The sun dipped low, turning the sky a bruised purple. Orochimaru halted near a clearing, his eyes tracking the shadows. "We camp here," he hissed.
"Moving in the dark invites unnecessary risk."
They worked in silence, lashing branches and fabric together to build a makeshift tent.
Once finished, they huddled around a small fire.
None of them was sleeping.
Tsunade rested her chin on her knees while Orochimaru leaned back, his golden eyes reflecting the orange glow with a cold stillness.
Jiraiya poked the embers with a stick, his usual grin gone. "Hey, Yoichi," he said softly. "The old Toad Sage... he talks about destiny. Says a student of mine will change the world, for better or worse."
"You and those slimy toads," Tsunade muttered. "Destiny is just an excuse for people too afraid to own their lives."
"The strings are simply invisible, Tsunade," Orochimaru hissed, a thin smile touching his lips.
"Power is the only thing that remains real. Prophecy is just a blueprint for the unimaginative."
Jiraiya ignored them, looking Yoichi in the eye. "Do you believe in it? The Child of Prophecy? That one person's choices are already written in the stars?"
Yoichi watched the embers die.
He knew of Jiraiya's persistent, almost desperate search for this savior.
Whether it was names like Nagato, Minato, or even a boy named Naruto yet to be born, Jiraiya was chasing ghosts of the future. Yoichi kept that knowledge locked away; it wasn't his place to reveal the paths that lay ahead.
In his mind, Yoichi felt a cold flicker of realism.
Jiraiya spoke of destiny because he still held onto a shred of hope. To truly understand the cruelty of this world, Jiraiya would have to experience it just as Yoichi had. Experience was the only teacher that mattered, not the vague riddles of a toad.
"Prophecies are for those who need an excuse," he said, his voice flat. "If my path is written, my effort is a lie. I don't care about stars, Jiraiya. I only care about the weight in my palm."
Jiraiya stared at him as the fire turned to ash. Orochimaru let out a dry chuckle of approval, while Tsunade remained silent, her jaw set.
Yoichi sat in the silence, his hand resting near his blade. "Enough talk," he said, his voice cutting through the night air. "The desert won't care about your philosophy tomorrow. Go to the tent."
Jiraiya and Orochimaru shared a silent glance.
Jiraiya shook his head with a knowing smirk, while Orochimaru offered a weary blink before they both crawled into the shelter.
Tsunade, however, remained by the fire.
"I am not tired," she said, her eyes fixed on the embers. "I will stay out here with you."
Yoichi did not argue. He sat back down, and after a moment, Tsunade shifted closer. She leaned her head against his shoulder, her weight a warm, steady presence in the chill of the forest.
The campfire flickered, casting a soft orange light over them as they sat together in the rare quiet.
"Yoichi," Tsunade whispered, her voice softer than before. "Jiraiya has his prophecy, and Orochimaru has his power. What about you? What is your dream?"
Yoichi watched a trail of smoke rise toward the moon. He thought of the three years he spent refining his body and the strength he had found outside of ninjutsu. He thought of his brother, Akira, and the vulnerability of those without chakra-born talent.
"I want to propagate Martial Arts," Yoichi replied, his voice a steady murmur. "I want to show the world that a person's worth isn't dictated by their chakra reserves or their bloodline. I want to give everyone the means to protect themselves, regardless of the gifts they were born with."
Tsunade didn't pull away. She simply closed her eyes, resting against him while the fire turned to glowing coals. They sat in the deep quiet, two shinobi guarding a future that Yoichi intended to carve with his own hands.
...
The morning sun broke over the horizon, sharp and unforgiving. The lush greenery began to thin, replaced by jagged rocks and scorched earth.
They reached the transition zone, where the cool forest air collided with the rising heat of the Land of Wind.
Jiraiya stepped over a dry ridge, wiping sweat from his brow. "Here we go," he grunted, shielding his eyes. "Say goodbye to the shade. From here on out, it is nothing but sand and sunstrokes."
Yoichi led the way, his boots sinking into the fine grain with practiced ease. Unlike the others, his eyes did not squint against the glare.
He had walked these shifting dunes before during his previous travels, and the desert's rhythm felt familiar to his bones.
"The maps say the first checkpoint is deep within the dunes," Tsunade noted, her expression grim as she adjusted her pack. "One wrong turn and the sand buries us."
"The maps are often outdated," Yoichi said, his voice flat as he scanned the horizon. "The wind here rewrites the landscape every night. Stay close to my tracks. I know the landmarks that do not move."
