"Wait!"
Unknowingly, Konan's face was already drenched with tears. She stood at the doorway, shouting at the figure growing more distant.
Unfortunately, the person ahead never looked back.
Tears stread continuously from her eyes.
How could this happen?
They were just fine a mont ago!
"Please..."
[Pain detected: Konan 5000 points]
[Energy transferred to Kenjaku]
[Developnt progress: 15%]
Her legs went weak. A terrifying suspicion made her dizzy. She clutched tightly to the doorfra, her vision blurring.
"Will you ever co back...?"
Would Shiratori co back?
Would they ever see him again?
"What happened?"
Jiraiya, carrying a bucket full of seafood, looked at the three children in confusion. He had only been gone for a short while, how did things turn out like this?
Why did Shiratori suddenly leave?
Weren't they just planning to stay and eat together?
And why was Konan so heartbroken?
She looked like she might faint from the sorrow.
Nagato stood frozen, as if his soul had already left his body.
Jiraiya looked over at Yahiko, who was choking back sobs. A tear suddenly rolled down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away with his sleeve, stubbornly refusing to admit he was sad.
[Pain detected: Yahiko 10000 points]
[Energy transferred to Kenjaku]
[Developnt progress: 25%]
Nagato didn't move. He slowly sat down on the floor, hugged his knees, and remained silent.
Jiraiya looked at the three children, then toward the place where Shiratori had disappeared. He walked over to Yahiko, patting him on the shoulder, and asked:
"Did you and him have a fight?"
These four kids weren't blood relatives, yet they were closer than family. How could such a fierce conflict have erupted?
"We didn't fight," Yahiko sniffled. When he t Jiraiya's concerned gaze, all the emotions he had tried to hold back burst forth again. Tears stread down his face.
"It's him who changed!"
"He changed!"
Yahiko threw himself into Jiraiya's arms, crying uncontrollably.
Jiraiya gently patted his back. "How did he change?"
"He... he's been... been staying by Hanzō's side... working for Hanzō... He said I... even though he knew... I hate Hanzō..."
Yahiko rambled, barely coherent.
Despite Yahiko's jumbled words, Jiraiya managed to piece it together.
So Shiratori had been staying with Hanzō recently, working for him. It was both surprising and, in a way, expected. He was originally an orphan from the Land of Rain. It made sense that he'd join A and work under Hanzō.
To be honest, he didn't dislike Hanzō. In fact, he rather admired him.
But Yahiko clearly harbored a deep hatred toward Hanzō.
Children often see things in simpler terms. He couldn't grasp the complex reasons behind the village's current situation, and so he blad it all on Hanzō.
To him, who viewed Hanzō as an enemy, accepting that Shiratori had beco Hanzō's subordinate was impossible, leading to their clash.
"The way he just left... I... I'll never... never forgive him..."
Yahiko sobbed.
Jiraiya let out a deep sigh.
---
Shiratori sprinted along the road back to the village. Along the way, he cheerfully humd a tune.
"Today is a good day... All the things I wished for will co true..."
Before nightfall, he arrived at the village gates.
"Shiratori!"
The mont Mizu saw his figure, he finally let out a sigh of relief.
"You finally ca back. Did you et your friends?"
Mizu opened the iron gate and let him in.
Shiratori nodded slightly.
Mizu's eyes widened in surprise.
He actually found them!
"Why do you still look so unhappy after seeing your friends?"
Seeing his lost and dejected expression, he asked with concern.
"I wanted them to co with to A... but they didn't want to..." Shiratori replied to Mizu with apparent disappointnt.
So that was it. Mizu gave a bitter smile and shook his head, explaining, "Not everyone is as brave as you. They don't have the sa kind of talent you do. If they co here, they'll be in danger."
"I'll protect them!" Shiratori looked at Mizu and said firmly.
Mizu gave a helpless smile.
"But you can't protect them forever. There'll be tis when you're not around, what will they do then?"
Shiratori slowly lowered his head.
"You're right, Mizu-san... I was being too selfish..."
Seeing how downcast the boy was, Mizu comforted him with pity, "How could you be selfish? You're the bravest and most talented kid I've ever seen!"
"Really?"
Shiratori looked up at Mizu cautiously.
"Of course it's true!" Mizu said firmly.
"Then I'll keep working hard. I'll beco the bravest and most amazing ninja you've ever seen!" Shiratori promised seriously, word by word.
