"Say one more word, and I'll make sure you never make a sound again for the rest of your pathetic life."
That ice-cold killing intent hit like a freight train, an invisible hand clamping down on Kurosawa's throat, freezing his soul solid.
Uchiha Makoto's last word landed like a sledgehammer. Kurosawa's wails and curses cut off like someone sliced through them with a switchblade. All that was left was uncontrollable twitching and gasping, the kind of raw fear that makes a grown man shake like a leaf.
A rancid, piss-soaked stench filled the air. His pants were soaked through, yellow liquid trickling down his leg, mixing with the grime and muck on the ground.
Makoto didn't even bother giving this pile of garbage another glance. One more look would've felt like getting dirt in his eyes.
With Haku and the pale, shell-shocked nameless girl in tow, he walked off under a sea of stares—shock, fear, awe, and a few hidden smirks of twisted satisfaction.
A few blinks later, they vanished at the end of the street.
Makoto wasn't worried about this noble pulling some revenge stunt. Hell, he was hoping the guy would try. The second this aristocrat even thought about retaliation, Makoto would wipe him off the map and cash in big time.
The entire ninja world might cower before noble power, but Uchiha Makoto? He wasn't on that list.
Kings, lords, generals—born special, my ass!
Nobody stays on top forever.
---
On the other side, Kurosawa's servants finally showed up, struggling to hoist his sorry ass off the ground.
He stared in the direction where Makoto and his crew had disappeared, surrounded by his lackeys and a few hired rogue ninjas. The fear in his eyes drained away like water down a gutter, replaced by a warped, venomous rage.
The pain and humiliation burned like acid in his chest, eating him alive.
He turned to the three shell-shocked samurai standing nearby, still shaking like they'd seen a ghost, and the trembling servants around him. Through gritted teeth, he snarled, "Find him. I want him skinned alive and screaming. And that little bitch who dared threaten my samurai…"
"I'll make her regret crossing me. Round up more men. Hire every ninja and samurai you can find. Move your asses, now!"
The group slunk away like beaten dogs, dragging Kurosawa's 300-pound carcass with them. Under the silent stares of hidden onlookers, they scurried off in disgrace.
---
Later, Makoto acted like nothing had happened. He took Haku and the nameless girl around the Land of Waves, poking around for info like it was just another Tuesday.
The girl kept stealing glances at him, her eyes brimming with worry she couldn't voice. She wanted to say something, but every time she saw Makoto's calm, unbothered profile, the words died in her throat.
They came up empty-handed. Not a single lead on Kado or his shady business empire.
---
The sun sank below the horizon, and the salty sea breeze carried a nighttime chill. As darkness settled, Makoto scanned the streets of the Land of Waves. His eyes landed on a ryokan with a glowing "Hot Spring" lantern out front.
It was the fanciest joint in this dirt-poor corner of the world. Two half-dead potted plants hung under the eaves for show. He booked two decent rooms.
Makoto led the nameless girl to the natural hot spring out back to unwind, while Haku took the other room solo.
Soaking in the perfectly warm water, Makoto stretched out, letting the heat melt away days of travel fatigue.
His brow furrowed slightly as he muttered to himself, "Guess we got here too early. Kado's still a nobody around these parts."
Three feet away, ripples spread across the water's surface.
The nameless girl sank deeper into the spring, her shoulder-length hair plastered wet against her face. The steam brought a faint, unhealthy flush to her pale cheeks.
She curled up in the corner of the pool like a scared kitten, her bony collarbone and underdeveloped frame peeking through the water. Years of malnutrition had left her frail, her eyes filled with a panic that didn't match her age.
No matter how tough she tried to act, deep down, she was just a twelve-year-old kid.
The day's events were a splinter lodged in her heart, and the hot water only made the pain sharper.
"M-Makoto… sir," she stammered, her voice shaky and dry despite the steam. "That noble from earlier… he's not gonna let this go. Should… should we sneak out of the Land of Waves tonight?"
Her fingers twisted together under the water, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I heard people say nobles are terrifying. They've got endless money, and they stick together. They can hire as many ninjas as they want…"
Makoto didn't even open his eyes. The steam made his voice lazy and rough. "Trouble? Bring it on."
He'd spent all day scouring the Land of Waves for Kado and found jack squat. A fire was burning in his gut with nowhere to go. If some idiot wanted to pick a fight now, he'd happily use them to blow off steam.
And maybe make up for the Kado dead-end in the process.
---
Not long after that thought crossed his mind, Makoto's heightened senses picked up something outside the ryokan.
Muffled, chaotic footsteps. The faint clink of metal. Suppressed commotion and a few malicious, impure chakra signatures.
And one voice he recognized instantly—Kurosawa, the noble he'd sent flying earlier.
A smirk tugged at Makoto's lips, curving into something almost gleeful.
Kado's fortune was out of reach for now, but this "generous donor" walking right into his hands? He wasn't about to say no.
"Pfft. Born-evil noble, huh? Heaven's got a path for you, but you're barreling straight into hell. Rushing to get reincarnated or what?"
Makoto muttered to himself, his tone free of worry and laced with the thrill of a hunter watching dumb prey stumble into a trap.
With a splash, he stood up from the hot spring. Water dripped down his frame—not bad for a kid his age, already lean and defined. The steam caught the faint glow of the light.
He glanced at the nameless girl, whose face was now slightly flushed. "Get dressed. Move fast. We've got some 'VIPs' crashing the party. Looks like they won't make it to midnight."
Her heart sank, her worst fears confirmed.
She looked at Makoto's face—not just fearless but almost excited. A chill ran down her spine.
