Terumi Mei's wide, expressive eyes carried a rare hint of innocence.
"How did you know?" she asked.
Logan took a bite of the candied fruit in his hand and grinned. "It wasn't that hard to figure out. You're from Kirigakure. Don't look at me like that—I've got my own sources."
The moment Terumi Mei first appeared, Logan had sent a carrier pigeon to his friend Kanhara Hayato, who was vacationing in Konoha. The reply had confirmed her identity:
Elite Jōnin of Kirigakure.
Logan continued, "From what I've heard, the current Mizukage is… unhinged. Overworking every ninja under his command. No time to rest, no room to breathe."
"You were most likely sent here to kill me. But you didn't. And then two more members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen showed up to finish the job."
He spread his arms.
"Sending three elite fighters for one target? Either the Mizukage doesn't trust you, or… he intended to use me to get rid of you."
Logan's eyes sharpened. "Personally, I think it's the second one."
Right now, Kirigakure had three kinds of people:
The fanatics—those who followed the Mizukage blindly and reveled in violence, like Black Hoe Raiga.
The cowards—those who tried to slink away from the chaos and avoid conflict, like Biwa Juzo.
And then, the rare third kind…
"The ones who don't fit in either group," Logan said quietly, looking at her. "The rebels—those who can't stand the blood-soaked rule of the Mizukage."
"Where there is oppression," he added, "there is resistance."
"Even if a ninja has spent a lifetime mastering patience and suppression, there's no way every single one would just lie down and take it—like some poor ox having his balls hammered."
Terumi Mei's expression stiffened.
Wait. Did he just compare her to an ox getting its balls hammered?
Something felt off.
"You got all that from just those little details?" she asked, trying to mask her flustered look.
Logan raised his chin and sniffed the air dramatically.
"Also, you've been walking around with that constipated, fart-sniffing look on your face. Anyone with eyes can tell you're gearing up for something big."
"Fart—what?!"
Terumi Mei's fists clenched. For a brief moment, she felt the overwhelming urge to summon a whip and give him a good lashing.
She sighed. "I don't… hate him. I never wanted to kill Lord Yagura. I just want him to step down."
"He used to be a good person, truly. Maybe the weight of being Mizukage was too much."
Logan listened quietly as she continued.
"He changed so drastically. Could he be under some kind of influence?"
"He's a Jinchūriki, though. That shouldn't be possible."
As a Jinchūriki, Yagura had the Three-Tails sealed inside him. The bond between a tailed beast and its host made it nearly impossible for them to be controlled by genjutsu. The beast's chakra would cancel it out.
Logan nodded.
He didn't know much about illusion techniques or genjutsu theory. But if a Jōnin like Terumi Mei said it was impossible, then he'd take her word for it.
In the end, it didn't matter.
Power corrupts. That was a universal truth. Some people slack off one day and, after being promoted, lecture others about hard work the next.
"When do you plan to make your move?" he asked calmly.
"I still need time to prepare," she said.
Overthrowing a Kage wasn't something you did on impulse. It required planning, strategy, and alliances.
She looked at him with resolve. "Would you help me?"
Logan raised an eyebrow. "What do you want me to do?"
"Anything… whatever you can. I'll find a way to pay. Anything you ask—if I can afford it, it's yours."
After witnessing the battle earlier, Terumi Mei was convinced: Logan wasn't just strong—he was a force of nature. Even when targeted, even when cornered, he'd taken down two members of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen by himself.
With him at her side, her plan's chances of success would skyrocket.
But Logan gave her a once-over, then shook his head.
"I don't need your money."
He stood and walked toward the pile of broken weapons.
Among them were the shattered remains of the Thunder Blade Fang and the Executioner's Blade—two legendary swords now reduced to fractured metal.
Logan slung them over his shoulder. He didn't need them anymore, but maybe Sasuke or Xiaotao could use them.
He mounted his horse and headed for the courtyard gate.
Behind him, Terumi Mei lowered her head, disappointment washing over her.
So he's not going to help.
Maybe it was selfish of her to ask after everything he'd already done. Just leaving behind the wealth in the governor's treasury was a big enough favor.
Then, just as she turned to leave, Logan spoke over his shoulder.
"You don't need to pay me."
She looked up.