"..."
Shiratori smiled and nodded. "Alright!"
[Affection detected: Mizu 1000 points]
[Energy transferred to Rika]
[Developnt progress: 63%]
After saying goodbye to Mizu, Shiratori returned to his apartnt.
Through the eyes of crows, he saw that Chiba, Sakikawa, and Kuroi had already started packing.
At a ninja's pace, if they departed late tonight, they should reach the border between the Land of Rain and the Land of Fire by noon tomorrow.
He quickly packed his ninja tools, strapped on his katana, put on his raincoat, left a note behind, closed the apartnt door, and set off to join Chiba, Sakikawa, and Kuroi.
Rain was the constant companion in A.
Raindrops gently tapped on his raincoat.
He moved like a shadow, blending seamlessly with the night, hiding within the shadow of a massive water pipeline.
He stayed perfectly still, his breath barely audible, rging with the sound of falling rain.
Not far away, three patrolling A ninjas were making their rounds.
Rain trickled down the edges of their hats and forehead protectors. Their steps were steady, and their sharp eyes scanned every corner without missing a thing.
Dozens of crows provided him with multiple perspectives, allowing him to easily find a route that avoided the patrolling ninjas.
His footsteps were light and silent, not even splashing a single drop.
The village's collapsed machinery, enormous condensation towers, and crisscrossing pipes served as natural cover.
Weaving through the narrow gaps, he moved farther and farther from the village center.
Guided by the crows, he slipped into the water and swam a distance underwater. Using clever timing, he avoided the sightlines of towers and sentry posts.
Once outside the most heavily guarded area, Shiratori finally exhaled in relief.
He quickly sprinted ahead, his figure cutting through the night rain like a streak.
Once he left the borders of A, he took a deep breath, cold air mixed with mist flooded his lungs.
A few crows flapped their wings above his head, and he rushed off in the direction of Chiba and the others.
---
Note: Maybe you're interested in another Minecraft story?
One Piece: A Minecraft Player?
150 = 1 bonus chapter
---
40 Advance chapters!
----------------------
----------------------
I need your help with so suggestions for a story I'm currently writing. My problem is, I don't know if the players' world should be a normal advanced Earth or sothing fictional, like Marvel. Below is Chapter 1, it's still in the early phase. I'll delete the chapter below after getting so ideas.
----------------------
So warnings first:
This idea has been plaguing for a while, though I don't know how long I'll have the motivation to work on it. Suggestions are welco, I've only planned a few chapters so far.
Premise: A Nara ninja "summons" players, similar to MoP, but set in the Naruto world. It takes place in Rōran.
The MC is quite flawed and will grow stronger by using the players.
The novel is called Shadow Leveling.
No system.
AU.
##########
##########
The cave slled like shit and copper pennies.
That was Shikaki's first coherent thought in what felt like days, though ti had beco a bit negotiable since that explosive tag turned his left side into ground at. The shit sll was probably from when his bowels gave up soti during the first night. The copper was definitely blood... his, his teammates', the Iwa ninjas', all mixing into a horrible cocktail that had attracted flies.
If there were a cocktail nad after this, it'd be the Bloddy Shinobi, two parts blood, one part shit, served warm with flies.
So many fucking flies.
He tried to move his head and imdiately regretted it. Pain shot through his neck like soone was hamring senbon into his spine. His left eye wouldn't open at all, crusted shut with blood and god knows what else. The right eye managed a crack, just enough to see the dim cave entrance about ten ters away.
Ten ters.
Might as well be ten kiloters.
"Still breathing, huh?" he croaked to nobody, his voice sounding like he'd been gargling gravel. "That's... unfortunate."
A bitter laugh tried to escape but turned into a wet cough that brought up sothing chunky. Blood, probably. Or maybe a piece of lung. Did lungs co up in pieces? He should've paid more attention during the field dic course instead of sleeping through it.
Twenty years.
Twenty fucking years in this world of child soldiers and war, and this was how it ended. In a cave, covered in shit and blood, forgotten before he was even dead.
The mories of his life, this life, started flooding back. Maybe that's what happened when you died. Your brain desperately trying to find aning in the aninglessness.
----------
He'd been five when he first realized sothing was wrong with this picture. Sitting in the Nara compound, watching his cousins play ninja, and thinking "children shouldn't be learning how to kill." The thought had co from nowhere and everywhere, like an echo of sothing he couldn't quite rember.
