The pitter patter of the rain continued to echo, droning on into a muted din that seemed to swallow all color into a dull black and white world. Hoarse breathing echoed in the ears, while the silent weeping lamentations of those who couldn't help themselves perpetuated into depressing air.

Shirou balled his hands into fists, a shudder traveling down his back, as he did his best not to show the grief building from within him.

All along, he'd always wanted to be a hero since the day he was saved from a fire he had no right to survive. He thought he'd known of suffering in the blurry haze of an inferno, but the life he'd lived afterwards in a secure home and lifestyle protected by a public state-of-law was contrary to the meaning.

Did he know what it was like to starve? To eat dirt, mud, or tree bark just to fill one's stomach?

Did he know what it was like to live in constant fear of dying at the whims of those who disregarded the common masses for the sake of personal and inter-hidden village conflicts?

The more Shirou looked upon this grim reality in the land of Rain rather than just hearsay, the more afflicted he felt.

So much pain, so much loss, what was the point of all this? What justification existed beyond who gains what resource, or who gains which Daimyo's (Great Lord's) favor and mission absolved blame?

It was wrong. All of it was wrong.

What justifies this!?

[Sub Quest: Establish a Rebel Force]

Notifications flashed, blaring with color in the dreary gray of the present reality, but Shirou hardly noticed. Instead, he called out softly again towards the child who just would not heed his words out of sheer desperation.

"Eat slowly, please," he whispered softly, trying to break off smaller portions of the food he offered the child in a bid to slow the child's consumption. "If you eat like that after starving for so long-"

"Ah," Shirou opened and closed his mouth, swallowing stiffly as the child snatched the food from his hands and stuffed it all to the point that his cheeks bulged.

Realization set in for Shirou there and then.

It wasn't that the child didn't know what Shirou was warning about, but frankly he just didn't care. Better to die with food in the stomach than nothing. The child swallowed, and it was what was conveyed in the child's eyes while clutching at his gurgling stomach after eating hard food for the first time in weeks that affected Shirou most.

Confusion.

The child was dumbfounded. Confused that Shirou had even helped him, as if empathy and compassion didn't exist here, only pain.

[Sub Quest: Establish a Rebel Force]

Again the notification flashed. Was someone or something watching him? Directing him?

Shirou breathed in and out, the mission tasked of him taking on a whole other meaning than just avoiding death. The mission wasn't random, nor seemed to be created on a whim. Instead it seemed to act as a precursor to a greater cause.

Save them. Save these people.

The meaning was clear.

It was like an overarching theme, a guiding hand leading him towards a specific direction to complete a goal in line with his own.

A Hero was someone who wasn't just proficient in dealing with enemies, but someone who could make a meaningful change even if it were for just a single person.

The child scampered off after noticing that Shirou had no more food to give. It was almost like the boy was afraid that Shirou would be mad or had ulterior motives. Watching the boy flee into hiding in the rubble of the relatively ruined settlement, it was then and only then that Shirou took account of the change in his surroundings.

Everyone was watching him, the air rife with an overbearingly thick tension. Young, elderly, and the middle-aged were all the same, wetting their mouths and tentatively reaching for any sort of weapon. It was an army of sticks and bones with gaunt eyes, skin stretched thin, and desperation as the only driving force.

Shirou had just proven that he had food. He may not have anymore on him now, but who's to say if he didn't have more elsewhere?

It didn't matter. To these people, just the thought of food was enough.

No one said a word. No one had to in order to know what everyone was thinking, but Shirou was the only unconventional one.

None of these people are truly enemies. Their hands were shaking, smidgens of guilt hidden behind resolved eyes. It may not be all of them, but to many, they just didn't see another choice. No one wanted to die, and if to live was to inflict pain or death on another, then they'd do it even at the cost of morality.

It was sickening. All of this was sickening.

The current state of everyone here, the dilapidated ruins of a war zone, and the people forced to continue living in it, slowly dying away from a lack of resources and proper care. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair.

