Chapter 150: Kyohiko, You Teach Asuma

In the dimly lit dungeons of the ANBU headquarters, Kazuma leaned against the corner of his cell, his eyes hollow and vacant. For the past month, he had refused to speak—but under the Yamanaka clan’s mind techniques, no secret could remain hidden. Whether he wanted to or not, they had extracted everything from him. Creak— The cell door swung open. Kazuma lifted his head, a fleeting glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes before they dimmed once more. The man before him looked familiar—likely one of the ANBU captains. He wanted to live. But... Would Konoha’s ANBU ever recruit someone like him? He remained motionless against the wall. "Who said he wanted to die? Clearly, he still clings to life." Kyohiko crouched down in front of him. For the past month, he hadn’t personally visited Kazuma, but the Yamanaka clan had been sifting through his memories. Much of it was fragmented, difficult to piece together—but the broad strokes were clear. Kazuma didn’t know much. Aside from his own abilities, he held little value. So, the consensus from Yamanaka Inoichi and Yakushi Nono was simple: Kill him. Keeping him alive just wastes resources. But Kyohiko thought differently. Why not give him a chance? Kazuma glared at him, though inwardly, he was stunned. He recognized that voice. Ryoho Kyohiko. "So... he’s the ANBU commander?" "What do you want?" Kazuma asked warily. Kyohiko smiled. "Nothing much. Just a chat." "We have nothing to talk about." Kazuma lowered his head. "Then let me ask you this—do you want to live?" Kazuma froze, his eyes snapping back to Kyohiko. What is he playing at? Confusion flickered in his gaze. "Truthfully, I admire you," Kyohiko continued. "From what I’ve gathered, your old teacher didn’t teach you much. Most of your techniques, your skills—you developed them yourself." "For a half-rogue shinobi, your talent is remarkable." The praise only deepened Kazuma’s suspicion. Is he trying to recruit me? But... did he even have that kind of value? After a moment of silence, Kazuma cut to the chase. "You want to recruit me?" "Danzo treated you as expendable. You owe him no loyalty. And as for the curse mark on your tongue—I don’t need your intel." Kyohiko stood, looking down at him. "Your mind has value to me. If you agree, I’ll spare your life—but from now on, you’ll live within the ANBU." "You want me for research?" Kazuma finally understood. He was stunned. Unlike Danzo, he had no ties to Konoha. If anything, he was an enemy. Yet Kyohiko was willing to recruit him? To trust him? "Aren’t you afraid I’ll escape?" "No. Because the one guarding you is someone you’d never dare defy." Kyohiko smirked. Kazuma blinked—then realization struck. "Orochimaru?" "Correct. Your role will be assisting him and me. There will be restrictions, of course—but prove your loyalty to Konoha, and I won’t hesitate to grant you freedom." Kyohiko paused, then added, "Think of it as trading your skills and labor for your life and liberty." Dead men had no value. And in times like these, wasting a shinobi of Kazuma’s talent would be foolish. Kazuma was speechless. Then, he swallowed hard. Kyohiko’s terms weren’t generous—in fact, they were harsh. But because of that, he believed they were genuine. Still... "I won’t be an experiment subject, right?" he asked cautiously. Kyohiko shook his head. "If I wanted you for that, would I bother asking?" Fair point. Kazuma exhaled, his doubts fading. "I accept." "Good." Kyohiko placed a hand on his shoulder. A flash of light— And suddenly, Kazuma found himself standing in a forest. The sunlight filtering through the trees was blinding compared to the dungeon’s darkness. He squinted, adjusting— Then, a voice sent chills down his spine. "Kyohiko, I assume you didn’t bring him here as test material?" Kazuma’s entire body locked up. The man before him wore a smile, but the killing intent radiating from him was suffocating. This is Orochimaru? He’s... even more terrifying than Danzo! Kazuma didn’t dare move. Kyohiko replied, "His skills are average, but his mind is sharp. Consider him an assistant." "An assistant?" Orochimaru chuckled, his murderous aura receding. "Pity. I was hoping for a test subject—I’ve hit a bottleneck in my research." Still, better than nothing. With a gesture, Orochimaru signaled for