Konoha Training Ground. Moonlight spilled through the gaps between the wooden posts in streaks, like a fence.
Ringo sat cross-legged in the center of the training ground, his card slots fully open. The tree-like arrangement glowed under the moonlight, not to show off—it was an inspection. He checked the position of every fragment, checked whether the roots of the tree were firmly planted, checked whether Orochimaru's remote scan had left any traces. He checked ten times. There were none. Toad Camouflage was active, a transparent veil covering the card slots like mist, turning the tree-like arrangement into a blurred shadow. Orochimaru could only see Ringo, an ordinary orphan—no steam, no card slots, no First Hokage's Necklace. What could not be seen was more dangerous than what could. Because if it could not be seen, no one knew when it might suddenly appear.
He opened his eyes and took a fragment from his chest. It was neither white nor purple, but purple layered with gray. Gray was not a color. It was a mood. On the day of Neji's finals, he had stood beneath the moonlight and said, "A person's fate is decided at birth," only for Naruto to shatter it with one punch. Naruto had not shattered his defenses. He had shattered those words. Neji picked those words back up, not to discard them, but to understand them anew. Once he did, those words changed from shackles into respect.
Respect was not given. It was earned. Naruto had defeated Neji, and Neji had defeated Naruto as well. Naruto won the match, while Neji won in his heart. Only after his heart lost did he truly win. This fragment had dropped at that moment. It was not a battle drop, but an understanding drop. Understanding someone who had never been understood,