No one deserved this, especially those who'd had nothing to do with all the fighting in the first place.

Shirou swallowed, unable to bring himself to enter a combat stance of any kind and stood rooted in a daze. Could he harm these people who appeared as if a strong wind could knock them down and kill them? Their only fault lied in what they were forced to do in order to live.

He couldn't bring himself to harm them. There was just no way.

The arms that had reflexively risen as if to grasp the handle of invisible swords, fell back to their sides.

"Shit. I knew it. He's frozen up," Yahiko whispered from afar, features pensive before quickly turning to his friends and bolting forward and calling out. "Konan, Nagato, hurry!"

The other two startled, but nodded in mutual understanding.

Konan's sleeves fluttered, the cloth peeling away into flat pieces of white paper that danced forward like petals in a breeze. They folded and creased into paper cranes forming a storm of origami that floated in the air in an instant.

A second later, Yahiko, Nagato, and Konan appeared with their backs facing Shirou in a defensive circle.

The fruits of the three's training were showing; Konan kept her hands constantly in front of her to control the floating cranes, while Nagato and Yahiko with no suitable weapons, channeled chakra into pieces of stale long bread on Konan's suggestion.

"Konan…You're crazy," Yahiko immediately knitted his brows when he registered that he had blindly followed Konan's advice, and was now fighting with a baguette.

"Shut up. Shirou did it, you can too," Konan replied coldly, missing the way Nagato looked at the stale bread in his hands, and tossed it into the crowd to let them fight over it instead.

In any case, Konan was in no mood for more words. Neither was anyone.

"They're coming," Konan warned, tensing at the first person in the crowd to take a step towards them despite the clear show that none of them were ordinary.

Chakra and Jutsu were clear signs of shinobi, and shinobi were dangerous even as brats. Even still. No, in some ways, maybe it was precisely why, but the growing aggression didn't stop.

Reasons such 'because of you,' or 'people like you,' festered unspoken, yet were felt.

This cycle of pain, of suffering, it would not end with further violence.

Enough.

Shirou had had enough. This feeling of helplessness and empathy welling from within him was unbearable for a man who only dreamed of a world where others didn't have to cry in sadness.

Unknowingly, Ninshu's passive began to spread and permeate.

Ninshu was the progenitor of ninjutsu, and in its own way, its original purpose was a means to connect, understand, and eventually comprehend each other's difficulty. To share in both joy and hardship.

An unseen force began to flow, gentle, sad, yet warm.

"Konan, Nagato, Yahiko," Shirou called out, shaking his head and solemnly staring at them all who startled at his voice. "Don't."

It was a single word, but it seemed to carry a deeper meaning. Don't fight, don't hurt them, or was it something else entirely? No matter, it was as if a spell had been cast, the sincerity in the tone cutting through the tension of the crowd.

Worried, Yahiko couldn't help but try to express doubt. Even if they were being trained, there were still only four of them against a crowd of dozens. "But-"

"Don't." Shirou whispered. "It's enough."

Gradually, Yahiko's stance slackened, followed by a nervous Nagato who clutched Chibi in his grip. The only one who didn't seem to react was Konan who's cranes only seemed to proliferate further.

Shirou eyed her, features dispirited. "Konan, put the origami away."

Konan pursed her lips, knit brows growing icy. "People aren't people when they're desperate," she muttered.

"Konan."

Finally, Konan glanced back at Shirou and saw him pleading with her, not with a show of force, but with a trust that believed that she wasn't so ruthless.

She couldn't bear it. Not that earnest look. She swallowed.

"Fine."

Against her better judgement, Konan began to take back her paper cranes, a slew of them congregating around her and reforming into her sleeves. She bit down on her lip, pensiveness causing her shoulders to droop, and hands to feel itchy.

"Thank you," Shirou nodded his head, not knowing that Konan neither wanted his thanks or gratitude.