Kyohiko to leave him. As Kyohiko vanished in a Body Flicker, a system notification chimed in his mind— But the reward was underwhelming. Wind Release: Beast Wave Palm. Mastery came instantly, but the technique itself wasn’t particularly useful. Just another wind-style jutsu to add to his arsenal. After exchanging a few more words, Kyohiko teleported away. Orochimaru turned to Kazuma, a faint smile curling his lips. "From now on, you’re my assistant. But first... a gift." "Wha—" Before Kazuma could react, Orochimaru’s form blurred— A sharp pain exploded in his neck as something cold and foreign forced its way into his flesh. Agony. A scream tore through the forest. Orochimaru withdrew, his smirk widening. "Consider it a... welcoming present." On Kazuma’s neck, a seal flickered to life—different from a curse mark. Trembling, Kazuma touched the raised flesh beneath the seal. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it—a dormant horror waiting to awaken. "This seal..." "My latest creation," Orochimaru mused. "Harmless for now—in fact, it’ll slowly enhance your physique by releasing traces of life energy. The catch? Without my intervention, it periodically deactivates." His grin turned predatory. "Then you’ll experience its true effects." "Of course, you’re free to try escaping when I’m not around. Let’s see if anyone else can reseal it for you." Kazuma’s blood ran cold. So this is why Kyohiko was so confident. They knew he wouldn’t dare run. Clenching his fists, Kazuma bowed his head. "Then... what do you want me to do?" Orochimaru’s eyes gleamed. "Tend to the monkeys in this forest. Do well, and I might reward you." --- Whoosh! The rotating wind blade howled through the air, slicing through countless branches and leaving deep gashes in the tree trunks. "Not bad power output, and the chakra cost is manageable." "Passable." Kyohiko lowered his hand. The Beast Wave Palm technique, now at mastery level, had exceeded his expectations—its wind-style applications were surprisingly potent. Not a bad reward, all things considered. Still... If he had trained this jutsu himself, given his absurdly solid foundation, it would’ve taken him maybe ten days. A week, tops. He dispersed his chakra. Just then— "If Asuma finds out you’ve mastered wind-style techniques to this degree, he’s going to sulk again." Behind him, Shinnosuke approached at a leisurely pace. Kyohiko chuckled. "Nah. He’s not that petty. There’s no real grudge between us—just youthful rivalry." Sarutobi Shinnosuke nodded in agreement, then added with startling sincerity: "You understand him better than my father does." "The Third Hokage, huh... Yeah, that tracks." Kyohiko considered it and found himself agreeing wholeheartedly. He studied Shinnosuke for a moment. "Senpai, the monkey and ape clans have adapted well to the Forest of Death. They’re putting down roots here. So now, I’d like to ask for your help—and the Enma clan’s." "No problem. I’ll do what I can. But I also have a request." Kyohiko gestured for him to continue. Shinnosuke cut straight to the point. "Train Asuma." "...Huh?" Kyohiko blinked, momentarily thrown. Then, after a brief pause, comprehension dawned. "You mean his reflexes?" "Exactly." Shinnosuke outlined Asuma’s situation. Asuma’s affinity was wind-style. Shinnosuke, on the other hand, specialized in earth-style—speed and wind techniques weren’t his forte. In the village, the obvious experts in those areas were Namikaze Minato and Kyohiko. But there was a key difference between the two. Minato’s speed and reflexes were largely innate. Plus, he lacked the patience (and skill) for teaching. Kyohiko, though... "Compared to Minato, me, even my father or Jiraiya-sama—you have a real talent for instruction. I trust your methods." Shinnosuke’s tone was firm. Under Kyohiko’s influence, Kakashi had grown at a terrifying rate. Might Gai, once a one-trick pony with only taijutsu to his name, now wielded lightning-style techniques and weapons with growing proficiency. At this rate, Gai’s promotion to jōnin was inevitable. And then there were Shiranui Genma, Tatami Iwashi, and the others—their progress spoke for itself. The results were undeniable. "I can’t make any promises. And I’m swamped right now—I’ve got a surgery scheduled for this afternoon." "That’s fine." Shinnosuke nodded. Deal sealed. "As for the ape