"The birth of Sage Chakra requires a perfect balance between spiritual energy, physical energy, and natural energy," Ryujin Kenichi murmured, stroking his chin. "Too little, and the transformation fails. Too much natural energy… and the user becomes stone."
At this moment, he was en route to the Land of Rain.
The Land of Rain—tucked between the Lands of Fire, Earth, and Wind—was a strategically significant but politically fragile nation. Its location had doomed it to become a constant battlefield for the Great Nations, turning many of its people into war orphans.
Refugees were commonplace, but Kenichi knew the Land of Rain's fate wouldn't always be so tragic. In the not-so-distant future, it would no longer be a helpless pawn of the Great Nations.
Traveling from the Land of Fire as a missing-nin was no easy task. Fortunately, his teacher had passed on a powerful transformation jutsu—one rarely seen outside the bingo books. The Face-Stealing Technique, similar in function to the Transformation Jutsu but far more advanced, allowed him to assume the identity of a merchant he'd ambushed along the road.
With the man's documents and coin purse in hand, Kenichi had left the Land of Fire under a new name. A clean escape.
Now, riding quietly on horseback, he closed his eyes and focused on the natural energy around him. It swirled in the air like mist—eager, as though it longed to bond with him.
"No… it's too eager. Like a bunch of old villagers storming a market on egg discount day," he muttered with a crooked smile. "Should I try again?"
He licked his lips but hesitated. Sage Mode required more than confidence—it demanded control. One misstep, and his body could petrify. Just like the elders of Mount Myōboku warned: imbalance would lead to mutation, or worse, a full transformation into stone.
Kenichi reached into his cloak and produced a sealed glass vial. Inside were fragmented, pale-white organic growths—tissue samples from Hashirama Senju.
His teacher had also taught him the Edo Tensei—the Impure World Reincarnation, a forbidden technique created by Tobirama Senju and later perfected by Orochimaru and Kabuto. Through multiple experiments, Kenichi had come to understand its limitations.
"If I use the body of a civilian as the sacrifice… even if I reincarnate the First Hokage, the result will be a hollow shell," he muttered.
He remembered his notes: ordinary sacrifices could host the souls of powerful shinobi, but lacked the physical strength to channel their chakra properly. As a result, the reincarnated body would be fragile, often unable to access jutsu or even maintain form for more than thirty minutes before breaking down.
"Total organ failure every time… no wonder the technique was banned." He grimaced.
Looking again at the Hashirama cells, he whispered, "And if I ever got tissue from the Sage of Six Paths himself… could I reincarnate him too?"
He chuckled and immediately shook his head. The thought was ridiculous.
Madara Uchiha had managed to break free from Edo Tensei's control on his own. The Sage of Six Paths—Hagoromo Ōtsutsuki—was said to transcend time and space, watching the world from beyond. Binding someone like him to a sacrificial body? Madness.
"Forget it. That's suicide."
Just then, a shout broke his concentration.
"If you want to live, drop the goods and walk away!"
Kenichi looked up from the vial to see four—no, five—bandits blocking the road.
Kenichi scratched his head. "Still bandits in the world of chakra and bloodlines. Go figure."
Such criminals were the lowest rung on the mission board—barely worth a D-rank unless one of them was secretly a rogue shinobi.
He looked at them again. Five men. Hm. The same number required for a proper test. "Maybe this is fate…"
But before he could make a move, a dark blur swept through the trees like a gust of wind.
In an instant, the five bandits collapsed—silent, lifeless, their bodies twitching slightly before going still.
Kenichi froze. His instincts screamed, but he didn't move. Fortunately, his disguise as a nervous merchant made his shock look perfectly natural.
Whoever had done this was no ordinary killer.
Kenichi gripped the vial tighter and narrowed his eyes toward the new figure standing silently on the road.
The ninja sheathed his sword with a soft click. Although the other man wore a standard-issue Anbu mask, Ryujin Kenichi recognized him immediately by the unmistakable silver hair and the slouched posture.
Hatake Kakashi.
"Travel permit," Kakashi said curtly, extending a gloved hand.
His tone was flat, emotionless, but Kenichi felt a chill run down his spine. The rumors were true — Kakashi had grown even more cold and distant since the end of the Third Great Ninja War.
"Y-Yes, shinobi-sama! Just a moment!" Kenichi fumbled through his satchel, pulling out a slightly crumpled scroll and hastily handing it over.
The travel permit was a document issued by the Fire Daimyō's office, required for non-shinobi merchants crossing borders between nations. Without it, one could be mistaken for a smuggler — or worse, a missing-nin. That was why Kenichi had targeted a merchant in the Land of Rain who, over drinks at a roadside tavern, had foolishly declared: "One last job, then I'm off to get married."
Never raise flags, Kenichi thought grimly.
Kakashi gave the scroll a quick once-over, then returned it wordlessly. From inside his flak vest, he drew two slightly weathered bingo book pages and held them out for Kenichi to see.
The faces on them were all too familiar.
His teacher. And himself.
Kenichi didn't flinch. His expression remained carefully crafted — a mixture of nervousness and polite subservience. The Face-Changing Jutsu he'd used was still holding strong, masking every detail.
After a long pause, he shook his head.
"No, shinobi-sama. Haven't seen them."
Kakashi stared at him for a moment longer, then tucked the warrants away. Without another word, he moved to inspect the goods loaded on Kenichi's cart — just sacks of rice and a few crates of salted fish. Satisfied, he turned away and started to leave.
Kenichi jogged after him, bowing low. "Please, accept a small token for your troubles—"
But Kakashi was already gone, his figure vanishing down the misty path without even glancing back.
"That bastard's really hunting us down," Kenichi muttered, watching the lifeless bodies of the mercenaries he'd just disposed of. "Didn't expect to run into him so soon."
Still, it made sense. He and his teacher had only recently defected from Konohagakure. Even if it was just for show, the village had to respond. And who better to send than the Copy Ninja himself?
Kenichi sighed, pulling his hood further over his altered face. "Better keep moving."