17
There's a bullet hole in his hat. Its edges are singed. A curl of smoke rises from the spot like a last gasp.
"Fuck!" Naruto shouts. It's the wittiest follow-up he can think of.
What a hash he's made of this. Who the hell tries to use firearms on a ninja, anyway?
He swipes the hat from the dust, eyeing Daigo. The shopkeeper lingers in the shadows like a frightened spider.
"Well, that sucked," Naruto says. "Did you know this was going to happen?"
Daigo shakes his head. He says, "I knew Ichikawa weren't no good, but didn't think he'd gone full crazy. If I was to guess, those boys had been junk-sick for a few days now."
"Yeah. Probably," Naruto says. He pokes an exploratory finger into the half-burnt circle in the brim of his hat. Fuck it. Naruto slips the wide-brimmed garment back on his head. He grimaces as a single spear of sunlight immediately falls through the bullet hole.
Naruto says, "As much as I don't want to believe you . . . I believe you. Which is pretty great for you, given the mood I'm in right now." He shrugs his shoulders against his pack's straps, takes a sniff of the swirling alkaline dust, and chuffs, "Don't take this the wrong way, man, but I don't ever want to see you or this place again."
It's not much of a surprise when Naruto's attempted exit is interrupted with a hoarse, "Wait."
Naruto turns to find Daigo Shimura much as the nin first encountered him—huddled atop the steps, palms squeezed together, expression at once earnest and loathsome. A tongue like a rotting mollusk darts out and wets Daigo's lips. "You're shinobi, ain't ya'?" he says.
"What the hell else would I be?" Naruto growls.
"Figured that were the case. If'n so, there's somethin' about Tokusei you need to know."
Oh, fuck me. Not more of this.
Naruto more than half-considers exiting Daigo's dooryard at a sprint. He quarter-considers abandoning this ridiculous mission and heading back east entirely. Sorry, he'll say to the Council, but those inbred hill people were beyond saving.
Still. He's never bailed on a mission—not even the ones seemingly designed to kill him, thus finally relieving Konoha of the burden of its outspoken resident jinchūriki. This is nothing. A few dead idiots aren't worth losing his rank and privilege.
Naruto takes a deep, raspy breath. A hint of creosote in the air. "All right," he says. "What's the problem?"
Daigo grins with all the joy of a deep-sea fish and opens one of his palms.
These fucking people!
Naruto irritably swipes a ten-ryō coin from one of the purses sewn into the lining of his coat, then flips it end-over-end to the base of the steps. "Out with it," he says.
"No need to get salty, stranger."
"I beg to fuckin' differ," Naruto says. "Like I said, those friends of yours have put me in a sore state of mind."
"Weren't no friends o' mine," the shopkeeper shrugs. "But I see you. So:
"Fact of it is, there ain't any ninja in Tokusei. I seen a few o' your type come slinkin' into town, but they never last long. Shinobi ain't too fond o' the climate, see?"
"I really don't," says Naruto.
"What's that stuff y'all use for yer magic called?"
It's not magic, of course—but Naruto has no desire to argue nomenclature. "Chakra?"
"That's the stuff," Daigo nods. "Well, the way I hear it, Tokusei has some kind o' effect on yer chocker—"
"Chakra."
"Aye, right. That. In any event, there's somethin' around Tokusei that grabs onto the stuff. Drains it right out of ya'." Daigo scratches at one gaping nostril. "Ya' can't see or taste or smell it, but you can damn well feel it. It sucks shinobi dry. Ain't a pleasant process, as I understand."
Shaking his head, Naruto allows a weary smirk. "That's nonsense," he says. "I've heard of stuff like that, but it takes damn near a Kage's level of . . . well, I doubt it'd mean much to you. Needless to say, if you don't have any ninja out here, what you're describing is impossible."
Daigo waves a hand in protest. "Ain't tryin' to grift you, stranger. I ain't one o' your kind, so it's not as if I know what the whole thing actually feels like."
Something conspiratorial crosses the shopkeeper's features. "That said, there was this one fella I met who swore by it. A dude like you. Don't know where he hailed from, but when he first set foot in my yard, he looked like he could stop a whole army by himself. When he came limpin' back this way, I doubt he coulda stopped a gang o' kids from takin' his wallet. Only fella I ever saw who looked worse died with a tumor the size of watermelon in his belly. That shinobi weren't the first person to tell me that Dokusei's cursed, but he was definitely the first I believed."
Deep within himself—in those distant vaults where all personal truths are laid bare—Naruto feels the serrated sensation of a growing, approving smile. About his boots, a tiny dust devil springs up. A miniature white tornado, rising as if from nothing. It dissipates within a few moments—but the sense of hot potential still crackles along Naruto's limbs.
"I doubt it'll be a problem," Naruto grins.
"You sure o' that, mister? Might be better for ya' in the long run to turn around and go home."
"Naw. Even if this curse—or whatever it is—ends up being a thing, I got something of a personal advantage. A bit of a leg-up, if you will. But thanks for the info anyway, I guess." Naruto pauses, blows a breath through his nostrils, and says, "Seventeen kilometers, you said?"
"Aye. You'll see the smoke soon enough."
Naruto wheels about without warning and takes off across the yard. His path snakes between corpses and patches of earth turned to crimson mud. He raises a hand and declares, "Enjoy the rest of your day, chief! Don't look for me—I won't be back."
As Naruto heads out toward the footpath, he hears Daigo shout, "Hey! Mister! What the hell am I supposed to do with these bodies?"
"I'm sure you'll figure out something!" Naruto yells back. He quickens, eager to be rid of this awful place.