Happy New Year from your hardly-seen NeoShadows!
Been very busy since we last chatted but I finally got off my procrastinating ass, sat down, got to editing, and finally completed the next chapter.
I've got a lot I want to say but I got to head in early in the morning for work, so I'll keep this short so you all can get some reading in while I knock myself out with whisky; how you're boy sleeps.
Other than some surprises this month, I will be strictly focusing on ending the Wave arc. We're close to the end and I want to get there with no other distractions. I'll probably do the same with my Pokemon fic next too before getting back to Influx of Misfortune.
So, let's get going already: I need sleep, so scroll away.
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to A Certain Magical Index or Naruto. All rights are reserved to both Kazuma Kamachi and Masashi Kishimoto.
Chapter 10: Those Yet To Be…
Still_DROWNING.
[-]
Between The Lines-5
Zori did not expect to wake up again. Much less in a futon with a cool towel resting on his forehead.
His bleary vision went in and out as he awoke to stare at a ceiling he wasn't familiar with after going on one of his many sake binges. He wasn't in his personal quarters, it didn't appear to be a common room he was familiar with that belonged to one of Gato's bases, and it certainly wasn't the dirty streets either. The sheets were rather childish with flowers. It was either a child's old futon or a rather girly teenager's. Body sore, hot, and stiff, he slowly took in his surroundings that spoke of being left in the middle of a guest room of sorts.
The afterlife hadn't awaited him. The flames of hell hadn't seared his skin into a bubbly char for his crimes. Zori was resting comfortably in some childish futon in someone's guest room, his wounds treated, and wearing a borrowed set of clothing. Literally, this was the last place he would expect to find himself in.
As one would expect, Zori was very much confused and a bit freaked out. What kind of attacker brings their victim to their home, heals them, and tucks them in? Just thinking of who had come across his unconscious body made him shiver.
Zori sat up gingerly with a hiss. His body was completely sore after two rounds with Kamijou Touma. The kid may appear average but he had a hell of a swing behind his fist. Not to mention he had been just as ruthless as him. The failed samurai rubbed his left hand over the chemical burns inflicted by the bastard's clever tactics.
"Oh, awake I see? I would have thought you'd be out a bit longer."
Out of instinct, Zori scrambled for his katana. It had been left stupidly at his bedside.
The screen door slid open to reveal an older man in his forties. The man's dark hair was swept back with specks of gray. His clothing was simple: dark blue short sleeve vest amid gray, with a white rope acting as a belt for his pants. His face was aged, weathered from days out in the hot sun and sea waves, and displaying wrinkles whenever he made any kind of expression; mostly in his mid-forties. The man was a crab fisherman who fought the strong, dark tides regularly for the good of his family. A strong man with visible muscles earned through hard work, not rigorous training brought by one's desire to fight or survive, but for the happiness of one's family.
This was not a stranger.
Zori had met the man as Gato's debt-collecting blade.
The very man who had greeted him was one of the many people in this village that Zori would threaten as an ex-blade of Gato. Every week Zori would brandish his katana with a click of the sheath and the crab fisherman would pay a ridiculous tax for protection from Gato's more vicious and sick-minded thugs.
The crab fisherman gestured for Zori to ease up with a patient smile, further confusing the already fatigued and weak thug.
"Calm down, Zori-san. No one's going to hurt you. Seems you already suffered one hell of a beat down from the looks of it. Luckily it wasn't anything I couldn't patch up myself."
"Why am I here?"
Zori's stance didn't drop but he did loosen his grip on his hilt. The crab fisherman took it as a sign to step into the guest room and take a seat on the floor close to the wary samurai.
At any moment, he could kill him. So, why was he hesitating?
Such a question could be said to either man who had kept their hands clean.
"What do you mean 'why'? You were laid out in the middle of the street, black and blue, coughing red. Did you expect me to leave you out there to the wolves? A lot of folks out here would have stabbed you in the back if they found you like that."
"So why didn't you?"
What had slithered out of Zori's dry and cracked lips was a puzzled curse.
The crab fisherman crossed his arms over his chest, shutting his eyes in contemplation. As if he was attempting to come to terms with having refused to slip a cheap kitchen knife into his gut. Even if he struggled to swallow it, a furious sneer had surfaced on his wrinkled face, twitching as if he was on just on the brink of giving in to the rightful anger boiling in his heart.
Zori curled his fingers around the hilt of his katana, ready to act at the slightest hint of deceit.
