Naruto : Infinite Buff

The dim, flickering light overhead barely clung to life, casting long shadows that twisted and flickered like specters in the stale air. The sound of water dripping from the cracked toilet was slow—deliberate—each drop a muted echo that seemed to amplify in the heavy silence, punctuating the stillness of the cell.

The air was thick. Suffocating. Like the room itself had forgotten what it was like to breathe, every inhale a labor, every exhale a struggle. It clung to the skin, a wet, oppressive weight that didn't let go.

Ryojin sprawled across the cot, his body taking up more space than the narrow bed allowed. His red, spiky hair, a wild and untamed mess, framed his face like a burning flame, chaotic and untouchable. It was as though his very presence had warped the space around him, the confines of the cell now an afterthought. His body lay in defiance of everything—of the hardened bed, the grim walls, the smallness of his world.

Despite the discomfort, he looked at ease—almost as if he were part of the room itself, as if he had been here for so long that nothing could touch him. His eyes, half-lidded, scanned the ceiling with a boredom that radiated an unsettling calm.

It was the expression on his face that spoke the loudest. It was the kind of look that said I own this place. The walls, the bars, the cold, the damp—they could all collapse, and it wouldn't make a difference. The world could burn down around him, and he wouldn't even blink.

His golden eyes flickered open lazily, squinting against the harsh light that stung his vision. His mind was foggy with sleep, but one thing was clear: he didn't want to get up. Not yet.

"Ryo! Get up!"

The door creaked open. Footsteps. Heavy, slow, but deliberate. Joji's silhouette loomed in the doorway—tall, built, eyes as sharp as a blade. His presence filled the space, cold and commanding. No warmth, no softness. He was all business.

Ryojin knew the man well enough to hear the edge behind the command.

Ryojin groaned, barely lifting his head from the pillow. He let out a muffled laugh, half sarcastic, half annoyed. "What the fuck man, you got some money??" he grumbled. His voice was thick with sleep, rough from too many nights spent in the same shitty bed.

Joji didn't answer. His gaze stayed locked on Ryojin. The man wasn't here to entertain his games.

Ryojin rolled over, face buried in the pillow. "Shut up, I'm tryin' to sleep. You want somethin' done, go get someone else." His voice was low, irritated, but not without that edge of lazy defiance.

Joji's expression remained unreadable. He stepped closer to the bed, boots thudding against the cold stone floor, each step deliberate. "You've been released. But if you're not up in the next few seconds, I'll drag your ass out myself."

Ryojin cracked open one golden eye, barely glancing at Joji, a low, mocking grin pulling at the corner of his lips. "Heh, drag me? What are you gonna do, put me in a headlock?" He sighed, stretching slowly, as if it was a hassle just to acknowledge Joji's existence. "Only way I'm gettin' up is if there's someone strong to kill. Got any of those, or are you just wasting my time?"

Joji's gaze didn't waver. He was used to Ryojin's attitude. But this wasn't just some lazy day. "You've always been strong, Ryo. But your head's another story."

Ryojin lifted his head slightly, his grin widening into something darker. He propped himself up with one elbow, giving Joji a half-lidded, lazy stare. "My head's fine. Just fine. But if you're gonna keep makin' me stand up, I want to know if there's money involved. That's the only thing worth getting outta bed for."

Joji stepped closer, his eyes cold but calculating. "If you want money, you'll get your share. After the job's done. But first... you need to get up."

Ryojin chuckled darkly, shifting until he was sitting up fully. "You want me up? You better tell me I'm gonna get paid. I don't do shit for free." His golden eyes glinted with the kind of hunger only money could satisfy. "What's the job? Who's the poor bastard that's paying for their life?"

Joji didn't hesitate, his voice still stone-cold. "He killed the trio."

Ryojin's smirk faltered for a split second, but only for a moment. The words landed heavier than Joji probably realized. "The trio, huh?" he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing just slightly. Then, he grinned, that predatory gleam in his gaze. "Now that gets my attention''

Ryo's eyes snapped to attention, the amusement draining from his face as the words settled in. The trio. The trio who led thirty men, each of them hardened, trained, and dangerous. If someone had taken them down, that was no ordinary opponent.

"Wait," Ryo muttered, sitting up straighter, his golden eyes now fully alert. "The trio? The ones who led thirty idiots into the dirt?" His voice sharpened. The trio had been something else—highly respected, feared by many. For someone to have killed them...

"Yes," Joji confirmed, his voice flat, emotionless. "He killed the trio. And now we've been assigned to eliminate him."

Ryo's mouth twisted into a grin. "Damn, that's impressive. Killed all three of them... Those guys were no slouches." He scoffed, leaning back against the wall as if he were the one who'd done the killing. "Is he a jonin or something? Some high-ranking shinobi from the village?"

Joji's expression didn't change. "No. Just an orphan included in the test."

