Chapter 15 – A Big Shot
Techniques like the Mayfly Jutsu felt nothing short of divine the more you used them.
Its practicality went beyond ordinary comprehension—it required no hand seals to activate, consumed barely any chakra during use, and was absurdly stealthy. If one had to point out a drawback, it was that the technique wasn't exactly fast when crossing through mediums.
Take the moment when Hajime dove into or emerged from a tree or underground—those short transitions were neither quick nor seamless. Against a swift opponent, that "brief moment" could very well become a fatal opening.
Still, the flaw was well within acceptable limits. No jutsu was perfect. As long as Hajime remained cautious during use, the advantages far outweighed the risks.
Two days later, Hajime returned to the dense forest with a satisfied heart, basking in the success of his recent endeavors. But as he approached the encampment, he immediately sensed something was off.
Where was the lookout? By all rights, someone should have noticed him by now.
Alert to the oddity, Hajime picked up his pace. When he reached a vantage point overlooking the camp, he finally understood the tension in the air—everyone was on edge.
Had the Tsugawa clan tracked them down? No… the situation wasn't quite that dire.
His people had surrounded an unfamiliar figure. Both sides stood locked in a standoff, but no one had drawn blood—yet.
A stroke of luck. At least the confrontation hadn't escalated before he returned. Not that he doubted his clan's strength—but, well, their strength was the kind that ensured no one ever won against them. Because no one ever fought them. Not seriously, anyway.
The intruder, however, stood calmly at the center. His body language suggested vigilance rather than hostility, which meant this encounter likely wasn't a targeted one. He had probably stumbled into their hidden sanctuary by accident.
Still, it was disheartening—this carefully chosen hideout had already been discovered.
As Hajime's gaze fell on the intruder's face, his expression froze. He blinked several times, unsure if he was seeing clearly.
The boy—yes, boy—was about his age, maybe fifteen. He wielded a massive broadsword and had striking white hair. His deep-blue half-armor reflected faint sunlight, and on his forehead protector… a very distinctive clan symbol.
That, more than anything, gave him away.
This wasn't just anyone.
This was a big shot—albeit a younger version of one.
"Captain…"
"Captain, you're back!"
The tension among his comrades eased the moment they saw him. It was as though their backbone had returned.
Hajime leapt down from the high ground, landing at the edge of the circle. He walked slowly toward the intruder, careful not to provoke him with sudden movements.
It's him. It really is him.
Up close, Hajime confirmed the identity without a doubt—this boy was Senju Tobirama, the future Second Hokage of the Hidden Leaf.
After more than a year in this world, Hajime finally had a solid grasp of the era he was in. First Sarutobi, now Tobirama—it felt like the gears of time were accelerating around him.
Standing before a younger version of the man known for his cunning and ruthlessness, Hajime raised his internal guard. This wasn't someone to underestimate, even at a young age.
"Captain…" whispered Ryunosuke Hayasaka from behind, shaking his head slightly—his way of advising caution.
Not because he believed they couldn't win. In fact, Ryunosuke had blind faith in Hajime's assassination skills. It was exactly because of that faith he feared Hajime might act impulsively.
But this was no ordinary foe. The emblem on Tobirama's forehead protector was known far and wide. Striking at someone like him could bring the wrath of the entire Senju clan.
And they weren't a clan you could afford to piss off.
The Tsugawa could be dealt with—fought or fled from—but the Senju? That was a whole different league.
Hajime gave Ryunosuke a small nod, signaling that he understood and wouldn't act rashly.
Truthfully, he wasn't afraid of the Senju name itself. What gave him pause… was the name Hashirama.
Judging by Tobirama's age, Hashirama was probably in his early twenties now—already in his prime. He might not yet be the legendary "God of Shinobi," but whether you were killed by Deep Forest Emergence or Sage Art: Wood Golem Jutsu, the result was the same—death in an instant, likely painless.
It wasn't that Hajime couldn't assassinate Tobirama. It was that he shouldn't.
Better to figure out the boy's purpose first.
Surely he hadn't come here specifically to wipe them out. They had no prior conflict. Hajime didn't feel any strong animosity from him either.
Tobirama studied Hajime in return. His opponent looked ragged—his hair unkempt, body wrapped in little more than a burlap sack cinched with rope, feet in worn-out sandals. His pale skin had an unhealthy sheen.
A band of stray ninja, clearly the poorest kind.
"You're the leader here?" Tobirama asked, voice calm but firm. "I'm not here to start a fight—if you hand over the person you're hiding."
It was a demand, slightly arrogant, but not unreasonable. He was giving them a chance, after all.
Senju Tobirama had always been a schemer—and he would only grow more so with time—but he wasn't a bloodthirsty maniac. His ruthlessness was goal-driven. And given the chaotic times, those goals couldn't be judged by modern standards of good or evil.
In this moment, surrounded but composed, he still believed he held the upper hand.
Looking for someone?
Hajime turned to Ryunosuke, who immediately shook his head. The camp hadn't hidden anyone—Tobirama was clearly mistaken.
"Ahem." Hajime cleared his throat, eyeing the boy's condition. "I think you should worry about treating your wounds first. You're about to pass out from blood loss."