Chapter 45 - Befriending Killer B

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That night, Killer B was deeply touched by Mi Blade’s words.

"Turns out, I have no culture!" he exclaimed, looking as if he’d just discovered the meaning of life—or at least the meaning of some decent rhymes.

Mi Blade noticed Killer B was genuinely pondering this, and since he feared he might forget all this newfound wisdom, he decided to call upon his ghostly friend for backup.

"Empty ghost, help me remember this—this is precious knowledge!" Killer B declared, as if he were asking for the recipe to the ultimate ramen, complete with secret spices and a dash of mystery.

Killer B's words left the bull ghost feeling utterly helpless. Sure, his human Jinchuriki was a bit simple-minded, but as a friend who could communicate with him on equal footing and make him laugh every day, the bull ghost was more than happy to see him joyful.

Unlike other tailed beasts, the Eight-Tails didn’t hold any grudges against him, nor did Killer B view Yao as just some fancy weapon or tool. No, they were more like partners in crime—except their crime was rapping terribly.

"This kid is good; if he doesn’t die, he’ll become someone special in the future," Yao mused, thinking about how rare it was to find a true friend in the ninja world.

It was Yao's first encounter with a truly unique child. Normally, people either fled from or dodged Killer B like he was carrying a contagious disease, so Yao was genuinely impressed by Mi Blade’s ability to hang around.

"I totally agree! Nonsense! If we can, we should definitely become friends. In the future, we can form a legendary music group in the Ninja world! Just imagine it: ‘Killer B and Mi Blade: The Ultimate Rap Duo!’”

Killer B nodded enthusiastically, spotting the goodness radiating from Mi Blade. There was no impatience or superiority, just a shared dream of fame and fortune—perhaps a lifetime of ramen-inspired songs and awkward dance moves that would set the ninja world ablaze with their cringe-worthy brilliance.

They chatted like old pals, and despite it being their first meeting, they were as comfortable as two sloths lounging on a hammock with a cold drink in hand.

"Mr. Mi Blade, thank you for your wisdom! I’m going to go back and enrich myself! In a few years, you’ll be hearing my masterpieces that will leave the world in shock! Prepare for a musical revolution!" Killer B declared, puffing out his chest like a rooster who just found the biggest worm in the yard.

"In that case, congratulations on your future success! I’ll be your number one fan, cheering you on from the sidelines—or heckling you from the front row, popcorn in hand!" Mi Blade replied, imagining himself with a giant foam finger and a bucket of popcorn, ready to shout his unfiltered opinions.

After chatting half the night, Killer B decided to take Mi Blade's advice to heart. He would return to the village to rest and study, deepen his inner self, and find a teacher to boost his music skills. Maybe he’d even become the next big thing! Perhaps a rock star with a hit single called "Ramen Dreams"!

"Thank you, Mi Blade-san! Let’s bid adieu before I become too famous for my own good!" Killer B exclaimed, tightening his clothes like he was gearing up for an epic ninja mission, then dramatically threw on his sunglasses and struck a pose, ready to take on the world.

Mi Blade stood up straight, trying to be as polite as possible, and said, "I can’t wait to hear your next hit, Uncle Killer B! Just remember, if it flops, I won’t be responsible for the heckling!"

"Haha, don’t worry! I’m Jinchuriki from the Eight Tails, Rabbi Sabic! I’m basically a musical genius in the making!" Killer B boasted, puffing out his chest like a proud peacock.

"Eh......" Mi Blade hesitated, unsure of how to respond to such a grand proclamation.

"What’s wrong?" Killer B asked, noticing Mi Blade hesitating like someone trying to remember where they parked their car in a giant lot.

Mi Blade thought for a moment, then cautioned, "Even in the Land of Thunder, don’t meet anyone or tell anyone that you’re the Eight-Tails man. You don’t want to walk around with a target on your back, do you?"

"I’m not saying you should underestimate your fighting strength or Yao, but in this world, it’s better to be cautious. Trust me; you don’t want to be the next ‘big catch’ on the local gossip circuit!" Mi Blade advised, picturing Killer B’s face plastered on the village bulletin board under the headline "Mysterious Jinchuriki Caught in Awkward Dance-Off."

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Killer B and Yao burst out laughing simultaneously, Killer B’s grin stretching ear to ear.

"Mi Blade-san, don’t sweat it! In this world, there’s really no one who can defeat me! I mean, have you seen these guns?"

He flexed his muscles dramatically, his biceps bulging like inflatable beach toys, and then whipped off his jacket with a flourish, revealing several blades strapped to his back.

Dark red chakra started swirling around him like a cheap special effect from a low-budget action movie.

Mi Blade sighed and waved him off, “Sure, sure, but even superheroes have to watch out for weakness, right? I mean, have you ever seen Batman without his utility belt? The man’s basically useless!”

Killer B looked at him, his confidence unwavering, "But I have Yao! And Yao is the ultimate backup! Besides, I’m practically invincible!"

Mi Blade just raised an eyebrow, chuckling to himself.

"Yeah, but if you keep shouting about being invincible, you’re gonna attract more trouble than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs!"

He couldn't defeat Killer B on his own, but he and his brother had been bullied by Namikaze Minato during the Third World War, still clinging to their pride in speed like two overcooked noodles in a pot.

“If only I could outrun all my problems!” he lamented, wishing he could just zoom away like the Flash, leaving his worries in a cloud of dust.

Killer B departed as gracefully as he had arrived, waving his arms around as if he were conducting an invisible orchestra—too bad the only audience was a bunch of confused birds that probably needed a map to find their way home.

Mi Blade plopped back down in front of the campfire to toss in more firewood, sighing dramatically like a melodramatic hero in a bad soap opera.

"The music of the Ninja world is really hard to master. It’s like trying to teach a cat to play the piano—impossible and possibly hazardous!"

