Chương 6: Blood

Deep within the stronghold, Nobuya sat on a smooth, polished stone. He looked remarkably unremarkable, average build, wearing ordinary clothes, easily fading into a crowd. Only when he raised his eyes to look at Shirakawa Takasuke did a subtle, unreadable flash pass through his gaze.

"The Daimyo's estate sent people again." Shirakawa Takasuke's voice sounded dry as he stared straight at Nobuya.

"You... should still leave and lay low for a while." Koichiro and several other young men immediately let out dissatisfied grumbles, noisily demanding to know "what's there to be afraid of." Nobuya, however, unexpectedly nodded, his attitude even seemed sincere: "You're right, Chief. We should indeed lay low." He bowed slightly. Shirakawa Takasuke's tense shoulders relaxed for a bit: "It's not easy out there. Tonight... have a bite to eat and something to drink before you go."

He signaled the people behind him to put down the shoulder poles.

"Thank you..." The curve at the corners of Nobuya's mouth deepened, crinkling the skin around his eyes.

"Koichiro, go call everyone over. Once we all eat and rest, we'll leave at daybreak." The stronghold quickly became busy. Many of them looked reluctant to leave again, but Nobuya clearly had his ways to calm them down. During the feast, Shirakawa Takasuke and the men he brought were abnormally warm, continuously serving wine and food while chattily reminding them to be careful on the road.

After several rounds of drinks, an unnatural flush rose onto the faces of Koichiro and the others, their eyes beginning to glaze over. Nobuya drank quite a lot as well, yet those eyes remained perfectly clear, a subtle, lingering curve hanging at the corner of his mouth. Shirakawa Takasuke took it all in, his heart sinking bit by bit, beneath that smile, something cold seemed to be hidden. The night deepened, a sickly pale moon hanging over the treetops.

Only when continuous snoring echoed across the stronghold did Shirakawa Takasuke slowly stand up, waving his hand toward the pitch-black shadows of the forest. A faint rustling sounded among the bushes, like a snake slithering over fallen leaves. Led by Shirakawa Sosuke, the villagers stepped silently out of the shadows, holding their sharpened farming tools. At first, a few of them still hesitated.

But when the first short, agonized scream tore through the quiet night, their expressions froze instantly, leaving only a numb, unyielding resolve.

"This is the path they chose themselves." The old man Sosuke's said.

"Robbing trade caravans and dragging the entire village into a disaster." He swept his gaze over the crowd.

"Think about your empty rice bins. Think about the goods you can't sell." Screams, the dull thuds of bludgeons striking flesh, and dying whimpers mixed togethere as a thick stench of blood spread through the chilly air. Sosuke's voice sounded abnormally distinct amidst the chaos: "Once the small merchant caravans are slaughtered clean, they would sooner or later turn their hands on the merchants who do business with us."

"Once a person gets a taste of getting something for nothing, they can never turn back."

"This is the punishment for listening to outsiders' bewitchment!" Those final words were practically squeezed out through gritted teeth. Beneath the moonlight, the scythes and pitchforks in the villagers' hands dripped with dark red liquid, dropping into the mud one by one with heavy TAP, TAP sounds. The old man walked up to Nobuya's "corpse," stabbing it viciously several times with his pitchfork before straightening up and calling out loudly, "Pack things up."

He didn't even take a glance at Shirakawa Takasuke beside him, whose face was deathly pale. There wasn't much wealth in the stronghold. Shirakawa Sosuke distributed a portion to everyone who took part tonight, gathering the rest together.

"These, along with these..." The old man pointed at the corpses lying crisscross on the ground, his voice terrifyingly calm, "take them to deliver the mission, Takasuke. Tell those two shinobi that this is all that's left, and the rest was probably wasted away by the thieves long ago."

"Y-Yes..." Shirakawa Takasuke's voice trembled violently.

"This matter ends here. No one is allowed to mention it ever again." The old man's gaze swept across every villager's face like a blade.

"The thieves were wiped out by the Leaf shinobi, that's how we report it to the outside." Only when everyone nodded stiffly did he look away. Carrying the pitifully small "spoils of war," the men from Shirakawa Village silently vanished into the darkness before dawn. Nothing was left in the stronghold except dead silence and a pungent stench of blood. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

As a trace of grayish-white appeared at the horizon, a figure slowly sat up from the pile of corpses. Nobuya patted down his blood-stained lapels and looked toward the faintly brightening eastern sky, a playful smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

"I originally wanted to nurture them a bit longer..." he muttered softly, a touch of mockery in his voice, "but now it saves me the trouble." He looked around, his gaze skimming over the corpses of the villagers who had once obeyed his every command, his smile deepening: "Now I can go live a quiet life in the Land of Tea."

"A shinobi?" A cool, distant voice sounded abruptly. Nobuya froze completely, snapping his head up. A youth in a dark green shinobi attire stood silently atop the damaged wooden palisade of the stronghold, his forehead protector reflecting a cold light in the dim dawn. He dropped down as lightly as a falling leaf. Nobuya's pupils shrank as he instantly retreated several steps, his muscles tensing as he stared fixedly at the Leaf emblem on the youth's forehead.

