The ship was steam-powered. Even from the cargo hold, the deep rumble of the engine below could be heard. Occasionally, a sharp hiss would echo—steam being released under pressure.
At first, the constant noise was annoying. But after a while, it turned into a kind of white noise. Logan found it strangely calming, almost hypnotic.
Inside the dim, cramped hold, over a dozen passengers had fallen asleep. On long journeys, sleep was the best escape from boredom and uncertainty.
But Sasuke didn't sleep.
Sitting quietly, he hid his hands inside his sleeves, fingers moving with practiced precision. He was training, forming hand seals repeatedly, silently committing each one to muscle memory.
He couldn't afford to waste time—not if he truly wanted to take revenge with his own hands.
Beside him sat Logan, legs crossed, breathing in a slow, rhythmic pattern. Each breath he took seemed to pulse with energy, and the faint light in the warehouse almost seemed to glow a little brighter.
The passengers closest to him, though unaware of the source, felt their bodies warm, their tense nerves relax. Their breathing slowed. They drifted into deeper, more restful sleep.
Sasuke, seated right next to him, noticed it most clearly.
"Brother Logan… Did your training succeed?" he asked quietly.
Logan gave a small nod.
It had been over a month since he obtained the Ripple Breathing Technique, and ever since, he'd practiced it relentlessly. While eating, walking, resting—even in his sleep—he followed the breathing rhythm ingrained in the Ripple.
Whether it was his Uchiha lineage or Logan's own dedication, he progressed quickly. From the start, he could feel the subtle current flowing through him, like a ripple on a still pond disturbed by a falling leaf.
Now, he could guide that ripple consciously—through his blood vessels, across his skin, even beyond his body to affect the physical world around him.
By activating the breathing method, his muscle strength surged to three to five times that of a normal person. He could shatter stones with bare hands. Ripple energy could become an invisible weapon or barrier. It enhanced his healing, bolstered his vitality, and resisted physical or spiritual harm.
Unlike the path of a shinobi, which often traded long-term stability for short-term power, the Ripple Breathing Technique nourished him from within—building resilience and extending his life.
Sasuke watched with admiration in his eyes.
Logan reached out and gently ruffled his hair.
"I'll teach you… once we get off the ship."
Sasuke lit up, nodding eagerly. "Mm!"
Suddenly, the floor lurched, and Sasuke nearly fell—only to be caught by Logan.
The rest of the passengers weren't so lucky. Shouts and cries of "Ouch!" filled the warehouse as people were thrown about by the sudden stop.
"Mom, are we there yet?" Xiaotao asked groggily, rubbing her eyes.
Her mother glanced toward the small vent near the ceiling—though it offered no view of the outside world—and gently patted her daughter's head.
"The boat stopped. We must have arrived."
Xiaotao's drowsiness disappeared in an instant. Her eyes lit up. "Yay! I get to see Grandpa and Grandma!"
Like many others on board, Xiaotao and her mother were trying to reach relatives in the Land of Water. Since the country had shut its ports, sneaking in was their only option.
But Logan frowned.
The timing wasn't right.
According to his calculations, it should take three full days to cross from the Land of Waves to the Land of Water. It had only been two.
Even without a clock, Logan had silently tracked time—counting meals, rest cycles, and sleep.
They were still in the middle of the ocean.
Something's wrong.
Could it be… someone's after us? Danzo's men?
He gave Sasuke a meaningful glance.
The boy immediately understood, sliding a kunai into his sleeve without a word.
Clack.
The cargo hold door—shut for the last two days—swung open.
Sunlight poured in. Logan squinted against the sudden glare, barely making out three silhouettes.
The bald samurai from earlier, accompanied by two crew members.
They entered casually, almost leisurely.
One of the passengers, a thin man, called out, "Sir? Have we arrived?"
The bald warrior stepped forward, his gait unsteady, almost drunk.
"We had a… small incident," he said with a lazy smile.
An old woman huddled in the corner asked nervously, "What kind of incident?"
With a clang, the samurai's hand dropped to the hilt of his katana, swaying it so the scabbard banged against the wall. The sound echoed ominously in the tight space. Fear spread across the passengers' faces.
"We were… intercepted by pirates," he said slowly. "But don't worry. After some negotiation, they agreed to let you live. Their only request…"
He paused, eyes scanning the crowd.
