Naruto : Infinite Buff

The night was heavy, pressing in on him like it wanted to crush the life out of everything. Ryojin didn't care. It wasn't the cold that bothered him, or the stillness in the air. What bothered him was the feeling that something was about to go down. Something he couldn't yet put his finger on. He was always itching for a fight, but right now, he could sense something was off. The air was thick, and the camp around him felt... wrong.

His boots crunched against the dirt as he walked, taking slow, deliberate steps. His golden eyes flicked over the camp. The orphans were quieter than usual, but he wasn't paying attention to their murmurs. He didn't give a damn about their petty little lives or their pointless plans.

What was bugging him, though, was the silence. They were always noisy, running around like fools, laughing and screaming about nonsense. Tonight, though? There was nothing. Only the low murmur of whispers that carried just enough for his ears to catch. And it didn't sit right with him.

Why the hell were they acting like this? What the hell was going on?

He frowned, irritation building. Maybe they were trying to plan something, but who cared? He had no patience for their games.

Then, a word hit his ears. Barely audible, but enough to make his head snap in the direction of the group of orphans huddled by the fire.

"Rebellion…"

Ryojin's eyes narrowed. Rebellion?

The word bounced around in his head, and he scoffed to himself. "Rebellion? Against me?" His lips curled into a sneer. There was no way they could even think about that.

He wasn't interested in whatever schemes they were hatching. He wasn't interested in their little rebellion. But if they were talking about it, if they were planning anything against him… he couldn't just let it slide. Not because he cared about their rebellion, but because they were all too weak. Too pathetic to even try.

His muscles tensed, his body itching for action. He didn't give a damn about their reasons. The only thing that mattered now was that someone was stirring up trouble. And that was a problem. He wasn't going to let anyone mess with his turf.

Without a second thought, he stalked over to the group, his boots thudding against the ground like the warning of a storm. The orphans froze, eyes darting nervously as he approached. None of them said a word.

Ryojin didn't bother with any pretense. He grabbed one of them by the collar, his grip like iron. The kid gasped, eyes wide with fear as Ryojin lifted him off the ground. The others stayed dead silent, their breaths shallow as they watched.

"What the hell are you idiots talking about?" Ryojin's voice was low, but sharp. "Rebellion, huh? Against me?" He didn't wait for a response, tightening his grip. "You think you're some big shot? You think you've got the guts to challenge me?"

The kid stammered, struggling to breathe. "I… we didn't mean—"

"Shut up," Ryojin growled. "You don't get to talk back to me. You're not even worth my time. But I'm giving you one chance. Tell me what this is about, or I'll make sure you regret it."

The others stood still, eyes wide, their bodies rigid with fear. They could feel it in the air—Ryojin was already far beyond the point of patience. He wasn't looking for answers. He wasn't looking for justification. He just wanted to know who the hell thought they could mess with him.

The kid gasped out, "I… I don't know! We… we heard things. They said… there's a rebellion…"

"They?" Ryojin growled, eyes flashing with a dangerous glint. He tossed the kid to the side like he weighed nothing. "Who the hell are 'they'? Who's behind this?"

The boy scrambled back, eyes wide with terror, but Ryojin didn't care. He was past caring. He didn't need to know the details. What mattered was that someone had put ideas in their heads, and Ryojin wasn't about to let that go unpunished.

He turned, scanning the others with a cold, ferocious grin on his face. "You really think you're gonna rebel? You think you can take me down?"

The orphans stayed frozen, too terrified to move. Ryojin didn't care about their fear; it only made him feel more alive. His hands twitched, the need to fight growing with every passing second.

He cracked his knuckles. "Fine. You want a rebellion? I'll give you one. But it'll be my rebellion. Not yours."

The orphans flinched as Ryojin took a step forward, his expression twisted into something cruel and savage. He was ready. He didn't need their little plans to make his blood rush. All he wanted now was to tear something apart. To feel the fight surge through him.

And if they wanted a fight? He was more than happy to deliver. They were weak, and they'd learn that the hard way. He didn't care about their rebellion. He cared about one thing and one thing only: the fight.

The orphans stiffened, their eyes wide with panic and anger as they read the letter. The words burned into their minds, telling them they'd be killed in the next test.

One of them, clutching the letter in a trembling hand, shouted out, "Wait, they're gonna kill us anyway! If we're gonna die, might as well fight back, right?!"

Another, voice fierce and determined, added, "Better go down swinging than just wait around and get killed without even trying!"

The rest of them, now fired up with a new resolve, echoed in unison, "Yeah! We're not gonna let them take us without a fight!"

Ryojin's fingers itched for the kill, the twisted satisfaction of tearing through these orphans burning in his chest. They were weak, manipulated into rebellion. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was the fight.

He took another step forward, his eyes gleaming with malice. They had no chance against him. His grin stretched wider as he prepared to rip them apart.

But then, a voice—Joji's—cut through the air.

"Ryojin. Stop."

The words were calm, almost too calm for the chaos that had been building. Joji stepped forward, his presence steady and unyielding. His eyes met Ryojin's, and in them was something Ryojin knew all too well—warning.

Ryojin's grin faltered for a moment. "What's the matter, Joji? You scared? These kids are nothing. They're already dead in my eyes."