But she didn't hesitate or question him. Biting her pale lip, she climbed out of the spring right in front of him, her hands trembling but moving fast. She grabbed a dry towel, wiped herself down haphazardly, and threw on the new clothes Makoto had bought her.
Makoto dressed just as quickly, his black hair still dripping. Haku, already at the entrance, stood silently, waiting for orders.
To the girl's surprise, Makoto didn't go for a head-on fight. In his book, that was a waste of time, too flashy, and not his style. He wasn't here to brawl in the streets like some wannabe thug.
His plan was simpler: hit the source. Skip the foreplay, dodge the small fry, and raid Kurosawa's mansion. End the problem at its root and pad his [Player Shop] balance while he was at it.
Uchiha Makoto was a practical guy who cared about efficiency and results. From his daytime "scouting" (totally not casing the joint), he'd already pinpointed Kurosawa's estate.
"Let's roll," he said curtly. Like a night owl, he slipped over the high wall without a sound. Haku followed without missing a beat. The girl gritted her teeth and stumbled after them.
Three shadows melted into the heavy night of the Land of Waves, racing toward a garish glow of lights in the distance.
Kurosawa's mansion.
---
This place stuck out like a sore thumb in the poverty-stricken Land of Waves—a gaudy, over-the-top Japanese-style estate dripping with wealth. Towering red gates, polished bronze rings, and two blinding lanterns out front made the surrounding shacks and rickety wooden houses look like they were cowering in the shadows.
The walls were so high they screamed arrogance, silently bragging about the owner's disconnect from the land and the blood-soaked power built on exploiting the poor.
Faint noise drifted from inside. Most of the guards had probably been sent to "ambush" the ryokan, leaving the place oddly vulnerable.
Makoto lounged casually in the shadows on the highest rooftop, his scarlet Sharingan spinning slowly in the dark, taking in every detail of the courtyard's defenses below.
He frowned, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
"Pfft, just a small-time noble," he said, not bothering to hide his disdain. "All he's got are some half-assed samurai and bottom-tier rogue ninjas. Not even a decent challenge."
He turned to the quiet boy beside him. "Haku."
"Yes, Lord Makoto," Haku replied, his eyes glinting faintly in the moonlight. He was Makoto's weapon—the more he was used, the safer he felt.
"Clear out the trash inside," Makoto said flatly, no intention of getting his hands dirty. "Make it quick. We're on a schedule. Thanks for the hustle."
"Understood."
Haku took a deep breath, his gaze sharpening like a blade.
After days of traveling together, Makoto's orders were absolute to him. No questions, just action.
In a blur, Haku's hands flew through seals, too fast to track.
"Ice Release: Thousand Flying Water Needles!"
The air's moisture condensed instantly, forming hundreds of razor-sharp ice needles that hovered midair, glinting coldly under the lantern light.
With a flick of Haku's wrist, they shot forward like silent assassins, raining down on the unsuspecting guards below.
"Enemy attack—!"
Panicked shouts and screams erupted, cut short almost instantly. Rogue ninjas tried to form seals, but the relentless barrage of ice needles forced them to scramble, their formation collapsing.
"Ice Release: Swallow Blizzard!"
Haku didn't let up, his hands moving again.
More ice crystals formed, shaping into screeching, spiraling ice swallows that dove with deadly precision at the remaining fighters.
Where the swallows passed, blood sprayed, mixed with shards of ice.
Haku's Ice Release glowed in the quiet night, a dazzling and lethal display in the opulent courtyard. Brief, stifled screams, the thud of bodies, and the clatter of dropped weapons filled the air.
It was a one-sided, silent massacre. Haku's control over his Ice Release was as beautiful as it was deadly.
---
When Kurosawa—his body hollowed out by booze and women—finally stormed back to his mansion after his failed ambush at the ryokan, he was panting and furious.
What he saw at his front gate stopped him cold.
His servants were fleeing like rats, scattering in every direction.
His face turned ashen. He kicked a stumbling lackey out of his way and barreled through the gate.
Then he froze.
The courtyard was a bloodbath. Bodies littered the ground, sprawled across his meticulously manicured stone paths and zen garden. Blood painted the scene, the stench mixing with an eerie chill in the air.
And there, in the center of it all, stood the "girl" from earlier—the one who'd sparked his lust and then his hatred. Haku, surrounded by lingering ice crystals, looked like he'd been waiting.
The samurai and ninjas Kurosawa had hired at great expense—his last line of defense—felt their blood run cold.
"Monster!" one of them screamed.
The samurai's hands shook so hard their swords rattled. The ninjas turned to bolt.
Too late.
Haku's fingers moved, and countless ice needles gleamed under the moonlight.
A sharp whistle cut the air. The guards' throats erupted in sprays of blood, collapsing before they could even grunt.
Ice spread from their wounds, freezing their last sparks of life.
Kurosawa collapsed into a puddle of blood, his bloated body trembling like a leaf in a storm.
He watched his final defenses turn to ice statues, his pants darkening with fresh piss, the stench spreading. Staring at Haku, who stood like an ice-cold reaper, he choked out garbled noises, unable to form a single word.
Terror shattered his mind, leaving only raw, animalistic whimpers. "Don't… don't kill me! Money… take all my money! Spare me… please!"
Snot and tears streamed down his face as he groveled, slamming his forehead into the blood-soaked ground until it bruised.
Seeing his entire family dead in the carnage, his fear was so overwhelming he couldn't even think, only wail.
"You… you killed my whole family… please, don't kill me too… I'm begging you…"
A faint clatter of roof tiles broke the silence.
A figure dropped lightly from the high rooftop, landing silently in front of Haku.
---
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