The three survivors didn't need to exchange words. The moment their comrade hit the floor, they moved.
Not toward the door. Not toward Konan. Toward Shinji.
The hesitation from before had burned off like morning fog. These guys weren't thinking about the bounty anymore, weren't calculating splits or worrying about who got credit for the kill. They were just trying not to be the next one on the floor. Self-preservation has a real talent for clearing out all the clutter in your head.
Shinji pushed off the wall, snatching his tanto from the smoking concrete as he launched himself forward to meet them.
The first one came in high, blade angled for a decapitating slash. The second went low, sweeping for his legs. The third hung back half a beat, hands already flying through seals.
Shinji's body twisted in mid-air, rotating horizontally as the high blade whistled over his stomach and the low sweep passed beneath his back. He looked like he was lying down in empty space for a split second, completely parallel to the ground, before his hand caught the shoulder of the low attacker and he used the leverage to spin himself upright again. His tanto carved a silver arc as he came around, forcing the high attacker to abandon his follow-up and leap back.
Then the third one finished his seals.
"Katon: Gōkakyū no Jutsu!"
The fireball filled the room like someone had tried to stuff a bonfire into a closet. Completely unnecessary for an indoor fight, but I guess subtlety wasn't this guy's thing. It swallowed the entire center of the room, turning the air orange and superheating everything within five meters to oven temperatures.
Shinji's hands were already moving through seals before the flames even reached their peak.
Suiton: Suijinheki.
The water wall erupted from his mouth in a pressurized torrent, slamming into the fireball head-on. What happened next was less a collision and more of a mutual destruction. Fire met water and neither one wanted to back down, so they just tore each other apart instead. The center of the room exploded into steam, a massive cloud of scalding mist that swallowed everything and reduced visibility to zero. The shockwave from the clash ripped through what was left of the furniture, sent chunks of the wooden floor flying, and cracked the walls in three different places. Something structural groaned overhead, which was never a good sign.
The two close-range fighters had scattered the moment they heard the jutsu's name, clearly used to working with this guy. Now they were somewhere in the mist, probably circling around to cut off Shinji's escape routes.
Too bad for them he wasn't planning on escaping.
He moved through the steam like he owned it, footsteps silent on the waterlogged floor. The mist was thick enough that he could barely see his own hand in front of his face, but that worked both ways. They couldn't see him either.
"Where the hell did he go?" one of them hissed from somewhere to the left.
Shinji dropped low, tanto ready, and let the mist answer for them.
The first one found him. Or more accurately, Shinji let himself be found.
A blade came stabbing through the steam from his left. Shinji caught the man's wrist with his free hand, redirected the thrust past his hip, and yanked him forward into a rising knee.
The impact never landed.
The hunter twisted with it, forearm snapping down just in time to jam the knee aside. The shock still rattled him, but he stayed upright, boots scraping as he slid back half a step. Shinji was already on him. Short punches, an elbow, a low kick meant to take the leg out from under him.
Steel rang as the hunter brought his blade up to block, then his shoulder, then his shin, absorbing the barrage in ugly, efficient motions. He wasn't winning, but he wasn't folding either.
Shinji clicked his tongue and broke the tempo. His blade flicked high just long enough to steal the hunter's eyes, then he drove forward, shoulder-first, blowing straight through the man's stance. Steel scraped uselessly as the hunter lost his balance. Shinji was already past him, pivoting low as his elbow whipped down like a guillotine into the back of the hunter's neck. The sound landed with a thick, meaty crack. Whatever fight the man had left spilled out in a strangled grunt, and he folded, vanishing into the rolling steam like a puppet with its strings cut.
The sound gave away his position.
The third hunter was already there, exploiting the second Shinji spent dropping the second man. A blade came down in a vicious overhead chop.
Shinji didn't meet it head-on. He slipped inside the arc, tanto flicking up just long enough to shave steel and knock the strike off course. Sparks flashed. The hunter followed immediately, backhand slash, knee, another cut aimed for the throat.
Shinji dipped under the slash, took the knee on his forearm, and rolled his shoulder to bleed off the impact. Steel flashed past his face. He answered with a short hook, a low kick, then another cut that forced the hunter to retreat half a step.
They went at it again immediately.