Clearly, there were films scattered around like forgotten homework assignments, but the TV options were as slim as a noodle.

Musical instruments were strewn about like lost socks in a laundry room, and good music was in such short supply it felt like a desert drought.

"It’s like a karaoke bar that only plays ‘Free Bird’ on repeat—endlessly! Someone, please change the record!" he groaned, envisioning a crowd of bored ninjas singing along in agony.

The walkie-talkies worked just fine, but cell phones? Forget it.

“They’re as popular as a wet sock at a party!” Mi Blade muttered, shaking his head at the thought.

Especially those fancy artificial dolls that could do all sorts of things—save energy, reduce emissions, and make the perfect cup of tea—but nobody ever used them for transportation.

“I mean, why take a bus when you can have a doll that just stands there looking pretty? It’s like buying a pet rock!”

Underneath the moon hanging in the sky like an overripe fruit, Mi Blade leaned against a sturdy tree branch, contemplating life’s mysteries.

Suddenly, a small figure plopped down beside him, resting her head on his shoulder like a cat that thought it was a dog.

"Why don’t you sleep in the carriage?" Mi Blade asked, stroking Naka’s hair gently like a dad trying to reassure a nervous child before a school recital.

Naka pouted, her little mouth resembling a deflated balloon.

"If you didn’t want me to come and keep you company, then I would have gone back. But here I am, like an uninvited guest who just won’t leave!"

Mi Blade wouldn’t let her go, but somehow she managed to escape through the door like a ninja in training.

“Classic escape move; I need to take notes!” he exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

He grabbed a blanket and draped it over both of them like they were starring in some cozy spy movie, ready to plot world domination or at least a late-night snack.

“Or we could sneak away together and start our own ninja band. We’ll call ourselves ‘The Sneaky Shinobi!’” he suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Why would we do that?" Naka asked, raising an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by the prospect of a ninja rock band.

"I don’t know, maybe because I always stay with Tsunade-sama, and it makes me feel like a fish out of water. And I’m not even a ninja fish!" he lamented, picturing himself flopping around in a fishbowl.

Naka didn’t see anything wrong with that and shook her head, giving him a look like he’d just suggested they paint their faces purple.

"I still want Tsunade-sama to teach me medical training. This is a rare opportunity, even in the village."

Mi Blade couldn’t deny it; Naka was right. Coming from the Uchiha family, there certainly wouldn’t be another chance like this, like winning the ninja lottery.

"Alright, let’s go! We can be the first ninja band in history. Who needs a rock star when you can have a ninja star?" he declared, feeling inspired as they plotted their musical takeover of the Shinobi world, one off-key note at a time.

Mi Blade sighed dramatically, clutching his chest like a stage actor in the midst of a Shakespearean tragedy.

"Well, for your training, I guess I’ll have to sacrifice my life to keep that guy company," he declared, striking a pose that would make any hero cringe. The wind didn't even pick up to match his grandeur; it was as if the universe rolled its eyes.

"Kayu~"

Before he could fully process this unexpected turn of events, Naka suddenly pecked him on the cheek, her lips a fleeting whisper of softness.

The girl who used to glare at him like she was ready to throw him off a cliff now seemed sweeter than cotton candy at a carnival?

Unbelievable! This guy’s dumb luck was skyrocketing, surpassing even the most ridiculous sitcom plots!

In the dim light, that awkwardly romantic gesture sent both of their heartbeats into overdrive, pumping faster than a pair of jackrabbits on a sugar rush, as if they were about to sprint a marathon in record time.

Naka's floral perfume wafted through the air, intoxicating and almost overwhelming, while her face turned as red as a ripe tomato—seriously, had someone set off a sun lamp nearby? Did she suddenly become a human stoplight?

Despite being just kids, Mi Blade was the only guy Naka ever acknowledged.

Sure, he was strong, attentive, and somehow managed to capture her interest—even if he might have glanced at other girls now and then—but for her, he was special, like the last piece of cake at a birthday party that everyone wanted but no one could have.

Naka couldn’t remember when they began holding hands or stealing quick kisses. It was like she’d blinked and suddenly found herself in a rom-com without even knowing the plot.

But there they were, in this utterly bizarre scenario, and Naka’s heart was performing acrobatics worthy of an Olympic gymnastic routine.

She didn’t really understand this whole “relationship” thing, but hey, this was the guy she picked.

She liked him, he liked her, and in this wild, unpredictable world, that was enough—kind of like adopting a pet rock that sang show tunes.

Even though she’d never beaten him in sparring since they were little, when they weren’t engaged in their epic slapstick battles, she felt like she had the upper hand. Sweet victory? Oh, you bet!

Meanwhile, Mi Blade? He was wide awake, his mind racing faster than a squirrel on a caffeine high. That innocent kiss from Naka had sent his hormones into overdrive, revving like a race car engine with a turbo boost.

Lying there with this flustered beauty in his arms, Mi Blade could barely function. His heart thumped louder than a drum solo at a rock concert, thoughts spiraling out of control like a rollercoaster ride gone horribly wrong.

“Ah! Stop—move your hand!” Naka squeaked suddenly, her voice high-pitched and panicked, like a cat that just spotted a cucumber and realized it was far too late to escape.

Mi Blade blinked, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, the awkwardness thick enough to cut with a kunai.

“What? I was just... uh... covering you up! It’s a bit chilly, you know...” He was grasping at straws, trying to sound as innocent as a puppy who just knocked over a vase, but failing spectacularly.

He was pretty sure his face was now redder than a ripe tomato—like two sunburned lobsters had a duel on his cheeks.

What had started as a sweet moment was devolving into a chaotic dance of flailing limbs and flustered expressions. Who knew romance could be such a rigorous workout?