The Mizukage Is Strong But Overly Cautious

There Were Many People Outside Just Now

Mizuki Ryosuke moved swiftly through the mist-laden streets of Kirigakure, his pace steady but his thoughts unsettled. The newfound attention directed at him was suffocating. Normally, he walked these streets unnoticed, another shadow in the ever-present mist. But today, as he passed by, shinobi and civilians alike greeted him with polite nods and hushed whispers.

The reason was obvious—Mizuki Taki.

The very image of the Mizukage, even when only imitated, carried weight. For Mizuki Ryosuke, the sensation was unbearable.

"This is why I'd never want to be Mizukage," he muttered under his breath, dodging another friendly greeting. "Too much attention, too many responsibilities. A title filled with nothing but trouble."

He sighed. His aversion to the idea of ruling had only deepened. Mizukage? Never. He much preferred his usual carefree existence—missions, mischief, and living under the radar.

Tiring of the constant greetings, he abruptly turned down a lesser-traveled alleyway, where the mist thickened, muffling the sounds of the village.

That's when he felt it.

A presence.

Someone was following him.

His sharp senses picked up the faintest disturbance in the air—a shadow trailing just beyond sight, steps light but deliberate. A skilled operative, no doubt.

Mizuki Ryosuke stopped in a deserted alleyway, allowing the eerie silence to settle around him. Then, in an imitation of Mizuki Taki's voice, he let out a deliberate cough before speaking.

"Cough, cough… following me all this way—why don't you show yourself?"

The words hung in the air.

A hooded figure, clad in a worn gray robe, emerged from the mist. The way they moved—controlled, methodical—suggested they were no ordinary pursuer. Their speed alone marked them at least jōnin level.

Mizuki Ryosuke's expression hardened.

An assassin?

His mind raced. The timing was too precise. With the coup against Yagura set to unfold tomorrow, was this an attempt to eliminate Mizuki Taki early? It didn't add up. A premature attack would only alert the village and disrupt their carefully laid plans.

His grip tightened.

Whoever this was, they weren't a fool. If they were confident enough to target the Mizukage, they had to be formidable. Kirigakure was no place for reckless assassins—only killers who got the job done.

He studied the figure. They stood eerily still, offering no explanation.

Mizuki Ryosuke raised an eyebrow. "Since there's no one else around, why not show your face?"

To his surprise, the figure actually complied, reaching up to remove their hood.

Wait, seriously?

Mizuki Ryosuke nearly scoffed. He had spoken casually, expecting silence or perhaps an attack. Instead, the assassin was exposing their identity? Either they were incredibly arrogant… or just plain stupid.

His muscles tensed.

Is this one of those 'anyone who sees my face must die' types?

The tension in his gut deepened. If this opponent had that level of confidence, it meant they were dangerous. Far more dangerous than he had assumed.

Then, the hood came down.

Mizuki Ryosuke's eye twitched.

A rough, battle-worn face. Heavy brows framing sharp, piercing eyes. And a strange, almost comical attempt at thrush makeup.

He recognized this fool.

"Kaguya Yuta?"

The shock dissipated, replaced by sheer exasperation.

Of course.

Of course it was Kaguya Yuta, the young patriarch of the Kaguya Clan.

This was the same guy who had tried to act cool and intimidating during the jōnin selection exams, only to embarrass himself spectacularly.

Mizuki Ryosuke sighed, his tension easing.

With the Kaguya Clan's long-standing enmity toward the Mizuki Clan, it was obvious why Yuta was here. This wasn't some mysterious assassin from Yagura's camp—it was just another act of Kaguya aggression.

The Kaguya had never been known for their intelligence, after all. They were warriors, fighters driven by instinct rather than strategy. A clan of reckless bloodlust.

Knowing his opponent, Mizuki Ryosuke immediately relaxed.

The unknown was terrifying. The known? Predictable.

Kaguya Yuta, for all his bravado, was nothing more than an overconfident hothead with a talent for looking cool but ultimately failing to deliver. Even if he had a secret weapon, there was no way he was a match for Mizuki Ryosuke.

He prepared to end this quickly. A single decisive strike—swift, clean, effortless.

Then, before he could move—

Thud.

The sound of knees hitting the ground echoed through the alley.

Mizuki Ryosuke froze.

…What?

Kaguya Yuta had dropped to his knees, just five meters away from him.

Mizuki Ryosuke blinked, his grip loosening. What the hell?

His Transformation Technique almost broke from the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Kneeling? Already?

Had Yuta lost his mind?

Was this some bizarre Kaguya ritual before a fight? Or—

No… this wasn't a challenge.

This was… submission.

Pure, undeniable submission.

Mizuki Ryosuke struggled to process it.

There were so many people outside just now… and now, with no one around, you're kneeling in front of me?

Even for the Kaguya, this was unprecedented.

A flicker of suspicion crossed his mind. Was this some kind of elaborate trick? A feint before an attack?

No.

The look in Yuta's eyes told him otherwise.

This wasn't deception. It was desperation.

Mizuki Ryosuke exhaled, his amusement fading into something more akin to intrigue.

As a transmigrator, he had seen a lot of strange things. But this?

This was new.

And suddenly, he was very, very curious.

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