As Aizen in Naruto and Joined a Chat Group

Chapter 70 - 70: Ninja Alliance Infighting?  

This is an Actor: Would you rather starve just to maintain an image? That’s just sad.

Doujin Artist: That’s not the point! The issue here is that you, the mastermind, are personally cooking! Shouldn’t that be left to your subordinates?!

Amegakure Village’s Angel: Looks like Arisa-chan still doesn’t get it. What he really means is... aside from him, no one else in Jingtou can make anything edible.

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: That... that sounds terrifying.

Curly-haired Guy: That includes you too, Konan?

Amegakure Village’s Angel: W-Well, I can at least grill fish.

This is an Actor: True. As long as you don’t mind it being undercooked and completely unseasoned, it’s edible.

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: Pfft.

Scarlet Lotus Fairy: Sounds like An-kun has it rough. Does that mean he’s in charge of all the meals in Jingtou?

Amegakure Village’s Angel: No way! Those Arrancars don’t deserve to eat Anzen-san’s cooking. They’re not worthy.

Shark-Faced Guy: ?

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: Hahaha, Arrancar Kisame-san just sent a question mark.

This is an Actor: Most Arrancars don’t need food. They can sustain themselves by absorbing spiritual energy.

Amegakure Village’s Angel: Oh, food’s ready. [Image] [Image]

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: Whoa, is this Anzen-san’s cooking? It looks amazing!

Scarlet Lotus Fairy: An-kun, you really are a jack-of-all-trades.

This is an Actor: It’s just a hobby.

Cooking, tea-making, calligraphy—these were all just hobbies. But Aizen treated his hobbies as seriously as his actual work. Whatever he set his mind to, he had to do it well.

Curly-haired Guy: Damn it, showing off food at this hour?! Have you ever considered how I, a prisoner, feel?! My heart is wounded! Hand over that plate of bright red meat, or I won’t be able to fill the hole in my soul!

Doujin Artist: Give it up. There’s no way to fill the hole in your soul. At best, you’ll just fill your stomach, and then all that food will turn into useless waste—just like you.

Curly-haired Guy: Shut up, you blonde sore loser! What’s wrong with waste?! Are you looking down on it? Don’t forget, the veggies you eat are grown with fertilizer!

Doujin Artist: Sorry, I’m not looking down on fertilizer. I’m just looking down on you.

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: Arisa-chan, Gin-san... you two are at it again. And talking about fertilizer while people are eating? That’s just rude!

Seventh District, Nekomimi Café.

Saten Ruiko sighed, feeling like she had to play mediator for these two every day.

”Ruiko-chan, sorry!” A soft, sweet voice interrupted her thoughts. ”Am I late?”

”Yup~” Saten Ruiko dragged out the word as she stood up and walked over to her friend, who was wearing a flower crown. ”So, you’ll have to be punished!” She reached out and started tickling her underarm.

”Ahaha! Ahahaha! Ruiko-chan, stop! That tickles so much...” Uiharu Kazari squirmed, trying to escape, but couldn’t get away from Ruiko’s hands.

Her face gradually turned red from laughing too hard, and only then did Saten Ruiko stop. ”You’re so sensitive, Uiharu.”

”Hmph, this is all your fault, Ruiko-chan.” Uiharu Kazari turned her head away, pretending to be upset. ”You always like messing with me!”

”Ehehe, that’s because you’re just too cute.” Saten Ruiko smirked like a mischievous old man. ”If I don’t tease you, it’d feel like a waste.”

”No, it wouldn’t! That’s just rude!” Uiharu pouted but quickly changed the subject. ”Anyway, I saw something weird earlier, and that’s why I was late.”

”Weird? How weird?” Saten Ruiko asked, picking up a spoon to add sugar to Uiharu’s coffee.

Uiharu Kazari tapped her chin thoughtfully. ”Hmm, I think I saw two Misaka-sans. And one of them was wearing goggles?”

Clink.

The spoon slipped from Saten Ruiko’s hand and hit the table. She jumped to her feet. ”Where did you see them?”

Doujin Artist: Two Misakas, and one was wearing goggles? That means Misaka Mikoto already ran into a Misaka Sister?

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: I don’t know. By the time I got to the place Uiharu mentioned, they were gone. I looked around but couldn’t find them anywhere.

Scarlet Lotus Fairy: Don’t worry about it. If you missed them, you missed them. You did your best.

Amegakure Village’s Angel: Yeah, it was just bad timing.

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: Now that I think about it, the timing seems off. According to the original Railgun story, Misaka-san and her sister were supposed to meet for the first time in June. But today is only May 7th.

This is an Actor: The plot isn’t everything, but it’s possible that someone is pulling the strings behind the scenes.

Doujin Artist: So, Anzen-san, you also think that the one without goggles is actually Misaka Mikoto?

This is an Actor: I’m almost certain.

Shark-Faced Guy: Is the one behind this Aleister?

Curly-haired Guy: Who else could it be? That upside-down man is probably the only one. The source of all evil and darkness, yet he’s packaged as a saint. It’s honestly ironic.

Amegakure Village’s Angel: If this was Aleister’s plan, why would he do it?

This is an Actor: No need to overthink it. Ruiko, just keep an eye on Misaka Mikoto.

Skirt-Flipping Maniac: Got it, I understand.

Taking his eyes off the chat, Aizen turned his gaze back to the monitor in front of him.

Deep down, he already had a vague idea. If Aleister arranged for Misaka Mikoto and the Sisters to meet early, it was probably because of Ruiko.

In other words, the one who monitored Academy City through the Misaka Network 24/7 had likely already noticed Ruiko’s unusual behavior lately.

But this was just speculation, so Aizen didn’t say it out loud.

Boom!

A thunderous explosion from the monitor interrupted his thoughts. At the same time, Konan glanced over with a questioning look.

On the screen, the round wooden table that had been placed at the center of the Five Kage Summit was now reduced to splinters, scattered all over the place.

Uchiha Madara, having activated Susano’o once again, stood proudly on the left. On the opposite side were Pain and the ninjas from the various villages.

The atmosphere was tense, like a powder keg ready to explode.

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