Gary woke up to the sensation of being watched.
This was not unusual. Ever since arriving in Konoha, he had been watched constantly. ANBU on rooftops, curious civilians peeking through windows, shinobi who happened to be "passing by" his warehouse seventeen times a day. Gary had grown accustomed to the weight of observation.
But this was different.
This watcher was closer. More focused. And radiating an emotional signature that Gary's Observation Haki could only describe as "calculated malevolence with a side of scientific curiosity."
Orochimaru.
Gary opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling of his warehouse. The snake was outside, lurking in the shadows of a nearby building, watching the warehouse with the patience of a predator waiting for prey.
It's been two days since I rejected his offer, Gary thought. He's been watching me ever since. Gathering data. Looking for weaknesses.
Gary sat up, his massive frame creaking the reinforced bed beneath him. He was getting tired of this. Orochimaru's constant surveillance was annoying, like a mosquito that wouldn't go away. And unlike a mosquito, Gary couldn't just swat him without causing an international incident.
Or could he?
No. No, he couldn't. That would be murder. Gary was not a murderer. He was a data entry clerk who had accidentally committed one (1) assassination and was trying very hard not to make it a habit.
But maybe there was another way to deal with the snake.
He wants to study me, Gary thought. He wants to understand my power. Maybe if I show him exactly what he's dealing with, he'll realize that studying me is a terrible idea.
It was worth a shot.
Gary rose from his bed, dressed in his usual attire (which was less "dressing" and more "willing his mochi body to form the appropriate clothing"), and walked to the warehouse door. He opened it and stepped outside into the morning light.
The ANBU scattered, as they always did, pretending they hadn't been watching. Gary ignored them. His attention was fixed on the shadow where Orochimaru lurked.
"You," Gary said, his voice carrying across the distance. "Come here."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then Orochimaru emerged from the shadows, his expression carefully neutral.
"Katakuri-san," the snake said, approaching with the cautious grace of a predator who had suddenly realized he might be the prey. "Good morning. I was just—"
"You were watching me. Again."
"I prefer to think of it as observing. There's a subtle distinction."
"There is no distinction." Gary crossed his arms over his chest. "You have been observing me for two days. You want to understand my power. Yes?"
Orochimaru's golden eyes flickered with interest. "I won't deny it. Your abilities are unlike anything I've ever encountered. The scientist in me is fascinated."
"Then I will show you."
The snake's eyebrows rose. "I beg your pardon?"
"You want to understand my power. I will demonstrate it. Fully." Gary turned and began walking toward the village gates. "Come."
He didn't wait to see if Orochimaru followed. He knew the snake would. Curiosity was Orochimaru's greatest weakness. The promise of knowledge was irresistible to him.
Sure enough, Gary's Observation Haki detected Orochimaru falling into step behind him, his chakra signature practically vibrating with anticipation.
Perfect, Gary thought. Let's see how curious you are after this.
They walked through the village in silence, drawing stares from everyone they passed. The sight of the mysterious giant and the pale snake sannin walking together was apparently noteworthy. Gary heard whispers, caught fragments of speculation.
"—are they working together—"
"—heard Orochimaru offered him—"
"—Tsunade-sama won't be happy—"
Gary ignored all of it. He led Orochimaru to the private training ground that Tsunade had shown him—the valley with the reinforced walls. The guards at the perimeter took one look at them and wisely decided to be somewhere else.
Gary walked to the center of the valley and turned to face Orochimaru.
"You wished to see my power," Gary said. "Very well. I will show you something I have shown no one else."
Orochimaru's tongue flickered out, a nervous tic that betrayed his excitement. "I'm honored by your trust, Katakuri-san."
"This is not trust. This is a warning."
Before Orochimaru could respond, Gary reached into himself and found the wellspring of Armament Haki. He drew it out slowly, deliberately, letting it coat his right arm in that gleaming black armor.
Orochimaru's eyes widened. "That black coating—I saw you use it before, on your projectiles. What is it?"
"It is called Armament Haki," Gary said. "It is the manifestation of spiritual energy as physical force. With it, I can strike with power beyond the physical, defend against attacks that would destroy mountains, and—"
He paused for effect.