By six, he was in the Academy, learning to throw kunai at human-shaped targets. The instructor praised his accuracy. His mother was proud. His father said he had the Nara gift for strategy. Nobody seed to notice or care that they were training children to be weapons.
"Why do we have to fight?" he'd asked his father once.
"It's troubleso," his father had replied. "But it's our duty to the village."
Duty. That word had followed him through the Academy, through genin team assignnts, through his first kill at twelve, a missing-nin who'd been stealing food from civilians. The man had begged at the end. Shikaki's shadow holding him still while his teammate slit the throat.
Clean.
Efficient.
Troubleso.
He'd tried, for a while, to be what they wanted. Trained his body until he threw up, attempting to match the taijutsu specialists. Lasted exactly three weeks before his muscles gave out and he spent a month in the hospital with severe chakra exhaustion and torn ligants. The dic-nin had been blunt: "Your body isn't built for that kind of training. You're trying to be the Third Raikage without his physiology."
So he'd pivoted. If he couldn't be strong, he'd be smart. Started collecting jutsu scrolls like other kids collected trading cards. Earth, water, fire, wind, lightning, learned the basics of everything. C-rank techniques mostly, nothing flashy.
Jack of all trades, master of none.
Except shadows. Shadows, he understood.
The Nara techniques ca naturally, but he'd pushed further. Spent hours experinting with shadow manipulation, finding new applications. Could make his shadow three-dinsional for a few seconds. Could use it to "feel" textures and temperatures. Small improvents that nobody noticed because why would they? He was just another Nara, doing Nara things.
The real revelation had been fūinjutsu. Started learning at fifteen, after watching his captain demonstrate a storage seal. The complexity had appealed to him, all puzzle and no brute force. His shadow clone, he could only maintain one, would study while he practiced shadow techniques.
Slow progress, but progress.
Three years of seal work. Three years of headaches and chakra exhaustion and tiny incrental improvents. He'd gotten good enough to modify storage seals, create basic barrier seals, even developed a personal seal that could display his chakra levels like a gauge. Nothing revolutionary. Just another special jonin with average skills and above-average intelligence.
The promotion had been a joke. They'd needed soone who could hold a position and use shadow techniques for battlefield control. Not strong enough to be a real jonin, but too useful to waste as a regular chunin. Special jonin, the participation trophy of ninja ranks.
----------
The mories kept coming as he lay dying, his brain's last desperate attempt to find aning.
----------
Three days earlier.
Captain Inoka, a normal Yamanaka ninja by Konoha standard, stood at the front of their forty-three man platoon, his scarred face grim as he outlined what everyone already knew was a suicide mission.
"Intel says Iwa's moving a thousand-man force through the valley. Our job is to make them think we're the vanguard of a larger force. Hold for three days while the real army repositions." He didn't say what everyone was thinking: we're bait.
Shikaki stood in the back, studying the terrain map. The valley was a killbox. Steep walls on both sides, one way in, one way out. Perfect for an ambush. Also perfect for getting slaughtered.
"Nara," the captain called out. "You're our forward scout. Shadow possession for captures if they send scouts ahead."
"Hai," Shikaki responded automatically, though his brain was already calculating survival odds. Forty-three versus a thousand. Maybe 0.3% chance if they played it perfect. More likely 0%.
The problem with being a Nara was everyone expected miracles from your brain. Like sohow being smart could make up for shit odds and no chakra reserves. He could make one shadow clone that'd last two hours if he didn't fight. Special jonin, his ass... he was just a chunin who'd survived long enough to get a field promotion.
Chozen, all three hundred pounds of him, clapped Shikaki on the shoulder hard enough to bruise. "Don't look so gloomy. We might get lucky."
"Our luck ran out at birth," Shikaki replied.
The genin, three kids fresh from the academy who shouldn't even be here, were trying to look brave. The one with the glasses kept adjusting them, likely a nervous tic. Another was writing what looked like a last letter ho. The third just stared at nothing, already in shock and they hadn't even started fighting yet.
They reached the valley at dawn. Shikaki created a single shadow clone and sent it ahead to scout. The drain was imdiate, like soone had opened a valve in his chakra network. He'd have maybe forty minutes before it dispersed.
"I need a vantage point," he told Inoka. "High ground where I can actually see them coming."
"Take position on the east ridge. Hyūga's got the west."