"You saved them."
Words had been said softly, cracking ever so slightly like a tiny fissure.
Whatever Zori had been preparing for, it certainly wasn't that. It was enough to break his stance as he stared at the stern-faced man who had saved him.
"What are...you talking about?" Zori asked slowly.
Save? As in rescue? Him? A filthy and heartless blade of Gato? Someone who abandoned his own consciousness and gave into senseless bloodshed for nothing more than his own luxury?
"Saved? Who the hell says I saved anyone!?"
"You remember our game a month ago, right?"
Even though Zori's blood-stained katana shivered anxiously, the crab fisherman didn't cower. No, the forty-year-old man relaxed with an odd smile. As if he was speaking with a childhood friend he hadn't seen in years and had discovered was walking down a troubled and dangerous path.
"As usual, it was a Friday night and Gato had his usual cut-throat thugs going around to collect his taxes for the week. It must have been my lucky day since you were the one to come o'knocking on my door instead of those bastards. I've heard rumors from some of the others that, unlike those demons, you'll accept a game of cards with our Ryo on the line. Win, and not only would you keep your money, but it would be doubled and returned. Lose, and you would have to pay with either a fine bottle of sake as collateral or lose your money."
Zori lowered his sheath. The tension died away as he sat down to listen to the crab fisherman's retelling of a foggy memory. Truth be told, he was probably drunk at the time. Cards were just that much fun when you were drunk.
It wouldn't be a first. A gambler was a gambler to the very end, even if he was a killer. Being one of Gato's most trusted enforcers, he was never questioned about lacking a few hundred Ryo every week that he had lost in a few drunken games with the weak and pathetic villagers. And with how much he was paid for his services, it wasn't a big deal if he lost a few rounds against some skilled players.
So what? What the fuck did it matter if he played a game with some nameless villager who hadn't killed him because of such a stupid gamble?
"I decided to test the theory out and challenged you to a game of Koi-Koi; my daughter loves to play the game and I've gotten pretty good at it. I thought; why not? I desperately needed the money at the time and decided to bet it all on a kid's card game. Got to admit, it was a tough battle. Never sweated so much or felt so tense in a game before." The crab fisherman chuckled, his wrinkles stretching in amusement at what should have been a harrowing memory of survival.
"You were in the lead by the fifth round and I was falling behind. I thought all was lost. But then I started wracking up a few combos to multiply my score by the seventh round. If you hadn't called Koi-Koi[1](Come on!) instead of Shobu[Game!], I would have never been able to score a Goku[Five Brights] to double my score and win. I won, you paid up the ante with a complaint, walked away with a sloppy wave after snatching my last few bottles of sake, and promised that I wouldn't have to worry about my taxes for the month."
Now it was coming back to the speechless Zori.
He frowned lightly at the memory of the tough battle. He was sure he was going to win but his love for betting had been his undoing in the eleventh round. He had felt he could build more points but had failed as his opponent called Shobu. The crab fisherman had built just enough points to win it all in the final round.
Koi-Koi was a childish game meant only for children. At least, that was what he had been told long ago in the snowy mountains of a land that worshiped a decaying philosophy of rusty steel.
The game had been...fun.
Real fun.
It had been a long time since Zori had spent so much time engrossed in a game. He had completely forgotten what was at risk and been lost in beating his opponent for nothing more than the fun of it. For the thrill. For the challenge of besting an equally skilled player who had fought with his all over a children's card game he had been told was useless.
Just the memory of that single game had caused the slightest of twitches on the thin line on the disgraced thug's lips.
"I remember...you had me on the ropes and made me work for it. I didn't even care that I lost. It was fun." There was no longer any reason to act as the threatening arm of Gato. Zori could speak his mind and not care about what others thought. "But what does that have to do with saving anyone? All I've done is kill and steal since I've been employed by Gato. I've never once saved anyone!"
Because he didn't care. He didn't feel any sorrow for the bodies he cut up in a single stroke!
Plenty of bodies had been dropped because Gato had ordered him to silence them. Never once did Zori ever do any good for anyone in Nami no Kuni. He was their executioner if they were unlucky. So how could the loony man say something as ridiculous as saving anyone?
"Did you notice how quiet it is? Don't you remember that when we were playing Koi-Koi that day, we had a little audience made up of my daughter, my son, and my wife? They're not here."
What did that matter? Zori must have appeared as confused as he was feeling since the crab fisherman chuckled.