"—bypass any defense. No matter how strong."
Gary punched the air. Just the air—nothing else.
The shockwave that erupted from his fist was visible, a ripple of distorted space that crossed the valley in an instant. The reinforced wall on the far side—the same wall he had cracked two days ago, now repaired with additional seals—exploded. Not cracked. Exploded. Chunks of rock the size of houses flew outward, propelled by the force of an impact that had occurred a hundred meters away.
Orochimaru staggered backward, his composure finally cracking.
"That—you didn't even—the distance—"
"That was Armament Haki," Gary said calmly. "The most basic application of one of my abilities. Now let me show you another."
He closed his eyes and focused on his Observation Haki, pushing it outward in a wave. He could feel everything—every living thing in the valley, in the village beyond, in the forest beyond that. He could sense Orochimaru's heartbeat, rapid with fear and excitement. He could sense the ANBU who had followed them, hiding at the valley's edge. He could sense Tsunade in the village, her chakra signature flaring with annoyance as she realized where Gary had gone.
And he could see the future.
Flash.
—Orochimaru reaching for a kunai—
Gary's hand shot out and caught Orochimaru's wrist before the snake had even begun to move.
Orochimaru froze, staring at his own arm in disbelief. His other hand was halfway to his weapons pouch, a kunai visible between his fingers.
"You were going to attack me," Gary said. "Not seriously—you wanted to test my reflexes. To see if my awareness had limits."
He released Orochimaru's wrist.
"It does not."
The snake stumbled backward, his face pale. "You knew—before I even—"
"I see the future," Gary said simply. "A few seconds ahead, sometimes more. Every attack you could make, I have already witnessed and countered. Every strategy you could devise, I have already anticipated. You cannot surprise me. You cannot outmaneuver me. You cannot defeat me."
Orochimaru's golden eyes were wide now, the clinical detachment completely gone. Gary could sense the emotions roiling through the snake—fear, yes, but also something else. Awe. The recognition of a power so far beyond his own that comparison was meaningless.
Good, Gary thought. Now for the finale.
"And finally," Gary said, "I will show you the rarest of my abilities. The power that only one in several million possess. A power that cannot be learned or trained—only inherited."
He reached into himself one more time and found the Conqueror's Haki.
In his previous tests, Gary had been careful. Controlled. He had released only the barest fraction of his spiritual pressure, afraid of causing damage or harming innocent people.
Now, he released more.
Not all of it—even Gary wasn't crazy enough to go full power in the middle of a populated area. But enough. Enough to make a point.
The world changed.
The air grew heavy, pressing down like a physical weight. The sky seemed to darken, though no clouds had appeared. The ground trembled. The reinforced walls groaned.
And Orochimaru—
Orochimaru dropped to his knees.
His body was shaking. His eyes were bulging. His mouth was open in a silent scream. Gary could sense the snake's spirit being crushed, overwhelmed by the sheer force of his will.
This is Conqueror's Haki, Gary thought. The ability to impose your will on others. To make them bow. To make them break.
He held the pressure for five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.
Then he released it.
Orochimaru collapsed forward, catching himself on his hands. His breathing was ragged. His body was drenched in sweat. When he looked up at Gary, there was something new in his expression.
Terror.
Pure, undiluted terror.
"That," Gary said, "is my power. That is what you wished to study. That is what you wished to understand."
He stepped closer, looming over the fallen snake like a mountain over a pebble.
"Now you understand. And now you will stop watching me. You will stop scheming. You will stop thinking of me as a puzzle to be solved or a power to be acquired."
Gary leaned down until his face was level with Orochimaru's.
"Because if you continue to annoy me, I will not demonstrate again. I will not warn again. I will simply end you. And I will do it so quickly, so completely, that no one will ever know what happened to you."
He straightened up.
"Do we understand each other?"
Orochimaru's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"Y-yes," the snake managed. "We understand each other."
"Good." Gary turned and began walking away. "You may go."
He didn't look back. He didn't need to. His Observation Haki told him everything—Orochimaru struggling to his feet, stumbling toward the valley exit, his chakra signature a roiling mess of fear and trauma.