"A group of ordinary civilians manages to slip from the Land of Rivers to the Land of Fire, and then range all the way to the Land of Rain... as expected, there's a hand pushing from behind." Shuji's voice was calm, yet his eyes were like probes. Nobuya's throat bobbed, but his voice was surprisingly steady: "A bunch of petty thugs causing trouble is a C-rank mission at most. With fewer than twenty people, the payout given by the Land of Rivers won't exceed fifty thousand Ryo."

His eyes remained glued to Shuji's hands, guarding against any sign of hand seals.

"This money..." he said while adjusting his breathing, "... isn't enough to make two shinobi risk their lives. I didn't act directly, and my name isn't on the Land of Rivers' wanted list. Report truthfully, let me leave, and your mission counts as completed all the same." He spread his hands slightly to show he posed no immediate threat.

"Why risk your life for this little bit of money? Fighting between shinobi carries far too many variables."

"It seems you know the market well." Shuji's fingers lightly rested on the ninja tool pouch at his waist.

"Intentionally controlling the scale to ensure the bounty isn't high enough to spark conflicts between shinobi?" The curve at the corner of Nobuya's mouth was faint yet present: "The corpses on the ground are more than enough for you to turn in the mission."

"In theory, yes." Shuji nodded.

"Requests from the Land of Rivers are accepted by Konoha, Sunagakure, and Amegakure alike. To calculate the payout this accurately... Sunagakure? Or are you from Amegakure?"

"Let me guess. Being this cautious, you are..." Before the words fully left his mouth, a corpse behind Shuji suddenly sprang up, wood splinters flying everywhere to reveal a cold, humanoid puppet underneath! The puppet's joints emitted a harsh CLACK-CLACK sound as its mouth snapped open, shooting out dozens of senbon glinting with a dark blue luster! Shuji reacted with lightning speed, turning instantly to meet the attack.

In that split second while his attention was drawn by the puppet, Nobuya's hands had already turned into a blurry shadow! His wide sleeves spread out like the neck hood of a striking cobra, as over a hundred poisoned senbon burst forth in the dim light. At the same time, his chest puffed high, the surrounding air seemingly drained in an instant.

"Wind Release: Great Breakthrough!" A violent gale erupted from Nobuya's mouth, sweeping up the storm of poisoned senbon. The force of the wind granted the concealed weapons terrifying speed and penetration, weaving a howling net of death that completely covered Shuji's entire back! Thwack-thwack-thwack-thwack! Dense sounds of metal piercing flesh rang out. Shuji's body jolted violently, followed by severe trembling. His eyes, cheeks, neck, chest, limbs... instantly burst open with countless tiny blossoms of blood.

Dark blue poison rapidly bloomed around the wounds. He stumbled a step, pitching straight forward to slam heavily onto the cold mud, motionless.... Shirakawa Village was shrouded in the thin morning fog before dawn. The air was cold and damp, carrying the scent of earth and plants, yet unable to mask a faint, lingering metallic smell. Itachi stood at the village entrance, watching the villagers carry a few simple bundles as they silently returned into the village.

There was no grief on their faces, only a heavy exhaustion and numbness. Shirakawa Takasuke walked at the very back, his steps unsteady as if he might collapse at any moment. Itachi's appearance was like a stone thrown into stagnant water; the group stopped walking, everyone's eyes locking onto this small figure. Shirakawa Sosuke pushed through the crowd and stepped to the front. His wrinkled face resembled dried tree bark, his eyes sharp and cold.

"Konoha Shinobi-sama," the old man's voice was rough.

"The thieves have been wiped out. Not much remains of their belongings, but it's all here." He pointed at those bundles.

"The Chief will explain the details to you." Itachi's gaze swept across the villagers' clothes and farm tools stained with dark red spots. His eyes eventually settled back onto Sosuke's face. Those dark eyes were calm:"Senpai Shuji asked me to convey three things to you all." The village entrance fell into dead silence.

"First, Konoha is aware of the entire process of what happened at the stronghold last night." The sentence dropped into the crowd like a block of ice, causing several villagers to visibly flinch. Shirakawa Takasuke snapped his head up, panic filling his eyes. The old man Sosuke's face darkened instantly, blue veins bulging on the back of his hand gripping his walking stick.

Without any rise or fall in his tone, Itachi continued, "Second, the narrative presented to the outside world must be unified: the bandits were tracked and eliminated by Konoha shinobi Shuji and myself, Uchiha Itachi. The villagers of Shirakawa Village provided necessary assistance during the process." He paused, looking into Sosuke's eyes: "Third, your actions of cleaning your own house fall within the realm of village affairs; Konoha offers no comment and will not intervene.

The prerequisite is that this matter is completely settled, with no further trouble reaching the trade route or affecting the client." Sosuke stared at Itachi, his chest heaving violently. After a long moment, he squeezed a voice: "... Understood." The sound was like sandpaper rubbing together. Itachi gave a slight nod. Without another word, he turned, and moved rapidly toward the direction of the stronghold. The villagers froze in place.

Only after Itachi's figure completely vanished did an outburst of suppressed panic and whispers erupt. Sosuke slammed his walking stick hard onto the ground, shouting sternly, "All of you, shut up! Do as Shinobi-sama said! Clean up and get back to your duties! As for what was said today, if anyone dares leak a single word..." His bloodshot eyes swept over the crowd. The remaining words left unsaid, but that cold look made everyone quiet as mice.

Shirakawa Takasuke looked at Sosuke, his lips trembling, yet in the end he said nothing. Only his hunched figure seemed to shrink even further. To be continued...