"As Gato's dog, you must know about the secret ferry that's being kept hidden from your boss. One of the villagers will help sneak out others for a certain fee per person to escape the nation and even help you meet up with a few mercenary buddies he knows that will protect you until you've reached a safe village. It's a hefty cost but worth it if you're done living under Gato's thumb. Unless you're willing to risk missing out on a few payments to Gato's company, it's very difficult to do."
Zori nodded with a light frown. It was true, Gato had complained furiously about rebels in his country that were sneaking out without paying a toll, one that would no doubt leave them not even with the clothes on their back for bandits to steal. No matter how many of his thugs the short man sent out to hang the one responsible for sneaking people out, they always turned up empty.
It was then that the failed samurai put two and two together.
"I see that you finally figured it out." The crab fisherman grinned, "That's right, our game saved my family's life from this shitty world run by a greedy piece of shit! I was able to gather enough Ryo to pay off the ferry and have some mercenaries protect them in two weeks. It pained me to know I couldn't go with them but this was just a temporary solution. As long as they're out of this country, they're safe from those depraved dogs that would snatch them out of their beds for nothing more than fun even if we paid Gato's protection fee. And that's all because of your childish game."
Zori scoffed a the ridiculous logic. It had been nothing more than a game to kill time as always. That by no means meant he had saved anyone.
"I didn't save anyone. If you had lost, you would have been screwed. I could have taken your money for myself if I felt like it!" Zori sneered in an attempt to adorn the old horns he had worn.
The crab fisherman shook his head sternly and spoke flatly.
"I've talked to several others who've you played with, you know? A lot of them have similar stories. A game, a loss, a win, each one playing differently. Even if one lost to you, you'd take their money and still leave them with protection. If they were short this week, their win would save them and leave them a bit left over for food. Either way, your childish card games would be more of a benefit for them than yourself. Hadn't you demons ever wondered why so many of us remained here and not risked abandoning this rotting nation? You never hurt anyone unless you were directly commanded by Gato. No one died because you were bloodthirsty and you've even stopped that lunatic Waraji from butchering people when it was uncalled for. Even if you were an asshole, cold, unfeeling, uncaring, selfish, and cruel, you-"
"DON'T SAY IT!"
Deathly steel rasped out from its home to land between the crab fisherman's unperturbed face faster than he could react.
Zori grit his teeth in livid anger, his body trembling at the man who had taken pity on him and spouted nonsense regarding some kind of sliver of humanity he had left.
What that idiot was about to say was something he didn't wish to hear again. A curse far fouler than anything the people he harassed and struck could ever speak.
The crab fisherman didn't blink, didn't tremble, didn't beg for his life. He spoke calmly without a hint of fear to the owner of that uneasy katana. As if it was the simplest truth he had known.
"You're not as bad as you make yourself out to be."
The katana struck with a flash of filthy silver.
Yet the color red hadn't splashed.
The crab fisherman smiled slightly as the silver steel dug deeply into the tatami as Zori collapsed to his knees. The boy in the fisherman's eyes appeared exhausted, drained mentally, and struggling to make another move. The so-called murdering blade was spent and snarling like a mad dog fighting to clamp his jaw shut.
Everyone in the village knew of Zori. One of Gato's greedy blades that regularly walked by his side and killed whoever got in the billionaire's way. Those who had seen Kaiza's final moments knew that the very blade that had put him out of his misery had been the gambling samurai who swiftly beheaded him with one swipe.
Kaiza's murderer was well known. He was the champion killer. The reaper of a nation's hope and dreams.
Yet that very blade had been unknowingly protecting the very villagers he was stealing from with games. Zori was not free of sin, he was due for punishment for all the lives he had taken for his own safety and leisure. If the crab fisherman wanted, he could have bashed the samurai's head in over and over again and be seen as a hero. Surely it would have been justified in the eyes of the village if he had killed one of Gato's dogs.
But there were a few who saw Zori's games as a kindness of sorts that allowed them to survive another day, to hope for another, and to hug those they loved another day.
He was neither good nor evil. Hated, yes. Despised, yes. But whether he understood it or not, his selfishness and desire to play games with even his victims had led to the salvation of others.
To put it simply, the gambler was just another blade in the hands of a monster, one that had no real sense of right or wrong. He was a blade that had now been tinged with a solemn light, abandoned by his owner or no longer willing to return to his sheath.