That should keep him away for a while, Gary thought. Maybe permanently. He's a survivor. He won't risk antagonizing something he can't beat.
Of course, there was a chance this would backfire. A chance that Orochimaru would become obsessed with finding a way to counter Gary's abilities, or would try to acquire similar powers for himself. The snake was nothing if not ambitious.
But that was a problem for later. Right now, Gary had successfully dealt with his stalker, and he was feeling pretty good about it.
He walked back toward the village, unaware that his little demonstration had been observed by more than just Orochimaru.
In the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi was staring at a crystal ball with an expression of mounting horror.
He had seen everything.
And his mind was racing with implications.
Hiruzen Sarutobi was not a man who panicked easily.
He had fought in three wars. He had faced enemies that would make most men weep with terror. He had buried friends, students, and family. He had carried the weight of an entire village on his shoulders for decades.
But right now, watching the replay of Katakuri's demonstration through his crystal ball, Hiruzen felt something very close to panic.
He crushed Orochimaru's will with a thought, the Hokage realized. Orochimaru, one of the strongest shinobi in the village, was reduced to a trembling wreck in seconds. And Katakuri didn't even seem to be trying.
Hiruzen paused the replay and stared at the frozen image—Orochimaru on his knees, Katakuri looming over him like a god passing judgment on a mortal.
Who is this man? Hiruzen wondered. Where did he come from? What does he want?
The official story was that Katakuri had appeared out of nowhere, killed Hanzo by accident, and had no interest in political entanglements. Hiruzen had accepted that explanation because it was convenient, because Katakuri had helped Konoha, and because challenging it seemed unwise.
But now, watching this display of power, Hiruzen couldn't accept it anymore.
No one appears out of nowhere, he thought. Everyone comes from somewhere. Has a history. Has connections.
Katakuri must be the same.
Hiruzen stood and walked to his window, staring out at the village below. His mind was racing, connecting dots that may or may not have existed.
His appearance is unlike anything in recorded history. His height, his coloring, his abilities—none of it matches any known clan or bloodline. He's not from the Five Great Nations. He's not from any of the minor villages. He's not from anywhere we know.
Which means he's from somewhere we don't know.
Hiruzen's eyes widened as a thought struck him.
The Sage of Six Paths, he realized. The legends speak of powers beyond normal ninjutsu. The ability to create things from nothing. The ability to dominate the wills of others. The ability to see the future.
Could Katakuri be a descendant of the Sage? A member of some hidden lineage that has preserved the old ways?
It made sense. It made too much sense. The Sage had founded the shinobi world, had possessed powers that seemed godlike to ordinary people. If a branch of his family had survived in secret, hidden from the world, maintaining their abilities through centuries of isolation...
That would explain everything, Hiruzen thought excitedly. The unique abilities. The strange appearance. The lack of knowledge about our political landscape. He's not from another country—he's from a hidden civilization, possibly dating back to the time of the Sage himself!
The more Hiruzen thought about it, the more convinced he became. It was the only explanation that made sense. Katakuri was not just a random wanderer who happened to be incredibly powerful—he was the inheritor of an ancient legacy, possibly the most direct link to the Sage of Six Paths that had ever been discovered.
And he was in Konoha.
This changes everything, Hiruzen realized. If we can ally with Katakuri—truly ally, not just as a guest but as a partner—we could be linking ourselves to the oldest power in the world. The other villages would never dare move against us.
But we have to be careful. He rejected Orochimaru's approach. He's resistant to manipulation. If we push too hard, he might leave, or worse, turn against us.
We need a different approach. Something subtle. Something that appeals to whatever it is he actually wants.
Hiruzen began pacing, his mind working furiously.
He allowed Tsunade to get close. He demonstrated his power to Orochimaru as a warning. He tolerated Jiraiya's friendly overtures. He's not completely antisocial—he just doesn't like being treated as a tool or a specimen.
He wants to be treated as a person. As an equal.
We can work with that.
Hiruzen returned to his desk and began drafting orders. He would need to gather more information. Send subtle queries to every intelligence network, every hidden archive, every ancient scroll that might contain references to survivors of the Sage's era.
