Pain.

  Or rather—the memory of pain.

  It was the first thing Ando expected to feel, the deep, raw ache that had become as familiar as breathing. Yet, when his mind cwed its way to awareness, he found… nothing. No soreness, no lingering wounds, no stiffness in his limbs.

  His eyes snapped open.

  A wooden ceiling. Not the blinding lights of Orochimaru’s bs, nor the cold stone of a dungeon. Ando slowly sat up.

  There was no resistance, no pain. His muscles obeyed without hesitation, his body moving as though it was unrestrained. No cuts, burns, seal markings, or soul-shredding agony. For a moment, it was as if it had all been nothing more than a bad dream.

  But it hadn’t been a dream.

  Another one of Orochimaru’s tricks? He wondered.

  Ando steadied his breath, his eyes darting around the room. His surroundings were simple. A makeshift room, hastily constructed. The air smelled of medicine and dust. He could hear murmured voices outside—some shinobi, others civilians.

  Not a b. Not a prison. And… not a genjutsu.

  Those were good signs. But that didn’t mean he was safe.

  He slid his feet off the cot, feeling solid ground beneath him. His chakra, usually the first thing depleted in Orochimaru’s sessions, pulsed within him, whole, untouched.

  His Gamer’s Body had restored him completely. Physically, he was fine. But mentally, he didn’t know. What was considered mentally fine anyway?

  He gnced around for anything useful. A discarded medical tray, some wrapped bandages, a wooden partition. The room was empty of personal effects. His mind started racing.

  Where the hell am I?

  At that moment, the door creaked open. Ando turned his head slowly, his posture deceptively rexed.

  A shinobi stepped in. He was bandaged, his uniform slightly tattered. His breath hitched just a fraction upon seeing Ando awake.

  "You’re… up," the man said, as if confirming it for himself.

  Ando didn’t respond. His eyes narrowed, cold and unreadable, watching the man as though dissecting him piece by piece.

  The shinobi hesitated, then took a cautious step forward. "Listen, you’re safe. You’re in—"

  Ando moved.

  His chakra seeped into the earth, shaping it in an instant. A spear of solid rock shot up from the ground, stopping just an inch from the shinobi’s throat.

  The man froze.

  His breath caught in his chest as he stared at the sharpened tip inches from his jugur. His heart raced, his body screaming at him to react—to move, to fight, to flee. But the boy before him stood still, watching. His expression was a void, an eerie bnkness that sent a chill down the ninja’s spine, locking him in hesitation.

  Ando tilted his head slightly, his voice coming out in a ft, monotonous tone. "Where am I?"

  The shinobi’s fingers twitched, instinct screaming for a response. But he forced himself still.

  "... K-Konoha," he finally answered, voice tight. "Do you want me to get the one in charge?"

  That told Ando what he needed to know.

  The earth spear crumbled to dust, leaving no trace, as though it had never existed in the first pce.

  The shinobi suppressed a shudder. His breath was still uneven as he turned sharply and shut the door behind him, his footsteps hurried as he ran to report.

  Ando listened to the fading sound. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned back to the cot and sat down, his mind already absorbing the information he had gathered.

  Konoha.

  He let out a slow breath. So that’s where I am.

  Not long after, Ando became aware of another set of footsteps rushing towards his room. The door to his room slid open again.

  The man who entered carried himself differently than the previous shinobi. His steps were measured, deliberate. Broad shoulders. Heavy scars running down his face, the most prominent stretching from his temple to his jaw. Cold, calcuting dark eyes that missed nothing.

  Ibiki Morino [LVL 87]

  Ando met his gaze.

  The head of Konoha’s Torture and Interrogation Division studied him, taking in every detail, the stillness, the ck of visible tension, the way the boy’s gaze flicked over him in silent analysis.

  He didn’t try to run. That was the first thing Ibiki noted. Most captives, even the broken ones, had some reaction upon being freed. Either they shed out, tried to escape, or colpsed into themselves.

  But this boy? He had tested his captors.

  Not attacked. Not fought. Tested.

  He hadn’t killed the shinobi who entered first, despite being fully capable of doing so. He hadn’t even injured him. Instead, he had measured his response, observed his fear, then let him go.