"Why did I save you? I'd say it was because you're loss saved my family but it's also because I had fun too. I can't remember the last time I could play such a childish game that made me feel thirty years young! So, I thought, why not? It would have left a nasty taste in my mouth if I left you there after we've shared drinks over a game of Koi-Koi."
Zori didn't say a word as he sat on his knees, his body trembling with emotions as he let go of his katana. Callous fingers dug into his pants, threatening to tear right through and dig into his flesh like knives. His head dropped low, unable to look the idiotic fisherman in the eye as he struggled to even breathe.
Why not?
Fucking hell. What kind of simple and back-watered reasoning was that? Was this man touched in the head? Honestly.
Honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly, honestly!
What the fucking hell was wrong with this idiot?!
At that moment, he recalled the words of another idiot who had left him in such a sorry state to be pitied by one of his victims.
'Hey, ya bratty punk with the sorry excuse of a festival demon's mask. Don't you think it's time you threw that ugly facade away, stop playing games, and started acting like a human again? Don't you have any honor left in that cool samurai blade of yours anymore? Or are you truly happy with living as some cheap tool to be hanged below the pompously fat gut of a wormy midget who pays you with money he most likely rubbed himself off with?'
With no cards left to play, nothing to gain, and nothing to bet, the failed samurai had been given a single chip against his will when he had nothing left in his pockets.
A chip of kindness.
What he did with that lone chip was left to be decided by Zori's uneasy hands.
[-]
Touma smacked his lips with a groggy yawn and a scratch of his scalp. Without the bandages that had normally been wrapped around his head, he was free to scratch and not worry about having Tsunami reapply them with a cute fuss. He stretched his arms over his head with another yawn, moaning as the joints loosened up as he pulled off the covers and set his feet on the cold floor.
"Awake, Kamijou-kun?"
"Pretty much. Even if I can sleep in, years of having to wake up in the early morning to make breakfast to a hungry-hungry Sister, a calico cat, and a fairy-like woman who's regularly bullied by said cat has made it nearly impossible for me to sleep past six in the morning." Touma grumbled drowsily as he got out of bed.
Speaking of said woman, she greeted the waked teenager with a bright smile as she toweled off her damp hair and fixed the straps of her bra.
Bra.
Bra.
Bra.
All vestiges of sleep shattered to nothing as Touma's eyes went wide at the sight of a still-damp Tsunami standing in the middle of the room, moss green towel now casually tossed to the hamper bin as the bra and pantie-clad woman bent down in front of him to pull up her knee high skirt. The position she was in gave the high schoolboy a perfect view of her firm ass before it disappeared under a dark fabric, leaving her in her navy blue bra that hid her modest yet plump motherly breasts.
The older woman must have just returned from an early morning shower before everyone else woke up. Why she didn't think to change in the bathroom, Touma had no clue. He was too busy eyeing the woman's slender back arc a bit as she raised her arms to let down her shirt.
Normally such a situation would be accompanied by the female party screaming. Then she would storm up to Touma and slap him/bite him/electrocute him/pull his ear etc. And the innocent Kamijou-san would be laid out with twitching limbs and a bright hand tattoo on his cheek.
But even as Tsunami turned around to catch the spiky-haired teenager staring at her with a red face and an anxious gulp, she didn't scream or smack him silly. Tsunami giggled before speaking with a teasing grin.
"Kamijou-kun~! It may be flattering but it's not nice to stare at a woman so blatantly. You might give them the wrong idea. Or is this what you meant by accepting all of me?"
Damn it! The power of a mature older woman was far too much for this hormonal high schoolboy to endure! A certain something was starting to rise in the morning for more than one reason! Down, down, down!
Gah! Why did he have to share a room with the lovely widowed mother?!
Touma understood that there wasn't any other rooms to sleep in, and it would be weird if she slept with the ninjas, but she could have slept with Inari! Kids at that age were known to sleep with their parents every once in a while, Touma was sure the cynical boy wouldn't have minded. Better yet, Touma could have gone back to sleeping in a futon with the rest of Team-7 and little Otohime. It had been three days since he had fought Waraji and Zori and his body was nearly healed.
But no! Tsunami insisted that Touma continue sleeping in her bed while she slept next to him on the same futon he had slept in. It was all to better care for him, she said. Why did he feel there was more to it than he believed? What reason did such a gentle, lonely, playful, and beautiful woman have to insist on such circumstances with a young man? If it wasn't for the fact that Touma knew he had no chance of garnering such a beautiful mature woman's affection due to his right hand, he would have suspected she was flirting with him.