Shikaki climbed. When he reached the ridge, he lay flat and pulled out the stolen binoculars, regular ones, not chakra-enhanced. Those were for real jonin.
Then he waited.
His clone made it thirty-eight minutes before popping. The mories rushed back: Iwa forces, three columns, at least two hundred in the vanguard alone.
"Contact!" he shouted down. "Lead elents entering the valley. Two hundred, maybe two fifty."
"Just the vanguard then," Inoka called back. "All right, first wave positions. Make them think we've got an army up here."
The first exchange was textbook. Kunai and shuriken raining down from prepared positions. Explosive tags in a cascading pattern that made it seem like they had three tis their actual numbers. The Iwa ninjas fell back, regrouped, ca again.
By noon, the illusion was failing. The enemy was probing, testing, realizing the defensive fire was coming from the sa positions. Shikaki watched through his binoculars as the Iwa commander, a scarred woman with acid burns across half her face, drew diagrams in the dirt.
"They've figured us out," he told Inoka after sliding down from his perch. "She's planning a pincer movent. Send climbers up the cliff faces while the main force pushes through."
"How do you know?"
"Because it's what I'd do. We've been firing from the sa eight positions for hours. She's not stupid."
"Shit." The captain wiped blood from a graze on his cheek. "How long?"
"Twenty minutes, maybe thirty."
---
It was eighteen minutes.
The climbers ca up the sides like spiders, earth jutsu making handholds where none existed. The defending Konoha ninjas had to split their attention, and that's when the main force surged forward.
Shikaki caught one climber with his shadow imitation. Made the man jump backward off the cliff. The second one he tried to catch broke free after two seconds; Shikaki didn't have enough chakra left to hold him. A kunai opened a line across his ribs as he dove behind cover.
That's when Inoka's head exploded.
No warning, no dramatic last words. One second he was shouting orders, the next his skull ca apart like overripe fruit. So kind of compression jutsu, air or maybe sound-based. The genin with glasses was standing right next to him, got painted red and brown and gray. Kid just stood there, touching his face, trying to understand why it was wet.
An earth spear took him through the stomach before he figured it out.
"FORMATION'S BROKEN!" Chozen roared, his body expanding with his clan's technique. "FALL BACK TO—"
The sentence never finished. Earth spears erupted from the ground like a forest of death, turning him into a massive pincushion. His expansion jutsu made him a bigger target, more places to hurt. He deflated slowly, like a punctured balloon, blood pouring from fifty wounds.
The second genin, the letter writer, tried to run. Caught a kunai in the spine, fell forward, tried crawling with just his arms. An Iwa ninja stepped on his back, pushed the kunai deeper until it ca out through his chest. The kid spent thirty seconds dying, calling for his mother in increasingly wet gasps.
Shikaki's position was overrun. He was down to taijutsu and kunai, his chakra nearly spent. An Iwa ninja ca at him with a tantō. Shikaki deflected with a kunai, but the force drove him backward. The second strike opened his shoulder to the bone. The third would have taken his head if he hadn't done sothing that would haunt him forever.
He grabbed the dying genin, the letter writer, still gasping, and pulled him up as a shield.
The tantō went through the kid's chest, got stuck in bone. The Iwa ninja's eyes widened in surprise, giving Shikaki just enough ti to drive a kunai up under his jaw into his brain. Both bodies fell together, the genin's last breath a wet rattle against Shikaki's ear.
"I'm sorry," he whispered to the corpse, but sorry didn't an shit to the dead.
Another Iwa ninja ca at him. Shikaki had just enough chakra left for one technique. He used it on himself, forcing his own shadow to pull him down flat just as a sword swept where his neck had been.
The montum made it look like he'd been hit. He went limp, fell into the growing pile of corpses, suppressed his chakra to civilian levels. The Iwa ninja stabbed down once to make sure, the blade went through his already-injured shoulder, grinding against bone. It was painful, but he kept himself limp, let his eyes go vacant, released his bladder for authenticity.
Playing dead while your comrades died around you wasn't exactly Konoha standard, but then again, neither was surviving.
The third genin lasted longer than expected. Kid went absolutely feral when he realized he was going to die, biting an enemy's throat out before they cut him apart. Took six of them to bring him down. Shikaki watched through slitted eyes as they literally pulled the kid into pieces, his screams going on way too long.