  Even now, Ando sat there, unmoving, watching him as though the room itself were an eborate experiment. His expression betrayed neither fear nor anger. Just a quiet, methodical inspection.

  Ibiki leaned against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. "You’re rather calm," he said, voice low and steady. "Considering the circumstances."

  "I see no reason to panic."

  A ft, neutral response. Controlled. Ibiki’s lips twitched slightly. "No? Most people would. Two years under Orochimaru tends to do that."

  The moment the name was spoken, the air shifted.

  A wave of chakra pulsed out from Ando, thick and suffocating. And the room seemed to shrink under the weight of it.

  It was not an outburst, Ibiki remarked. Not a loss of control, but a reaction.

  He didn't flinch at the dispy. He had lived through far worse. Instead, he watched coldly as the pressure slowly faded. And the source of it all, acted as if nothing happened. Not a single muscle in Ando’s face had changed.

  Ibiki’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile.

  He had dealt with many broken people in his time. And he could tell with certainty that Ando wasn’t broken. He had been reforged. And now, it was time to see what kind of bde Orochimaru had tried to make.

  Ibiki tilted his head slightly, and started prodding.

  “That reaction wasn’t emotional.”

  Ando didn’t respond. He merely watched, eyes patient, waiting for Ibiki to continue. The man exhaled, rubbing his chin. "So, what was it then?"

  A slow silence stretched between them. Finally, Ando spoke, his voice as ft and detached as before. “Confirmation.”

  Ibiki raised a brow. “Confirmation of what?”

  “That I’m not in his hands anymore.”

  The words were simple, but the weight behind them told Ibiki far more than they were meant to. Not ‘I’m free.’ Not ‘I escaped.’ Not even ‘I survived.’ But ‘I’m not in his hands anymore.’

  As if the idea of freedom didn’t fully register. As if part of him hadn’t even considered the possibility of escape being real until this moment. Ibiki crossed his arms. “You didn’t try to run, from Orochimaru?” He asked, trying to confirm his guess.

  Ando blinked. “Why would I?”

  Ibiki hummed, tilting his head. “Because you were a prisoner.”

  Ando stared at him, then spoke with the kind of finality that made Ibiki frown. “I’m not strong enough to escape Orochimaru.”

  The conviction in those words wasn’t based on fear, Ibiki noted. It wasn’t even based on respect. It was just a fact.

  Escape hadn’t been an option. Thought, the fact that he mentioned strength mean that the boy hadn’t been resigned. At least, there was that.

  Ibiki exhaled, running a hand over the old scar across his temple. “That’s quite the worldview,” he said lightly. “But… you’re not there anymore.”

  Ando’s stare was unwavering. “I’m somewhere else.”

  “Somewhere you could leave.” Ibiki watched him carefully. “But you haven’t.”

  Still, Ando didn’t respond.

  Because what was he supposed to say? That he just didn’t feel like it? That hardly seemed relevant.

  The door suddenly slid open with a sharp cck.

  Both of them turned as a new shinobi appeared at the threshold, his posture rigid, eyes sharp with suspicion. The tension in his frame spoke of urgency. Shoulders squared, feet braced, he was ready to act.

  His gaze swept the room, nding on Ando for barely a heartbeat before shifting to Ibiki. “Ibiki-san, I felt a surge of chakra earlier. Heavy. Thought it was an attack.”

  Ibiki gnced at Ando, then back at the newcomer. “No attack,” he said evenly. “Just a conversation.”

  The shinobi frowned. “Didn’t feel like just a conversation.”

  Ibiki gave a slight shrug. “And yet, here we are.”

  The ninja shot him a questioning look before shifting his focus back to Ando, his wariness lingering. “Regardless, it was strong enough to put the patrols on edge. Do you need assistance?”

  Ando tilted his head slightly, a near-imperceptible movement.

  Ibiki caught it and smirked. “Backup?” he echoed, amusement cing his tone. “What do you think, Ando? Do I need assistance dealing with you?”

  Ando held his gaze, unreadable, then turned to the newcomer, his voice eerily ft. “That wouldn’t change a thing.”