"What are you trying to do?" She muttered softly to herself, unable to see an outcome where this crowd didn't rip into them. She just didn't want Shirou or the rest to be in this situation to begin with.

Coming here had been a mistake-

"No!" Konan exclaimed in a stupor, trying to make a grab at Shirou when she immediately noticed him approaching the crowd unarmed.

Shirou wordlessly dodged her attempt, and when Konan glared at Yahiko and Nagato for not helping her stop him, it was only then that she'd noticed a change. Nagato and Yahiko were openly staring at the crowd before them and Shirou who was approaching. Confusion, bewilderment, and above all, shock coloured their features.

Once again, they could feel it, understand it, the emotions that Shirou was wearing so blatantly over his sleeves.

All are connected: This was the strongest and most reliable aspect of Ninshu.

'I'll change this.'

It was a way of speaking and communication that transcended words, boundaries, and language.

Hands that were gripped so tightly over broken pieces of wood, stones, and anything that could be picked up, gradually slackened. Tense, angry, and murderous eyes gave way to solemn bafflement and even tears.

Like Konan, Nagato, and Yahiko, the crowd too could sense Shirou's truest intentions. There was no attempt at even hiding it.

'I'll make it better.'

Where he walked, the crowd would part. In the end, he'd simply walked past them all without any shred of doubt in the eyes of all.

The crowd didn't attack, didn't make any sudden moves, didn't even make a sound. They just couldn't. Everyone, regardless of their characters, physical states, and mentality could hear a desperate voice whispering in their ears. They knew, they just knew that even if Shirou left now, he would certainly come back. How or why was already blatantly obvious.

'Please.'

It was a voice that continued to repeat; an indelible cry spoken not from the heart or mind, but from the soul.

'Let me save you.'

The crowd dispersed, leaving Shirou alone to stand at the edge of the ruined village's settlement until Yahiko and the others caught up to him. None knew what he was thinking, but that didn't mean that they couldn't infer what sort of monumental task he'd placed on his shoulders for no other reason than his own kindness.

"Shirou, do you not know what you've agreed to?!" Konan asked pensively, trailing by Shirou's back and nagging with pinched brows. "You want to help them, but how? They need food, and we're running short on our own…" She swallowed and grimaced, seeing that her rationality was barely having any sort of persuasive effect.

She glanced at Nagato and Yahiko to support her, and this time one of them actually decided to chip in.

"How are you planning to provide food and supplies for the people of this entire settlement?" Nagato inquired, frowning and posing the most difficult question from the get go.

It was like he and Konan were of the same mind, unable to logically come to any sort of answer.

Meanwhile, there was Yahiko with his hands clasped behind his head and elbows pointed forward almost leisurely. The guy looked like he had all the confidence now that Shirou was on the case.

"What's the problem guys? We just need to lighten up a bit and think. There's surely a way? Have some faith, you know?"

"Tch." Konan clicked her tongue.

She and Nagato couldn't understand Yahiko's level of optimism and ignored Yahiko's irrational words completely. Perhaps this was the divide between antagonist characters and protagonist characters? Optimism?

It was hard to say, not that Shirou even noticed the nuance. He was too busy trying to come up with an answer.

"Don't worry. Let me deal with it," he said, trying to maintain a smile.

"See!" Yahiko argued his point, only for Nagato to get between his friend and Konan's frosty glare.

Konan and Nagato instantly inferred that the response was perfunctory, rather than sure.

Worriedly, the two fell silent, knowing that Shirou was only saying such words for the sake of alleviating their concerns. In the end, he was just putting another burden on his shoulders, something that irked Konan, but continued to win Nagato's admiration. It took courage and grit to take responsibility upon oneself so as not to affect others.

It was admirable-

"It's stupid," Konan clenched her jaw and murmured lowly such that only Nagato had heard. Wisely, he chose to keep his opinion to himself.

