help but smile. "I really don't want to know how many men you've been with to learn how to do that…" he thought to himself.
"I was thinking about the village, now that we can't go back, I mean…" Devan stopped halfway through his words. He really didn't want to tell Anko about the Fractured Mind Counter, so he couldn't tell her the plan he'd been thinking about.
"Hmmm," however, Anko murmured something hard to understand while gently scratching Devan's chest. "Whatever you do, it's fine by me. Anko support you, Right?"
The woman's words echoed in the necromancer's mind with such magic that several images swirled like small visions of a future. A faint smile appeared on his face as his heart felt somehow full.
From that moment on, Devan continued talking with Anko about trivial things.
However, the next morning, Devan left the small cabin early with a goal in mind.
The sun was just rising on the horizon, casting a faint light over the Land of Waves. As soon as he stepped past the fence surrounding his cabin and garden, he could see many people walking here and there, mostly civilians without any ninja training, living day by day.
"To influence people's minds and drive them insane?" the necromancer asked himself. He had been thinking about Danzo's accusations all night, and in fact, it seemed to make sense.
Devan walked through the streets for a while until he came across a weary man sitting halfway along his path—the man looked tired, sitting in a corner and staring at the ground near his feet.
Without hesitation, Devan approached the man, lightly patted his head, and asked, "You look tired, brother. What happened?" His words were gentle and considerate, his tone open and willing to talk. However, the man on the ground didn't answer.
Devan didn't get angry. On the contrary, he smiled slightly, took out a few bills from his pocket, and threw them at the man. "People sometimes just need a little monetary incentive. So, tell me, What happened?" This time, the necromancer's tone was arrogant, like a small rich man looking down on an employee.
The man on the ground made a "hmm" sound with his mouth before watching a few low-denomination bills fall onto his legs. Hearing Devan's voice with an angry face, he squinted his eyes and almost instinctively lifted his head.
White spiky hair, weary, round glasses, and a goatee—Devan made a small grimace when he saw the shape of his hair. "Isn't that hairstyle too similar to Naruto's?" he thought.
The old man clicked his tongue, looked at Devan with eyes radiating danger for a moment before simply making a face as if he had just woken up and sunlight was hitting his face.
"Tsk, it's… the first time a guy comes and throws money at me, talking in that tone while tossing me a few worthless bills. Who the hell are you?" the old man asked while stretching.
Despite the hoarse and deep sound of his voice, it carried no trace of negative emotioon, on the contrary, it was full of calm and tranquility.
"My name is Devan. I asked, What happened to you to end up here?" Devan asked, but the old man let out a small "Mmheheheh" before licking his lips.
"A good night with my friends and girls on the corner, Why did you ask??" he sounded arrogant and proud, really proud, and even puffed up his chest when he mentioned the girls.
"In reality, that doesn't seem to be the case," Devan said, completely sure of himself.
"There's blood on your pants, —it's probably not yours. Your shirt is worn out and a part of it was torn off. Your hair shines from several dried liquids, and you yourself seem like you haven't eaten in quite a while."