Naruto: We Agreed on a Simulation, But They Actually Came to Life?

Chapter 150: Chapter 150: Round-Rimmed Glasses

Outside the command tent, Minato called out to Kitahara Kaede, who was just about to depart.

"Kaede, wait a moment."

Kaede turned around.

Minato walked up to him, his tone significantly more serious than it had been during the meeting.

"I’m going to make a few rounds across the front lines to confirm the activity range of that female ninja from Sunagakure with the Bloodline Limit."

Kaede didn’t respond immediately.

Minato continued, "You heard the intelligence report. The ability to instantly evaporate the moisture within a body is extremely troublesome. I need to see for myself to determine her actual threat level."

Kaede gave a brief hum of acknowledgement.

He remained silent, but an inexplicable sense of worry gnawed at him.

Pakura was powerful; the Scorch Release Bloodline Limit was a top-tier threat on any battlefield. However, Minato was stronger, both in terms of raw speed and combat intuition. If the two actually clashed, Pakura wouldn’t fare well.

’I just hope they don’t run into each other,’ Kaede thought.

"I’m still not entirely sure about the situation on the right wing," Minato added, patting Kaede on the shoulder. "Be careful."

That was the second time Minato had shown concern since the meeting started. Looking at the face that always wore a gentle smile, Kaede felt a sudden flash of warmth in his chest.

"Don’t worry," Kaede nodded.

Minato smiled, turned, and accelerated. With a few flickers of movement, he vanished beyond the tree line.

Kaede watched the direction he had disappeared in, remaining silent for a few breaths. Then, he hoisted his backpack and began walking toward the right wing.

He hadn’t gone far when a steady voice called out from behind.

"Kitahara Kaede."

Kaede stopped and looked back. It was Yuhi Shinko.

Dressed in standard Jonin combat gear, Shinko looked resolute and firm. Kaede bowed slightly.

"Senior Shinko."

Yuhi Shinko walked up to him, scanning him with a brief glance before speaking in a measured pace.

"I’m heading to the right wing as well to set up some genjutsu traps at a few key junctions. Since we’re going the same way, let’s walk together."

Finding it a convenient coincidence, Kaede agreed. "Alright."

The two walked side-by-side down the forest path, sunlight filtering through the canopy in mottled patches upon the ground. After a while, Shinko spoke first.

"Kaede, thank you for helping Kurenai with her training recently."

"Kurenai’s issue before was that while her genjutsu was strong, her taijutsu was lacking. She became too passive whenever she encountered an opponent capable of breaking her illusions."

Shinko glanced at him. "Her positioning and sense of rhythm have improved significantly over the past few months. It’s evident even during sparring sessions."

Kaede could tell this was a way of praising his daughter while offering thanks. Just as he was about to respond politely, Shinko added another comment.

"Kurenai mentions you often at home."

Kaede’s expression remained unchanged, but he processed the meaning immediately.

’Mentions me often? So, the father has come to scout the situation?’

"Kurenai is naturally intelligent and has a strong perception of rhythm and distance," Kaede replied candidly. "I only shared some experience from actual combat; the credit belongs to her own hard work."

Shinko didn’t respond immediately. They walked another dozen paces, the shadows of the trees shifting beneath their feet.

"How old are you this year?"

"Sixteen."

"Sixteen..." Shinko repeated, as if tasting the number.

Kaede didn’t elaborate. Shinko suddenly let out a small smile.

"For someone your age, you carry yourself and speak with a great deal of tact."

Kaede didn’t take the bait, and Shinko didn’t press further. Silence returned between them, though the atmosphere was much more relaxed than before.

The right wing outpost soon came into view. Compared to the main camp, the mood here was noticeably heavier, and the air carried a faint scent of medicine.

Once they passed through the camp gates, Shinko stopped.

"I’ll head to the intelligence office first to verify the defensive maps."

Kaede nodded. "Take care, Senior."

Shinko turned to leave, but after a few steps, he looked back one last time.

"The poisons used by Sunagakure on the right wing are troublesome. Take care of yourself."

With that, he finally departed.

Kaede watched his retreating back and exhaled. ’Seriously? Why is there a "fatherly interrogation" phase in this?’

He and Kurenai were completely platonic.

Pushing the thought aside, he took a solitary walk through the camp. The right wing had many casualties. In the medical tents, a dozen or so shinobi lay incapacitated; most had bluish-purple skin and were breathing in short, shallow gasps.

Puppet-master poison.

A few had already fallen into comas, drainage tubes inserted into their bodies as a dark purple liquid dripped steadily into containers.

As Kaede passed by the tents, his gaze swept over the busy medical ninja inside. Then, his vision locked onto someone.

Deep inside the tent, a woman with golden hair and round-rimmed glasses was crouching beside a wounded soldier. Her hands were pressed against the patient’s forearm, a steady glow of green chakra covering the wound.

Her movements were practiced. After treating one area of toxin spread, she shifted rapidly to the next, her technique clean and efficient.

Yakushi Nonou.

Once she had stabilized the patient, Nonou straightened her back and used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her forehead. Her eyes met Kaede’s.

She blinked, momentarily stunned, as if searching through her memory.

Kaede knew exactly what she was thinking. Back at the Konoha Hospital, when Tsunade had sent him upstairs to sign documents, Nonou had been the assistant responsible for delivering the messages. The fact that Tsunade had unusually bypassed protocol for a Chunin was something Nonou certainly remembered vividly.

Realizing who he was, she gave Kaede a gentle smile and a slight nod. Kaede nodded back in response.

He then turned and walked toward the edge of the camp, his pace slow as his mind began to race.

It was normal for Nonou to be at the right wing; this was where the poison injuries were most severe, requiring a medical ninja of her caliber to anchor the effort. Tsunade remained in Konoha to coordinate the entire war effort; unless the front lines collapsed completely, she wouldn’t take the field personally.

But what truly concerned Kaede wasn’t Nonou herself.

It was the child she was destined to find on this mountain.

According to the original plot, after the battle ended, Nonou would discover a silver-haired child with no memories while clearing the battlefield. She would bring him back to the orphanage and name him "Kabuto," giving him the surname Yakushi.

But now, because Kaede had stolen Pakura’s scroll, Konoha had established its defenses early. Sunagakure’s strategy had shifted from a surprise raid to a frontal assault. The scale, direction, and duration of the battlefield had all changed.

He had personally altered the trajectory of history.

Would Nonou still encounter that child at the same time and the same place?

Kaede couldn’t be sure. He thought of Kabuto, and then he thought of Danzo—the darkness of the shinobi world.

Danzo had used his power to threaten Nonou’s orphanage, treating both of them as mere intelligence tools. Eventually, because they knew too much—information far too critical for the nation, the village, and the shinobi world—Danzo set a trap.

He ordered Nonou to assassinate a defector. The photo of the target had been tampered with.

Nonou didn’t know the person she was meant to kill was Kabuto. Kabuto didn’t know the person coming to kill him was the woman who had raised him.

A "mother and son," forced to turn their blades on one another without knowing the truth.

Nonou died at Kabuto’s hands. And Kabuto was picked up by Orochimaru, falling completely into darkness.

Kaede clenched his fist.

Danzo truly was the most vile man in the ninja world.

He looked back one last time toward the medical tent.

Nonou leaned over to change the dressing for another wounded patient. Her round-framed glasses had slipped down to the bridge of her nose; unable to free her hands, she simply tilted her head to nudge them back into place.

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