Chapter Sixteen Rest in Peace Old Man.
Kenshin Yogen lay sprawled across his bed. Four days had passed since the Chunin Exams when he murked the Third Hokage with that Chidori to the chest. I didn't know you moved like that, Kenshin.Others did that to females—you upped and did that to an old man. No judging, you do you.
For the past four days, Kenshin had done a lot of things off-screen. Let me give you a recap: stole something, had an existential crisis, and thanked Jah. Yeah, that about sums it up. Just kidding—let me give you the proper tea.
You see, while biologically-aged Kenshin was throwing hands with the Kages and Orochimaru, another Kenshin—with the appearance of his past life—was deep in the Konoha archives digging for that treasure: the Scroll of Seals. My man was fiending for that Flying Thunder God technique, wants to collect space-time jutsus like Pokémon.
He didn't steal the scroll per se, just copied that shit onto another scroll—all the jutsu he could find in the archives.
Kleptomaniac.
So the moment he teleported into his room with Instant Transmission, the scroll was already there, laid in a place where only he would notice it. For those asking why the clone didn't wait for him to come back—come on, there's a semi-war going on in the village. A chakra signature in a house, no matter how small he makes it, is sus as hell, especially when all civilians have been evacuated. Deep it, really deep it.
Okay, that's cringe. Stop talking like an old man copying gen whatever.
And for his cover? He has his clone out there playing the hero part.
That's about it for the theft. Now for the little inner conflict he had...
—
After the battle with the Hokages and Orochimaru, Kenshin teleported to the Forest of Death. He had already set up a clone here with the least chakra he could provide so it would survive—just had the clone meditating, trying to connect to nature chakra. Had to put his trait to use.
The little somber mood he had entered after killing the Third Hokage still permeated the air around him.
As he landed, he took the position of the clone and went into meditation mode, settling down to sit cross-legged. He closed his eyes and just meditated.
Oh, this is the part where I show you all his inner thoughts. My bad, I was feeling hard.
I indeed have come a long way—from an inconsequential being in my past life to an inconsequential rookie genin.
You know, when I first awakened here, I was ready to live life out as an unassuming little bitch, until the system showed up. Now we burst bubbles and fight crime. Feels good.
Within six months of breathing anime world air, I've become one of the strongest beings in the world. Just had an amazing scrap with four of the strongest people this village has ever seen. Although two were nerfed.
Killing Hiruzen... I don't really care, or particularly feel sad. He would have died even if I didn't interfere. Now his death serves a better purpose, netting me a system reward.
The only thing I feel is the realization that I've stepped onto another zone again. Who would have imagined—from planning how to make the greens, to causing chaos in an anime world, to now killing Kages.
How would I even look at Konohamaru? I killed his grandpa. Well, seeing as it's an anime world, save him once and he'll definitely forgive me, alongside the fact that they never saw my face.
Whoever brought me here, you better have a nice plan for when I come beat your ass.
Yeah, I'm going to beat that person's ass, even though it's impossible.
Putting me in a world where twelve-year-olds have to kill old men.
At twelve, all I had to worry about was coming home on time to watch Power Rangers, Ben 10, and Nickelodeon shows.
Couldn't put me in a world parallel to Earth, in the past—specifically before bitcoin, like three years—so I could get my money up a little, then I invest in bitcoin, get rich, laze around.
Ah, the life.
Ok, I feel better now. Time to check on Konoha.
With that, he jumped up from his sitting position and teleported via instant transmission.
....
That's it guys, what'd you expect, deep introspection? Nah, Kenshin's not wired like that.
It's been three days since the Konoha crush. Now everyone could be seen wearing black, moving towards the cemetery to mourn the unfortunate cannon fodders and lord third. The somber procession wound through the village streets like a river of shadows, punctuated by the soft rustle of dark fabric and muffled sobs that seemed to echo off the buildings. The air hung heavy with grief and the lingering scent of incense from the memorial ceremonies.
I'm bored. What's my concern for dead people? Am I supposed to cry or be moved to tears? I admit I'm moved... moved to boredom.
