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"You're a jōnin. Don't act like you're broke. If you want some medicine, just say so. I'm not going to deny it to you," Yoruha said, mildly annoyed.

Anko's face turned slightly red, like Yoruha had struck a nerve. She quickly tried to explain.

"I meant back when I was your age, not now! Come on, would I really be greedy for your pills?"

"Cut the crap," Yoruha shot her a look. "I'm just asking if you want some."

"I do!"

Anko instantly brightened and happily took the elixir from Yoruha's hand.

Suddenly, something flickered in her memory.

It was like a door creaked open deep in her mind—dusty, half-forgotten images rising to the surface.

"These pills are all made by me. Want one?"

"I want it!"

"Haha, if you want something, just say it. After all, I am your teacher."

Then—

"Ah…"

Anko let out a soft groan, her hand instinctively covering her neck. Her expression darkened.

Yoruha frowned. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"It's nothing. Just shut up and keep moving."

Her tone went cold and distant, confusing Yoruha.

What the hell just happened?

The conversation had been totally normal a second ago.

Women are weird. That was the only explanation.

Trying to break the silence, Yoruha picked up the pace and asked, "By the way, what's our actual mission this time?"

"What's it about?" Anko's voice was still gloomy. "Obviously, it's to let you little rookie see some blood."

She licked the corner of her mouth—eyes sharp and a little wild.

Yoruha sighed internally.

Seriously? What's with the dramatics?

Why did she always act like a horror movie villain?

No one told her she was auditioning for one.

Two hours later.

They arrived at the foot of a forested hill.

Yoruha activated his Byakugan and scanned the area.

There was a small stronghold at the mountain's peak—looked like a typical bandit camp.

A few moments later, a small green snake slithered out of the grass. Anko tapped its head gently with her finger.

"The intel matches. There's a bandit camp up top. Your mission is simple—wipe them out," she said calmly.

"Alright," Yoruha replied, just as calmly.

Anko turned to look at him, eyes narrowing slightly.

Something wasn't adding up.

Normally, a mission like this would be handled by the jōnin. The genin was just supposed to watch—maybe get in one safe strike just to build nerve.

But…

That conversation earlier had stirred something ugly inside her.

Something painful.

So she'd decided to spook him a little.

Let him get a taste of what real shinobi life meant.

Except…

He wasn't fazed at all.

Not even a flinch.

Didn't he understand? This was a kill mission. His first kill.

They headed up the mountain.

Just as she planned, Anko held back.

Yoruha didn't hesitate.

Byakugan active, blade drawn, he darted into the camp like a specter—silent, swift, surgical.

A one-man slaughter.

On the way up, he had already gotten the full backstory from Anko.

The mission had been initiated by villagers at the base of the mountain.

They'd been living under the shadow of this bandit gang for more than a decade.

The bandits were careful—they didn't drain the villagers dry all at once. That way, the people couldn't afford to hire help.

But the villagers were persistent.

They saved what little they could, slowly and secretly, for years. Dodging the bandits' patrols, hiding their silver. Always watching, always waiting for the right moment.

And now…

That moment had come.

So Yoruha didn't hold back.

To him, they weren't men. They were parasites. Bloodsuckers.

And he cut them down like the filth they were.

By the time the sun crested the ridge, the mountaintop was soaked in blood.

Yoruha stood among the bodies, calm and unflinching.

And for a moment… he felt it.

That overwhelming sense of control.

Of power.

Absolute dominance.

And to his surprise…

He liked it.