Chapter 9: Choices, Opportunities, and Crisis

As night fell, the drizzle showed no sign of stopping. Reiji supported the drunken Mizukuma as they strolled through the streets of Amegakure.

"Sensei, how’d you get done so fast?" Reiji asked casually, effortlessly propping up Mizukuma by the shoulder.

"Fast?" Mizukuma slurred, confused. "What do you mean fast?"

"Not 'what's fast'—you were too fast. I counted—ten minutes in total, and you bagged two women. That's five minutes each! And in those ten minutes, you still managed to get yourself completely drunk."

Hearing that, Mizukuma’s knees buckled and he started wobbling, looking indignant.

"That’s bullshit! I’m not drunk! And I—it was just friendship between me, Meiya, and Yukiko! They’re performers, not prostitutes!"

"Alright, alright." Reiji steadied him with a firm grip. "Friendship, sure. You think I’m an idiot?

Anyway, I don’t know how much you spent at Yukiko’s, but your wallet's down by at least ten thousand ryo. You’ve got just over twenty thousand left."

As he spoke, Reiji slipped Mizukuma’s worn-out pouch into his own ninja bag.

"It’s fine." Mizukuma waved a big hand and grinned, his red face glowing with satisfaction. "Meiya... my sweet Meiya’s birthday is today. The extra money was her birthday present."

Listening to his incoherent rambling, Reiji was at a loss for words.

He honestly couldn’t tell if this guy was drunk or not.

If he was drunk, he still clearly remembered handing his money to a geisha.

If he wasn’t drunk... then giving a birthday present to a geisha wasn’t something any sane man would do.

Reiji walked him all the way home, took out the key, opened the door, and tossed Mizukuma, now too drunk to even open his eyes, onto the sofa.

He set the key on the coffee table, rolled his stiff shoulders, and glanced at Mizukuma snoring away on the couch. With a bitter smile, he turned to leave.

Just then, Mizukuma suddenly pushed himself up and sat unsteadily.

"Kohei-kun... let’s keep drinking!"

"Drink your damn head. Lie down and sleep!" Reiji snapped.

But Mizukuma suddenly reached out and grabbed his sleeve, mumbling through a thick tongue.

"Kohei-kun... don’t hate Hanzō-sama. He’s doing it all for the village. For peace... he had to harden his heart.

I... I’m just like you. An orphan. A war orphan. But I’m not like you—you’ve got real talent.

I can feel it... you’ve been hiding your power. You’ve got so much chakra. You think you’re good at concealing it, but I’ve known all along."

At those words, Reiji’s body tensed, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes.

But Mizukuma, eyes closed and dead drunk, didn’t notice and kept rambling on.

"Don’t worry... I’d never tell anyone, not even if I die. I don’t know why you haven’t told Hanzō-sama, but I’m sure you have your reasons.

Kohei-kun... do you have a dream?"

Reiji sighed, the edge in his eyes fading. He shook his head.

"No."

"Hehe~ I do!" Mizukuma grinned proudly, as if just having a dream made him superior.

"I was born at the tail end of the Warring States era. Back then, the whole ninja world was a mess.

Even kids—seven, eight years old—had to go to the front lines and fight for their lives."

His voice grew lower as he spoke.

"My parents were killed during that time...

Later, Hanzō-sama saved me and brought me back to the village.

I remember—when I was even younger than you—Konoha, Sunagakure, Iwagakure, Kumogakure, and Kirigakure were all founded one after another. But even with the so-called God of Shinobi, the chaos never really ended. The small villages kept fighting nonstop.

Eventually, I went to war. I saw comrades, friends, and mentors die right in front of me. I hate war—it took them all, so cruelly."

Watching the man in front of him cry like a child, Reiji pressed a hand to his forehead and let out a silent sigh.

For the first time since transmigrating, he felt like he was truly living in a world that was all too real.

Mizukuma’s rambling continued...

“Ever since then, I’ve been wondering—why do we live? What gives us the right to keep living?

Later, I set a goal. A dream.”

As he continued, Mizukuma’s voice grew more resolute.

“I’m not someone with talent. I can’t change the world. But! I’ll give everything I have to protect the village—protect kids like you. And when I die, I’ll pass that conviction on to the next generation.

Kohei-kun, can you accept that kind of belief?”

Reiji fell silent, staring at Mizukuma’s eyes, which had opened at some point.

After a long pause, under Mizukuma’s hopeful gaze, Reiji slowly shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Mizukuma-sensei. I’ve only been in the village for a few dozen days.” Reiji stumbled over his words—a rare thing for him. He didn’t want to lie. Mizukuma was the only person in this village he truly acknowledged.

Hearing that, Mizukuma let out an awkward chuckle and muttered to himself.

“Kohei-kun... I was rushing things.

Forget it. Don’t worry about it!

Oh right—if you ever have any questions about your training, feel free to come to my place and ask. After all, I’m your sensei!”

With that, he flashed Reiji a big smile.

Reiji gave a slow nod. Under Mizukuma’s complicated gaze, he walked out of the house without a word and gently closed the door behind him.

Leaning against the doorframe, Reiji looked out into the distance.

The steady drizzle had finally stopped. In the night sky, the pale moon rarely seen in Amegakure peeked out, casting its light over the darkened land.

Staring at the moon, Reiji let out another sigh.

Freedom and bonds—twin fates that always seemed to walk opposite paths.