And there we have Kenshin's wild thoughts as everyone mourned. While others dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs and clutched flowers with trembling hands, Kenshin stood with his arms crossed, his dark eyes scanning the crowd with detached observation. The weight of collective sorrow pressed down on the gathering like a suffocating blanket, yet it seemed to slide off him like water off stone.
At the end of the farce, as Kenshin was about to leave—his footsteps crisp against the gravel path—he was intercepted by his stooges. Hana and Taro emerged from the dispersing crowd like loyal shadows materializing from the gloom.
"Yo boss," Taro waved, his usual carefree grin somehow managing to cut through the funeral atmosphere like a blade through silk.
"Hi," Hana smiled as she moved to his right side, her voice soft but carrying that familiar warmth that had become as constant as breathing.
No shipping.
"Yo," Kenshin answered as he continued on about his day, his pace never faltering, boots clicking against the stone with mechanical precision.
Keep stepping.
After about two minutes of walking with the stooges shadowing him at his right and left-hand side—their synchronized footsteps creating an odd rhythm against the quiet village streets—Kenshin snapped.
"So what? Are you going to walk with me like mutes? What's the reason you approached me? You need comfort? Let me educate you—people die, my parents died, half of the people in this village have lost one of their loved ones in their life in this village. That's what being a member of a village does to you, hell it's what being human does to you. So,on about your days if you want to sulk."
His words cut through the air like kunai, sharp and unforgiving, each syllable delivered with the cold efficiency of someone who had long since buried his own capacity for sentiment.
"You're very insensitive, you know that boss," Taro said, not stopping. He continued walking alongside Kenshin, as did Hana, their loyalty as unwavering as their steps. There was no accusation in his tone, merely the stating of an obvious fact, like commenting on the weather.
"That didn't drive you away?" Kenshin asked, puzzled, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face.
"Do you think we didn't know what you just said?" Hana asked, tilting her head slightly, her dark hair catching the fading sunlight. Her voice carried a note of gentle amusement, as if she were speaking to a particularly slow child.
"He's used to planning, he's involuntarily lowering the standards for others, thinks we're pawns to be moved as he pleases," Taro added, hands placed behind his head as he strutted with that characteristic swagger that seemed immune to the world's attempts to crush it.
"You all are still pawns nevertheless," Kenshin shot back, his words lacking any bite.
Then a little bout of silence ensued before Kenshin broke the silence. The only sounds were their footsteps and the distant murmur of the village settling into evening, shopkeepers closing their stalls and families gathering for dinner behind glowing windows.
"So, who's going to set that meeting with lord Shikaku?"
"You can just go to the Hokage building and find his office there," Hana interjected, her tone practical and matter-of-fact, as if she were discussing the weather rather than approaching one of the village's most influential figures."you've earned the privilege, keeping waiting for over a month".
"Shy bastard," Taro muttered under his breath, though his grin betrayed any real criticism.
"Big-headed fool, you're all coming with me," Kenshin said, trying to hide a smirk that threatened to betray the carefully constructed walls around his emotions.
Aiya, it seems Kenshin has developed affection for his teammates. The realization hit him like a kunai to the chest—unexpected, unwelcome, and somehow inevitable. These two persistent shadows had wormed their way past his defenses through sheer stubborn loyalty and an apparent immunity to his caustic personality.
That's what countless hours of pestering does, so, don't give up on pestering your crush—one day, surely one day.
...….
Having just come from a funeral of one of the most respected men he knows—rather knew—Shikaku was analyzing how the village would fare without its revered leader, who would be appointed as the next Hokage. The weight of grief still clung to his shoulders like a heavy cloak, and the acrid scent of funeral incense seemed to linger in his nostrils despite the hours that had passed. His fingers drummed absently against the polished surface of his desk.
It seemed the Hokage position was cursed—from the second to fourth Hokages, they all died in battle. The thought sent a chill down his spine as he stared out the window at the village below, where people moved about their daily lives, unaware of the political machinations that would soon reshape their world.
What a drag.
As he contemplated, lost in the labyrinth of strategic possibilities and political ramifications, he heard a knock on the door. The sound was sharp and decisive, cutting through the heavy silence that had settled over his office like dust on forgotten scrolls.
