Naruto: Kagurazaka

The night was quiet. Too quiet. That only made my fingers twitch with anticipation. The itching need to test, to experiment, to push the boundaries of what I could accomplish in this world gnawed at me like a hunger I could never quite satisfy.

That's why I was here.

Elder Matsu, my loyal and terrified piggy bank, sat across from me, his usually composed face a mess of nerves. He knew what was coming.

"I need a place," I said, fingers drumming against the wooden table between us. "A hidden one. Not some empty room in the clan's warehouse or some disposable shack outside the village. It needs to be secret."

Matsu swallowed hard. "I-I understand, Akai-kun, but secrecy of that level is difficult. Perhaps I could—"

"Don't waste my time." My voice was sharp, and his hands trembled as he tried to think of something else. I already knew what he would suggest next. "And no, you're not buying me a small place somewhere 'a bit far.' You already know why that won't work."

He flinched, nodding quickly. "Of course, of course."

Good. Then hurry up and be useful.

The discussion was cut short by the chime of the doorbell. I exhaled sharply. Irritating. Who the hell would visit this miserable old man at this hour?

Matsu looked just as puzzled. "I— I wasn't expecting anyone," he stammered.

I turned my head slightly, my senses stretching outward. A quick pulse of magic perception rippled from me like echolocation, bouncing off every surface in the residence and returning with clear feedback.

A Hyuga. Mid-twenties. He had already been let in and was being escorted toward this very room by one of Matsu's servants.

I narrowed my eyes and activated Thought Communication, locking onto the intruder's mind.

"Why has this sickly failure been visiting Matsu so often? The old man's been making moves in the clan for years, and now this boy is suddenly involved with him? Disgusting. He's colluding with our master's enemy."

Interesting. Elder Takahiro was suspicious, no... More of worried. Not unexpected. It would've been foolish to assume my movements would go unnoticed forever, but to think he was already keeping such a close eye on me...

The servant finally arrived, stepping into the room with a formal bow. His gaze swept the area, and his lips curled in the faintest trace of distaste before settling on Matsu.

"Elder Matsu, Elder Takahiro has summoned Akai. He wishes to speak with him," the servant announced.

He's lying. Takahiro never summoned me. He only ordered him to watch over me and protect me if something happened. This fool is acting on his own, trying to uncover something that doesn't exist.

Matsu shifted, awaiting my silent order. He had grown accustomed to my unspoken commands through Thought Communication, but this time, I said nothing. Instead, I continued to read.

Thought Communication Translation: "Why is he hesitating? This defect isn't worth anything. Why does Matsu keep entertaining him?"

Loyal to Elder Takahiro, but he doesn't think highly of me. How predictable. I let the silence linger for a moment longer, just enough to make him uneasy. Then, finally, I spoke.

"I'll go," I said, standing up. "But I need a moment with Elder Matsu first. Wait outside. This won't take long."

The servant's nostrils flared, his annoyance clear, but he still bowed and stepped back, leaving without another word. Smart enough to follow orders, at least.

When the door closed behind him, I turned back to Matsu. His forehead was damp with sweat, though he wasn't sure whether to be relieved or more terrified by what was coming next.

"Isn't there a place you haven't told me about?" I asked smoothly.

When I used magic perception earlier, I found it, the place he keeps avoiding to mention.

Matsu's brow furrowed. "A place?"

"In your own residence, you old fool. Your basement. Give it to me."

The realization hit him all at once. His lips parted slightly, then sealed shut as his shoulders sagged in defeat. He had no escape. Not anymore.

"...Yes," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You may use it."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He flinched and quickly corrected himself. "Please use it."

Satisfied, I left the room and stepped outside, where the servant from before waited. His gaze burned with suppressed anger, but I only looked at him with boredom.

"Let's go," I said simply, moving forward. The servant, however, stopped me.

"Where are you going?" he demanded. "That's not the direction of Elder Takahiro's place or your home."

Thought Communication Translation: What the hell is this brat doing? Where is he actually planning to go?

I raised an eyebrow at him. Rather than tell him outright that I already knew going home was never Takahiro's order—nor was summoning me—I decided to toy with him instead. "Interesting loyalty you have there."