"…is that you hand over your valuables. Think of it as buying your lives."
Before anyone could react, the two crew members sprang into action—moving from person to person, tearing bags from hands and shoulders.
"No! That's all I have left!" cried the thin man.
He tried to snatch his bag back but was immediately kicked to the ground. Before he could rise, a blade flashed at his throat.
"Move again, and I'll cut you in half!" the crew member hissed.
The truth sank in.
There were no pirates.
These sailors—the samurai, the crew—they were the pirates.
Faced with no options, the frightened passengers began to surrender their belongings.
Suddenly, a sharp scream cut through the chaos.
"Don't touch me!"
Logan turned.
The bald samurai had grabbed Xiaotao's mother. His hands were on her waist, leering and laughing.
"A beauty like you… What're you hiding under there? Let me have a peek…"
"Let go of my mom!"
Xiaotao rushed forward and punched the samurai in the crotch.
"You brat!"
He howled in pain and, without hesitation, slapped her hard across the face.
"Ahhh—!"
A scream rang out.
But it didn't come from Xiaotao.
A kunai, pitch black and ice cold, had pierced the samurai's palm, pinning his hand to the wall.
Blood trickled down the wood in thin lines.
Everyone turned toward the source.
Sasuke.
He stood with his hand extended, face cold and serious.
At that moment, he understood exactly what Logan had meant when he said, "Strike when you feel the need."
No hesitation. No doubt.
Just action.
His throw was flawless—faster, sharper, more precise than ever before. Because it wasn't just training.
It was emotion.
A hand rested on Sasuke's shoulder. He turned to find Logan behind him.
"Sorry…" Sasuke whispered. "I acted on my own…"
As a trained shinobi, he knew the danger. The way a kunai was thrown could reveal a ninja's origin. This might leave a trail—one that Konoha, or Danzo, could follow.
But Logan only smiled.
"Don't apologize. You did the right thing."
What good was power if you hesitated when it mattered most?
If you couldn't act when faced with injustice, all your training was meaningless.
"You little—!" the samurai roared, tearing the kunai free and tossing it aside. His other hand drew his katana, its blade glowing faintly blue.
Samurai trained differently from shinobi. Their path was singular—master the sword, and cut through everything.
Logan stepped forward and gently pushed Sasuke behind him.
"Let me handle this."
Everyone's eyes turned to Logan.
"You… You're a ninja, aren't you?" the bald warrior hissed.
Logan's answer was calm. "No."
The samurai's grip tightened. "Doesn't matter. You die either way!"
He lunged forward, raising his katana high for a downward strike.
Xiaotao's mother quickly shielded her daughter's eyes.
The katana came down—
And Logan met it.
With a flick of his foot, he kicked the discarded kunai into the air, caught it, and blocked the slash with one hand.
Clang!
The sound of metal on metal rang out, echoing through the hold.
Everyone froze.
The katana had been stopped, perfectly parried by the kunai. Not just blocked—matched. No slipping. No deflection.
The bald samurai's face contorted in disbelief.
"That's impossible…"
He tried to pull the sword back—but it wouldn't budge. It was stuck. His hands trembled.
Then he noticed it—smoke curling from his fingers. A burning sensation crawling through his arms.
"Sssss—!"
It smelled like charred meat.
"AAAAAHHH!"
The samurai screamed, trying to drop the blade—but he couldn't move.
Logan's Ripple energy surged through the metal, flowing back into the samurai's arms like boiling fire.
"You'll kill everyone!" the samurai screamed. "They'll all die because of you!"
Logan looked him in the eye.
"Your bandit logic won't save you. Any last words?"
"I f*** your—!"
Before the curse could finish, a massive fist slammed into his face.
Boom!
Boom!
BOOM!
Three crushing punches from Star Platinum sent the samurai and both crew members flying like rag dolls. They crashed into the deck above, knocking over cargo and scattering the remaining sailors.
Their bodies lay sprawled, unmoving.
"What happened?!"
"The samurai—he's down!"
The remaining crew panicked, rushing to check on their fallen comrades.
Then, from the shadows, they heard footsteps.
Logan emerged from the cargo hold, dusting his coat.
He picked up a torn sack that had spilled white powder onto the deck.
Held it up.
"Is this what you're shipping in the Land of Waves?"
His voice was cold.
The remaining crew backed away in silence.
pàtreøn (Gk31)