With Konan and Nagato growing silent, and Yahiko trying to keep the air from getting too heavy, only Shirou knew that he was at a loss.

Logically, Konan and Nagato's words were right. Food was the issue.

However, Shirou himself was far more oriented towards combat than logistics. In the vast armoury he'd witnessed in the midst of using the EMIYA-Install Card, none truly carried properties of an abundance of food. There were those that could sustain life, but as mentioned before, that would only be a stop-gap measure that required constant energy to maintain its effect.

Unless the villagers could be self-sufficient, they would inevitably starve and die.

Drinking water was fairly easy to come by as it was always raining. Therefore, what he had to consider were the edible things.

It was in the midst of his heavy contemplation that he was given another sign. It was almost like a hint, popping up before him, again as if being directed. Shirou's circumstances and the one behind his arrival to this world were a mystery, but what wasn't was what he needed to do.

[Reputation Points: 1200]

The notification of a type of currency flashed before him.

He'd almost completely forgotten about this function. Something about reputation points that he had been steadily acquiring through his actions. More importantly, the number of reputation points had shot up dramatically after the encounter with the crowd.

What were the reputation points for? Well, it was quite obvious on the next prompt below it.

[Shop]

A shop icon was now floating just within view.

For a second, Shirou felt his heart skip a beat. A shop meant goods for sale. Goods for sale could mean a short-term solution. If he could just purchase food, then that would be perfect to put the problem on hold until something more concrete was devised, but sadly, there were no such food options.

Upon mentally clicking the icon, several categories had opened instead.

[Jutsu]

[Scrolls]

[Sealing Arts]

[Nature Transformations]

These were the four basic categories Shirou had access to. Their names were rather self explanatory, but on first glance, didn't seem able to solve the immediate situation. A random Jutsu, scroll, or sealing art wasn't going to help him overcome his present difficulties. This was made clear as a cursory glance at the offered goods in the categories revealed more offence and defence-based items and skills.

With no other choice, he banked his hopes on the last category of Nature Transformation. At first, he was disappointed in what he saw as Nature Transformations seemed to be just mutations in Chakra elements related to bloodline. However, this all changed when he began reading descriptions beyond just destructive ability or utility which he already had in good supply.

If it was food and logistics, one Nature Transformation stood out among the rest. It was even highlighted in green.

[Wood Release: Basic]

Strangely enough, it was going at a discount because his unknown bloodline had some form of compatibility with it. The similarity was like a close relative's test results.

Regardless, the longer Shirou read the description, the more thoughtful he became.

This…This could be of use.

[1000 Rep points will be deducted]

[Purchase: Yes/No?]

/-/

As matters progressed in the Land of Rain, the same could be said in the unfolding political nightmare in in the Village Hidden in the Leaves.

Within her residence situated in a quaint mansion in the Senju clan's grounds, Mito Uzumaki was growing tired. Where once before the Senju clan had been strong and prosperous, now their numbers had dwindled to a scant few.

Staring through the window of her home at the empty streets before her, Mito recalled a time when she'd first married into the Senju clan all those years ago. It was like yesterday, but now even this moment of fond recollection ceased to ease her nerves.

Behind her, she heard the sound of a door opening behind her. The mansion she lived in was quite spacious, but it was also quite empty. Having grown old, Mito no longer cared too much about luxury or appearances. In the emptiness of the room, the sound of the door opening clearly echoed.

Mito didn't bother turning to see who it was. With her position in the Hidden Leaf, few would leisurely come to chat with her. More so after her husband's passing.

The fact that had a door had been respectfully opened, and not a window as most Shinobi tended to use, Mito could guess the identity of her most recent guest.

She huffed, snorting.

"When was the last time you came to visit, Sarutobi? Finally decided to get one last look at this old woman's face before she kicks the bucket?" Mito coughed into a cloth in her hands, flecks of blood staining her sleeve. She grimaced, put the cloth away, and finally turned her attention to an old man in a white rob and square hat with red motifs of fire country.

