"A year's plan starts in spring, and a day's plan starts in the morning."
Unfortunately for Mizuki, the morning brought no good fortune—only more trouble. Babysitting and recovery work were hardly fitting for a former elite instructor in his twenties. Though tall and lean, the lasting effects of his injuries had left him looking far too sharp and alert, like a blade worn thin.
Having resolved to rest and let things go for once, Mizuki rose early and headed alone to the top of Hokage Rock. The weather was still cool before the summer heat rolled in, and he needed air—and distance from his responsibilities.
It was his first time truly taking in the view of Konohagakure from this height since arriving in this world.
From up here, it struck him just how vast the village truly was—more akin to a sprawling city than a simple shinobi settlement. Neatly planned in a fan-like shape, Konoha stretched from the carved visages of the Hokage out to the surrounding forests. There was an elegant balance to it: order without rigidity, tradition mixed with the creeping onset of modernity. Steam pipes and wooden buildings stood side by side with electric poles and concrete, giving the village a strange charm born from contradiction.
Compared to the industrial pollution of his past life, this place was clean and alive.
Mizuki let out a quiet sigh. A peaceful, thriving village. Who wouldn't want to protect it?
That peace didn't last long.
He noticed the presence even before the figure stepped into view—a familiar chakra signature, slick and composed, always laced with something deceitful.
"Yakushi Kabuto? What's he doing here? Looking for me?"
Mizuki narrowed his eyes.
Even though their paths had never directly clashed before, Mizuki had no illusions. Kabuto was dangerous—an S-class spy with Orochimaru's favor, skilled in infiltration, intelligence gathering, and medical ninjutsu. Mizuki didn't expect a fight… but he wasn't about to get caught off guard either.
"If it comes down to it, I'm not confident I can beat him in a direct fight—but I doubt he's here to kill me. Not unless I give him a reason."
At this point in time, Kabuto wasn't yet the monster who could stand toe-to-toe with the likes of Tsunade or Naruto. But he was still formidable. Mizuki couldn't help but scoff. Orochimaru always loved grooming potential tools.
He straightened as Kabuto stopped a few meters away, adjusting his glasses with that infuriatingly polite smile.
> "Mizuki-senpai," Kabuto said smoothly. "You've been hard to track down. I heard you were seriously injured—I'm relieved to see you up and about."
"Cut the crap, Kabuto," Mizuki replied flatly. "Did no one ever tell you your smile's too fake?"
Kabuto chuckled, unfazed. Mizuki knew how he looked at people—like they were puzzles to solve, or tools to be filed away until needed.
> "How Orochimaru ever took an interest in this second-rate traitor, I'll never understand," Kabuto mused privately, though his expression never faltered.
Still, he kept up the game.
> "Don't be like that, Senpai. I went to some trouble finding you."
"What do you want?"
Kabuto's smile sharpened.
> "It's a simple request. Lord Orochimaru has issued a mission: to eliminate Uchiha Sasuke. I'd like your assistance. A small diversion at Konoha Hospital to distract the ANBU is all I need."
Mizuki's expression darkened.
"And why would I help with that? Not my problem—and I gain nothing."
"Don't say that," Kabuto said lightly. "Orochimaru-sama hasn't forgotten you. If the mission succeeds, you might even receive more of his… gifts. Haven't you already tasted a bit of the power he offers?"
Mizuki scoffed, voice rising.
"I've had enough of his so-called power. I know exactly where I stand in Orochimaru's eyes. Don't come here spinning empty promises. If you want something from me, bring something real. And tell your master this—if he's not ready to pay the price, don't send snakes slithering into my life."
Kabuto's eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't like being refused.
> "So… you're planning to betray Orochimaru?" he asked, dropping the honorific.
"Don't act like I was ever loyal," Mizuki replied coldly. "I flirted with the idea of defecting, but Orochimaru never gave a damn. I was never one of his precious pawns—not really. So don't order me around like I'm one of your flunkies."
There was a beat of silence. The tension thickened.
Kabuto sighed, sliding a scalpel from his sleeve.
> "A shame. In that case, to prevent leaks… I'm afraid I can't let you leave."
Mizuki narrowed his eyes, hand drifting toward the giant Fūma Shuriken on his back.
"You're welcome to try. But I'm curious, Kabuto—how exactly do you plan to make someone disappear on top of Hokage Rock, in broad daylight?"
It was a bluff, partly. Mizuki didn't like this terrain. His true strengths—sealing techniques, illusions, traps, and summons—were better suited to wooded terrain or tight quarters. Here, he had limited options.
Still, he moved with purpose, drawing the oversized shuriken and keeping distance.
Kabuto lunged, scalpel in hand—fast and controlled, his movements surgical. But Mizuki didn't meet him head-on. He sidestepped, deflected, and retreated, playing for time. The scalpel could cut chakra pathways, and Kabuto's taijutsu was dangerously refined.
Mizuki had experience, though. He wasn't the strongest, but he was cunning—and hard to pin down when he didn't want to be.
The skirmish was quiet but tense. No flashy ninjutsu. No explosions. Just a series of sharp, efficient movements—two shinobi testing one another without drawing attention.
Neither was willing to escalate. Mizuki couldn't risk injury. Kabuto couldn't risk exposure. And so, the dance continued—until one or both decided the cost outweighed the gain.