On the eastern border of the Land of Fire.
Ever since the Third Great Ninja War ended, this border town, with a population of less than two hundred thousand, had lived in peace and quiet for over ten years.
Though there weren't any big industries, its proximity to the border brought in trading caravans and travelers from time to time. The townsfolk developed a small tourism business, and life was becoming more and more stable.
Until the scent of war drifted in.
Thirty thousand samurai and fifty thousand mercenaries arrived, instantly shattering the town's peaceful air.
The atmosphere turned grim and suffocating. Every townsman instinctively hunched their shoulders, lowered their heads, and walked cautiously down the streets.
Among the samurai, there were of course plenty of dark-hearted, twisted bastards. But they still cared about appearances, and their lifelong discipline, the so-called "samurai dignity", kept them from wreaking too much havoc.
Only a few unlucky townspeople, who accidentally brushed against a samurai's sword, got struck by the sword hilt for their mistake.
The mercenaries, however, were a different story.
Mercenaries were always two-faced. On one hand, they acted as bounty hunters, killing targets for pay. On the other, they themselves were often wanted criminals, arrogant bullies who feared only the strong.
When fifty thousand of them flooded into the town, the officials gave them temporary lodgings.
But they weren't soldiers or samurai; they couldn't stand being controlled. On the very first day, more than half of them stormed into the town, kicked open doors, picked whatever houses they liked, and moved in without asking.
Seeing chaos erupt, ordinary citizens with somewhere to go packed up their families and fled to relatives elsewhere.
Those who had no one and no means of protection could only stay.
After all, with war about to break out across the world, staying might at least give them a small chance to live. Running blindly into the wild would only get them killed and left to rot.
———
"Hey, did you hear?"
Fujimoto Kawa lifted his cup.
"Another two hundred mercenaries joined the daimyo's army today. I bet by the time war breaks out, the mercenary forces alone will hit seventy thousand."
He drained his drink, squinting as he sighed.
"This is the first time I've ever seen so many of our kind crammed into one city. If not for this war, a bunch of dangerous guys like this would've already started killing each other for bounties."
When his companion didn't respond, he gave him a nudge.
"Hey! Takahashi, what are you zoning out for?"
Takahashi snapped out of it. "You heard that urban legend going around lately?"
"They say there's an evil spirit wandering the city at night. It walks the streets asking people their names, and if you answer, you drop dead on the spot."
"An evil spirit that asks your name?"
Fujimoto snorted. "You've had too much to drink. I've killed more people than I can count, if ghosts really came for killers, I'd be long dead by now."
After that, he half-listened to Takahashi rambling for a while longer, then lost interest. He scooped up all the sukiyaki beef with his chopsticks, stuffed it into his mouth, grabbed his sake bottle, and stood to leave.
Takahashi tried to warn him not to walk alone at night, but one look at his drunken face told him it was useless.
Fujimoto carried the bottle down the street.
The doors and windows along both sides were shut tight. From time to time, something burned in the alleys, clothes, belongings, maybe even corpses…
Who could say? No one cared.
The mercenaries didn't care.
The samurai didn't care.
The Land of Fire's officials certainly didn't care.
The town's only purpose now was to serve as a resting stop before the war, a place to gather men and supplies. As long as it didn't affect the military, no one cared who lived or died.
Fujimoto counted the house numbers, found the one he wanted, and kicked open the door. A woman's and a child's screams came from inside.
He'd seen this house earlier in the day, no man here, just a woman and a child under ten.
With war getting closer every day, it was impossible not to feel tense. Alcohol could dull part of it, but for the rest… he needed a woman.
He didn't shout or threaten. He simply pointed at the dining table.
"Take off your pants. Get on the table."
The woman grabbed a kitchen knife, ready to threaten him, but before she could speak, a kunai flew past and sliced her hand.
Fujimoto took another swig and said calmly,
"You're not pure. You've got a kid. Don't pretend your purity still matters."
"In a few days, I'll be fighting and bleeding for your country. You, as a citizen of the Land of Fire, can't do anything useful. Don't you feel ashamed?"
"Offering your body is the only thing you can do. So don't make me say it a third time."
His eyes moved between the woman and her child.