Fixing the bottom of her shirt's hem, Tsunami walked over to the speechless teenager to check up on his condition.
Three days had passed them by rather peacefully.
It only felt like yesterday that Team-7+Touma had arrived at Tazuna's home after their run-in with Momochi Zabuza. A total of five days had passed by since they had arrived to guard Tazuna's life during the construction of a bridge that would connect Nami no Kuni to the mainland in order to take back their trading routes from Gato's control. Between that time, they had fought against Gato's forces after he had sent them out to look into the ninja who had been hired to protect the bridge builder, taken out the closest base he had to the main village, rescued a shark girl from a filthy cage, and forced the billionaire to pull back in fear of losing any more ground. But in doing so, Touma had been injured and nearly died of blood loss, leading to the teen needing a few days to recover.
Most of his wounds had already healed. All that was left were the two stab wounds that had been stitched. Due to the severity of the wounds, it would be some time before the sutures would be removed. But he was recovering rather nicely all in all. It was actually a little baffling to the eyes of trained medical professionals like Dr. Gaze and Nurse Anmi.
Touma fought the blush on his face as Tsunami prodded his upper body, testing to see if he was feeling any pain anywhere. He didn't feel there was any need. He may still be covered in bandages but he wasn't feeling any pain anymore. Other than the occasional ache, he was feeling pretty good.
"It doesn't seem that your stitches have been disturbed and you're not showing any discomfort anywhere else." Tsunami mused as she ran soft hands over Touma's side, causing him to shiver.
Was it him or were Tsunami's fingers lingering a little more than necessary over his pecs? Did she have to be so close that he felt her chest pressing against his arm?
"I don't think you have much to worry about other than your stitches at this point. But we'll have to wait and see what Dr. Gaze and Anmi-chan have to say when they arrive to give you a check-up later this afternoon." Done with her little check-up, Tsunami left Touma to get ready for the day as she headed for the door. "You should wash up yourself, Kamijou-kun before everyone else awakes to use up all the hot water. Just be mindful of your stitches."
"Will do, Tsunami. I'll be down in a bit to help if you need it."
Tsunami sighed in exasperation, turning around with her hands resting on her hips, "There's no need, Kamijou-kun. Even if you are feeling better, you still need your rest. Just sit back and relax. You deserve to lay back after all you've done."
"Helping with breakfast isn't going to kill." Touma reasoned with mirth as he flexed his tingling right hand.
Besides, Touma wasn't one for lazing around his own home. He never had the leisure in his original world due to make-up work taking his time along with hunting down the latest discounts at the supermarket and feeding Index. Plus most of his time he was busy dealing with whatever trouble the Magic or Science side had cooking to involve him.
"I...suppose it wouldn't hurt." Tsunami said tentatively before smiling, "I could use a hand in making the usual large breakfast I've had to cook lately. Tell me; are you any good in the kitchen?"
Touma smirked proudly. Was he any good in the kitchen? Hah! As a teenager on a budget who had an Index to feed several courses a day, he had a fried thumb.
"I'll show you that this average Kamijou-san can be of some use too. Cooking large amounts of food on a budget is my specialty!"
[-]
Misfortune was a tricky thing to navigate.
No matter what the occasion, it would strike without remorse to cause as much damage as possible to a certain Kamijou-san who wielded a right hand that negated god's blessing. If it could not deal great damage, like a spiteful ex, it would resign to measly splinters or stings in his life so long as he bemoan the trouble.
Touma couldn't help but wonder how the original Kamijou Touma had been able to live his life with such a curse that affected him the moment he had been born. From what he had learned from his father, Kamijou Touya, the original Kamijou Touma had suffered a rotten childhood of loneliness and abuse, forcing his parents to send their only child to a faraway city that rejected superstitious matters such as bad luck. Not as if the separation had lessened his misfortune from what his father had told him. It may have condensed to a fine point or even undergone a change in the new environment.
Yet the current wielder of Imagine Breaker felt that his predecessor had still found a way to live a relatively normal and happy life.
Living with such an ever-present curse must have been difficult and full of trials. Touma only had close to half a year's worth of memories of battling with his own misfortune and he couldn't help but wonder if there were any tricks his past self had discovered to mitigate the misery he would be struck with at any moment of the day. Surely that great average high school boy had found a way to keep that curse back.