...

Meanwhile, in the heart of the village, Hanzō of the Salamander sat in his office, expressionless, as he listened to reports from his subordinates.

Judging by how tense the bodyguards around him were, it was clear that Hanzō was in an extremely foul mood.

And rightly so. After an entire day of grim developments, his anger had reached a boiling point.

It started that morning, when a Jōnin from the intelligence division reported their department had been attacked, and numerous classified scrolls had vanished.

Among the most critical were scrolls detailing Amegakure’s secret Water Release techniques, the village's defense layout, and communications with undercover agents stationed in other villages.

Lesser among the losses was a scroll containing uncracked intel previously obtained from Isamu.

Then, in the afternoon, a spy monitoring the Bounty Station reported that a large amount of information concerning Amegakure’s covert operatives had appeared for sale—and representatives from the five major villages had already made their moves.

And just moments ago, another disaster struck: every single covert agent embedded in the five great nations had gone dark. Even those who had never been activated were somehow identified and eliminated.

Compared to all that, Shuku Kohei, his disappointing apprentice, wasn’t even worth mentioning anymore.

Truthfully, as soon as Hanzō learned of the intelligence department attack that morning, he’d activated his network to recall every agent in the field. But messages took time to travel, and he’d been a step too slow. The culprits—and the five great nations—had already made their moves.

Now, with a whole day of investigation yielding nothing, his breathing grew heavier with frustration.

“Keep looking! Keep digging! I want every last foreign spy in this village found—no exceptions!”

At that moment, Hanzō could only curse the fact that Amegakure didn’t have Konoha’s Yamanaka Clan. If they did, he’d make every last person in the village play truth or dare.

Kandachi carefully stepped up beside him and whispered...

“Hanzō-sama, could it be Shuku Kohei? No one suspicious has come into the village recently—he’s the only one who stands out!”

At those words, Hanzō of the Salamander whipped his head around, his glare so vicious it made Kandachi stumble back in fear. He swore he’d never seen Hanzō-sama this furious before.

“Save your petty schemes! Do you think I’m an idiot? That brat’s under twenty-four-hour surveillance by my men. I know exactly when he takes a shit—and how much!”

Kandachi shrank back like a scolded wife, shoulders hunched, looking pitiful.

“T-Then... our top priority should be rebuilding the spy network, Hanzō-sama.

Now that Konoha’s leader has just died, the Five Great Nations are moving aggressively. We can’t afford to be blind!”

Hearing that, Hanzō of the Salamander finally gave a small nod and said in a low voice, “Speak. What do you propose?”

Seeing that Hanzō was listening, Kandachi brightened up inside and couldn’t help feeling smug. Hanzō-sama still trusts me most. At a time like this, only I can help him minimize the damage.

His eyes gleamed as an idea formed.

“Hanzō-sama, since all our undercover agents have been exposed, sending more adults now would only draw suspicion from the Five Great Nations.

Instead, let’s raise a new group—orphans. We’ll train them and send them to infiltrate the Five Great Nations.

They won’t attract attention, and we can build up our influence from scratch. If any of them do well, they might even rise into the ranks of those nations’ leadership.

Take Konoha, for example—they’re known for taking care of foreign orphans!

This plan would kill three birds with one stone!”

There was no denying Kandachi’s scheming mind. It was full of cunning and manipulation.

The major nations might be on high alert for suspicious adults, but war orphans were everywhere—impossible to track. Monitoring that many children would require far too much manpower and resources.

“Hmm. Not bad. But how do we guarantee their loyalty?” Hanzō immediately hit the weak point in the plan.

Kandachi let out a sinister chuckle and leaned in close to whisper in Hanzō’s ear.

“Hanzō-sama, our village has that secret jutsu, right? The Curse Technique: Brain Implantation Technique.”

“Hm?” At that, Hanzō’s eyes sharpened like blades, glaring at Kandachi with unrelenting intensity.

Kandachi’s scalp tingled from the pressure, but he steeled himself and pressed on.

“Hanzō-sama, this isn’t the time for mercy. For the sake of the village’s peace and stability, the sacrifice of a few children is worth it. Besides, if they’re careful, their chances of surviving are pretty high!

Please, think about the people in this village who rely on us!

And those who’ve already fallen—they gave their lives for the village. We owe it to them to protect their children!”

By now, Kandachi was practically shouting. It was clear he genuinely believed every word he said.

Hanzō seemed to peer straight through him. Slowly, he turned and looked at the scroll on the table—the one listing the orphans of their fallen agents.

After a long silence, Hanzō of the Salamander let out a deep breath, the special mask on his face hissing with the release. His expression hardened into steely resolve.

“Go get the Forbidden Jutsu scroll from the vault.”

“Yes!” One of the bodyguards took the key from Hanzō and headed for the secure cabinet on the other side of the room.

After a complex series of unlocks, a bundle of palm-sized scrolls was laid on Hanzō’s desk.

“Since it was your plan, you’ll carry it out!”

With that, Hanzō shoved the scrolls toward Kandachi without hesitation, as if touching them any longer would burn his hands.

“And make sure you root out every last foreign spy in the village! You have three days. I want this place clean by then!”

“Yes!” Kandachi took the scrolls, standing tall with barely concealed pride on his face.

“Oh, right—Hanzō-sama, there’s someone I’d like to borrow.”

“Who?”

“Shuku Kohei.”