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Where had Midorima gone?
That was a good question.
Because Midorima himself wanted to know exactly where he had ended up.
As for how it happened… well, that's a long story.
After returning, Mangetsu was in high spirits and eagerly told Midorima all about how Igawa Bu had acted like a clown during the meeting.
Ever since Mangetsu learned that Igawa had secretly targeted Suigetsu, he had been itching to tear the man's bones apart.
Carried away by his excitement, he called for a servant to bring sake and snacks.
Midorima initially declined, citing that he was still underage.
Even though, in the world of Naruto, children as young as ten could end up on the battlefield, or Make-Out Paradise might be considered "required reading," in Midorima's subconscious, minors still shouldn't drink.
However, Mangetsu insisted, forcing him to down a few cups—or rather, a whole jin of sake.
While drinking, Midorima also learned the gist of what had happened during the meeting: Raiga Kurosuki was dissatisfied with Ōgaki Yū, and Mangetsu had it out for Igawa Bu…
Didn't that mean the Seven Ninja Swordsmen were now at odds with the two Anbu division leaders?
Then there was Yagura's stance on "Kekkei Genkai"—he clearly leaned more toward cooperation than persecution, which was a far cry from the "Bloody Mist Village" era.
Originally, Yagura's tenure as Mizukage was supposed to be a time for Kirigakure to recover and rebuild. Unfortunately, Obito ruined all that.
One month…
Even with his system, Midorima was still far behind seasoned shinobi in terms of experience, jutsu, and chakra.
And there was no guarantee Igawa Bu wouldn't try to eliminate him during the selection tournament.
So, after drinking with Mangetsu, Midorima slipped out through the Hōzuki clan's back door. A cold breeze hit him, sending a shiver down his spine—and reminding him that time was running out.
Instead of heading home, Midorima left the village, intending to find a place to train intensively.
As it turned out, many other young shinobi had the same idea after hearing about the tournament. They had sneaked out to train, all while keeping a wary eye on each other—after all, any one of them could end up being an opponent.
Why help someone else improve just so they could beat you in the tournament?
After checking several usual training spots only to find them all occupied, Midorima gritted his teeth and decided to find somewhere more secluded.
Since this training would last a full month, constantly getting displaced wasn't ideal.
Fueled by alcohol, Midorima wandered for who knows how long before finally stumbling upon a quiet spot. He practiced for a while but soon grew exhausted and lay down to rest.
When he woke up, his head was pounding, and the world around him was pitch black—save for a single beam of sunlight streaming in from above.
Where was this? And how had he gotten here?
His limbs ached with fresh wounds, his forehead had a scab, and his throat was unbearably dry.
It felt like…
He had gotten drunk and rolled down a mountain.
Pah! As if!
Midorima spat in disgust. Him? Drunk?
Well…
On second thought, maybe.
Groaning, he rubbed his face. Alcohol really was trouble!
But…
He looked up at the hole above him.
The height didn't seem like an issue—walking on vertical surfaces was basic shinobi training.
Stretching his limbs, Midorima was about to climb out when suddenly, a sound echoed from deeper in the cave.
Who—?
His entire body tensed as he whipped around, scanning the darkness behind him.
An animal?
If it was a lizard or gecko, Midorima wouldn't have worried. Even a snake would've been manageable. As long as it wasn't Orochimaru, he was confident he could handle it. Just as he dismissed the noise, a fierce gust of wind blasted toward him.
Instinct screamed danger. Midorima turned, but before he could react, a figure appeared in front of him and drove a fist into his chest.
A splitting pain erupted from his ribs, spreading through his entire body. He couldn't hold back—blood sprayed from his mouth.
So strong!
Who the hell was this?!
Clutching the attacker's arm, Midorima looked up and saw an elderly man with long gray hair, his eyes narrowed, clothes tattered, and face caked in grime.
Whether from prolonged starvation or something else, his body was emaciated—so frail a stiff breeze might knock him over.
Yet after delivering that punch, the old man also coughed up blood.
Who was this? He was monstrous!
Even against Mangetsu, Midorima wouldn't have been this helpless. But this old man had overwhelmed him in an instant.
Midorima studied the man's face, trying to match it with any known figures. Someone this powerful, this aged, and living in Kirigakure couldn't be a nobody. The list of possibilities was short.
After a moment of thought, a name flashed in his mind.
…No way.
He scrutinized the old man's features, and his scalp prickled. For a moment, he even forgot his injuries, too stunned to speak.
The… Third Mizukage?!
He wasn't dead?!
Midorima racked his brain, recalling what he knew from Naruto. There had been no mention of the Third Mizukage's fate.
After Midorima's transmigration, there had been no trace of the Third Mizukage in Kirigakure. Following the "Bloody Mist" era, it was Elder Genji who stabilized the village—not the Third. So Midorima had assumed the man was long gone. Yet here he was.
"Third Mizukage, what are you doing here?" Midorima asked through gritted teeth, his chest throbbing.
"Who?" The old man's lips twitched. "The Third Mizukage… who's that?"
Midorima's jaw dropped.
Did he have… Alzheimer's?
That… was pretty tragic.
Wait, no.
Midorima shook his head vigorously.
After what he'd done to Kirigakure, the Third Mizukage deserved every bit of suffering.
But… did Alzheimer's cause people to vomit blood?
Well, that didn't matter!
Right now, Midorima was cornered in a cave by the Third Mizukage. Figuring out how to escape was already a headache—the old man's medical condition was irrelevant.
"Third Mizukage, I didn't mean to— Hey, don't collapse on me! Are you trying to scam me?" Midorima yelped as the man slumped against him.
Images of medical bills and compensations flashed through his mind.
Just as Midorima was brainstorming ways to deal with the Third once he woke up, it hit him—he had transmigrated!
This was the Naruto world!
Ahem.
He was being way too unserious.
Suppressing the pain in his chest, Midorima carefully laid the Third Mizukage on the ground and checked his own injuries.
His ribs hurt, but they weren't fractured. He'd live.
Right now, Midorima was more concerned about the Third's condition.
Kneeling, he examined the man—his eyes were tightly shut, his face twisted in agony.
If it really was Alzheimer's, medical ninjutsu alone couldn't confirm it. Midorima decided to check for physical injuries first.
Channeling chakra into the Third's body, Midorima frowned.
The man's chakra was incredibly potent—nothing like someone critically injured. Yet it was also chaotic. What was going on?
Midorima's brow furrowed in confusion.