"Take off your pants. Get on the table."
Feeling the cold indifference in his gaze, the woman trembled as she began to stand, hands moving to her clothes.
Then she met her son's tearful eyes. Forcing a smile, she whispered, "It's okay, baby. Go to the other room for a bit. It'll be fine soon."
The boy shivered, about to turn around when...
"Wait."
Fujimoto's cold voice stopped him. Loosening his belt, he said, "Stay there. Don't move."
"Maniac! Pervert!" the woman shouted.
Fujimoto finally smiled.
Now it was fun.
He reached for her.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
A knock at the door, followed by a calm, unfamiliar young man's voice, "Excuse me, is Mr. Fujimoto Kawa home?"
Silence.
The woman and child froze, eyes wide.
They'd never heard that name before.
Fujimoto's pupils shrank slightly.
He remembered Takahashi's story, ("The evil spirit that calls your name.")
Whether it was the alcohol or the chill in the air, he couldn't tell.
All he knew was that cold spread up his spine, his hands and feet went numb, and his arousal vanished completely. A single thought filled his mind, 'If you answer… you die!'
Fujimoto slowly backed away, stepped beside the boy, drew another kunai, and pressed it against the child's throat. He whispered to the woman, voice low and tight, "Open the door. Tell him he's got the wrong place."
With her son's life at risk, the woman didn't dare defy him. Even if she guessed Fujimoto was terrified of whoever was outside, she could only obey.
Standing in the doorway, she opened the door.
From where he hid, Fujimoto couldn't see the man's face, only a tall shadow stretched by the light.
The stranger wore a cap, stood straight, and carried an aura that made the air grow heavy.
When the door opened, an indescribable, demonic chill drifted in.
A man who had killed countless times felt his breath seize up. Sweat soaked his palm as he gripped the kunai, eyes darting to the woman.
"You… you've got the wrong house," she stammered.
"Is that so?"
The man outside didn't argue. Instead, noticing the cut on her hand, he gently took it in his own.
A faint golden light shimmered, too subtle for Fujimoto to see clearly.
"Sorry for disturbing you," the man said, and turned to leave.
The door closed behind him.
Fujimoto exhaled in relief. When the footsteps faded away completely, he strode over and grabbed the woman's hand.
The wound was gone, healed perfectly. Not even a scar remained. But there was something else now, a small arrow drawn in marker, pointing toward her palm.
He turned her hand over and saw a single word written there. Without thinking, he read it aloud, "Boom."
It was as if he'd cued his own sound effect.
Fujimoto exploded from the inside out, instantly turning into a cloud of crimson mist that scattered through the room.
The woman stood frozen until her son rushed over and hugged her. Then she snapped back to reality, ran to the door, and flung it open, searching the street.
No one was there.
In just those few seconds, she found she couldn't remember what the man looked like, his face, his age, everything gone, as if the whole encounter had been a dream.
The only thing she remembered was that his smile... was calm. And beautiful.
———
[Killed Fujimoto Kawa. Gained 60 Soul Fragments]
Ryosuke picked up a can of coffee from the shattered vending machine, tossed a coin into the broken slot out of habit, and drank as he walked. Hearing the system prompt, he sighed.
"Sixty fragments for a so-called 'hundred-man slayer'? Man, that's pathetic."
Mercenaries, in truth, just freelancers trying to make a living. To win jobs, they exaggerated their strength shamelessly.
Even among themselves, there was an unspoken rule, no matter who it was, if you'd heard their name, you praised them.
You hype me, I hype you. Everyone's market value goes up, and the clients pay more.
Anyone who undercut others for cheap jobs would get blacklisted by all mercenaries.
That kind of solidarity was fine, but it made Ryosuke's hunt way more annoying.
He'd been killing for over a week. Around a hundred and eighty mercenaries had died by his hand, yet he'd only earned about 3,200 Soul Fragments.
An average of thirty per person.
No wonder Kazahana Dotō had been so confident, if these were the kinds of mercenaries he'd been dealing with in the Land of Snow, they were nothing but inflated weaklings.
To him, guys like Ryosuke or Pain were probably just louder braggers.
At least… that's what he thought before he died.