This man was Hiruzen Sarutobi, the present leader of the Hidden Leaf...and a brat Mito had often dealt with when he was a shinobi in training.

"You shouldn't talk like that, Lady Mito. You still have life left in you." Sarutobi mumbled, the smoking pipe he held between his lips nearly falling out, before he composed himself. "Still, I'm afraid that this is less a personal visit than a practical one."

"Typical. I'm surprised Danzo's not the one here."

"He's busy."

"That's what he always says." Mito quipped. "Probably still sore from when I used to spank him for being naughty when he was a kid. Much like you were."

Sarutobi chose not to rise to that one. Dark history should always remain hidden. He coughed into his hand, clearing his throat and trying to change the subject.

"Has she calmed down?" Sarutobi inquired.

"No," came the flat answer, Mito grunting while placing a wrinkled hand over her temples. "She's only getting worse, accusing me of stopping her from trying to 'save' her baby brother. As if I haven't already told her that recklessly going there just puts them both in danger."

Sarutobi narrowed his eyes.

"The Fox is playing on her frustration?"

This was Sarutobi's main concern, especially with how recently a certain procedure was carried out. It was the only reason he was sure that Mito wasn't joking about not having much time left in her life.

Still, Mito scoffed at Sarutobi's inquiry and didn't answer the obvious, instead shifting the topic again to what concerned her more.

"What are the village's plans for the hidden rain?" Mito put down civil pretense and directly asked with a sharp gaze. "At the very least, have efforts been made?"

"Well," Sarutobi tiptoed over the subject, back pooling with cold sweat. "The council has yet to come to a mutual consensus and there are many considerations to consider that impede the general proc-"

"Council this, council that, are they the Hokage (Leaf Hidden Shadow), or are you the Hokage?" Mito showed no mercy at pointing out Sarutobi's short comings.

"Lady Mito-"

"Didn't I tell you before? You should take after your teacher more!"

Oh great, she's nagging.

"At the very least, try to imitate his glare. Hashirama always joked about how quiet the room gets."

"Lady Mito, please. Spare me…"

"Hmph, you pushover monkey."

"..."

Mito scoffed at the helpless image Sarutobi was painting for himself right now. The man was too sentimental. He likely knew the right choices and decisions to make, but was hesitant to strong arm those who'd fought by his side. The worst was his partiality to his former teammates.

Shaking her head, Mito decided to be more direct.

"The Uzumaki have always been an integral part of the Hidden Leaf's creation since the age of the Warring Clans." Mito narrowed her eyes with the regality of a former clan heiress. "We are allies."

This fact was undisputable, and was speculated to be one of the main driving factors that led to the attack on the Hidden Whirlpool. Something the Hidden Leaf had failed to prevent.

Sarutobi knew this, worse, he also knew that Mito had never held the Hidden Leaf accountable as she knew that they'd tried their best. Still, it was a sore wound that he and every council member knew of.

"Now I ask you this as the oldest Uzumaki to the Hokage of the Village Hidden in the Leaves," Mito straightened her back, earrings etched with sealing script dangling at the gentle imploring tilt of her head. "The Hidden Whirlpool is gone, Sarutobi. Konoha had been unable to provide aid at that time. That said,"

Mito seemed to age visibly as a sense of loss assailed her for the family that she'd left behind all those years ago.

"Will the Hidden Leaf abandon those that are left?"

/-/

A voice echoed in the quiet hall moments after Sarutobi's solemn departure.

"-Let me ooouuuut!"

Mito sighed, shaking her head. Right. That's what she was still dealing with.

Ah, the reckless boldness of youth.

"Shut uppp!"

She responded in kind, Uzumaki style.

For a moment, the sadness of recollection left Mito.

She still got it in her.

Thanks for reading! Sorry for late update, I mixed up my dates

Next update: TBA

P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious

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The Lonely Peak

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