And he would need to assign someone to Katakuri. Not a handler—nothing so crass. A liaison. Someone who could build a genuine relationship, earn his trust, become a bridge between the mysterious giant and the village.
Someone who Katakuri might actually respect.
Hiruzen's pen paused over the paper as a name occurred to him.
Sakumo Hatake.
The White Fang. One of the most powerful and respected shinobi in the village. A man known for his honor, his skill, and his genuine warmth. If anyone could connect with Katakuri on a personal level, it was Sakumo.
Yes, Hiruzen decided. Sakumo will be perfect.
He finished his orders and summoned an aide.
"Find Sakumo Hatake," he said. "Tell him I have a mission for him. Priority level: absolute."
The aide bowed and disappeared.
Hiruzen sat back in his chair and stared at the crystal ball, still showing the frozen image of Katakuri and the broken Orochimaru.
A descendant of the Sage of Six Paths, he thought. The greatest discovery of our generation.
And he's mine.
Hiruzen smiled.
It was not a pleasant smile.
Gary was eating a mochi donut when the knock came.
This was becoming a pattern. Wake up, make mochi food, get interrupted by visitors. His life had become an endless series of social interactions, which was ironic considering he had specifically cultivated a mysterious loner persona to avoid social interactions.
I'm doing something wrong, he thought as he created a fresh donut and called out, "Enter."
The door opened, and a man Gary didn't immediately recognize stepped inside.
He was tall—not Katakuri tall, obviously, but tall by normal human standards. Probably around six feet. His hair was spiky and silver-white, swept back from a face that was handsome in a weathered, experienced sort of way. He wore the standard Konoha jonin uniform, but with a distinctive white jacket over it.
And there was something familiar about him. Something Gary couldn't quite place.
"Katakuri-san," the man said, bowing slightly. "I am Sakumo Hatake. The Hokage has asked me to serve as your liaison to the village."
Sakumo Hatake.
Oh.
OH.
Gary suddenly realized why the man looked familiar. The silver-white hair. The handsome face. The general air of competence and warmth.
This was Kakashi's father. The White Fang. The man whose suicide would eventually traumatize his son and set Kakashi on the path to becoming the Copy Ninja.
Gary was standing in front of a dead man walking.
No, he corrected himself. Not dead yet. This is years before that mission. Years before his fall from grace. Right now, he's one of the most respected shinobi in the village.
I could change things. I could warn him about what's coming. I could save him.
But could he? Should he? The butterfly effect was a real concern. If Gary saved Sakumo, what else might change? Would Kakashi still become the person he needed to be to train Naruto? Would Team Seven still form? Would they still stop Kaguya in the end?
I'm not here to change history, Gary reminded himself. I'm just trying to survive.
But looking at Sakumo—at his genuine smile, his open expression, his complete lack of the cynicism that would eventually destroy him—Gary felt something twist in his chest.
He's a good man, Gary thought. He doesn't deserve what's going to happen to him.
But neither did a lot of people. And I can't save everyone.
"A liaison," Gary said, pushing his thoughts aside. "The Hokage is persistent."
"He prefers 'thorough,'" Sakumo said with a slight grin. "May I sit?"
Gary waved a hand, and a mochi chair materialized next to the cargo containers. Sakumo stared at it for a moment, then sat down, testing it cautiously.
"Comfortable," he said, sounding surprised. "I wasn't sure what to expect."
"You expected the strange food-substance chair to be uncomfortable?"
"Fair point." Sakumo settled into the seat, his posture relaxed but alert. "I'll be honest with you, Katakuri-san. I don't know what the Hokage expects me to accomplish. He gave me a mission briefing that was ninety percent speculation and ten percent 'figure it out.' I think he's as confused by you as everyone else."
Gary's Observation Haki caught the honesty in Sakumo's words. This was not a man who lied easily. Whatever game the Hokage was playing, Sakumo was an unwitting pawn in it.
"Then why are you here?" Gary asked.
"Because despite the confusion, the Hokage is right about one thing—you're important. Not just because of your power, but because of what you represent." Sakumo paused. "And honestly? I'm curious. Everyone's talking about you, but no one actually knows you. I figured someone should try."
