In Naruto, multiverse and more with Gacha system

A boy weaved through the crowded streets, his pace steady but light. The city wasn't what it used to be. War had left its scars crumbling buildings, weary-eyed people, whispers slipping through the alleys like ghosts. Even now, with the fighting over, tension still clung to the air, thick as the mist that rolled in from the sea.

The Land of Brine sat on the world's edge, a country carved by the tides. Towering cliffs, shadowed forests, scattered islands the whole land was wrapped in a shroud of near-constant rain and fog. It had no shinobi village, no true military force, just a name caught between two giants.

Kumo and Kiri watched over it like hawks, circling but never striking. If one moved, the other would see it as a threat, and neither side wanted to start another war. So, the Land of Brine remained a buffer a fragile peace held together by nothing but silent warnings.

But in the shinobi world, power wasn't just about armies. It was about information. And that, the Land of Brine had in abundance. A thriving black market pulsed beneath the surface, trading in stolen scrolls and whispers of war. Missing-nin, mercenaries, spies if you were looking to disappear, this was the place.

And if you were looking for trouble, it wasn't hard to find.

The boy slipped out of the city, his steps quickening as he moved into the forest.

The moment the trees surrounded him, he pushed off the ground, leaping onto the branches. His movements were sharp, practiced, almost effortless. He didn't slow down, didn't hesitate.

Finally, he dropped down near a cave hidden behind thick vines. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.

Darkness swallowed him at first, but the tunnel soon opened up into a hidden clearing. A waterfall crashed into a deep pool, mist rising from the surface like smoke. It might've been a breathtaking sight if he had the luxury to care.

His eyes flicked to the side. Three figures sat near the water's edge a girl, another boy, and an older man.

The seated boy looked up. "You're late."

"Not a regular like you," he shot back, walking closer.

The girl stretched out her hand. "Lunch."

Wordlessly, he tossed her a scroll.

The older man, his hand wrapped in fresh bandages, finally spoke. "Eat fast. We move soon."

His voice was calm, but the urgency was there. They weren't here to rest.

They were the extraction team. Their mission was simple get the spy back to the Village of Clouds. Fast.

And there was no room for mistakes.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

"Jump!"

They moved instantly.

The ground where they had been standing erupted into jagged spikes of earth, tearing through rock and dirt. There was no time to think only react.

Blades flashed. The girl twisted, deflecting a kunai aimed at her face. She countered with her own strike, steel clashing against steel.

"Namo! Namo!"

The boys turned to help but shadows rushed them first. Cloaked figures in masks, moving in perfect sync, attacking with deadly precision.

The older man didn't move. He didn't react. He only watched, his breath steady, his fingers tightening around the handle of his kunai.

A single bead of sweat rolled down his temple.

He hadn't found them yet.

Which meant...

They were already too close.

"Not bad," a voice drawled from the mist. "Expected from a Jōnin."

The man spun, kunai slashing—

Nagare Isou no Jutsu!

Lightning crackled along the blade as he struck. A direct hit.

Or it should've been.

The masked figure dodged effortlessly, weaving through the attack like mist in the wind. Before the Jōnin could recover, a kunai slid across his throat.

A flash of pain. The world tilted. His body jerked, trembling.

And through the haze of his fading vision, he saw the attacker remove his mask.

Yellow eyes. Pale skin. A cruel, knowing smirk.

Orochimaru. One of the Sannin.

That was his last thought before everything faded to black.

Orochimaru turned, golden eyes scanning the battlefield.

The fight was over.

The others dead.

And then poof.

In bursts of smoke, the rest of bodies vanished.

Shadow clones.

Orochimaru crouched beside the fallen Jōnin, searching his body with practiced ease. His fingers brushed over several scrolls before picking one.

A quick flick of his wrist, and the seal unraveled.

A limp figure dropped to the ground.

The spy.

Blood covered his body, deep wounds crisscrossing his skin. His breath was faint, but he was alive.

Orochimaru poured water over his face.

The spy gasped awake, eyes snapping open. Pain flickered across his face, but he didn't cry out.

His gaze swept over the bodies around them, then landed on Orochimaru.

Recognition.

Silence.

He didn't ask questions.