Chapter 97: Nocturnal Observations
The psychic storm of marital discord, economic misogyny, and posthumous strategic roasting had provided the perfect auditory cover. In the tangible silence of the dark hallway, Ren Arakawa was a wraith. The 'Silent Shadow Weave' technique, freshly donated by a desperate Sakumo Hatake, draped over him like a second skin, muffling his chakra, his breath, the very sound of his clothes brushing against the wall. He was less than a shadow—a concentrated patch of nothingness with intent.
He slipped out of the room where Naruto snored and Sasuke feigned sleep, easing the door shut with infinite care. The old house groaned its own night-time song, masking any infinitesimal sound he might have made. He didn't head for the door. Instead, he flowed up the wall, his chakra-adherent feet finding purchase on the rough timber, and exited through a small, warped ventilation gap under the eaves. Outside, the mist was a living, cold blanket. He became part of it.
From his perch in the crook of a gnarled, sea-twisted tree, he had a perfect, angled view into the window of the room Kakashi shared with Tazuna. The old bridge-builder was a lump under blankets, snoring softly. Kakashi was another story.
He sat propped against the wall beside the window, a slice of moonlight cutting across his lower half. In his hand, the familiar orange spine of Icha Icha Paradise was clearly visible. His head was tilted down, reading. His other hand… was resting in his lap, obscured by the book and the angle.
But it wasn't still.
There was a faint, repetitive motion. A shifting of fabric. A subtle, rhythmic tension in his forearm.
[Tobirama Senju: …By the Sage's missing sandal. Is he…? Is that movement what I think it is? While reading?]
[Uchiha Izuna: I TOLD YOU! The book isn't the hobby; it's the prop! The man is a degenerate of efficiency! Multitasking depravity!]
[Sakumo Hatake: NO! It could be a cramp! A nervous tick! He's… adjusting his kunai pouch!]
[Nohara Rin: (A soft, horrified psychic gasp)]
[Minato Namikaze: Let's not jump to conclusions! The angle is bad! We need a better view!]
[Tobirama Senju: A better view! Exactly! Hyūga! We have a Hyūga in attendance! Hizashi! Activate your cursed eyeballs and tell us what that disgrace is doing with his subordinate hand!]
The demand was broadcast across the entire chat.
[Hyūga Hizashi: I… I cannot! The ethical implications of using the Byakugan for such… voyeuristic…]
[Uchiha Madara: ETHICS? We are discussing the moral fiber of the next generation's leadership! This is vital intelligence! Do your duty, Hyūga!]
[Hashirama Senju: Madara… since when do you care about 'moral fiber'?]
[Uchiha Madara: I care about consistency! If he's a hypocrite, I want it documented! Now, Hyūga, or I will find your spirit in this grey place and have words.]
The threat, even from beyond death, carried weight.
Ren decided to facilitate. Hizashi-san, he projected privately. Think of it not as voyeurism, but as… quality control for the Will of Fire. Ensuring its bearers are not… compromised. I can establish a temporary visual link if you permit it. A brief, diagnostic scan.
The pressure from Madara and the morbid curiosity of everyone else was too much. Hizashi's resistance crumbled.
[Hyūga Hizashi: …Very well. A brief scan. For… diagnostic purposes.]
Ren formed a complex, layered hand seal against the tree bark, one that combined the principles of the Sensory Meditation technique with a crude, system-assisted hack. A faint, invisible tether of chakra stretched across the misty gap and linked to Hyūga Hizashi's spectral awareness. For a moment, Ren's vision swam, then overlaid with the stark, X-ray clarity of the Byakugan.
He saw through the wall. He saw the chakra pathways, bright and flowing. He saw Tazuna's dim, sleeping coil. And he saw Kakashi.
The Copy Ninja's chakra system was a masterpiece of control, banks of power held in perfect, idle reserve. His concentration was focused… split. A major flow to his eyes, reading. And a smaller, but distinct and rhythmic, flow of chakra circulating down his arm and into his… lap.
The Byakugan's detail was merciless. It wasn't a kunai pouch.
It was a very specific, repetitive, manual activity.
Hizashi's psychic voice, laced with profound disgust, echoed in the shared link. He is… he is engaging in… self-stimulation. While perusing that… that tome.
The image and the diagnosis were broadcast instantly to the entire stream.
[Tobirama Senju: HA! CONFIRMED! The man reads and ruts simultaneously! A new low in Konoha history! Sakumo, your son is a deviant!]
[Uchiha Izuna: I KNEW IT! The dead-fish eyes, the lazy demeanor—it all makes sense! He's conserving energy for his literary masturbation sessions!]
[Sakumo Hatake: (A soundless scream of paternal anguish)]
[Nohara Rin: I'm going to be sick… I shared a team with that… that…]
[Minato Namikaze: Oh, Kakashi…]
[Kushina Uzumaki: MINATO! DID YOU TEACH HIM THIS? IS THIS A LEGACY OF THE FOURTH HOKAGE?]
[Minato Namikaze: I SWEAR I DID NOT!]
The chat dissolved into a chaotic blend of outrage, mockery, and a few voices (like the Third Raikage's) offering surprisingly practical advice about stress relief for frontline shinobi.
Ren severed the visual link with Hizashi, who retreated into a shell of horrified silence. He watched as, a few moments later, Kakashi's rhythmic motion stopped. He let out a soft, satisfied sigh (which carried perfectly to Ren's enhanced hearing), carefully marked his page in the book, set it aside, and lay down. Within minutes, he was asleep, a picture of post-coital (or post-whatever) tranquility.
[Uchiha Madara: Pathetic. A man should find his release in battle, or in the domination of his enemies. Not in… paperback and self-service. The degeneration of the shinobi spirit is complete.]
[Hashirama Senju: Madara, must you critique everything? Maybe he was just… itchy.]
[Tobirama Senju: Brother, your naivete is a boundless renewable resource.]
Mission accomplished for Sakumo, albeit with catastrophic results for paternal pride. Ren prepared to retreat. But as he made to move, his own senses, still extended into the mist, prickled.
The cold, observing presence that had been hovering at the edge of the woods… was gone.
Not withdrawn. Moved.
It was now much closer. Somewhere in the village itself. Not approaching the house. Circling. Surveying. Like a predator checking the perimeter of a den now that the occupants were settled.
Ren froze, every sense straining. The farce inside the house was over. The real threat outside had just escalated. The watcher wasn't just watching anymore. It was probing. Testing their night-time security.
And Kakashi, post-literary indulgence, was asleep. Naruto and Sasuke were exhausted. Sakura was with the civilians.
He was the only one aware.
A slow, predatory smile touched Ren's lips, invisible in the dark.
Good, he thought. You've seen the clown show. Now come see the ringmaster.
He melted back from the tree, not towards the house, but into the deeper shadows of the village, towards the cold, gliding presence. The 'Silent Shadow Weave' made him a ghost among ghosts.
The night's entertainment was entering its final, deadly act. And Ren had no intention of being a spectator.