By nightfall of the first day, he was the only one left alive, buried under two corpses and pretending to be a third. The Iwa forces set up camp in the valley, using the Konoha corpses as latrine markers. Soone pissed on the pile Shikaki was under. Warm liquid soaked through his vest, and he had to bite through his own tongue to keep from moving.
Three days. He played dead for three fucking days.
The Iwa ninjas looted the bodies on day two. Soone pulled the corpse off him, rifled through his pockets. Took his kunai, his ration bars, missed the things in his inner pocket. When they rolled him over to check for hidden pouches, shit and piss soaked and covered in other people's blood. The looter muttered sothing about "fucking tree huggers" and moved on.
By day three, the flies had found them. They crawled across his face, into his nose, his ears. Laid eggs in the wounds. He felt maggots starting to move in the shoulder wound and had to not react.
The main Iwa force moved through on the evening of day three. A thousand ninjas marching through the valley, stepping on corpses, laughing about how easy it had been. Shikaki counted them through the sound of their footsteps. Nine hundred eighty-six. The intelligence had been close.
He waited another six hours after the last one passed before moving. Even then, it was almost too late. His muscles had locked up, wounds had started to fester. The shoulder wound was definitely infected, probably gangrenous. When he tried to stand, his legs gave out imdiately.
So he crawled.
Away from the killing field...
Away from the dead kids who'd called for their mothers...
Away from Chozen's deflated corpse and Inoka's headless body....
Away from the genin he'd used as a human shield, whose letter ho would never be sent.
Found an animal trail leading to a cave. Dragged himself inside to die properly, alone, where nobody would piss on his corpse or use it as a territorial marker.
Except he'd been dying for three days now and his body apparently hadn't gotten the mo.
----------
"Troubleso," Shikaki muttered, the Nara clan's favorite. "Can't even die properly."
His hand, the right one, the left was definitely broken in at least four places, fumbled at his vest pocket. Two ration bars that had been soaked in soone else's blood.
The smart move would be saving them, trying to heal enough to make it back to the border. Report the mission's failure. Watch them carve forty-three nas into the morial stone. Get another suicide mission because that's what special jonin were for, cannon fodder with slightly better jutsu.
"Special jonin," he said, laughing until it hurt too much to continue. "Congratulations, Shikaki, you're now qualified to die for your village with a fancier title."
The laughter turned into crying, which was even more pathetic than dying in a cave. But fuck it, nobody was here to see. His parents were already dead, letter had arrived the day before deploynt. Training accident, they said. His father trying to save civilians from a misaid jutsu during a public demonstration. His mother attempting to help and catching the backlash.
Dead heroes. Just like their son would be, eventually.
If he could actually manage to die.
Sothing glinted deeper in the cave. Not sunlight, it was already dark outside, had been for hours.
He stared at it with his one good eye.
Could be a trap.
Could be so kind of poisonous gas that would finally finish the job.
Could be his brain shutting down and showing him pretty lights before the end.
"Fuck it," he decided.
Moving was agony. Every inch forward required dragging himself with his one functional arm, legs refusing to cooperate beyond weak pushes. The blood trail he was leaving would've made him easy to track if anyone gave a shit about one more dead Konoha ninja.
The light grew stronger as he went deeper. The cave expanded into a proper chamber, and that's when he saw it, seal work covering the walls. The symbols hurt to look at, like they were written in dinsions his brain couldn't quite process.
"Uzumaki?" he guessed, recognizing maybe one character in twenty. The Uzumaki clan had been seal masters before they got wiped out. This looked like their work had a baby with sothing older and aner.
The light source was in the center, a pool of sothing that definitely wasn't water. It glowed with that blueish. The seals all pointed toward it like it was sothing important.
Or dangerous.
Probably both.
Shikaki dragged himself to the edge and looked down. His reflection stared back, and Jesus Christ he looked bad. The left side of his face was hamburger. His vest was more red than green. Sothing white was poking through a tear in his shoulder that was probably bone.
"Well," he said to his fucked-up reflection, "I wanted to die anyway."
He tried to form hand seals for a diagnostic jutsu, maybe figure out what this thing was. His broken fingers didn't cooperate, resulting in sothing between Bird and Dog. But sohow, the malford seal activated sothing in the array.
The pool erupted.
The blue light beca solid, wrapping around him like liquid chakra. It burned and froze simultaneously, flooding into every wound. He scread, or tried to, but the energy was already forcing its way down his throat.
And this was his first deepthroat. He hoped it would be his last.
Too much too much too much...
