Konoha Year 48, April.
Nearly three months had passed since the Kannabi Bridge operation.
Almost two months since Konoha and Iwagakure started peace talks.
Ever since that clash with Madara Uchiha, the man and his people had vanished like smoke.
Even with Taiichi running plenty of shadow clones out searching, they hadn't found a single trace.
Yeah. This was Taiichi's newest assignment.
He finally didn't have to stand guard for Hiruzen Sarutobi all day, planted in the corner of the Hokage's office like a piece of furniture.
His new mission was simple on paper: dig up intelligence on Madara Uchiha and whatever forces still answered to him.
Unfortunately, Madara had buried himself way too deep—or maybe the old bastard really had shut everything down for good.
Even in the Land of Water and the Land of Rain, the two places he was most likely to show his face, there wasn't a single sign of activity.
Time had already slid into April. Judging by the life force Taiichi had felt inside Madara during their last fight, by this point the old man should have genuinely returned to the Pure Land.
Which meant that from now on, anyone still running around under Madara's name was almost certainly Obito Uchiha, using the legend as a scarecrow.
Taiichi had no idea what Obito would turn into. Logically he shouldn't become the cold, family-disowning monster from the original timeline.
But considering how easily Uchiha went off the deep end after awakening their eyes… Taiichi wasn't entirely sure.
For now all he could do was take it one step at a time and deal with Obito when they next met face to face.
Of course, Taiichi hadn't spent these past few months obediently chasing Madara's ghost.
Even Jiraiya knew how to slack off on the job. While hunting Akatsuki he still found time to write novels and gather "research material." The guy lived large.
As Jiraiya's worthy successor—and with that many shadow clones at his disposal—Taiichi sure as hell wasn't going to sit still either.
Land of Earth.
This had been Taiichi's main stomping ground lately. Madara's old base sat right here. Who knew what other setups the old man might have left behind?
In a rundown little town, Taiichi walked the streets under the alias Ryunosuke.
If there was one big difference about him now, it was this: even Nono Yakushi herself could stand right in front of him and never recognize him.
Standing at six-foot-three—a giant even among shinobi—plus a body packed with thick, corded muscle, he looked like a human-shaped war beast.
Right now he was hauling a mangled corpse. A fist-sized hole punched clean through the chest, blood still dripping steadily.
As he walked, the trail of blood followed him. Not a single person dared stop him.
The reason? He looked terrifying as hell.
Taiichi stood in front of a crumbling brick public toilet, brow furrowed in pure disgust.
The rotting stench mixed with the sharp bite of ammonia created a nauseating "aura" that attacked the nose even from a dozen steps away.
"Fuck! This shitty place again!"
He cursed under his breath, rough voice dripping with open revulsion.
He took a deep breath—mistake. The smell nearly knocked him out.
"Cough! Goddamn it! Whoever at the Exchange came up with this brilliant idea must've had their brain soaked in shit! Why the hell put the entrance inside a latrine?!"
It wasn't his first time, but the soul-crushing stench still hit him just as hard.
He stopped hesitating. Enduring the reek, he strode inside.
It was early afternoon. A few regular civilians were inside taking care of business. The moment they saw a mountain of a man walk in carrying a still-bleeding corpse and radiating pure murderous intent, their souls nearly left their bodies.
"Aah!"
"Murder!"
Screams and cries of terror exploded.
Guys mid-shit didn't even bother pulling their pants up properly—they scrambled and crawled for the exit. The ones at the urinals pissed themselves in panic, spraying all over the floor and walls.
In just a few seconds the previously crowded toilet emptied completely. Only Taiichi remained, along with an even more disgusting cocktail of shit, piss, fart, and sweat lingering in the air.
"Bunch of useless cowards!"
Taiichi watched their terrified asses fleeing and felt even more irritated.
He waved a hand hard in front of his nose, trying to chase away the vomit-inducing smell, brows knitted tight.
He walked to the innermost rusted sink. His fingers pressed a few specific grime spots in a precise rhythm.
A faint sound of gears meshing. The solid-looking tiled wall behind the sink slid inward silently, revealing a much cleaner passageway.
Taiichi cursed again—mostly at the fact that even this "clean" entrance still forced you through a toilet—then hauled the corpse inside without hesitation.
The passage wasn't long. It opened into a relatively wide underground space.
Lighting was dim, oil lamps burning on the walls. The air smelled of dust, preservatives, and paper.
The environment here was several grades better than the toilet upstairs, but still oppressive.
Sometimes Taiichi wondered if the Exchange's bosses were just cheapskates who wanted people to think the place was decent by putting the entrance in a public bathroom. After all, compared to the latrine, this dump almost felt high-class.