Joji took another step, his tone darkening. "You kill them, and Hanzo-sama will make sure you wish you were dead, too."

Ryojin's smirk dropped. He didn't need Joji to remind him of that. Hanzo-sama was not someone to anger. The consequences were always brutal, and Ryojin knew it well.

He stood there for a moment, eyes flicking between Joji and the orphans, the hunger for violence still gnawing at him. But Joji's words sank in, and the weight of Hanzo-sama's wrath became undeniable.

Ryojin's shoulders relaxed slightly, though his gaze remained predatory. "Fine," he muttered, turning away. "But they're lucky this time."

Joji gave a small nod, his eyes never leaving Ryojin. "They better stay out of your way from now on."

"Ryojin," Joji said, his eyes meeting his with a look that held both warning and reason. "Follow me. Now."

Ryojin's eyes narrowed. He was used to Joji's interference, but he didn't appreciate being called off. Still, Joji was his friend, and there was something in the way Joji spoke—something urgent—that made Ryojin hesitate.

"Fine," he muttered, reluctantly turning away from the orphans. They could wait for their inevitable demise. Joji was the one he respected, after all.

They walked in silence toward Joji's tent. The atmosphere was thick with the weight of Ryojin's lingering bloodlust, but Joji remained unfazed, his pace slow, deliberate, as though he were buying time for something he hadn't yet revealed.

Once they were inside the tent, Joji finally broke the silence. "There's something wrong with this situation," he said, his voice quieter now, full of contemplation.

Ryojin raised an eyebrow, still irritated. "What are you talking about?"

Joji crossed his arms, a thoughtful frown settling on his face. "Those orphans… They don't act like this on their own. Someone's pulling their strings. They're rebelling, but it feels off—like they were pushed into it. No one's that stupid to go up against us unless they've been made to believe it's the only way."

Ryojin's eyes narrowed, but his interest was piqued. He'd been too focused on the fight, on the rush of violence, to think about the manipulation behind it. "You think they're being controlled?" he asked, the question sharp.

Joji nodded slowly. "I'm not sure, but it's the only thing that makes sense. They have no reason to rebel against us, not unless they were made to believe they had no other choice."

Ryojin stared at the ground for a moment, the idea settling in his mind. "I wonder why they didn't fear death," he murmured, almost to himself.

Joji didn't respond immediately, as though weighing the question carefully. "That's what's bothering me too. There's no hesitation, no fear."

Just then, the flap of the tent moved, and one of Joji's trusted Jonin entered, a grim look on his face. He approached Joji quickly, holding out an envelope.

"Joji-sama," the Jonin said, his voice low. "This just came in. A letter for you we found."

Joji took the letter, his brow furrowing as he slid it open. Ryojin glanced over, his curiosity piqued despite his still-present anger. Joji scanned the letter, his face unreadable, before handing it over to Ryojin.

Ryojin's eyes skimmed the letter, his jaw tightening with each line. The words reeked of manipulation—too smooth, too calculated. No way the orphans wrote this themselves. Someone was pulling the strings, and they were damn good at it.

A slow, sharp grin curled his lips.

"Che… this bastard's got guts," he muttered before reading aloud, voice low and edged with danger.

"Once the test is over, you will be disposed of. You were never meant to survive."

His grip on the paper tightened, crumpling the corner.

"The ones who live are the ones who take what they want. Those who hesitate will be erased. Those who trust the them will be the first to die."

Ryojin scoffed, flicking the paper between his fingers like it was filth.

"Your only chance is now. Act. Rebel. Or die like the rest."

Silence. Heavy. Oppressive.

Then, a chuckle—low, mocking. Ryojin's eyes gleamed with something wild.

"Tch. Whoever wrote this really wants a fight." His grin widened, sharp as a blade. "Good. I was getting bored."

Joji watched Ryojin carefully, a deep frown on his face. "This is it," he said quietly, almost to himself. "Whoever wrote this knows exactly what they're doing. They've manipulated them into thinking they have no choice but to fight, to rebel, or die. It's a game—one that will cost them their lives if they don't realize what's happening."

Ryojin looked up, his expression dark. "This... this is why they weren't afraid," he said, his voice tinged with a cold realization. "They thought they had no other option. Whoever's behind this is playing with them, pushing them into a corner where rebellion seems like their only way out."

Joji nodded grimly. "And when they thought they will be killed after the test."

Ryojin crumpled the letter in his fist, a deep growl vibrating in his chest. "Cowards manipulating. It makes me sick."

Joji sighed, rubbing his temples. "And now we have to deal with the fallout. If you kill them now, you'll be playing right into whoever's hands did this. Hanzo-sama will be furious."

Ryojin paused, his fists tightening. "I don't care about that right now. I care about who did this. Who's the puppet master behind these orphans?"

Joji's eyes darkened. "We'll find them. But for now, don't make it worse. Don't kill them yet. We have to figure out the bigger picture before we move."

Ryojin let out a low sigh, the fire in his chest momentarily dimming. He threw the crumpled letter to the ground, his eyes still burning with the need to fight.

"For now," he muttered, his voice barely a growl, "we wait."

Joji nodded once, the tension between them palpable, but the understanding clear. They had a bigger fight to win, one that would require more than just brute force.