Chapter 32

The enemy mercilessly drove a kunai into Saitama.

"Cough!" Blood surged from his throat, splattering across the enemy's face.

"!" Saitama roared as his Sharingan spun wildly, showing faint signs of breaking through.

Whoosh!

In that brief instant, Saitama felt as though an eternity had passed. His eyes stung, his vision abruptly sharpened, and new chakra surged through his body, keeping him conscious.

"Release!"

His hand seals were complete, and Saitama dissolved into a puff of white smoke.

"Substitution Technique!"

The wooden log in the enemy's arms was crushed to splinters.

"Whew—" Saitama flashed into view before the enemy, three tomoe slowly revolving in his eyes like a declaration of victory.

The evolution of his Sharingan had given him greater speed and perception.

Without hesitation, Saitama drew upon the newly awakened chakra.

Crackle!

Electricity raced through his leg muscles. Ignoring the consequences, he kicked off the ground and shot forward.

Whoosh!

His hand became a blade, wrapped in lightning as it shot straight at the enemy.

Slash!

Lightning cut across the leader's chest. Saitama flickered away, dodging the kunai as he closed in on the pockmarked ninja.

Having been pierced by Chidori earlier, the effects of the medicine had faded, and his movements had already slowed.

Slash!

Saitama's hand blade swept across his throat before he swiftly retreated.

Thud!

Another enemy fell. The Sharingan's evolution had not only enhanced his ocular power, but also allowed Saitama to surpass his former limits.

This speed was something his former two-tomoe Sharingan simply could not handle, but now—

His dynamic vision and explosive power meshed perfectly.

The last enemy was dealt with without suspense.

Saitama picked up a longsword and headed straight for Hayaharu Shimo's battlefield. Though his chakra was nearly depleted, he showed no fear.

"Hayaharu Shimo, this is the end of the road for you!" Sanjishi stood surrounded by samurai, looking coldly down at the man fighting alone.

"Pah!" Hayaharu Shimo spat out a mouthful of blood, despair filling his heart. Saitama's fate was unknown, and he had no way out.

"Generals of the Land of Fire never yield! Even if I fall, countless others will follow!" Hayaharu's voice was weak, but resolute.

Clap! Sanjishi sneered and clapped his hands.

"This has nothing to do with you!"

"Let me see how much backbone you have." Hayaharu Shimo caught sight of Sanjishi drawing a blade that gleamed with icy light.

His body was covered in wounds. Merely remaining upright had exhausted all his strength, much less resisting.

"—"

"!"

Before Sanjishi could strike, shrill screams suddenly erupted from the samurai in the rear ranks.

"Hm?" Sanjishi frowned and turned around, his pupils abruptly contracting.

"You're still alive?" He stared at Saitama, who was slaughtering his men as easily as chopping vegetables.

"You thought a few pieces of trash could take my life?" Saitama's clothes were soaked in blood, and there was a bloody hole in his back. Though he had crudely stopped the bleeding with electricity, blood still seeped out continuously, staining most of his back red.

"A dying struggle!" Though Sanjishi was no ninja, he could see the situation clearly.

"Kill him!"

He abruptly retreated, shoving the guards beside him toward Saitama.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Without using any chakra, Saitama fluidly cut down the enemies rushing at him with taijutsu alone.

"Saitama!"

Hayaharu Shimo's eyes flew open, overwhelmed by the wild joy of surviving a calamity.

"Stop him!" Sanjishi had not expected Saitama to still be capable of fighting. He roared as he leapt onto the carriage, intending to flee.

Though they knew death was certain, the remaining samurai still threw themselves at Saitama.

Taking advantage of the opening, Sanjishi's carriage sped away in a cloud of dust. Saitama no longer had the strength to pursue.

"Whew—" Saitama swept his gaze over the corpses littering the ground and let out a long breath.

The gap between ninja and samurai was an unbridgeable chasm. Even when the former were exhausted and the latter were elite, it remained impossible to cross.

"Can you hold on?" He walked toward Hayaharu Shimo, who had collapsed on the ground.

"I'm fine! Death won't take me yet!" Hayaharu grinned.

"My lord! My lord!" The mustached man suddenly crawled out from the rubble, crying as he supported Hayaharu by the shoulders.