Orochimaru's eyes narrowed, observing Yoichi's calm demeanor. He didn't seem bothered by the heat, his breathing rhythmic and steady.
"Experience is a silent teacher," the serpent-like shinobi hissed, a thin smile touching his lips.
Yoichi didn't respond, his focus already on a distant, shimmering ridge. He moved with a fluid grace that defied the resistance of the sand, his mind entirely on the path ahead.
The shimmering heat haze ahead broke.
Three figures materialized from behind a rock formation, their faces wrapped in sandstone-colored scarves. They wore the flak jackets of Sunagakure, their hands hovering near their weapons.
"Halt, Leaf shinobi," the lead patrolman commanded. "State your business and present your scrolls."
Jiraiya stepped forward, flashing a grin. "Easy there. We are here for the Chunin Exams. We have the official invitation for the Hokage's disciples."
The patrol leader didn't move. His gaze shifted toward Yoichi, and his posture immediately stiffened. The Suna shinobi looked at him with a mixture of fear and deep-seated resentment. They remembered the reports from four years ago. Even though the joint forces of Suna, Kiri, and Kumo had successfully captured him, the price had been steep.
Suna and Kiri had each lost two of their cream-of-the-crop Jōnin to Yoichi's formidable struggle. To make matters worse, Kumo had snatched the prize away, only for Yoichi to escape the Island Turtle's strict defenses later.
The failure was a stain on their village's reputation.
"The Uchiha who turned a capture mission into a massacre," the guard noted, his voice turning cold. "We haven't forgotten the brothers you took from us in these sands."
Tsunade shifted her weight, her brow furrowing at the rising hostility. "We are here as guests. Are you going to check the paperwork or settle old scores? The sun isn't getting any cooler."
The guard snapped the scroll open, verifying the seals of the Third Hokage. After a tense silence, he signaled his men to stand down, though his eyes never left Yoichi. "The path to the oasis is three miles North-West. Follow the stone markers. Deviate, and we will treat you as a hostile combatant."
Yoichi halted, his gaze fixed on the shimmering horizon.
Through his Spirit Aperture and Battle Instinct, he felt it—the cold, jagged pricks of murderous intent radiating from hidden signatures deep within the dunes.
"You have friends hiding in the sand," Yoichi said, his voice a low vibration. "Tell them to stifle their intent. It is leaking everywhere."
The patrol leader stiffened, his hand tightening on his blade. "The desert has many eyes, Uchiha. We do not forget the Jōnin you took from us four years ago."
Yoichi took a single, measured step forward.
A subtle, oppressive force rolled off him, heavy and cold. The air thickened, forcing the guards to take a jagged breath.
It was a silent promise of the consequences of their malice.
"If they want to settle the score, tell them to come out," Yoichi murmured. "But I have no interest in burying more of your people today. We are here for the exams. Do not make me change my mind."
Jiraiya watched the exchange, his grin fading.
Orochimaru let out a dry, thin chuckle. "Careful," the serpent warned. "He is much less patient than he looks."
The patrol leader flinched, the pressure breaking his resolve. He signaled his men to step aside, the path clearing as if pushed by an invisible tide.
"Three miles North-West," the guard spat, his voice wavering. "Follow the markers."
Yoichi walked past them without another word.
He did not care about their grudges, only the path ahead and the hostile signatures still lingering at the edge of his perception.
The oasis sat like an emerald jewel amidst scorched orange dunes. As the team approached the square, the chatter died down. Groups from Kiri, Kumo, and Iwa stood in clusters, their eyes sharp and predatory.
Word of Yoichi's arrival had clearly traveled fast.
"Look at that," Jiraiya whispered. "Everyone is here to see if the Leaf matches the rumors."
A group of Kumo shinobi loitered by a well. Their leader spat on the ground as the Uchiha passed.
The air felt like a powder keg.
These ninja remembered the boy who had escaped their village's grip years ago, and their hunger for a rematch was thick.
"They look like they want to eat us alive," Tsunade muttered, her hand resting on her hip. She looked more annoyed than intimidated.
Orochimaru's tongue flicked out, golden eyes narrowing. "Let them stare. It is easier to dissect an enemy when they have already shown you their hunger."
Yoichi ignored the whispers and the glares.
Dozens of murderous intents pressed against his Spirit Aperture, yet his pace remained steady.
Silent footsteps carried him toward the Leaf quarters.
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Thanks to doomslayer24, Daemonic_Dragon, and Snowwwww for Power Stones! Thanks for the help man, I appreciate it so much!