He shook his head, shoving the random thoughts aside, and focused on the hall.
Behind several long tables sat a few plain-clothed, sharp-faced clerks processing documents or wiping down weapons.
In the corners, a handful of shinobi waited for transactions or missions. All silent, eyes wary.
The moment Taiichi's oppressive figure appeared at the passageway entrance—corpse casually slung over one shoulder, still oozing blood—the entire base froze like someone hit pause.
The clerks who had been heads-down working shot to their feet almost by reflex.
The shinobi in the corners tensed instantly. Hands that had been resting on tables quietly slid toward hidden weapon hilts. Eyes full of wariness and a touch of fear.
Ryunosuke!
No wonder these people were so jumpy. His track record was just too damn glorious.
Twenty-two missions in three months. One every four days on average. Fastest record since the Exchange was founded.
More importantly, his explosive temper and habit of punching holes straight through people.
He had long since become the local nightmare everyone knew and dreaded.
Looking at the trembling bunch, Taiichi sighed inwardly. Evil people really do get their own evil counters.
Thinking back to when he'd first taken the name Ryunosuke and become a bounty hunter, the scene had been pretty similar.
Time rewound.
Back then he'd just finished his first bounty mission and brought the corpse in to turn it in.
He had scanned the place with open disgust, not bothering to hide his contempt for the vulture-like colleagues lurking in the shadows, staring at prey.
He walked straight to the bar, casually dumped the blood-dripping sack on the floor.
Thud.
The heavy sound made the skinny bartender wiping glasses behind the counter jump.
"Turning in mission. Number Ding-Chou 234."
Taiichi's tone was stiff, no small talk, pure command.
The bartender flipped through a greasy ledger with shaking hands, checked, nodded rapidly, and pointed toward the kitchen: "I-Inside. Old rules."
Taiichi bent, grabbed the sack, and turned toward the back kitchen passage.
His movements carried a rough, raw power. Every step made the floor tremble slightly.
Just as he was about to step through the kitchen curtain, a snide voice drifted from a shadowed corner: "Yo~ Look what we have here. Fresh meat? Here to bring warmth to the rest of us? Tsk tsk, that smell's pretty strong."
The speaker was a guy leaning against the wall, a Kirigakure missing-nin forehead protector tilted on his face.
Eyes vicious, a nasty little smirk on his lips.
Two equally unpleasant-looking buddies sat with him. All three reeked of blood and chakra—clearly old hands.
The remaining gazes in the hall immediately turned interested. The atmosphere of watching a good show filled the air.
Newbies—especially ones who looked like pure muscle—were always "cared for" by the veterans in the shinobi world.
Everyone knew the Exchange rules: only the body mattered, not the person. Whoever dropped the corpse at the counter got the bounty.
The process in between was full of "accidents" and "surprises."
Taiichi stopped walking but didn't turn around.
His broad back looked like an iron tower in the dim light.
The hall went dead silent. Only his heavy breathing could be heard.
"What? Cat got your tongue? Or did my reputation scare you stiff?"
The Mist missing-nin sneered, stood up, cracking his wrists deliberately with loud pops, and stepped closer.
"Heard you only took this job two days ago?
Pretty capable for a punk, huh?
Let big brothers here take a look. Is the real goods in that bag, or just some straw dummy you slapped together?
If it's fake and you're scamming the Exchange… well, that breaks the rules—"
He closed to within five steps of Taiichi's back, greedy eyes locked on the dripping sack. One hand already sliding toward the kunai at his waist.
His two buddies stood up in perfect sync, forming a loose encirclement.
In their eyes, this newcomer might be big, but he'd just taken the provocation without a word. Clearly a paper tiger with no guts.
Perfect chance to "educate" him and swipe the hard-earned bounty.
They'd done this plenty of times.
Right as the Mist missing-nin's hand was about to close on the kunai hilt, ready to ambush or just rob him—
Everything changed in a flash!
The massive, seemingly clumsy back that had been standing there a second ago suddenly exploded with terrifying, suffocating speed!
Calling it Body Flicker would be an understatement. It was more like teleportation!
Like a muffled thunderclap going off right there!
Taiichi didn't even turn around. Didn't strike any fancy fighting pose.
He simply sank his right shoulder the tiniest bit backward. Then that thick, corded, vein-popping right arm exploded forward like a siege crossbow that had been compressed to the absolute limit, shrieking as it tore through the air, driving straight back with zero warning!
The motion was fast to the extreme, simple to the extreme, and vicious to the extreme!
Aimed dead center at the Mist missing-nin's chest behind him!
Puchi!
A sickening, teeth-grinding sound of flesh and bone being punched clean through replaced any imagined clash of steel or explosion of ninjutsu.