and monkey clans—I’ll handle them. And if the ANBU ever need backup, consider me available." "Then consider yourself on the roster. Who knows when we’ll need a part-timer? Besides, your wife’s already in the ANBU." Kyohiko didn’t bother with formalities. Shinnosuke laughed dryly but didn’t refuse—though he made it clear he wouldn’t be taking on any major ANBU duties. He was done with that life. --- Konoha Hospital – Tsunade’s Office A man in his thirties glanced nervously at the door before speaking in a hushed voice. "Over the past month, Kyohiko’s acupuncture and throat treatments have shown real results. Hayate’s lungs and throat have improved significantly—his overall health is better. So I was thinking..." "Maybe we could stick with gradual treatment for now?" Gekkō Buraku’s eyes brimmed with hope—and pleading. As a medic, Tsunade had heard every variation of desperate appeals (including her own). But she had a duty to her patients. After a heavy silence, she sighed. "Buraku, Kyohiko’s treatments can only suppress the symptoms—delay the deterioration. They can’t cure Hayate’s condition. Unless you’re content with him living as a civilian..." She left the rest unspoken. Over the past weeks, the hospital had run extensive tests. One conclusion was clear: Transplants between blood relatives had drastically lower rejection risks. Which meant... Partial lung transplantation was now a viable option. In contrast, acupuncture could never fully heal Hayate. And as Konoha’s rising prodigy, Kyohiko’s time was invaluable—he couldn’t spend it on perpetual treatments. The cost alone would bankrupt the Gekkō clan over time. Buraku fell silent. Then— "Let’s do the surgery. If my lungs aren’t compatible, use yours. One of us will match. And even after the transplant, we’ll live." At worst, they’d retire as shinobi. The voice came from the doorway—Hayate’s mother, Buraku’s wife. The couple exchanged a glance, then nodded. "We’ll proceed with the operation." They couldn’t sacrifice their son. Tsunade opened her mouth to respond—then sensed Kyohiko’s chakra approaching. She stood abruptly. "Rest for now. I need to discuss the procedure with Kyohiko—finalize the optimal approach." "Thank you!" Buraku bowed deeply. As they stepped out, they nearly collided with Kyohiko in the hallway. Another round of tearful gratitude and requests followed. Kyohiko reassured them patiently before entering. No words were needed between him and Tsunade—the weight of the situation hung heavy. After a brief silence, they began reviewing the surgical plan. Kyohiko’s role was primarily supportive—his expertise lay elsewhere. But Tsunade had insisted on his involvement for two reasons: His unparalleled chakra control. And those unnervingly steady hands. This was a dual-patient procedure—the first of its kind. There was no room for error. Minutes later, Gekkō Hayate and his mother were wheeled into the operating room on stretchers. "Begin." Tsunade took a steadying breath. Nonō and Kurenai assisted— (Honestly, Utatane Koharu and the other elders had tried to muscle in, but Tsunade’s legendary temper sent them packing.) The procedures ran simultaneously. Kyohiko formed a hand seal—a chakra scalpel materialized between his palms. One precise incision. The chest cavity opened. Prior examinations had pinpointed the affected areas, so once inside— Kyohiko located the target tissue without hesitation. Another cut. Removal. Tsunade, slightly slower, wasn’t lagging due to incompetence (or her famed hemophobia). She’d been bracing for Kyohiko’s inexperience. But her concern proved unnecessary. His hands were too precise. Too practiced. Relieved, Tsunade focused on excising the congenital defects from Hayate’s lungs. Replace these sections, and he’d live as a normal shinobi— Even if it cost his mother her ninja career. The operating room fell into focused silence. At one point, Kurenai leaned in, dabbing sweat from Kyohiko’s brow while others maintained sterility barriers and monitored equipment. Through coordinated effort, the wounds in both patients were sealed. Kurenai gazed at Kyohiko, admiration shining in her eyes. Though he’d observed and assisted in prior surgeries, this was his first time leading a procedure—and his performance had been flawless. Incredible... Tsunade exhaled. "Success. Now we monitor for rejection."