Thought Communication Translation: Loyalty? What does he mean by that? Is he mocking me?

His confusion was apparent, but his anger surged. He didn't understand why Elder Takahiro, someone who had done so much for me, was being repaid like this. He thought I was conspiring with Matsu.

I had no intention of correcting his misunderstanding.

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he struggled to contain his anger. "Elder Takahiro has given you everything, and this is how you repay him? Sneaking around with Matsu, doing god knows what? You're a disgrace to the clan," he hissed, his voice barely maintaining the formal tone he was desperately clinging to.

Thought Communication Translation: "People like you—weak, defective—should know their place."

As those words clawed at his throat, his breaths turned shallow, his body trembling as if waging war against itself. His face twisted, contorted between the rage he wished to unleash and the restraint he forced upon himself. A shuddering inhale, then an exhale through gritted teeth.

His pride screamed at him to strike, to shout, to defy, but his instincts—primal, unshakable—warned him of something far more dangerous. The weight of my gaze alone seemed to suffocate him, pinning him in place. His composure wasn't just hanging by a thread—it was fraying, unraveling into nothingness.

"You're noisy," I said, my voice carrying an unexpected weight of authority.

Thought Communication Translation: What...? Why does his voice suddenly feel so heavy?

The pressure of my words made him hesitate. His breath hitched, and I could see the realization dawning in his eyes.

His mind raced. He thought about every moment leading up to this, every interaction. How could the defect everyone looked down upon instill such fear? Why did Matsu look so submissive to him? Could it be that Matsu hadn't lured Akai in, but rather, the other way around? Had Akai played them all? Thus, he thought.

Thought Communication Translation: No... that old man was listening to him. Obeying him. As if he had no choice. Was it Akai who had trapped him? But how?

The idea unsettled him. His once simple understanding of the clan's hierarchy crumbled as he considered new, terrifying possibilities. Could Akai be manipulating everything from the shadows? If so, what was his true goal?

His stomach churned with unease, and before he could think any further, his body acted on instinct. The weight of my presence, the reality of what he had witnessed, forced him to his knees.

"Forgive my overstepping, Akai-sama."

I raised an eyebrow. An unexpected gain. I hadn't even needed to use Thought Guidance, and I already had another pawn.

"Your name?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

"Renji," he answered.

I strolled through the village streets, the plain white kimono I wore fluttering gently in the night breeze. My pace was leisurely, yet my mind remained as sharp as ever. The blacksmith should still be open—it was only 7 PM, after all.

Curious glances followed me as I walked. Civilians and shinobi alike spared more than a few looks at my forehead, where the Caged Bird Seal resided. Unlike the Hyuuga, the civilians weren't outright hostile, though their thoughts were noisy enough.

Thought Communication Translation: What's that tatoo? He looks so young to have that...

Thought Communication Translation: I've never seen a Hyuuga walk so openly with that mark.

Thought Communication Translation: He'll bring trouble one day...

The shinobi were more vocal in their minds, some recognizing the seal, others merely speculating. Some felt sympathy, others viewed me as an omen of trouble.

Of course, none of them were louder than Renji.

Thought Communication Translation: He's walking around like he owns the place. What is he planning? And why go to a blacksmith now of all times?

Renji was still caught up in his own misunderstandings, his thoughts a tangled mess of speculation. I had no intention of correcting him.

I stepped into the weapon shop, only to find it completely empty. Renji hesitated behind me, his confusion clear.

Thought Communication Translation: Did he know the owner? Otherwise, why walk in so casually?

Ignoring him, I expanded my Magic Perception. Two people sat in the back of the shop, eating. Looked like Tenten and her father. They must've forgotten to flip the sign outside. How careless.

A few seconds later, the back door creaked open, and a middle-aged man walked in, muttering under his breath.

"Oh, Hyuuga kid! You're back!" Kenta greeted, amused.

I gave him a slight nod, keeping my tone formal. "Kenta-san. My apologies for intruding during your dinner. If you'd like to finish, I don't mind waiting."

Kenta waved it off with a grin. "No need to bother. I'll serve you right away."

Then, a pause. His expression shifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. That smile faltered just a bit.

He just realized it. The words I had used.

"Wait... dinner?" His eyes narrowed. "How'd you know we were eating?"