It was times like this though that Touma found that his misfortune left him to take a break and allow him a breather.
The soft sizzling of eggs was a comforting sound that put Touma to ease. He folded the yellow protein a few times until it resembled a thick fluffy roll. He set the complete omelet roll-up onto the cutting board nearby and quickly cut it up into smaller sections and dropped them off onto the growing pile of tamagoyaki ready to be served with white rice, miso soup, sliced bite-size veggies, and fried battered fish caught the other day. All of which had been cooked by none other than this cursed high schoolboy.
"Fiiiiissshhhh~!"
A gray-blue hand wriggled its fingers in the air and prepared to snatch one of the golden-crusted white fish. In one swift motion, they lunged like a vicious snake at unlucky prey stumbling into their den.
"You're too green to be stealing food from underneath this Kamijou-san's nose. Try again in another lifetime."
Without even glancing back, Touma slapped Otohime's wrist with his wooden chopsticks. He heard a cute cry of pain and could picture a fussy pout on the hungry shark girl.
It was odd.
No matter what kind of possible dangers could be evoked by Touma's right hand; cooking oil splattering onto his face, the stove top flaring up to catch fire on the drapes, slipping on water, cutting his finger off with a knife, food poisoning, or any other kind of misfortune possible in a kitchen setting loaded with hazardous, nothing ever went wrong. Well, not as long as Touma cooked. Once he stepped out with said hard work food, it was another matter such as dropping said food all over himself or anyone else. He couldn't find any reason to complain that he was only safe from said bad luck in the kitchen: cooking was a hobby of his that always brought him joy.
Who knows? Maybe he could go into cooking as a career. If only it wasn't for his right hand sabotaging any career venture he had in mind and only having the bare minimum of a first year's high school education.
With the tamagoyaki finished, all that was left was to check up on the battered fish and plate everything.
"I think it would be better if you did the platting, Tsunami. Last thing I want is to trip over my shoelaces that had mysteriously come undone despite how tightly they were tied."
"I could plate the food!"
"Do you seriously think I would fall for that? I'm unlucky, not stupid. The second I hand you a plate, you'll lift it high above your wide open mouth and shovel it down."
Once again the ever-stern hands of a spiky boy had slapped the eager shark's hands from snatching from the hot plates of food.
Tsunami blinked, broken out of her stupor as she had been completely focused on watching Touma's skill in the kitchen.
She was speechless. Understandably so.
As a housewife and mother, she was no slouch in the homely arts, especially when it came to cooking. Her main specialty was sewing but her culinary skills were second. And with a tight budget and lack of produce to work with due to Gato draining them of their resources, she had grown rather skilled in working with little food to feed several mouths. She'd even gone to share her budget recipes with many of the poor villagers she had come across.
Her skills though were nothing when compared to the teenage boy who had just finished cooking a large serving of food for breakfast without completely depleting them of what they had left. The aroma of said food made Tsunami's mouth water as her eyes stared at the golden fluff rolls of tamagoyaki sparkling with bits of ham and cheese. Did he also make a sauce from the leftover oils and vegetables? Wait, didn't he also cook the eggshells, and crush them into a fine powder before making what should have been waste into a cream-like paste for the eggs? To her gawking eyes, she hadn't seen the teenager throw anything but fish bones away. Every part of the vegetables and even the fishheads had been used somehow.
Was this average teenager secretly a househusband in the making?
Tsunami had to shake her head to rid herself of the thoughts of a slightly older rugged spiky-haired boy walking around in an apron. The food needed to be platted after all. She herself was dying to dig in and see if such wondrous-smelling delicacies were just as good.
"Hai, Kamijou-kun!" Tsunami saluted playfully as she began platting the food.
"Since I'm still cooking, grab yourself a plate and sit down. You've been taking care of all of us these past few days, so it's only fair that you take a load off to eat with everyone else. Not to mention I need someone keeping Otohime from mooching off of people's plates."
Tsunami wanted to argue. She really wanted to argue. Touma was the one who was still injured. It was important he rest as much as he could. But the fluffiness of the tamagoyaki was too tempting to resist. Unconsciously she licked her lips, wanting nothing more than to bite down on the egg pillows and taste the rather alluring puree of eggshell cream.
"I think I'll take you up on that offer, Kamijou-kun." Tsunami nodded absently as she began walking away with the breakfast plates while a drooling shark girl followed close behind.