*Who could that be? Can't they tell I'm mourning? What a drag, no holidays.*
"Come in," he called out, his voice carrying the weariness of a man who had seen too much death and bore too much responsibility.
…
"Did you knock properly?" Kenshin asked after Taro had knocked on Shikaku's office door. His dark eyes scrutinized the wooden barrier as if it might reveal the secrets of proper door-knocking etiquette, while his arms crossed with the precision of someone who had opinions about everything.
"It's been less than ten seconds," Taro interjected, his hand still raised from the knock, fingers curled in mild exasperation.
"Ten seconds that would not be wasted if you'd knocked properly," Kenshin shot back.
As they bickered—their voices creating a low buzz of argument in the hallway—they heard Shikaku's voice from the office, muffled but unmistakable through the thick wood.
"Come in."
"Would you look at that, I knocked properly," Taro said, with a smug look towards Kenshin, his grin spreading across his face like sunrise breaking through clouds.
"Move, we can't keep lord Shikaku waiting," Hana said as she pushed them inside the office, her small hands surprisingly effective at propelling two larger bodies forward through the doorway.
"Ironic, Captain here made him wait for a month," Taro muttered under his breath, though his words carried clearly in the sudden quiet of the office.
...
*I told them to open the door. Who's playing at the door? I've got things to do.*
As Shikaku raised his head to see who was at the door—his neck muscles protesting the movement after hours hunched over paperwork—he heard bickering as the door opened. The sound of their argument preceded them like an announcement, and he felt his eyebrow twitch with familiar irritation.
"Ironic, Captain here made him wait for a month," the one named Taro said, his voice carrying that particular tone of someone who enjoyed pointing out hypocrisy.
Really? You chose that time to enter the office.
"Ahem." Shikaku coughed to gain their attention, the sound cutting through their argument like a blade through silk. The authoritative clearing of his throat had been perfected over years of dealing with unruly subordinates and carried the weight of command.
Shikaku watched as Taro quickly arranged himself, straightening his posture with the jerky movements of someone caught misbehaving, whilst one of the persons that had given him headaches for the past month just laughed and waved with the casual confidence of someone who had never met a social convention he couldn't ignore.
"Hello, lord Shikaku, it's been a while," Kenshin said, his voice exuding confidence that was quite charismatic, each word delivered with the smooth assurance of someone who owned every room he entered.
"The golden boy finally came around," Shikaku smirked as he watched Kenshin, his lips curving upward despite himself. There was something magnetically infuriating about the young man's presence that made it impossible to maintain complete irritation.
"We have a lot to talk about, Kenshin."
"I know right, a lot of things have happened since I last saw you." Shikaku watched as Kenshin, still smiling with that maddeningly self-assured expression, went towards his chair, flipped it around with practiced ease, and sat on the chair with the back of the chair facing the desk. The casual disregard for protocol was so brazen it was almost admirable.
As he was about to talk, he saw the one named Hana, trying to tell Kenshin to sit properly. Her gestures were subtle but insistent, a series of meaningful looks and slight hand movements that spoke of long familiarity with her captain's tendency to flout convention.
Kenshin, in his splendor, simply looked towards him with those dark, calculating eyes and then said, "It seems we have unwanted company," then turned towards his teammates with the dismissive air of a king addressing his court. "You've done a good job escorting me, it's time to give us the room. Our discussion ain't for kids."
Shikaku couldn't hold back a smile, the expression breaking across his weathered features like dawn after a long night. Kenshin seemed to have changed from the reports Taro and Hana had sent—he seemed a lot more cordial, though that cordiality carried the sharp edge of someone who had learned to wrap his arrogance in silk.
With his side eye he caught Hana and Taro looking at him, their gazes questioning and respectful, probably asking if they should leave. With a nod of his head—a single, decisive movement that brooked no argument—he sent them packing.
As they walked out of the office, their footsteps echoing in the sudden quiet, the atmosphere turned serious as he looked at Kenshin. The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension, the weight of their shared history and the conversation to come settling over them like a shroud.
"So, let's get on about it, shall we?"
...….