Blade, fist, elbow, everything overlapping. Shinji slipped a thrust by centimeters, snapped a kick at the knee, had it checked, then rolled his spine back into a limbo-like bend, steel whistling over his face. He snapped forward and drove a tight punch into the hunter's ribs. He staggered, tried to recover—
Shinji spun with the motion and buried his heel into the man's chest.
The hunter flew backward, crashed through what was left of a burning chair, and skidded across the floor in a spray of embers.
Shinji stepped forward to finish it—
"Katon: Hōsenka no Jutsu!"
Fire bloomed mid-motion. Shinji felt the heat before he saw it. Multiple smaller fireballs carved through the steam, fanning out in a wide arc, sealing off every clean line of escape.
He clicked his tongue and danced between them, vaulting, spinning, and slipping through the fireballs. But he couldn't dodge them all.
His hand slapped the floor.
"Doton."
Earth surged up on his right just as the remaining fireballs slammed in, exploding harmlessly against rough stone. The wall cracked, smoked, and held.
That was all the opening they needed.
Both hunters came in together.
Steel screamed from the left, boot smashing from the right. Shinji twisted his body midair, flipping past the kick, spinning through the blade's arc, and slammed an elbow into the first hunter's ribs before landing a spinning kick on the second.
The hunters shook off the stagger and lunged back in, moving together like they were two parts of the same machine.
Now that he got a better look at them, they were definitely older than the ones who'd already gone down. Gray streaks in their hair, scars that had long since faded to white, wear you only got from surviving this job for a very long time. No wonder they were harder to put away. The young ones died quick because they hadn't learned yet. These guys had learned plenty.
Proper jonin talent, he could admit that much even as he deflected another blade and leaned back far enough to let a spinning heel whistle past his nose. They probably would've ended up in some village's ANBU division if life had gone differently for them. Instead they were here, trying to collect a bounty they were never going to see. Almost felt like a waste.
Then his eyes drifted past them to the doorway.
Konan was peeking through the gap. Just her head, half-hidden behind the doorframe, watching the fight with an expression that Shinji could only describe as deeply suspicious.
He didn't know what she was planning, and frankly, he didn't want to find out. Some mysteries were better left unsolved, and "what is my student about to do" ranked pretty high on that list. Time to end this before she got any bright ideas.
Shinji exhaled slowly, and lightning started whispering under his skin.
Chakra surged through his nervous system, sharp and biting, like someone had threaded live wires through his veins. His muscles twitched, contracted, then snapped taut like wire pulled to its limit. The world didn't slow down, but everyone else did. The two hunters moved like they were wading through honey while Shinji's own body buzzed with something that wanted out.
The next clash was over before it really began.
He slipped past the hunter's guard, getting so close their chests almost touched, twisted his arm until something popped, and drove an elbow into his throat. Cartilage crunched. Shinji followed with a knee to the spine that bent him backward, then a heel kick to the ribs that sent the man ragdolling through the inn like a broken puppet. He heard him crash through at least one wall before the sound stopped.
The last hunter was already at his side and came at him with everything he had left, blade swinging wild, eyes burning with desperation. Shinji almost felt bad. Almost. He shifted lazily on the balls of his feet, swaying left, leaning right, letting each strike whistle past as if the man wasn't even in the room. His elbow cracked against the man's temple on the way by, and while the hunter was still trying to figure out which way was up, Shinji's tanto came around in a lazy arc that just happened to open his throat. The man's eyes went wide, his free hand flew to his throat, and then his legs gave out. Shinji didn't even watch him fall.
Four down. He scanned the room, the hallway, listened for footsteps or breathing or anything that suggested more were coming. Nothing. Just the crackle of small fires still burning in what was left of the furniture and the distant sound of civilians starting to stir. Either these four had been working alone, or their backup was smart enough to stay away after hearing how badly this had gone.
He let out a slow breath and released the jutsu.
The lightning faded from his system, and his body immediately reminded him why that particular trick came with a price tag. Pain flooded through his nerves like they'd been scraped raw from the inside, hot and sharp and deeply unpleasant. Blood pooled at the back of his throat, and he swallowed it before it could become a problem, keeping his face blank and pretending his hands weren't shaking.