A few trips later and Tsunami sat herself down next to Inari, her son lightly frowning at the food set in front of him that was made by Touma and not his mother.
Two days had gone by since her son's terrible outburst. Two days since her poor child had said a foul thing to a person, no different than a curse on their life. And two days since she had struck him across his face.
A pang of guilt hit her, knowing that while Inari had simmered down since his outburst a few days ago, he was still far from being kind to their guests. It had taken an entire night of hugging her little boy against her chest, rocking his sobbing figure in bed with apologies before he spoke to her again.
Tsunami didn't want to ever strike him again. Neither did she want Inari ever saying such cruel words to anyone ever again. But she also couldn't allow him to continue to wallow in grief for the rest of his life. Such cynicism didn't belong in such a young heart. Such hate had no place in his words.
Tsunami felt she was responsible for such rotten behavior. She had allowed such toxic hatred to flourish. Meaning it was her responsibility to fix the problem.
"Inari-kun, you don't have to eat if you don't want to. If you'd like, Kaa-san can make you a separate breakfast herself." Tsunami said softly with an understanding gaze.
Inari bit the inside of his lip as his shoulders tensed.
He felt guilt too after what had happened a few days ago. He didn't want to cause any more trouble for his mother. She was already seated with her own hot plate and even looked eager to dig in. Inari didn't want her returning to a cold plate because of his dislike of the older boy who become far too familiar with his mom for his liking.
He shook his head, picking up his chopsticks as a sign he would eat.
His lips lifted briefly as his mother giggled happily and patted his head. And then glared right back at the weird fish girl who had been giving him the evil eye for the last few days.
Ignoring the heated sparks of childish lightning clashing over the table, Tazuna adjusted his small-rimmed glasses as if he were inspecting the meal his daughter had set down for him.
Like those seated at the dining table, he had been surprised to hear it would be Touma who would be taking care of today's breakfast. That badly beaten boy who should have been resting in bed and not lifting a finger had been up on his feet and busy cooking a big meal for everyone as if it was the most normal thing to do. To the architect, it was hard to imagine such a violent boy as being well-versed in the art of cooking.
"Kamijou-kun made this? Hard to believe that a delinquent could make something that smells and looks this good! Just a whiff makes my stomach thrash and snap like a wild dog." Tazuna complimented as he picked up his own chopsticks to wander over the dishes he was eager to try.
For the first time since he arrived at Nami no Kuni, Sasuke's face wasn't set in a scowl, light frown, or indifferent as he lifted a fluffy roll of eggs and took the first bite. The Uchiha heir had frozen mid-chew, his eyes wide as mini explosions of flavor erupted over his taste buds like a carpet bombing. If one were to carefully look at his face, one would find his lips curl pleasantly before he quickly hid his approval with his usual cool neutral facade and decided to dip the next one in the cream sauce.
If asked why Sasuke was feverishly eating his food with longer, savoring bites, he would simply respond that last night's training had left him hungrier than he had expected. It had nothing to do with the fact the breakfast he was chowing down was better than anything else he had ever eaten back in Konohagakure no Sato and was internally lamenting that each bite reduced the heavenly meal in front of him.
Kakashi found himself momentarily stunned as he pulled up his mask, his plate devoid of so much as a grain of rice. Faster than others could see, he had put away the delicious meal in record time that would beat even Naruto's ramen eating record at Ichiraku's. He was sure that if wanted to, he could have taken his time enjoying his breakfast as everyone was far too indulged in their meals to care what wonders lay beneath his mask.
'Even the simple white rice was outstanding. How? It's just rice! Did he add a subtle hint of spices and oil for that faint pop of flavor? The tamagoyaki was smooth and soft to the bite to reveal the cooked ham and cheese that added to the taste bud-bursting flavor. What is this creamy lightly sweet paste? The fish was seasoned perfectly without wasting or overpowering the herbs, and grilled just right to melt away. The leftover stock of the fish must have been used for the miso, creating a light broth fit for the morning that's not overpowering but refreshing with each sip. Even the veggies tasted better than normal; he must have used the leftover oil from the fish to give it more flavor, just enough to make it subtle and fresh. Then there was the vegetable sauce. It must be homemade since I can't recall ever tasting such an exquisite melding of flavors that complimented the eggs, the rice, the fish, and the veggies. Truly these are the skills of a remarkable chef!'
...How the fuck did the one-eyed scarecrow ninja come up with such an analysis of the meal when he had eaten faster than humanly possible?