Time seemed to freeze.
The air in the tavern solidified completely. The amusement, mockery, and anticipation on every onlooker's face locked in place, instantly replaced by boundless shock and pure disbelief.
The Mist missing-nin who had been smirking in triumph a second ago, ready to strike—his expression completely froze.
He looked down in a daze at the massive, hideous blood hole in his chest.
Taiichi's elbow had already pulled back out of it. Now there was just a hollow tunnel straight through him. Through that hole, he could even see the deathly pale, despairing face of his buddy behind him.
He hadn't even seen how the other guy struck. Agony and freezing cold swallowed every last scrap of consciousness.
Scarlet blood gushed out like a floodgate had opened.
"Ugh—"
A leaking-air sound escaped the Mist missing-nin's throat. The light in his eyes dimmed and snuffed out rapidly.
Clatter.
The kunai in his hand fell uselessly to the floor.
Only then did Taiichi slowly turn around. That face full of murderous aura showed not a single ripple of emotion—only a kind of "satisfaction" after finally releasing pent-up frustration (faked, of course).
He first glanced at the corpse he'd just one-punched to death on the floor, then swept his gaze over the other two who stood petrified like statues.
Those two were shaking like leaves. Meeting Taiichi's completely emotionless eyes—eyes that looked at them like they were already dead things—a chill shot from their soles straight up to the top of their skulls.
They didn't even dare reach for weapons. Barely dared to breathe, terrified that the tiniest movement would bring that killing god's thunder down on them.
Taiichi's gaze finally settled on the fresh corpse at his feet.
"Tch. Troublesome."
He muttered in pure irritation, voice still rough and low, but clear enough for everyone to hear.
He bent down, grabbed the Mist missing-nin's corpse by the ankle with one hand like he was dragging a dead dog, then together with his original bounty sack, slammed both of them hard onto the greasy, filthy wooden counter!
Bang.
The massive impact made the cheap glasses on the counter jump. The whole counter groaned and shook, instantly soaked in thick blood and filth.
"This bastard," Taiichi jabbed a finger at the fresh corpse he'd just made, voice suddenly rising with barely restrained rage and catharsis,
"definitely had a bounty on him too! Cash him in with the rest!
Fuck, I held it in so hard! The whole way here he was yapping nonstop.
If I wasn't worried this trash wouldn't take the bait, I'd have punched him to see his grandma ages ago! Wouldn't have let him run his damn mouth!"
He cursed and ranted while jabbing the counter hard with his finger, spit almost flying into the terrified bartender's face.
That crude, rage-filled tirade slammed into every witness's heart just as hard as that earth-shattering elbow strike.
Entrapment!
Everyone suddenly understood. A chill raced up their spines.
This new guy who looked like a short-tempered brute wasn't some meek rookie swallowing insults!
From the moment he walked in, that silence in the face of provocation had been him bottling pure fury, lying in wait!
He was waiting for some blind idiot to throw himself on the spear so he could righteously vent that explosive temper—and make a little extra cash on the side!
That fresh corpse was the perfect announcement!
Ryunosuke was not someone to mess with. He was a vicious beast wearing human skin, and he held grudges to the extreme!
The bartender's face was bloodless, hands shaking so hard he could barely hold the register. He nodded frantically: "Y-Yes yes! Lord Ryunosuke! Right away—right away I'll register it! Including this one—together!"
Taiichi gave a heavy snort, seemingly satisfied with the bartender's reaction, though the irritation still sat thick between his brows.
He didn't spare another glance for the two remaining Mist missing-nin shaking like quails or the deathly silent crowd around them.
He waved a hand like shooing flies: "Hurry the hell up! Stop dawdling! I don't have time to waste here!"
He took the bloodstained bounty pouch, weighed it once, and stuffed it into a worn but extremely sturdy ninja tool pouch at his waist.
The whole time, that thick, almost solid aura of rage and blood around him made everyone instinctively step back, clearing a wide path for him.
Watching Ryunosuke's fortress-like back disappear out the tavern door, the dead air finally filled with low whispers of survivors' relief.
"Lunatic—that guy's a complete lunatic!"
"One hit—just one hit—and that was the boss of the Venom Scorpion Three Brothers!"
"Ryunosuke—I'm remembering that name. From now on, if I see him, I'm walking the other way!"
Even now, Taiichi could almost still hear the noisy chatter from that first day behind him. And ever since that day, the name Ryunosuke had spread like wildfire through the bounty hunter circles.
Ignoring the fearful gazes of the people now, he walked straight to the counter and slammed the current corpse onto the tabletop like garbage.
"Number Ren-Yin 361. Delivery! Bounty—hurry up! I'm busy as hell!"