He wants to be my friend, Gary realized. Not for political reasons. Not for power. Just because he's genuinely interested.
It was... refreshing. After Tsunade's seduction attempts and Orochimaru's scheming, meeting someone who just wanted to talk was almost disorienting.
"Very well," Gary said. "Ask your questions."
Sakumo's eyebrows rose. "Just like that?"
"Just like that."
"I expected more resistance."
"I have encountered many people in this village who wish to use me," Gary said. "You do not. That is... appreciated."
Sakumo studied him for a moment, then nodded. "All right. First question—where are you from? And I don't mean which village. I mean, where? I've traveled extensively, and I've never seen anyone who looks like you or has abilities like yours."
Here we go.
Gary had prepared for this question. He couldn't tell the truth—that would be insane—but he could offer something close to it.
"I am from very far away," he said. "A place that has no contact with your lands. Our ways are different. Our powers are different. I came here by accident and have no means of returning."
It was technically true. Gary was from another world. There was no contact between Earth and the Elemental Nations. He had arrived by accident (cosmic clerical error). And he definitely couldn't go back.
Sakumo nodded slowly. "That tracks with the Hokage's speculation. He thinks you might be from a hidden civilization—possibly one dating back to the time of the Sage of Six Paths."
Gary blinked.
The Sage of Six Paths? He thinks I'm connected to—
Oh no.
The Hokage has constructed a conspiracy theory about me. And it's completely wrong, but I can't correct it without revealing the truth.
This is going to be a problem.
"I cannot confirm or deny such speculation," Gary said carefully.
Sakumo grinned. "That's exactly what the Hokage predicted you'd say. He's convinced it means he's right."
Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be? Gary Henderson's luck strikes again.
"Second question," Sakumo continued. "What do you actually want? And don't give me the 'I want to be left alone' line—that's obviously not true, or you wouldn't have let Tsunade-hime anywhere near you."
Gary opened his mouth to respond, then closed it.
What did he want?
In his previous life, the answer would have been simple. Comfort. Stability. A quiet existence. But he had that now, in a twisted way. He was incredibly powerful. Nothing could threaten him. He could create food from thin air and never needed to work.
And yet he wasn't satisfied. There was something missing. Some purpose, some meaning, some reason to exist beyond mere survival.
"I do not know," Gary admitted finally. "I am still determining that."
Sakumo nodded as if this was a perfectly reasonable answer. "That's fair. You've been dropped into a world you don't understand, surrounded by people who are either afraid of you or trying to use you. It makes sense that you're still finding your footing."
He understands, Gary thought with surprise. He actually understands.
"If it helps," Sakumo continued, "I felt the same way when I first became a jonin. All this power, all this responsibility, and no idea what I was supposed to do with it. It took me years to figure out what I really wanted."
"And what was that?"
"To protect people." Sakumo's expression softened. "My family. My village. My comrades. That's what gives me purpose. That's what makes the power worth having."
Gary considered this. Protecting people. It was such a simple goal, such a traditional heroic motivation. In any anime, that would be the protagonist's driving force.
But Gary wasn't a protagonist. He was a data entry clerk who had died to a taco truck. He didn't have a tragic backstory or a burning desire for justice. He was just... here.
Maybe that's okay, he thought. Maybe I don't need a grand purpose right now. Maybe just existing, just figuring things out, is enough.
"I appreciate your honesty," Gary said. "You are... different from the others."
"I'll take that as a compliment."
"It was intended as one."
Sakumo smiled, and Gary felt something strange—a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with superheated mochi. It was the feeling of connection, of being seen as a person rather than a weapon or a mystery.
Is this what friendship feels like? Gary wondered. I barely remember.
"Third question," Sakumo said. "And this one's more personal, so feel free to tell me to mind my own business."
"Ask."
"What's the deal with you and Tsunade-hime?"
Gary choked on his donut.
This was not an easy feat. He was made of mochi. The donut was made of mochi. He was essentially choking on himself. But somehow, he managed it.
"I—there is no—we are not—"
"So there is something." Sakumo's grin widened. "The whole village is talking about it, you know. The mysterious giant and the legendary medic. It's very romantic."