Poker face. Poker face was important.
He turned to Konan, who was still lurking in the doorway with her paper shuriken.
"So," he said, letting a strained smile drift across his face, "I could've sworn I heard someone say something earlier about needing just one more week before she could start teaching me. Now who was that, I wonder? The voice sounded so familiar."
Konan's confidence visibly crumbled. "Ahaha... sensei, whoever said that was probably just joking around, surely. You shouldn't take it seriously. People say things in the heat of the moment all the time, right?"
"Mmm. Right. Heat of the moment."
She looked away, suddenly very interested in the holes in the wall.
Then the screaming started.
Not combat screaming. Not "I'm being attacked" screaming. More like "what the hell happened while I was asleep" screaming. Civilians were waking up, poking their heads out of doors and windows, and discovering that the inn they were staying at now had significantly more ventilation than it did when they went to sleep.
"MY INN! MY BEAUTIFUL INN! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY INN?!"
Shinji and Konan exchanged a look. Neither of them said anything, but the guilt was written all over both their faces.
The inn owner's wailing continued, each sob more pitiful than the last. He'd moved on to naming specific losses, going through them one by one like a funeral procession. The walls. The floor. The support beams. The furniture that had been in his family for three generations.
"We should probably..." Konan started.
"Yeah."
"Like, right now."
"Agreed."
They didn't even bother with the stairs. Shinji grabbed Konan around the waist, swept her up into his arms, and leaped through the still-burning hole in the wall. The town disappeared behind them in minutes, swallowed up by darkness and distance, and neither of them looked back.
The wilderness welcomed them with open arms and zero property damage claims.
....
Kushina was in a bad mood.
Anyone could tell that much just by looking at her. The pout on her face was practically broadcasting it to anyone within a ten-meter radius, lips pushed out and brows furrowed the same way they always were when the world wasn't cooperating with her expectations. Mikoto had known Kushina long enough to recognize all of her moods, and this one was somewhere between "mildly inconvenienced" and "genuinely sulking."
The reason wasn't exactly a mystery either.
"I still can't believe there's no ramen shop here," Kushina muttered for what had to be the fifth time that hour. She was slumped against the wall of their barracks, arms crossed, staring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged her. "What kind of outpost doesn't have a ramen shop? How do people even survive out here?"
"It's a military outpost, Kushina. Not a restaurant district."
"That's not an excuse, you know." Her pout deepened. "Soldiers need to eat too. Soldiers need ramen. It's basically a war crime to deprive people of ramen during wartime."
Mikoto was fairly certain that wasn't how war crimes worked, but she kept that thought to herself.
The ramen situation was only half the problem though. Kushina had made sure Mikoto was aware of the other half too, bringing it up every few hours like clockwork.
"And don't even get me started on Shinji," Kushina continued, right on schedule. "He said he'd be quick. He literally said that. 'I'll be out and back before you know it,' that's what he told us. Remember?"
"I remember."
"So where is he?" Kushina threw her hands up. "It's been days, Mikoto. Days. That's not quick. That's not even close to quick. That's the opposite of quick."
"Maybe he got held up," Mikoto offered.
"Held up doing what? We don't even know what he's out there doing." she huffed, blowing a strand of red hair out of her face. "Honestly, if he comes back and it turns out he was just wandering around eating ramen this whole time, I'm going to be so mad."
She wouldn't be mad. She'd be relieved. They both knew it.
Mikoto felt the worry too, sitting heavy in her chest like a stone she couldn't quite dislodge. Shinji was strong, she knew that better than most, but the world was dangerous and missions went wrong all the time. The longer he stayed gone, the harder it became to pretend everything was fine.
"Hey," Mikoto said, pushing herself up from her seat. "Do you want to come with me to find Tsunade-sensei? We could ask her about Shinji's situation. She might know something we don't."
Kushina perked up immediately, the pout fading into something more hopeful. "You think she'd tell us?"
"Only one way to find out."
....
The hospital staff at the front counter didn't even look up from her paperwork when they approached.
"Tsunade-hime?" She flipped a page. "She left the outpost this morning. Don't know when she'll be back."
Mikoto blinked. "She left?"
"That's what I said."
Kushina deflated so fast it was almost comical. "You're kidding me."