Renji stiffened beside me, also intrigued.

I tilted my head. Did I really need to explain something so obvious? Even without Magic Perception, simple observation would suffice.

"There's grease on your lips," I pointed out. "Blacksmiths use oil frequently, but not that kind you'd smeared on your lips. Your apron is damp, with soap residue—meaning you've washed dishes recently. You likely ate first, and Tenten is still finishing inside."

Kenta blinked. Renji gawked.

For a brief moment, I felt like I was cosplaying as a detective. Maybe I should go around tomorrow saying, 'There's only one truth!'

No, that sounded annoying.

I simply smiled. "It was just a guess. Thanks for wasting your time with us."

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.

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Kenta counted the items with a practiced eye, his fingers gliding over the arranged kunai and shuriken.

"Fifteen kunai, twenty shuriken, and one sashimi knife..." He glanced at me, perhaps puzzled by the odd addition. Though he doesn't bother asking.

"All good?" he asked, setting them aside. His tone carried that slight satisfaction of a merchant sealing a solid deal.

Nod. The transaction was progressing smoothly, his self-worth affirmed by his own professionalism. Now, the real reason I was here.

"Kenta-san, just wanted to know some things. Are there special metals that absorb chakra?"

His hands, which had been busy stacking the kunai, halted for a fraction of a second. Interest piqued. Good. The name itself was never explicitly mentioned in the manga I read, but the implications were there.

Numerous weapons in that world displayed properties that suggested a metal with chakra-absorbing abilities existed. If the logic held, that metal should be somewhere in this world as well.

Kenta's brow furrowed slightly. "You mean... something that naturally pulls in chakra? That's not exactly common." His fingers tapped against the counter, his mind sifting through his knowledge base.

Thought communication translation: Why is a Hyuuga asking about something like that? Do they even need weapons?

"Rare, then?" I prompted, feigning mild curiosity.

"Yeah, rare. But not unheard of." His gaze sharpened slightly. "Why do you ask?"

Because if it exists, I want it. But, of course, that wasn't the answer he needed.

"Curiosity. I heard stories," I lied effortlessly, letting just enough intrigue slip into my tone to keep him interested, but not enough to raise suspicion.

His stance shifted, ever so slightly. "Hmph. Well, if you're serious, I might know something. But it won't be cheap."

Perfect.

"Is it possible to buy it in large quantities?" I asked.

Kenta blinked, taken aback. His face betrayed a rare flicker of surprise. Next to me, Renji stiffened, his composed demeanor momentarily cracking.

Thought communication translation: Large quantities? What the hell is he planning now?

Kenta recovered quickly, clearing his throat. "That... would be impossible unless you're an official representative of the village. Only the higher-ups in the ninja village can negotiate such deals. For individual shinobi, the best you can get is a small amount—and even that is expensive."

Thought communication translation: Even if he has money, no one outside the village's command structure would be allowed to stockpile it.

I contemplated for a moment before nodding. "Fine, I'll take whatever I can get. How much can you sell me?"

Kenta exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "A few kilos, at most. And even then, it'll cost you."

I reached into my robes and, with a simple motion, pulled out a thick stack of paper Ryo, placing it on the counter. Kenta's eyes widened at the sheer amount.

"That should cover it," I said casually.

Kenta gawked. "Where the hell did you get that much money?"

One hand on my hip, I smiled. "From my piggy bank."

Kenta deadpanned. "You actually think I'm going to believe that?" He squinted. "It's Elder Takahiro again, isn't it?"

"Well, it was a very old piggy bank. He even went bald, so I'm using the insides of it since he's useless if not for all the money he stored."

Kenta exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Your jokes are sometimes confusing."

That was Kenta's reaction. Renji, on the other hand, was completely still.

Thought communication translation: That old 'piggy bank'... The way he described it... That was obviously Elder Matsu.

Thought communication translation: So it's true? Is Akai-sama planning to crush that old man instead of joining his side?

The realization hit him hard. Despite the initial fear he had felt from my killing intent before, everything was making sense to him now. He understood the truth.

Kenta grumbled, shuffling through a crate behind the counter. "Fine, I'll get you a few kilos."

I smiled. "Thanks"

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To be continued.