"IT IS NOT ROMANTIC."
"She's been to your warehouse every day. Sometimes multiple times."
"For medical examinations!"
"Is that what you're calling it?"
Gary wanted to sink into the floor. He wanted to dissolve into mochi and flow away into the nearest sewer. He wanted to be anywhere but here, having this conversation, with this man, about this topic.
"Tsunade is a... complicated individual," Gary managed. "Our relationship is professional."
"Professional," Sakumo repeated, clearly not believing a word.
"Professional adjacent."
"Uh-huh."
"There may be some... personal elements."
"There it is."
Gary groaned and buried his face in his hands—which was considerably more dramatic when you had hands the size of dinner plates.
"I do not understand her," he admitted. "She is aggressive. Forward. She does not respond to rejection. And she keeps—"
He stopped himself before he could say "pressing her chest against me."
"Keeps what?" Sakumo asked innocently.
"Nothing. It is nothing."
"You know," Sakumo said, leaning back in his mochi chair, "Tsunade-hime is one of the most sought-after women in the Elemental Nations. Men have killed for a chance at her attention. Kingdoms have been offered for her hand."
"I do not want kingdoms."
"What do you want?"
Gary paused.
What did he want? From Tsunade, specifically? She was beautiful—objectively, undeniably beautiful. She was powerful. She was intelligent. And beneath the aggressive flirtation, there seemed to be a genuine person who was as lost and confused as Gary was.
I want to understand her, Gary realized. I want to know why she's so focused on me. I want to know what she's really after.
And maybe... maybe I want someone to talk to. Someone who sees me as more than just a walking disaster.
But he couldn't say any of that. Not out loud. Not to Sakumo. Not to anyone.
"I want nothing," Gary said. "Our relationship is, as I said, professional."
Sakumo studied him for a long moment, then smiled. "If you say so."
"I do say so."
"Then I believe you."
He clearly didn't. But he dropped the subject, which Gary appreciated.
"I should probably tell you why I'm really here," Sakumo said, his tone becoming more serious. "Beyond the liaison duties."
Gary's Observation Haki caught a shift in Sakumo's emotional state—a hesitation, a nervousness that hadn't been there before.
"The Hokage has a request," Sakumo continued. "Not a demand—he's very clear that you're a guest, not a soldier. But a request."
"What kind of request?"
"There's a delegation arriving tomorrow. From Sunagakure. They want to discuss peace terms, but we suspect they're also here to gather intelligence. To evaluate our strength in the wake of Hanzo's death."
Gary nodded slowly. Politics. He hated politics.
"The Hokage would like you to attend the meeting. Not to participate—just to be present. To remind Suna that we have... assets... they don't."
"You want me to intimidate them."
"'Discourage aggression' is the official phrasing."
Gary considered. On one hand, attending a political meeting sounded tedious and annoying. On the other hand, it would take approximately zero effort on his part—he just had to stand there and look menacing.
And Sakumo was asking. Sakumo, who had been honest with him, who had treated him as a person, who seemed genuinely interested in being his friend.
I suppose I could do this one thing, Gary thought. As a favor.
"Very well," he said. "I will attend."
Sakumo's face lit up with relief. "Thank you, Katakuri-san. The Hokage will be grateful."
"I am not doing this for the Hokage."
Sakumo's eyebrows rose. "No?"
"I am doing this for you. Because you asked honestly, rather than trying to manipulate me."
The White Fang stared at him for a long moment, something shifting in his expression. When he spoke, his voice was softer.
"Thank you. That... means a lot."
"You may go now. I wish to finish my breakfast."
Sakumo stood, but he didn't move toward the door immediately. Instead, he turned back to Gary with an expression that Gary's Observation Haki couldn't quite decipher.
"Katakuri-san," Sakumo said slowly. "I know we've just met. And I know you don't trust easily—you have good reason not to. But I want you to know... if you ever need anything, I'm here. Not as the Hokage's liaison. Not as a representative of the village. Just as... a friend. If you'll have me."
Gary stared at him.
In his previous life, Gary had not had many friends. He had acquaintances, coworkers, people he occasionally spoke to at the coffee machine. But true friends? People who actually cared about him? Those were rare.