"When the time comes—and you really need my help—you'll owe me a favor."
A faint light returned to Terumi Mei's eyes.
She wanted to say something clever in return, something cool and memorable. But the words caught in her throat. The only thing she could feel was a strange tickle in her nose, the sting of emotion rising unexpectedly.
And then, in her mind, she imagined her own expression.
It probably looked just like Logan described earlier—like she was sniffing a fart.
She couldn't help it.
She burst into laughter.
"Go on," Logan waved.
"Goodbye," she said softly.
---
Logan spent the rest of the day gathering supplies and preparing for the journey home. The survivors from Luoxue Village, now rescued, followed him out of the ruined county town.
Many had been kept in cold, damp dungeons. Their immune systems weakened, some were already ill. The journey back was slow, cautious, and deliberate.
By the time they reached the village entrance, it was already midday on the fourth day.
Waiting at the gate were Sasuke and Xiaotao, squatting next to rows of freshly made snowmen. Judging by the number, they had been here for a while—waiting patiently, watching the road.
When they spotted Logan, their eyes lit up. Relief washed over them.
Logan was their guardian, their anchor. If something had happened to him, their world would've collapsed.
The villagers soon gathered, overjoyed. They embraced one another, cried openly, and described the chaos and fear they had experienced.
But amidst the joy, an undercurrent of tension lingered.
Bai's father returned with a broken arm. Bai's mother and Bai herself stood apart, isolated from the others.
The village chief noticed.
After learning the full story, he picked up his walking stick and angrily thwacked a few people over the head.
"Idiots!" he scolded. "All this bloodline limit nonsense—where do you think it came from? From the Mizukage's twisted ideas! You're just parroting the madness of others and turning on your own neighbors!"
He hobbled over to Bai's mother and bowed deeply.
"I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. You were part of us before, and you're part of us now."
But Bai only smiled sadly. "It's all right, Village Chief. We've decided to leave. We don't want to cause trouble."
"Leave?" the chief frowned. "Where will you go?"
"I don't know," Bai's mother answered. "But as long as we're together, we'll manage."
The village chief nodded reluctantly. With the secret of Bai's bloodline now exposed, it wouldn't be long before Kirigakure came searching. Their departure was the safer choice.
But still, he worried.
Two women alone in this world… life wouldn't be kind.
Just then, a voice spoke up behind them.
"If you have nowhere else to go, why not come with me?"
Bai turned. Logan was standing behind her.
"R-Really?" she asked, her eyes lighting up.
"Where I'm headed, they're building something new. A village, run by people who were once trafficked. Survivors."
With the death of three of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen, Kirigakure's elite forces had been greatly weakened. Logan knew the real threats now wouldn't be in frontal battles, but assassins, poisoners—cowards hiding in shadows.
And such enemies didn't offer many soul fragments.
He'd decided to leave Kirigakure for now, to visit the human trafficking survivors' new settlement. There, perhaps, he'd find new purpose… or new enemies.
The Water Country needed time to stew, to grow more monsters for him to cull.
They would rest one night in Luoxue Village, then leave at dawn.
That night, Logan ventured into the forest and returned with game meat. Bai's mother prepared a feast and opened the family's last treasured bottle of sake.
As for Bai's father?
He remained locked in his room.
No one had hurt him.
But he was already dead to the two women in his life. The moment he raised a weapon at them—he ceased to exist in their hearts.
The mood at dinner was warm. A rare moment of peace.
Sasuke whispered to Logan, "I wish Teacher Zhao were here. She was nice."
Logan smiled, ruffling his hair. "She's working on something important."
"Like what?"
"If she succeeds… people won't have to live in fear anymore. Days like this—peaceful, happy—they'll become the norm."
Sasuke nodded quietly, satisfied.
Soon after, both he and Xiaotao fell asleep.
Logan sat by the window, spreading a scroll across the table and making notes under the moonlight. Thoughts of the future weighed on his mind.
Then—knock knock.
A gentle tapping at the door.
It was quiet and soft—feminine.
Logan opened it.
Standing there was Bai's mother, dressed in a beige kimono, her hair elegantly tied up.
Her expression was calm. Poised.
"Mr. Logan," she said with a slight smile. "The children are asleep. Do you mind if we talk for a while?"
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