A Vicious Trap

Inside the Raikage's Office, abundant sunlight streamed through the towering windows, bathing the room in brightness and giving it an imposing air.

Darui was carrying a stack of documents, ready to report on his work, when his gaze happened to drift toward the Canopy Screen.

What he saw froze him in place. The documents nearly slipped from his hands.

"L-Lord Raikage! Your arm in the future?!"

The future Fourth Raikage A still had his unmistakably imposing build, with explosive strength beneath his bronze skin.

But his left arm, which should have been thick with muscle, had been replaced below the shoulder by a prosthetic that gleamed with cold metal.

At Darui's words, the Fourth Raikage looked up from his documents and followed his shocked gaze to his future self's metal left arm on the Canopy Screen.

There was no trace of gloom or regret on his face. He looked as though he had seen something utterly trivial.

"Probably a souvenir from the Fourth Shinobi World War. In a war on that scale, surviving at all would be lucky."

"Losing just one arm would be a minor injury by comparison. Nothing to worry about."

He said it so casually that losing an arm sounded like accidentally cutting a finger.

His bold, easygoing attitude deeply shook the still-young Darui.

The Fourth Raikage A seemed unwilling to dwell on the subject. Changing tack, he stroked the short beard on his chin with his flesh-and-blood hand. A smile appeared on his face, surprisingly gentle for such a hard man.

"Something else is more interesting. Who would've thought I'd become principal of the Ninja Academy after retiring?"

"Heh. Spending every day with a bunch of noisy brats doesn't sound like a bad way to spend my retirement. At least I wouldn't be like Ōnoki, running