  The words sent a faint chill down the shinobi’s spine. It wasn’t a threat. But the deadpan delivery, the empty eyes, it was unsettling in a way that set his instincts on edge.

  Ibiki’s smirk widened slightly.

  “Come with me, kid,” he said, his voice carrying a quiet authority that left no room for argument.

  Ando didn’t move right away. He held Ibiki’s gaze for a moment, as if measuring the weight of the command, before rising to his feet.

  Ibiki took note. That wasn’t the obedience of a captive. Nor the desperation of a refugee seeking shelter. Just someone… watching, waiting to see what came next. He turned toward the door, gesturing with his head for Ando to follow. “We’re going to see the Hokage. He’ll decide what to do with you.”

  Ando’s followed without a word.

  The shinobi at the door instinctively moved aside, shoulders still squared. He watched Ando carefully, but the boy barely spared him a gnce as he passed.

  The moment Ando stepped out of the building; his senses expanded.

  Konoha was… damaged.

  Buildings y in ruin, some reduced to little more than rubble while others stood half-reconstructed. Shinobi and civilians moved among the wreckage, working side by side to clear debris and rebuild homes.

  Despite the destruction, the vilge felt alive.

  Even in its broken state, there was movement, purpose.

  Ando took it all in, his gaze shifting from the reconstruction efforts to the makeshift market stalls, where merchants sold food and supplies from salvaged materials. Children ran through the streets, weaving between workers, their ughter a sharp contrast to the surrounding destruction.

  It was functional.

  Ando finally spoke. “What happened?”

  His voice was as level as ever, but Ibiki noticed a subtle difference. “The vilge was attacked. The Sky Vilge struck us harder than anyone expected. We’re still rebuilding.”

  Ando’s eyes flickered toward the damaged streets and the remnants of fallen structures. “You lost?”

  Ibiki smirked. “Didn’t say that.”

  Ando looked at him, waiting, which prompted Ibiki to eborate. “We won. But winning doesn’t mean we came out unscathed.”

  Ando absorbed that, his gaze shifting back to the ruins. “Casualties?”

  “A lot.”

  No visible reaction. Ibiki watched him carefully. “The vilge has been through worse,” he added. “But we’re still here. And we’re still standing.”

  Ando’s fingers flexed slightly, but his face remained neutral. “You sound proud,” he noted.

  Ibiki chuckled. “You sound surprised.”

  “I’ve seen people rebuild before.”

  That made Ibiki curious. Where, when? He put it to the back of his mind as he pressed on, in a different direction. “Not like this?”

  But Ando didn’t answer.

  The pair walked in silence for a few moments, weaving through the reconstruction efforts. Occasionally, shinobi would gnce at Ibiki, then at Ando, but no one said anything. The vilge was too busy trying to put itself back together to pay much attention to a single boy following Ibiki.

  Still, Ibiki could feel the weight of their gazes.

  Ando knew he was being watched. And he didn’t care.

  They reached the administrative district, or what was left of it. The Hokage Tower had been heavily damaged in the attack, and the vilge leadership had relocated to a reinforced building on the outskirts. It was temporary but functional, its walls lined with fresh seals and patrols stationed outside.

  Ando studied the defenses as they approached, his eyes scanning the formations, the entry points, the weak spots.

  Ibiki smirked. “Thinking of escaping?”

  Ando blinked at him. “Would you stop me?”

  Ibiki chuckled, shaking his head. “... just follow me.”

  They stopped in front of the entrance. Two guards straightened as Ibiki approached. Ibiki didn’t bother expining. He simply nodded toward the doors. “We’re here to see the Hokage.”

  One of the guards hesitated, then nodded, stepping aside.

  Ibiki exhaled, pcing a firm hand on Ando’s shoulder before pushing the door open. “Time to see what’s next for you, kid.”

  AN: Sorry for the long dey, I've been struggling with life.

  And if you're wondering how Ando can see Ibiki's level, it's not due to a level-up. Instead, he's gained new skills/perk that grants the system a bit more freedom. Also, he may act a little strange for a small time. But don't worry, he'll be fine.

  Thanks for reading :)