And now Sakumo Hatake—the White Fang, one of the most respected shinobi in the village—was offering friendship. Genuine, no-strings-attached friendship.
Why? Gary wondered. What does he see in me?
His Observation Haki provided the answer, and it surprised him.
Sakumo saw someone who was lost. Someone who was powerful but purposeless. Someone who needed guidance, even if he didn't know how to ask for it.
Sakumo saw himself, from years ago. And he wanted to help.
"I..." Gary started, then stopped.
What do I say? How do I respond to this?
He had been pretending to be Katakuri for days now. Cold. Distant. Unapproachable. It was easier that way. Safer.
But Sakumo wasn't asking for Katakuri. He was asking for whoever was underneath the mask.
And Gary, despite everything, didn't want to turn him away.
"I would not object," Gary said finally. "To friendship."
Sakumo's face broke into a genuine smile—warm and open and entirely too pure for this world of shinobi and secrets.
"Then I'll see you tomorrow," he said. "At the meeting. And afterward, maybe you can tell me about those abilities of yours. The one you showed Orochimaru—I've never seen anything like it."
"You saw that?"
"Half the village saw it. Orochimaru's been hiding in his quarters ever since, refusing to speak to anyone. Jiraiya thinks it's hilarious."
Gary felt a small smile tug at his lips—hidden behind his collar, of course. "Good."
Sakumo laughed and headed for the door. At the threshold, he paused and looked back.
"For what it's worth," he said, "I think you're a good person, Katakuri-san. Underneath all the mystery and the power. I can see it."
Before Gary could respond, the White Fang was gone.
Gary sat alone in his warehouse, staring at the door.
A good person, he thought. Is that what I am?
He didn't know. He didn't know anything anymore.
But for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt like maybe—just maybe—that was okay.
Three hours later, Gary was still thinking about Sakumo's words when his warehouse door burst open without any warning.
Tsunade stood in the doorway, her hands on her hips, her expression somewhere between furious and exasperated.
"You broke Orochimaru," she announced.
"I did not break him."
"He won't come out of his room. He won't eat. Jiraiya tried to talk to him and he just hissed and threw snakes." Tsunade stalked into the warehouse. "What did you do?"
"I demonstrated my abilities. As a warning."
"A warning?"
"He was watching me. Constantly. Lurking. Scheming. I wished him to stop."
Tsunade stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
"You terrified one of the strongest shinobi in the village because he was being annoying?"
"Yes."
"That's..." She shook her head, still laughing. "That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard. And I've heard Jiraiya's pickup lines."
Gary wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.
Tsunade walked over to him, her laughter fading into something softer. She stood close—too close, as always—and looked up at him with those honey-colored eyes.
"You really are something else, Katakuri-san," she said. "I've never met anyone like you."
"There is no one like me."
"I'm starting to believe that." She reached out and placed a hand on his arm—not grabbing, not pulling, just... resting there. "The Hokage's convinced you're some kind of living legend. A descendant of the Sage of Six Paths, hidden away for centuries."
Gary very carefully did not react. "Is that so?"
"He's been sending queries to every archive in Fire Country. He's convinced there must be records somewhere, proof of your lineage." Tsunade smirked. "He's going to drive himself crazy looking for something that doesn't exist."
She doesn't believe it, Gary realized. She's smarter than the Hokage. She knows the conspiracy theory is nonsense.
"You seem skeptical," he said carefully.
"I'm a scientist." Tsunade shrugged. "I believe in evidence, not legends. And the evidence says you're something new, not something old."
Too close to the truth. Change the subject.
"Why are you here, Tsunade?"
"Can't I just visit?"
"You have visited seventeen times in the past three days."
"Who's counting?"
"I am. With perfect accuracy."
Tsunade smiled, and it was a different smile than he'd seen before. Less predatory. More genuine.
"I heard about Sakumo," she said. "About your conversation."
"You were eavesdropping?"
"No. He told me. He seemed..." She paused, searching for the right word. "Excited? Hopeful? He thinks you might actually be willing to integrate. To become part of the village."
"I have made no such commitment."