Ryo's brow furrowed, disbelief flashing across his face. "What the fuck? Seriously? A goddamn orphan? Is this some kind of joke?"

The revelation caught him off guard. Ryo wasn't exactly a fan of following the rules or respecting authority, but he knew what the test meant. The weaker ones were culled. They didn't make it. They were trash before the last training. But this kid, an orphan, had done something that Ryo would've considered nearly impossible. The kid had killed the trio. It didn't sit right with him.

"No way," Ryo continued, his voice growing louder, more incredulous. "How the hell does an orphan, who's supposed to be nothing but trash, take out the trio?" His voice was practically a growl now, frustration building.

Joji's face was a mask. "This one's different. Either by luck or power, it doesn't matter." His words were blunt, direct. "We've been given the mission to eliminate him. Whether you like it or not, that's the task at hand."

"Fucking hell," Ryo cursed under his breath. His eyes narrowed, his thoughts churning. "Just a brat, huh?" He scoffed again, but there was a sharpness to his tone now. This brat was no joke, not if he had the skill to kill the trio.

Chains of laziness snapping from him like they were never there. His body shifted, his movements smooth and deadly, as though he had been waiting for something like this to spark him into action. The thrill of it, the adrenaline rising, his blood quickening in his veins. This was what he lived for—the fight, the challenge.

"Alright, alright," Ryo grinned like a predator finally set free. "If he's strong, I'll get up. But you'd better make sure this kid's worth my time. I'm not wasting energy on some weakling."

Ryojin stood slowly, his movements languid and relaxed. He stretched again, the muscles in his arms rolling beneath his skin. "Good. Now we're talkin'. A job worth my time." His grin returned, sharper now, tinged with excitement. "And I'm guessin' it'll pay well, right? "

Joji's voice didn't change, still as cold and commanding as ever. "You'll get what you're owed. Now get your gear."

Ryojin gave him a lazy salute. "Guess I'll get moving then, won't I?" He rolled his shoulders and grabbed his jacket, his grin never leaving his face. "Let's go make some money"

"im in" he said, his voice now thick with anticipation. "Let's get this over with."

Joji didn't reply. He didn't have to. He knew Ryo's type well enough. The man lived for this shit—the chaos, money and the violence. It wasn't enough for Ryo to follow orders; he needed a good fight to satisfy the hunger inside him.

"The one who killed them. That's your target."

Finally, he pulled a small piece of paper from his jacket, unfolding it with deliberate precision. The light from the surrounding trees flickered weakly, enough to reveal a detailed sketch of a man.

He held it up, letting Ryojin get a good look.

The first sketch was of a man. The long black hair, the cold, dark eyes, the sharp features that spoke of someone who had seen too much of the world's cruelty. Ryojin's eyes flickered over the sketch, his golden gaze narrowing. He'd seen that face before, but it took him a moment to place it.

A slow grin spread across Ryojin's face as recognition finally clicked. "I know this guy," he muttered, . "Wasn't expecting him to be in the middle of this mess."

Joji didn't respond, his expression still unreadable, but his eyes never left Ryojin. He flipped the paper over, revealing another sketch.

This one was of a woman .

The black hair with a hint of red, the crimson eyes, and the soft, delicate features that somehow still held an air of strength. There was something about her that made Ryojin pause for a moment, the image burning into his memory.

Ryojin leaned in closer, staring at the picture, his expression slightly more serious now, though the grin didn't leave his face. "Her... I've met her too. Haven't I?" His voice was low, almost thoughtful. The connection was there, but it didn't click just yet.

He looked back at Joji, his eyes now glinting with something sharper. "You want me to take them both out?"

Joji turned, his back to Ryo as he moved toward the door. "Let's go," he said, tone even. But before he could leave, Ryo's voice cut through the air again.

"Jo."

Joji paused, a slight tension in his shoulders, before turning to face Ryo, his brow furrowing. "What?"

Ryo's grin was wide, predatory, like a shark circling its prey. "Jo mama."

The words hung in the air for a moment, a beat of silence that stretched unnaturally long. Joji stood frozen, his expression shifting from confusion to something darker. For a split second, the world seemed to stop. Then, like a dam breaking, Joji snapped.

"Motherfucker!" Joji snarled, his hand moving in a blur, a fist aimed directly at Ryo's face.

But Ryo was already laughing, loud and unapologetic, dodging the punch with ease. His laughter filled the cell, echoing off the stone walls like the sound of a predator at play. "Ahh, you should've seen your face, Jo! That was priceless!"

Joji stood there for a moment, fists clenched, breath coming in short, angry bursts. But he didn't move toward Ryo again. Instead, he just turned on his heel, exhaling sharply. The mission was important. But some things, he realized, couldn't be helped with Ryo.

With a final grunt of frustration, Joji stormed out of the cell, and Ryo followed, his grin never fading, his golden eyes gleaming with anticipation.

The mission was waiting, but first—there was fun to be have.