His chakra pathway, already damaged from overuse during the battle, couldn't handle the influx. They burst like overfilled water balloons, the foreign energy imdiately rebuilding them wider. The pain transcended physical sensation into sothing almost philosophical.
It was damn painful!
This is what dying should feel like, so part of his brain noted. The rest of him was too busy being unmade and remade to care.
The cave disappeared. Reality beca a tunnel of light and sensation, pulling him down, down, down... Then nothing.
Then...
"—ound him here, Sāra-sama. Still breathing but barely."
"Bring him to the dical chambers. Carefully, look at these injuries."
Shikaki tried to open his eyes. Both of them worked this ti, which was probably not how anatomy worked but whatever. He was lying on sothing soft. An actual bed with actual sheets that didn't sll like blood and shit.
A woman leaned over him. Young, maybe sixteen or seventeen, with red hair and concerned eyes. She wore elaborate robes that marked her as soone important, and the way the other person deferred to her confird it.
"You're awake," she said. "That's... that's good. We weren't sure you would survive. What's your na?"
His throat felt like sandpaper that had been set on fire. The girl gestured and soone brought water. Cool, clean water that tasted better than anything he'd rembered.
"Shika," he managed, cutting off his clan na. "I'm... a rchant. Traveling rchant."
"A rchant," the girl repeated, and he could hear the doubt. "The healers said you had terrible burns, like you'd been too close to an explosion. And your wounds..."
She trailed off, clearly disturbed by what she'd seen. Probably wasn't used to seeing what ninjas did to each other. Civilian ruler of a civilian city.
"Bandits," he croaked. "They had explosives. Mining equipnt they'd stolen, maybe. Got lucky. They were amateurs with it."
"Bandits with explosives?" She looked to her guard, who shrugged. It wasn't impossible, the war had scattered enough dangerous shit across the countryside that anyone could get their hands on sothing nasty.
"You were found near the Ryūmyaku," she said carefully. "That's... unusual. The passages to that chamber have been sealed for generations. How did you get there?"
Ryūmyaku.
Shikaki's brain, even half-fried from whatever the fuck had happened, started putting pieces together. The Ryūmyaku was in Rōran, a city-state in the Land of Wind. Isolationist to the extre, protected by so kind of power that made the desert around it bloom.
"I don't know," he said, which was technically true. "I was dying. Crawled into a cave to get away from the sandstorm. There was this blue light, and I followed it. Thought I was hallucinating. Then I woke up here."
Sāra bit her lip, looking far too young to be ruling anything. "The Ryūmyaku is supposed to be dormant. My mother sealed them before she died."
"Maybe they're not as sealed as you thought," Shikaki suggested weakly.
She looked troubled by that but didn't pursue it. "What about your family? Is there soone we should send word to?"
"No one," he said flatly. "They're dead. Plague hit our village two months ago." The dead was dead, whether from plague or a training accident.
"I'm sorry," she said, and ant it. This girl wore her heart on her face like an open book. No ninja training. Just a teenager trying to rule a city.
"I'm Sāra," she said finally. "Queen of Rōran, though that probably doesn't an much to an outsider. You're under my protection while you heal. The healers say you'll need at least a month before you can walk properly."
"I can't pay—"
"I'm not asking for paynt," she interrupted, looking almost offended. "You appeared in our most sacred place, half-dead. Either the Ryūmyaku brought you here for a reason, or it's the strangest coincidence I've ever heard. Either way, I'm not throwing an injured man into the desert."
She stood, robes trailing like water. "Rest. Heal. When you're better, perhaps you can tell about the world outside. We don't get many visitors here."
The guard gave him one last look before following her out. That one had so training. Not ninja level, but sothing. He'd have to be careful around that one.
Shikaki stared at the ceiling, carved stone depicting dragons or serpents or sothing in between. He was alive, sohow. In a place ruled by a girl who didn't know enough about chakra to realize a "rchant" shouldn't have chakra burns. Where nobody knew him, nobody expected anything from him, and most importantly, nobody would co looking for him.
The Konoha records would list him as MIA, presud dead. Another na on the stone.
His shoulder throbbed where the sword had gone through. The Ryūmyaku had kept him alive but hadn't fixed everything. He'd have scars. Reminders of the day he'd used a dying kid as a shield and played dead while his comrades were butchered.
So ninja he'd turned out to be.
"Troubleso."
Reviews
All reviews (0)