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" The staff finally glanced up, expression flat. "If you need medical attention, we can help. If you're here to see Tsunade-hime, you'll have to wait like everyone else."
They walked out of the hospital in silence. Somehow, the outpost felt even more ramen-less than before.
Then they both froze.
Because walking toward them, heading for the hospital entrance, was Shinji. Or rather, one of his clones. Mikoto had gotten pretty good at telling the difference by now, mostly because the real Shinji wouldn't be caught dead wearing a medic's apron.
The clone noticed them at the exact same moment.
For a split second, nobody moved. It was like one of those standoffs in the stories, where two samurai lock eyes across a dusty road and the tension builds until someone draws first.
Then the clone bolted.
"Oh no you don't!" Kushina was already sprinting after him. "Get back here!"
"I don't know anything!" the clone shouted over its shoulder, weaving between two startled chunin. "I'm just a clone! I don't have any information about what the boss is doing!"
"That's what you said last time!"
"Because it was true last time too!"
Mikoto watched them disappear around a corner, Kushina's red hair trailing behind her like wildfire. A few seconds later, she heard a crash, followed by the clone's panicked yelp and Kushina's triumphant shout.
She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips.
The clone really should have learned to use a different route by now.
....
-Shinji-
The night air was thick with pine and wet earth, a warm heaviness that clung to the skin hours after sunset. Fire Country wilderness stretched out in every direction, nothing but trees and shadows and the occasional rustle of something small scurrying away from our path.
We'd been running for about two hours now.
Konan was keeping pace beside me, her footwork still a little rough around the edges but leagues better than where she'd started. The fundamental lessons I'd drilled into her over the past few days were paying off. She could tree-hop now without looking like she was about to die every time she landed, and her running form had evolved from "civilian desperately fleeing" to something that actually resembled shinobi movement. Not perfect, not even close, but good enough that I didn't need to carry her anymore.
Little bits of progress here and there, that's how you build a competent ninja.
Our sudden midnight departure, courtesy of those bounty hunters, had thrown off my plans pretty badly. Running through the wilderness in the dead of night wasn't ideal for a lot of reasons. We'd both been yanked out of sleep, which meant fatigue was already setting in, and Konan's sensor abilities were impressive for someone untrained, but maintaining that awareness while exhausted and moving at speed was asking a lot. And where there were four bounty hunters, there could always be more. Bingo book entries tended to attract attention like that. One group fails, word gets around, and suddenly every wannabe fortune-seeker in a hundred-kilometer radius starts thinking they might be the ones to collect. I'd rather not find out about them by stumbling into an ambush while half-asleep.
I really needed to find us somewhere to stop for the night.
My mind drifted back to the improvised map I'd sketched out a few days ago, back when we'd stopped in that town with the decent tea shop. I'd spent a couple hours chatting up the locals, asking about the roads and settlements between here and Tanzaku Quarters. Most of them had been happy to share what they knew. Civilians loved talking about their hometowns, their neighbors' towns, all the little villages dotted along the trade routes.
There was a farming village about an hour east of our current position. Small place, maybe twenty or thirty families, a settlement that existed purely to grow rice and vegetables for the larger towns nearby. Definitely wouldn't have an inn. Places that small rarely did. But there might be a barn we could sleep in, or a sympathetic farmer willing to let two travelers rest in a storage shed for a few hours.
Better than sleeping outdoors, at least. I mean, sure, I could rough it if there was an actual emergency or some critical mission on the line, but there wasn't. We were just two travelers heading to Tanzaku Quarters, and if I had the choice between a bed with a roof over my head or curling up against a tree trunk, I was going to pick the bed every single time. I adjusted our heading slightly, angling us toward the village.
"Sensei."
Konan's voice pulled me out of my head. I looked over at her, still moving.
"Yeah?"
She was quiet for a moment, like she was trying to figure out how to phrase something. Her attention was split between the approaching branches and whatever she was working up the nerve to say.
"Are you okay?"
I blinked.
"What do you mean?"
"Your chakra," she said. "Something feels... off about it. Since we left the inn."
Right. Sensor abilities. Konan could feel chakra the way most people felt temperature or humidity, it was just there, always running in the background. She didn't need to concentrate or activate anything. Her awareness was passive, constant, and apparently sharp enough to notice when something was off with mine.