"Useless fool! Why aren't you helping me up?" Hayaharu did not blame him—this frail strategist had never been capable of joining the fight.

"Yes! Yes!" The mustached man hurriedly supported his uninjured left arm.

"Hiss—" The movement tugged at Hayaharu's wounds, causing cold sweat to pour down his face.

"Are we still going to the capital?" Saitama asked.

"Of course! Once we reach the capital, how can I let Sanjishi do as he pleases?" Hayaharu gritted his teeth and steadied himself.

"Suit yourself. I need to rest." Saitama truly could not understand why Hayaharu Shimo insisted on heading to the capital after things had come this far. Did he still have some backup plan?

Whatever the other man was planning, Saitama first needed to recover. When his life was at stake, he had to keep things in his own hands.

He had the mustached man help Hayaharu Shimo to the carriage, where he treated his wounds simply. Then Saitama leaped onto the roof of the carriage and sat cross-legged, waiting for the unknown storm ahead.

Hayaharu Shimo ultimately entered the capital. On the day he entered the city, nearly a hundred samurai lined up and shouted, "Long live the General!" Their momentum was overwhelming.

Saitama watched coldly with his arms crossed, saying nothing. Hayaharu Shimo seemed to have anticipated this scene long ago. Calm and composed, he led the samurai into the city with imposing authority.

"My mission ends here." Standing atop the carriage, Saitama scanned the city walls and spotted a lone figure.

"Sanjishi!" Hayaharu Shimo noticed the man as well and blurted out his name.

"Hmph!" Sanjishi flicked his sleeve, turned away, and disappeared from the city wall with his attendants.

"Hahahaha!" Hayaharu Shimo laughed heartily, waving his lone arm like a commander returning in triumph. "Back to the manor!"

The mustached man drove the carriage through the city gates, surrounded by the samurai.

"Saitama, why not recover from your injuries before you leave? There are plenty of places worth visiting in the capital." Back at the manor, Hayaharu Shimo spoke to Saitama. He knew the fighting along the way had prevented Saitama's injuries from healing.

"Fine." Saitama agreed calmly. He truly was not in a condition to leave immediately.

Although he had no concrete proof, Danzo would never let the deaths of two Root ninjas go. His foremost priority was to return to peak condition while adapting to his newly evolved Sharingan.

Seeing Saitama agree, Hayaharu Shimo arranged lodging and instructed the servants to take good care of him before hurrying away. His struggle with Sanjishi was not over—since the man had failed to make a move on the road, their contest within the capital would surely be even more dangerous.

After settling in, Saitama summoned the manor's physician to treat his injuries again. Though he had sealed the main wounds with Lightning Release, professional treatment was ultimately more reliable.

"Your injuries are not serious, my lord. The wound on your back is deep, but due to your unusual constitution, it has already begun to scab over," the physician said after examining him carefully. "A simple bandage and several days of rest will be enough for a full recovery."

"Mm, thank you." Saitama gave a slight nod. He knew his own body well. His recovery ability far surpassed that of ordinary people, even rivaling that of certain special groups.

"I will prepare everything at once and return shortly to bandage you." The physician bowed deeply, his attitude humble. He knew that most ninja had strange temperaments and could fly into a rage at the slightest displeasure. Though Saitama seemed mild-mannered, caution was never wrong.

"Make it quick. I'd still like to go for a walk." Saitama waved him away.

"Yes! Yes!" The physician hastily picked up his medicine box and left at a brisk pace.

"Whew, the capital really is bustling. It's far grander than Konoha Village!" Once his bandaging was finished, Saitama wandered the streets alone. Though he had visited the capital while on missions, he had never had time to explore. Now that his mission was over, he could finally take it all in.

The scent of medicine still clung to him as he moved briskly through the crowd. The sword at his waist drew no attention—people carrying weapons were everywhere on the streets.

At sixteen, Saitama was already over one meter sixty tall, so he was not short among the crowd.

Izakaya, bathhouses, and establishments with suggestive lanterns hanging outside filled both sides of the street...

"Little brother, why not come in and sit for a while~?" Just as he was staring blankly at a sign, a coquettish voice sounded beside his ear. Remembering that he only looked mature but was actually eight years old, Saitama hurriedly fled the area.

"Grand auction of ninja relics! Don't miss it as you pass by!"

