Chapter 194: Ch-194 Team Kakashi and Asuma joint mission.
Asuma stepped forward, his voice steady, but tinged with emotion. "Chiriku and I served together as members of the Twelve Guardian Ninja. During that time, we developed a close bond—he was not just a comrade, but a true friend."
He paused briefly, gathering his thoughts before continuing.
"For reasons I won’t get into now, both of us eventually left the group. I returned to Konoha and resumed my duties as a Jōnin leader. Chiriku, on the other hand, went back to the Fire Temple, where he eventually became the head monk. Since we once served as the Daimyō’s guards, bounties were placed on our heads in the black market. Chiriku’s was valued at 30 million ryō. Mine..." he gave a bitter chuckle, "is 35 million."
He looked around at the younger shinobi in the room. "Most likely, Kakuzu targeted Chiriku for his bounty. According to what we know about the Akatsuki, Kakuzu is obsessed with money. He hunts shinobi like a bounty hunter, and Chiriku became his latest prize."
Both Tsunade and Kakashi nodded gravely. They were already aware of most of the background, but it was important for the others—especially the younger members—to understand just how dangerous this mission would be, and what it truly meant.
Many of the new generation present had only a vague understanding of the Twelve Guardian Ninja. While Asuma had never made a show of his past, the revelation carried weight. For some, it added new layers of respect. For others, it underscored the seriousness of the threat they now faced.
Tsunade straightened behind her desk, her voice sharp but composed. "Now you all understand the gravity of this mission. The Akatsuki must be dealt with. We cannot allow them to keep moving freely within our territory—especially not now, when their activity is increasing."
She paused for a moment before delivering her final command. "Both teams—prepare and depart immediately."
The room cleared quickly, tension rising in silent waves. Everyone understood what was at stake.
As they made their way out, one thing was impossible to ignore—Ino had not smiled once. Her expression was cold, unreadable. She kept to herself, speaking only when necessary, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotion buried beneath a calm surface.
Her once-lively personality, the brightness that defined her presence, seemed to have disappeared since Inoiki’s death. Shikamaru and Choji, too, carried the weight of loss, but compared to Ino, they were holding up better. At least outwardly.
After an hour of preparation, both Team Asuma and Team Kakashi assembled at the village gates. Their equipment was in order. Their resolve was firm.
Tsunade herself had come to see them off. She stood quietly, arms behind her back as she watched the two squads prepare to leave. She had wanted to assign Jiraiya to this mission—his strength and experience would have provided a crucial advantage—but he was already far from the village. He had followed a lead regarding one of the Akatsuki’s suspected hideouts, pursuing it alone. With more members of the organization surfacing lately, their tracks were no longer as invisible as before.
Still, the intelligence was fragmentary, and time was short.
Tsunade exhaled deeply, her eyes fixed on the teams disappearing into the distance.
"I just hope everything goes fine," she thought, the wind brushing her hair as she turned away from the gate, burdened with more worry than she would ever admit aloud.
––––
Five days earlier, deep within the Land of Grass, Inoiki’s eyes slowly fluttered open.
The first thing he saw was an unfamiliar ceiling—wooden, old, patched together with what looked like dried leaves and thatch. Blinking against the dim light, he tried to sit up, but a sharp pain lanced through his leg, forcing a wince. He looked down and saw that his leg had been crudely splinted. Strips of cloth—likely torn fabric—were wrapped tightly around his thigh and shin, holding thin wooden sticks in place to keep the limb stable.
It was a rough job, but someone had tended to him.
Someone had saved him.
Inoiki scanned the room. No—this wasn’t a room. It was more like a hut, small and makeshift, with crude furniture and walls patched with mud and reeds. Wherever he was, it wasn’t a hospital, and certainly not a shinobi village.
He closed his eyes and focused inward, sensing the current state of his body. His injuries, especially his legs, had partially healed—no doubt due to his own efforts before he lost consciousness. But more time had clearly passed since then. He couldn’t say exactly how long, but judging by the degree of healing, it had been at least several days.
His chakra reserves, to his surprise, had not only recovered fully—they had grown. He could feel it pulsing through him, stronger than before. At a rough estimate, he’d regained an additional 30% of his previous chakra capacity.
So that’s why I was unconscious for so long... my body must’ve been prioritizing chakra regeneration and adaptation, he thought. It was just a theory, but it fit the facts as he knew them.
Wasting no more time, Inoiki placed his hand over his leg and activated his psychokinesis. Focusing his will, he began to accelerate the healing process, gently guiding his own tissues and bones into alignment. Under the careful manipulation of his power, the pain gradually faded as the injury knit itself back together.
Minutes later, he peeled away the makeshift bandages, revealing a perfectly restored leg. The skin was smooth, unmarred—no sign of the earlier damage remained. With a breath of relief, he braced his palms against the floor and slowly shifted, preparing to stand.
But the moment he tried to move his leg, he froze.
Nothing happened.
He tried again, more forcefully—nothing.
Inoiki’s heart dropped.
His voice broke out in panic. "What the hell? I can feel the pain. I haven’t lost sensation—so why can’t I move my leg?"
His breathing quickened as his mind raced for answers. The leg was healed. Nerves intact. No sign of paralysis. Yet it wouldn’t respond to his commands.
Inoiki furrowed his brows and focused his attention downward. He tried to move his toes—just a twitch, anything. But they remained still, as lifeless as stone.
A chill crept up his spine.
No response. Not even in the smallest muscles. This... this isn’t normal.
His mind raced through the possibilities, narrowing in on one likely cause. It must be my spine, he thought grimly. During the battle with Pain, I hastily healed my upper body just enough to keep fighting. If one of the nerves or veins in my spinal column was damaged or misaligned, it could’ve gone unnoticed in the rush. Now it might be impeding my motor signals.
He clenched his fists.
Only a skilled medical ninja could diagnose this properly. If it’s what I think it is, then... I’ll need Lady Tsunade to examine me. Only she can fix something this delicate.
Forcing himself to calm down, he took a long breath, steadying the tremble that threatened to rise in his voice. Then he called out, "Is anyone there? Hello?"
There was a pause.
Then, hurried footsteps.
A young boy—perhaps ten or eleven years old—pushed aside the reed curtain and stepped inside the hut. His eyes widened the moment he saw Inoiki upright and conscious, the bandages tossed aside.
"Grandpa! He woke up!" the boy cried, before turning and bolting back out the door, his voice trailing behind him.
Moments later, an older man entered the hut, his pace brisk but measured. He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties—his back slightly hunched, his skin weathered by time and labor. But his eyes were sharp, assessing Inoiki with a careful gaze.
"You’re awake," the old man said, his voice calm but surprised.
Inoiki gave a respectful nod and, even while sitting, bowed his head slightly. "Thank you, sir. You saved me... gave me shelter. I owe you my life."
The old man’s eyes drifted down to Inoiki’s leg, and his brows lifted in astonishment. "Your leg... it’s healed."
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