Including, apparently, the fact that my chakra network was still throwing a fit from earlier.
The nintaijutsu I'd used against those bounty hunters wasn't something I'd fully mastered yet. Maybe forty percent there, give or take. I'd decided to use it because, well, what better opportunity to field-test a jutsu than actual combat? You can practice in controlled environments all you want, but nothing reveals the flaws and rough edges quite like using it on someone who's genuinely trying to kill you. It was purely practical. A chance to observe how the technique performed under real conditions, identify what still needed work, take mental notes for future refinement. Definitely not because I'd been itching to try it out on a live target and those bounty hunters had given me a convenient excuse. That would be irresponsible.
"It's nothing serious," I said, waving off her concern. "That lightning jutsu I used earlier is still in development, so there's some aftereffects I need to deal with. I'll patch myself up once we find a place to rest."
Though even as I said that, I'd already started channeling medical chakra internally, letting it seep into the raw spots along my network. One of the perks of developing a sealless version of the Mystical Palm was being able to heal yourself while doing other things, like running through a forest or having a conversation with your student. Multitasking at its finest.
Konan didn't respond immediately. She made another tree-hop, landed cleanly, and kept moving.
Then, in a voice that was trying very hard to sound indifferent: "I wasn't worried."
I glanced at her again.
Yeah, her expression wasn't fooling anyone.
"Just making conversation," she added, still not looking at me. "That's all."
A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.
"Of course," I said. "Just conversation."
"Mm."
"Nothing to do with concern for your sensei's wellbeing."
"Obviously not."
"Purely casual inquiry about my chakra status."
"Exactly."
"Because you definitely don't care about whether I'm hurt or not."
She made a small noise that was half sigh, half groan.
"Sensei." The warning in her voice only made this more entertaining.
I chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll stop."
She didn't say anything else after that. We kept moving in comfortable silence, nothing but the sound of branches and our own breathing.
Then, quieter than before: "...But you're really okay?"
That got me, just a little.
"I'm really okay," I said, and meant it. "I'm already healing myself as we speak, so by the time we find somewhere to stop, most of the damage should be gone. Medical ninjutsu is convenient like that."
"That sounds like you planned this from the start."
"I wouldn't say planned, exactly. More like... I knew the risks and decided the field data was worth it."
She made another small sound, this one closer to exasperation. "You should be more careful."
"Probably."
....
The farming village was exactly as small as I'd expected. A handful of houses clustered together along a dirt road, rice paddies stretching out behind them, and not a single building that looked anything like an inn. Called it.
We ended up at the village elder's house after asking around, which mostly consisted of me approaching the first person we saw and politely inquiring about lodging. The elder himself was hesitant at first, an old man with a weathered face and the suspicious squint of someone who'd seen enough travelers to know they usually meant trouble.
His son, on the other hand, was very enthusiastic about helping us.
"Father, we should let them stay," the boy said, maybe fourteen or fifteen years old, doing his absolute best to sound reasonable and mature. "They look exhausted. It would be cruel to turn them away."
I followed his line of sight and immediately understood the situation.
Konan had changed out of her white sundress a while back, trading it for a more practical kunoichi outfit that was about as bland and unremarkable as clothing could get. Dark colors, simple design, nothing that should draw attention. But clothes could only do so much. She was still her, and apparently that was more than enough for the village elder's son, whose eyes kept drifting back to her every few seconds like he couldn't help himself.
Ah, youth.
"We're shinobi," I said, turning to the elder and putting on my most trustworthy smile, "but we're not here on any mission. Just passing through on our way to the next town. We won't bring any trouble to your village, I promise you that."
As I spoke, my hand found its way to the elder's, and a few ryo notes changed ownership without anyone needing to acknowledge it happened.
The old man's expression softened considerably.
"Well," he said, tucking his hand into his sleeve, "I suppose one night wouldn't hurt."
His son looked thrilled.
We were given a small room near the back of the house, nothing fancy but clean and warm and infinitely better than sleeping against a tree. Konan was out within minutes of lying down, which wasn't surprising given everything that had happened. I stayed up a bit longer, running through my internal healing one more time before letting myself drift off.