"Those with money, toss us a copper! Those without, give us a cheer! The great disappearing act is about to begin!"

The endless cries of vendors and dazzling array of goods left Saitama overwhelmed. With a bulging purse in hand, he strolled along leisurely, sampling all kinds of snacks—the capital's pastries truly had a distinctive flavor.

In the blink of an eye, his leave was nearly over. Saitama had no interest in the struggle between Hayaharu Shimo and Sanjishi, so after calculating the date, he prepared to return and report in.

"You're leaving already?" Hayaharu Shimo asked with a smile. His right arm was still suspended across his chest—his wound from that day had not yet healed. After all, not everyone had Saitama's astonishing recovery ability.

"I've rested enough. It's time to go back." Saitama nodded.

"Good. The remaining payment will be settled as soon as possible." Joy showed between Hayaharu Shimo's brows. He had clearly gained the upper hand in his struggle against Sanjishi.

Saitama packed his things and left without looking back, casually waving to Hayaharu Shimo as he departed.

"This mission ended earlier than expected. Go get some rest first." The Third Hokage held a pipe between his teeth, a smile appearing on his wrinkled face. Hayaharu Shimo's carrier pigeon had arrived several days earlier with news of the mission's progress.

Traveling back alone, Saitama moved swiftly and returned to the village in just two days.

"Understood." Saitama bowed and left the Hokage's office, bringing this mission to an end.

"The target has returned to the village."

"Do nothing for now. Handle the matters at hand first and cooperate with that lord's plan."

"Understood."

In a dark corner, a secret discussion was underway—one that Saitama knew nothing about.

"Saitama, you're back!"

Sen, glowing with the happiness of newlywed life, was guiding members of the guard squad at the training ground. He was the first to notice Saitama's arrival.

"Mm. This mission took more than half a month from start to finish."

"Now that you're back, get some proper rest. In a few days, we'll be leaving the village for another mission." Sen patted Saitama on the shoulder, but Saitama did not budge.

"Understood." Saitama already knew about the upcoming mission to the border of the Land of Water.

"Saitama!" "Saitama!"

The other guard squad members greeted him as well, including Shisui and Nagisa. Several members of the squad had already applied to head for the front lines.

"What's wrong with Shisui?" Noticing Shisui's low spirits, Saitama asked.

"The captain didn't approve his application to go to the front lines," Nagisa explained.

"Oh?" Saitama was slightly puzzled. Given Shisui's strength, he should not have been refused.

"My father suggested it to the captain." Shisui walked to the edge of the training ground and spoke in a low voice.

"I see." Saitama understood. Shisui's father was merely an ordinary Chunin, so it was only natural that he would make such arrangements to protect his son.

Saitama understood that it was meant as protection, though that protection left Shisui deeply disappointed.

"The battlefield is completely different from ordinary missions," Saitama said to the two beside him. "There are far more factors to consider there. Even Chunin are only slightly stronger cannon fodder on the battlefield. A war's outcome has never been decided by one or two people." Nagisa and Shisui both fell silent upon hearing this.

"Shisui, want to trade a few moves?" Saitama gently nudged the boy beside him with his elbow.

"Just what I wanted!" Blood-red light spun in Shisui's eyes, his fighting spirit rising. He had long wanted to spar with Saitama, but had never found a suitable opportunity.

"Nagisa, step back a little." Saitama tilted his head in indication.

"All right." Uchiha Nagisa shrugged and retreated to the edge of the training ground. Sen stood there with his arms crossed, wearing an amused smile.

"Who do you think will win?" Sen raised his chin toward Nagisa as he approached.

"Just stand and watch." Nagisa curled his lip.

"I'm asking who you're betting on." Sen rolled his eyes.

"Obviously Saitama. Shisui may have awakened his Sharingan, but he's still far from ready."

"True." Sen scratched his head. For a moment, he had actually imagined Shisui pulling off an upset. He had been thinking too much.

"Let me see how much you've improved." Saitama brushed his fingertips over the hilt of his sword. Air currents swirled around him, stirring up tiny vortices of dust.

"I won't disappoint you." Shisui opened his eyes wide, two tomoe slowly revolving within his scarlet gaze.

His sharp gaze was like an unsheathed blade. He had waited a long time for this duel.