Back to Ryosuke's hunt, a week's work, 3,200 fragments, plus 700 from daily missions, totaling about 4,000.
Not even fifteen thousand overall.
"Still quite a gap," he muttered. "But… time's almost up."
Yesterday, the supply convoy had reached the town. In a few days, the main army would march.
The Land of Water was surrounded by sea, to the north lay the Land of Lightning, to the west the Land of Fire, to the east the Land of Wind, and northeast was the Land of Earth.
Whether the Leaf was still the strongest village was debatable these days.
But the Land of Fire had always been the most powerful among the Five Great Nations, and this time, it was leading the campaign against Ryosuke.
Now, the armies of Lightning and Earth had already reached the borders, ready to strike at any moment.
Between the Land of Fire's troops and the Land of Water stood one small country, the Land of Hot Water.
Ryosuke knew it well, a peaceful place that once suffered from the cult of Jashin, a disaster he, Tsunade, and Kakashi had resolved years ago.
The Land of Hot Water had stayed out of war ever since. Its daimyo publicly declared neutrality, saying that whether it was the Fire Nation or Ryosuke's forces, either side could freely pass through their lands.
They would not interfere.
On the surface, the Fire Daimyo agreed. But Ryosuke had already intercepted a message from the rear, an order for the front lines to seize the Land of Hot Water.
Wars needed manpower, resources, and trenches.
The Fire Daimyo planned to turn the Land of Hot Water into a frontline base, enslaving locals as labor to forge their war machine.
And as for breaking their promise? No one cared.
This war was a complete reshuffling of the world order. When it ended, whoever won would plunder and divide the losers anyway.
The Land of Water, the Land of Wind, both would take their share. Who'd care about one tiny Land of Hot Water?
Ryosuke passed this intel to the rear. When Kamihara Hayato read it, his brow furrowed.
"I really overestimated the daimyo's bottom line," he said. "By right, we should send troops to defend Hot Water, or else letting the enemy get that close will be disastrous. But…"
Their current forces, Mist ninja and the Extinction Army, were all guarding the border. Pulling them away would compromise their defenses.
"Relax," Ryosuke replied. "I've got this."
He hadn't reported it to request help, only to ask how to coordinate.
Now that he had his answer, he could act freely.
Hayato realized what Ryosuke meant, his eyes widening.
"You're not… planning to wipe out the Fire Nation's vanguard, are you?"
Ryosuke blinked. "What do you take me for, some kind of mass murderer?"
"…Aren't you?"
Ryosuke sighed helplessly. "I'm not that cruel. And I don't plan on blowing my cover."
The enemy hadn't attacked yet because they feared Ryosuke's presence in the Land of Water.
If they learned he was here, they might abandon the Fire front altogether and attack from the Lightning and Earth borders instead.
Even Ryosuke couldn't teleport across the world. That would give them precious time to invade.
Especially with the Akatsuki still unaccounted for, if they struck while his base was unguarded, it'd be a disaster.
"I just want to… pull out their plug while I've got the chance," Ryosuke said.
The communication ended.
Three days after killing Fujimoto Kawa, the samurai began recruiting for the advance forces.
Ryosuke went to enlist.
"Name."
"Just call me Ike."
"Ike…"
The samurai glanced up at him, rolled his eyes, and after checking the registry, confirming he was a total nobody, tossed him a tag.
Two rough characters were carved into it,
Tiger Squad.
Also known as the Suicide Unit, or, as mercenaries liked to call it, the "Death Squad."
No fame, no backing, no connections, the worthless ones got thrown here, the first to clash with the enemy.
In theory, if you survived, glory and promotion awaited.
In theory.
"Got the guts to go?" the samurai asked.
Ryosuke smiled, hooked the tag to his belt, and boarded the warship with the others.
Then suddenly, he felt a sharp, piercing gaze.
Looking up, he met eyes with a massive man in a mask, no headband, but Ryosuke could feel the dense, earthy chakra rolling off him.
"From Iwagakure, huh… looks like a jōnin too."
Ryosuke smiled politely.
═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═
[email protected]/XenosX
🥳Joining P@treon keeps me motivated and eager to work diligently, so please consider joining.🥰