Morning came too quickly, as it always does.
We said our thanks to the elder and his family, gathered our things, and headed out. The son had woken up early just to see us off, standing at the edge of the village with an expression that could only be described as longing. He watched Konan go with a desperate, hopeful gaze that only teenage boys are capable of producing.
She was doing a very good job of pretending not to notice. I, unfortunately, noticed plenty.
We made it about ten minutes into the forest before I couldn't hold it in anymore.
"So," I said, keeping my eyes on the path ahead, "that was sweet of him."
Konan glanced at me. "What was?"
"The elder's son. Waking up early just to watch you leave. Very dedicated."
Her steps faltered for just a moment before she recovered. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"He was staring at you the whole time. From the moment we arrived until the moment we left. I'm pretty sure he didn't blink once."
"Sensei."
"I think you made quite the impression on him. Young love is a beautiful thing."
"I'm not talking to you anymore."
"That's fine. I can talk enough for both of us. So about that boy—"
She sped up, pulling ahead of me on the branch, clearly hoping distance would save her from the conversation.
It wouldn't, but I'd give her a few minutes of peace. I was a generous sensei like that.
....
The rest of the journey passed without incident. We stopped at another small village that night, found an actual inn this time, and set out again at dawn. By the time the sun started setting, the roads had gotten busier and the trees had thinned out, which meant we were getting close.
We arrived at Tanzaku Quarters somewhere around nine that night.
"Sensei," Konan said, eyes scanning the streets ahead of us, "this might be the liveliest town I've seen so far."
She wasn't wrong.
Tanzaku Quarters was alive. More alive than any other town we'd passed through. Even at this hour, the streets were packed with people, lanterns hung from every storefront, and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses spilled out of every doorway. If I had to put it into a phrase, this place was basically Vegas with less neon. We'd barely walked for a minute and I'd already counted three gambling halls, two inns, and more bars than I could keep track of, all of them filled with people who looked like they were having the time of their lives.
Then we entered the pleasure house district.
I couldn't help but nod my head in appreciation at what I was seeing. Beautiful women in elegant kimono stood outside their respective establishments, all soft smiles and inviting gestures, enticing anyone who walked by with voices like warm honey. Sure, I'd seen this place through my clones' memories before, but experiencing it firsthand was on a completely different level. The atmosphere, the sounds, the smells, it all came together into something that couldn't be properly conveyed through secondhand information.
Nice. Very nice.
"Sensei."
I glanced down at Konan.
She was giving me a look. A deeply unimpressed one that said she did not approve of what was happening right now and wanted me to know it. Her eyes flickered between me and the women lounging outside the pleasure houses, then back to me, and somehow each glance made her disapproval even more obvious than the last.
Right. Arranging lodging in this district was probably not happening anymore. Not with her already shooting daggers at me with her eyes like this. Thank goodness I hadn't mentioned my original plan to stay somewhere around here, or who knows what kind of lecture I'd be getting right now.
Though, thinking about it more carefully, that plan might have been a bad idea anyway.
The clones I'd assigned to this district had been... well. Let's just say the entertainment industry of Tanzaku Quarters had a way of swallowing people whole. Every single one of them had ended up drowning in vices of one kind or another, gambling, drinking, women, sometimes all three at once. The memories I got back from them were always a mess of waking up in unfamiliar rooms, somehow owning three kimonos they didn't remember buying, and mornings where they couldn't figure out why there was a chicken in the bathroom. Fun to experience secondhand, sure, but not exactly the lifestyle I wanted to fall into for real. I still had a career as a shinobi to think about. Becoming a washed-up hedonist at my age would be embarrassing.
I quietly shelved the original plan and came up with a new one on the spot.
"We're only here for reconnaissance," I said, keeping my face completely straight. "Meeting with contacts, gathering information, that sort of thing. Strictly business."
Konan stared at me.
I stared back.
Her expression gave away absolutely nothing. No tells, no hint of whether she was buying what I was selling or mentally adding this to a list of reasons why her sensei was a bad influence.
She was getting scarily good at that poker face.
....
I wasn't lying when I said I was here to meet with contacts.