"No. But you agreed to attend the meeting tomorrow. You let him call you a friend." Tsunade's hand tightened slightly on his arm. "That's more than you've given anyone else."
Gary wasn't sure what to say. She was right, of course. Sakumo had gotten through his defenses in a way that no one else had. And Gary didn't entirely understand why.
"Sakumo is... different," he said finally.
"He's a good man," Tsunade agreed. "Possibly the best I've ever met. If he's taken an interest in you, that means something."
"What does it mean?"
Tsunade looked up at him, and for once, there was no calculation in her eyes. No seduction. Just sincerity.
"It means maybe you're not as alone as you think," she said. "Maybe there are people here worth trusting. Worth caring about."
She released his arm and stepped back.
"I'll see you at the meeting tomorrow," she said. "Try not to break any more of my teammates before then."
She left, and Gary was alone again.
Worth trusting, he thought. Worth caring about.
In his previous life, Gary had built walls around himself. Not deliberately—it had just happened. Years of loneliness, of disappointment, of being overlooked and forgotten. He had stopped expecting connection because expecting it hurt too much.
But here, now, in this strange new world with this strange new body, people were reaching out to him. Sakumo with his honest friendship. Tsunade with her complicated affection. Even Jiraiya, in his own way, had offered companionship.
Maybe, Gary thought, I don't have to be alone.
Maybe that's okay.
He created a donut and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully.
Tomorrow, there would be a meeting. Politics. Diplomacy. The kind of thing that Gary—data entry clerk, victim of taco truck homicide, reluctant isekai protagonist—was absolutely not qualified for.
But Sakumo would be there. And Tsunade. And maybe, just maybe, Gary was starting to understand that he didn't have to face things alone.
The sun set over Konoha, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold.
Gary finished his donut and began preparing for bed.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting.
Meanwhile, in the Hokage's office, Hiruzen Sarutobi was staring at a conspiracy board.
It had started as a simple collection of notes—information about Katakuri, theories about his origin, speculation about his abilities. But over the past few hours, it had grown into something else entirely.
There were now seventeen different threads connecting Katakuri to various historical events. A map of possible "hidden civilization" locations. A timeline of Sage of Six Paths mythology cross-referenced with astronomical observations. And in the center, a portrait of Katakuri that Hiruzen had commissioned from one of the village artists (who had been terrified during the entire sketching session).
"It all connects," Hiruzen muttered, drawing another line between two pins. "The timing of his appearance—right when the war was reaching a critical point. The nature of his abilities—creation, foresight, spiritual domination. The signs are all there."
His aide stood in the corner, looking increasingly concerned.
"Lord Hokage," the aide said carefully. "Perhaps you should rest. You've been at this for—"
"He uses donuts," Hiruzen said, whirling around. "DONUTS. Do you understand the significance?"
"I... do not, Lord Hokage."
"Circles. Perfect, unbroken circles. The symbol of eternity. Of infinite power." Hiruzen pointed at a sketch of a donut that he had spent far too long perfecting. "It's a message. A sign of his heritage. He's practically announcing who he is!"
The aide made a mental note to summon the medical team.
"And the scarf!" Hiruzen continued. "He covers his mouth. Why? Because his mouth contains secrets. Ancient secrets, passed down through generations. He's hiding something, and I'm going to find out what!"
He turned back to his board, adding another note with frantic energy.
"Sir," the aide ventured. "Have you considered that perhaps Katakuri is simply... a powerful individual with unusual abilities? That there may not be a deeper mystery?"
Hiruzen paused.
Then he laughed.
"Oh, young one," he said, shaking his head. "That's exactly what he wants us to think."
The aide gave up and went to get the medical team.
In his warehouse, completely unaware that the Hokage had lost his mind constructing conspiracy theories about him, Gary slept.
And somewhere in a locked room, Orochimaru sat in a corner, hugging his knees and muttering about "the weight of infinity" while his snakes tried unsuccessfully to comfort him.
Tomorrow, the Suna delegation would arrive.
Tomorrow, Gary would attend his first political meeting.
Tomorrow, everything would probably go wrong in ways that no one could predict.
But that was a problem for tomorrow.
For now, there was peace.
Sort of.