At the gates of Konoha.
The village had issued a notice in advance: a large number of corpses and injured would be returned from the Land of Grass. Many villagers gathered at the entrance to wait.
Senju Rinmu stood at the very front, his eyes lifeless, arms hanging weakly at his sides, shoulders slumped—completely drained.
The clan head of the Senju, son of Senju Hashirama, no longer had his past fiery spirit and vitality. All that remained was the grief of a middle-aged father who had lost his child.
The convoy slowly approached.
One corpse bag after another was claimed by their families.
Some wept.
Some were numb.
Some quietly asked the shinobi how much the compensation would be.
The final body bag contained Senju Nawaki.
Senju Rinmu could no longer hear the surrounding noise—only the ringing in his ears. With stiff legs, he forced himself to move forward.
He still couldn't believe it. Nawaki was… simply gone.
Nawaki had a once-in-decades talent, and a teacher like Orochimaru, an elite jōnin.
The momentum of the Senju Clan's revival ended abruptly.
In that moment, Senju Rinmu even felt the urge to stop caring about anything.
If the village leadership wanted the Senju clan's land—fine, give them half.
If they wanted to use the Nine-Tails jinchūriki—let them seal it, and the Senju would no longer interfere.
If they wanted the Senju and Uzumaki sealing scrolls—give those too.
Seeing Senju Rinmu's body trembling, Kushina whispered softly:
"Uncle…"
Senju Rinmu shook his head, forcing away the weak thoughts.
He could not give up. The thousand-year glory of the Senju could not be destroyed in his hands.
Death?
His father founded Konoha—could today's deaths compare to the carnage at the end of the Warring States era?
Nawaki died at 12, far later than his two uncles had.
The Senju would never fear death.
Yoru stood nearby, holding his breath.
Though the corpses had been treated with preservatives, the stench was still overwhelming.
To Yoru, the body was simply a corpse.
To Senju Rinmu—it was his beloved son.
Rinmu unzipped the bag and saw Nawaki's pale face.
He reached out and gently caressed it. His firm expression shifted several times before he finally bowed his head.
The Senju Clan claimed the bodies of Nawaki and the other fallen Senju shinobi.
This family had sacrificed far too much for Konoha.
The wife of Black Ape—the woman Yoru had seen previously at Konoha Hospital—came to take him home.
Black Ape had removed his mask. Now he was a broken man—a worn-out, middle-aged uncle with both arms severed.
His cheeks were sunken. He looked nothing like a member of the Akimichi Clan.
After reporting his mission to the Anbu, Yoru then went to ROOT to submit the required personnel replacements before leaving the Anbu headquarters.
Returning to the familiar Crane Moon Tavern, Yoru felt a sense of relief—he was finally back.
At some point, this place had become his most comforting refuge.
"Shokyo, has anyone suspicious been watching you lately?"
"No. I haven't seen anyone."
Yoru had paid special attention to missions involving Shokyo inside Anbu. The scroll had been archived—there would temporarily be no further investigations into her identity.
"I've got connections up top. I even helped settle a huge matter for you. Shouldn't you thank me?"
"How do you want to be thanked?"
"Yin Release and Yang Release are getting boring. Don't you have something new?"
Shokyo bit her silver tooth and leaned toward him:
"You've been gone so long—did you try new tricks with that little fox outside, and now you came back to relive them with me?"
"Of course not. My strength has improved a lot, so I need… stronger stimulation."
Shokyo rolled her eyes at him. "Then how about a secret technique from Iwagakure's kunoichi…?"
"Oh? What kind of secret technique?"
"Have you heard of the Mountain Earth Technique?"
"I've heard of it. The Earth Style jutsu that creates a massive dome and crushes countless enemies into paste? Is this the 'Ball Release' after Yin and Yang Release?"
The two were lying in bed. Shokyo slowly disappeared beneath the blankets—using her Ball Release: Mountain Earth Technique.
After a night of madness, Shokyo lay atop Yoru's chest.
Suddenly, she tensed.
"It's coming!"
"What's coming? Didn't we just—"
Soon, Yoru felt a chilling chakra.
He slipped on his pants, vanished out the window, and landed on the rooftop.
From the direction of the Senju compound, waves of ominous chakra spread through the village streets.
For a moment, every insect and bird fell silent.
Uzumaki Mito… has her time finally come?
Yoru leapt down and returned to the side room behind the tavern.
"While I was gone, did this cold chakra appear often?"
"Yes. Especially in the past two weeks—it's been almost daily."
"Troubled times… Forget it. Don't think about it. As for that Mountain Earth Technique, I still have a few questions. How about we… study it again?"
Amid the nightly chill, the New Year arrived.
It was also Yoru's birthday.
Aside from Shokyo, he had no one to celebrate with.
New Year in this world was far lonelier than in his past life.
A few days after the New Year, Yoru carried two kilos of braised beef and headed to the Akimichi Clan's compound.
He didn't know where Black Ape lived or even his real name—but he figured it wouldn't be hard to find.
A man missing both arms—that was a very distinctive feature.
At a street corner, he saw three older aunties.
Yoru recognized them instantly—this was basically the Akimichi intelligence hub.
He approached. "Excuse me, is there a retired shinobi in the Akimichi clan who's missing both arms?"
"Do you want the retired shinobi who lost his left arm first, or the one who lost his right arm first?"
Yoru froze.
Wait—did this mean there were many amputees in the Akimichi Clan?
"The one who lost the left arm first, then the right, and returned to the compound recently."
The auntie nodded. "Then do you want the retired shinobi with the longer left-arm loss or the one with the longer right-arm loss?"
So many amputees among the Akimichi…
Then again, they were taijutsu specialists—maybe not surprising.
"…The one with the longer loss on the right arm."
"Then do you want the tall retired shinobi with the longer right-arm loss, or the short one?"
Yoru was speechless.
"…The tall one. Tall, dark-skinned, and brawny."
At last, the auntie pointed him in a direction.
A wave of sorrow hit Yoru.
A simple request for directions had revealed a glimpse of war's cruelty.
Inside the Akimichi compound, there truly were many disabled people.
With a clan to support them, disabled shinobi could still receive minimum resources and survive. That was why many disabled retired shinobi could be seen.
But civilian shinobi?
You wouldn't see many disabled among them—not because they didn't exist, but because they never lived long enough.
Survivorship bias.
Outside a small courtyard, Yoru saw someone moving out.
The dark, skinny man missing both arms sat inside, a bitter look on his face.
"Brother, I came to see you."