We stepped inside the Lotus House, which turned out to be one of the larger establishments in the district. The front area was tastefully decorated with hanging lanterns and silk curtains, but we bypassed all of that and headed straight for the garden in the back. Madam Sumire, who I recognized from my clone's memories, gave us a curious look as we passed but didn't stop us.
The garden was nice. Koi pond, cherry tree, cushioned seating arranged around low tables. Very atmospheric. Very expensive-looking.
And there, lounging on one of those cushioned seats like he owned the place, was a handsome young man with two women draped over him. One was running her fingers through his hair while the other refilled his sake cup. A bulky guy who was clearly a bodyguard stood behind him, arms crossed, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.
The young man looked up as we approached. His sleazy smile faltered for just a second when he saw me, and faltered a bit more when he noticed Konan.
"Well, this is a surprise," he said. "Didn't expect to see you out here."
That would be Kanzaki Ryouma. My clone. Or rather, the persona my clone had been using while living it up in Tanzaku Quarters for the past however many weeks.
He gently disentangled himself from the two women and whispered something to them. They giggled, collected their things, and wandered off toward the main building, throwing curious glances back at us as they went.
"Living your best life out here, I see," I said, settling into the seat across from him.
Ryouma let out an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, you know how it is. Gotta maintain the cover. Wealthy young master from out of town, throwing money around, making connections. It's all part of the—"
"You don't need to explain," I waved him off. "I'll get your memories when you dispel anyway."
"Right. Of course." He paused. "So... why are you here then?"
"Lodging. I need a place to stay."
Ryouma's eyes drifted to Konan, who was standing beside me with an expression that could charitably be described as unimpressed. Then he looked back at me, and something like pity crossed his face.
After a brief pause, he rummaged through his clothing for a moment before pulling out a small card and sliding it across the table. "I already set up a bank account for you. Should be enough to live comfortably for a few months, maybe longer if you're not throwing money around."
I stared at him. Then I looked at the two sake cups still sitting on the table. Then at the cushioned seat he'd been lounging on. Then at the general direction the two women had wandered off to.
"Right," I said flatly. "Wouldn't want to be irresponsible with money."
Ryouma coughed into his fist. "So anyway, about lodging. You'll probably want somewhere more... family-friendly, right? Peaceful neighborhood, good security, that sort of thing."
"Oh, and," he added, glancing at Konan, "maybe keep her somewhere she won't be, uh, exposed to the local... culture."
Konan's flat stare intensified.
Ryouma wisely chose to ignore it and leaned in closer to me instead, dropping his voice to a whisper. "Boss, are you insane? You brought a woman to the entertainment district? What were you thinking?"
I could only sigh. He had a point. I just hadn't given it much thought before we arrived. We'd been focused on getting here, and the finer details of exactly where "here" was had sort of slipped my mind until we were already walking past rows of pleasure houses.
"Noted," I said. "I'll figure something out."
Ryouma leaned back, looking satisfied that he'd done his duty as my clone to point out my obvious mistakes.
That was when Madam Sumire appeared at the edge of the garden. The madam of this establishment, and the woman Ryouma had been working with to get the whiskey business off the ground. She'd probably noticed the unfamiliar faces and came to investigate.
"Young master," she said, approaching our table. "I see you have guests."
"Old friends from out of town," Ryouma said smoothly. "They just arrived today."
She nodded, though her eyes lingered on me and Konan for a moment longer than necessary. "I see. Am I interrupting something? I can come back later if you're busy."
"Not at all, Madam." He gestured for her to continue. "Was there something you needed?""
"Yes, actually." She hesitated, her eyes flickering to me and Konan. "It's about the matter you asked me to look into. But perhaps we should discuss it in private..."
"It's fine," he waved off her concern. "These two are my people. You can speak freely."
I rolled my eyes at that. His people. Sure.
Madam Sumire still looked uncertain, but she nodded and continued. "The project you wanted built is complete. The distillery equipment has been installed, and everything is set up exactly as you specified. It's ready to be used whenever you are."
It took me a second to remember what she was talking about. Right, the distillery. My clone had been setting up the equipment needed to make whiskey while I was busy elsewhere. Nice to know that project was actually moving forward.
"However," she continued, not bothering to hide her anxiety, "it's now your turn to hold up your end of our agreement. I'm afraid... she doesn't have much time left."
Ryouma nodded thoughtfully, then paused. His eyes slid over to me, and a smirk slowly spread across his face.
Oh no.
"Actually," he said, turning back to Madam Sumire, "this young man here is better at medical ninjutsu than I am."
Madam Sumire gave him a look that clearly said she wasn't buying it. "Young master, please don't joke about this."
"I'm serious." He gestured toward me with his sake cup. "This is the son of my instructor, the one who taught me medical ninjutsu in the first place. His skills far surpass mine. If anyone can help your worker, it's him."
The madam's eyes moved to me, searching my face for any sign that this was some kind of prank. When she didn't find one, her expression shifted from skepticism to something closer to desperate hope.
"Please," she said, and there was real emotion in her voice now. "If what he says is true, I'm begging you. Please help her."
I shot Ryouma a dry stare. Thanks for volunteering me, bastard.
But I couldn't exactly refuse. Even if it was my clone who'd made this deal and not me personally, the distilled spirits operation was my project. Madam Sumire had worked hard to make it happen, and leaving her high and dry after she'd held up her end would make me the worst kind of person.
"Fine," I said. "I'll take a look."
The relief on her face was almost painful to see. "Thank you. Thank you so much."
She led us through the garden toward the back of the establishment. As we walked, I noticed a few rough-looking types scattered among the regular customers. Rogue ninja, probably, based on how they carried themselves. But we were deep in Fire Country territory now, so I doubted any bounty hunters would be stupid enough to start trouble here. My clones had been operating in Tanzaku Quarters for weeks without incident, though to be fair, they always used heavy transformation jutsu to completely change their appearance, mannerisms, and personality. Ryouma back there was basically a different person as far as anyone in this town knew.
Me, I wasn't as fond of henge. Pretending to be someone else all day was exhausting. I only bothered with it when absolutely necessary, like during missions in hostile territory.
We left the garden and headed toward the sleeping quarters at the far end of the building. Madam Sumire stopped in front of one of the doors and turned to face me.
"Her name is Hana," she said. "She's suffering from something the doctors call Womb-Blood Corruption. Every physician I've brought in has only given her a deadline, and even the iryonin I managed to hire for an outrageous fee couldn't make her any better."
Womb-Blood Corruption. That was a new one.
"I'll do what I can," I said, not making any promises. "But I need to examine her first."
Especially with a name like Womb-Blood Corruption. Whatever that actually was.
The madam nodded and knocked on the door. "Hana? There's someone here to see you."
A weak voice from inside answered. "Come in."
Madam Sumire slid the door open and entered first. I followed with Konan behind me.
The room was small and dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon light. A woman lay in the bed, pale and thin, her breathing shallow. She looked young, maybe mid-twenties, but illness had aged her in ways that had nothing to do with years.
I moved to stand beside her and started running through a basic examination. Chronic fever. Weak pulse. Short, shallow breathing. When I asked about pain, she mentioned her lower abdomen, along with occasional bleeding that came and went without warning.
I placed my hand over her stomach and channeled diagnostic jutsu through her system. The green glow was faint, barely visible, but it told me everything I needed to know.
After a long moment, I pulled my hand back and fell into thought.
Womb-Blood Corruption. Fancy name. But what I was looking at was advanced pelvic sepsis. A chronic blood infection that had spread from its original site into her bloodstream and was slowly poisoning her organs.
No wonder the other iryonin had failed.
Medical ninjutsu was great at a lot of things. Repairing tissue, closing wounds, stopping bleeding, knitting bones back together. If you cut yourself, a med-nin could fix that. If you broke your arm, a med-nin could fix that too. The human body was basically a machine, and medical chakra was the ultimate repair tool.
But that was exactly the problem. Medical ninjutsu repaired. It didn't identify. It didn't hunt. It couldn't see bacteria, couldn't target microscopic pathogens swimming through her blood. Every iryonin who'd come before me had probably done the same thing, poured healing chakra into her, watched the symptoms improve, declared her cured, and left. Then a week later, the infection would bounce right back because the source was never actually dealt with.
They'd been fixing the leaks without finding the hole in the pipe.
Lucky for her, I wasn't most iryonin.
...
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