Bullshit it had anything to do with his freaky red-eye powers! Author-san wants to know, damn it! The official data books never mentioned or hinted that the smut-reading Jonin was secretly a foodie! He was already getting up for seconds for crying out loud!
No words or compliments could be heard from the every starving shark-girl known as Otohime as she feverishly chowed down without a pause like she was in a frenzy. Unlike the others, her servings seemed to be larger and better fit for a full-grown man who constantly had to consume thousandths of calories a day to keep his muscle mass.
After several teary-eyed bites, Tazuna turned to Tsunami who was humming pleasantly with a hand resting on her rosy cheek as she ate.
"I approve: marry him!"
In sync, both Tsunami and Inari choked on their food and pounded their chests.
It was the scene to both Tsunami and Inari, one red-faced with tears in her eyes and the other growling like a pissed-off dog, kicking the chipmunk-cheeked Tazuna that Sakura had walked into.
She had woken up a bit later than the others but felt no shame in her beauty sleep. She needed all she could get if she wanted any chance to snare Sasuke for herself. Speaking of her crush, she couldn't help but notice he was eating breakfast with a lot more vigor than usual. Actually, she found herself hungry as she watched everyone eagerly eat their meals.
Was Kakashi tearing up?
"Oh, Haruno-san? Glad to see you're awake! If you sit down and wait a moment, I'll bring out your plate shortly."
From around the kitchen corner, Sakura noticed Touma peeking his head out with a smile as her nose finally picked up the mouth-watering aroma wafting from his location. Was he responsible for everyone licking their plates clean? Huh, she had no idea the average-faced teen could cook.
Taking her seat by hungry-hungry Otohime, Sakura was curious to see what all the commotion was about. She didn't have to wait long as Touma walked by with her plate and began serving seconds to everyone else(or fourths to the girl next to her). The veggies caught her eyes first as she licked her lips anxiously and dipped a thin cucumber slice into the mysterious soy-colored sauce before taking a bite.
Sakura's heart stopped before the flavor of the seasoned, fresh, crunchy, juicy, cucumber salad slice glazed with the mysterious sauce started her heart back up with a body throbbing explosion. The cherry-blossomed-haired kunoichi rubbed her thighs together as a guilty throaty moan escaped her lips as she took another bite and moved on to the egg rolls. She began to pant after each gulp, her eyes threatening to roll to the back of her head as she gripped the edge of the table for support.
'Holy hell! W-What is this?! It feels like each bite is better than the last. I can't stop eating despite the moans I'm making. A-Ah! I d-don't want to stop!'
Inner Sakura was out of commission, laid out with rough, guttural moans far too explicit for younger viewers to be hearing. Her inner thoughts had to be blurred for the good of the audience.
Wiping the light sweat from his forehead, Touma was ready to serve the final plate before noticing the strange expressions on everyone ones faces. He tilted his head with a curious stare, blushing lightly as both Sakura and Tsunami were making erotic sounds and rubbing their legs together. Even Inari's face had lightened up a bit as he ate the very breakfast Touma had made without complaint. The only normal one among them all was the happily chowing down Otohime.
"Are you guys okay? I didn't add too much salt, did I?" Touma asked in concern, "I know it's pretty average but I was hoping that I could add a bit more flavor than usual. It's not bad, is it? Been a while since I did any cooking, so I might be rusty."
Tazuna appeared offended by what Touma had just said, "Bad?! Are you fucking crazy, boy?! This is the best damn meal I've ever had! I'd give up entirely on drinking if it meant I could eat this good every day!"
"I think you should give up on the bottle. I can smell the sake from over here; it's 8am in the morning, you drunk."
"This is far beyond average, Kamijou-kun! I'm almost offended!" Tsunami cried, "To think a teenage boy could surpass a wife/mother in the culinary arts so easily! I just know that you're going to make a lucky woman incredibly happy even if she gains weight eating your food!"
"I take that as an insult, Tsunami. I am not more womanly than a bonafide kaa-san! Take it back, take it back right now! I want to be the one spoiled, not the other way around!"
"It's pretty alright, I guess." Sasuke commented casually, refusing to meet anyone's eye as bit into his fried fish, "Far better than what I expected from a nobody. You just might have a talent in this if you tried."
"What the hell are you, a Tsundere?! If you like it, just say so! If you refuse to look me in the eye, you just might make me believe you're blushing like some shy maiden who's too afraid to meet her crush's gaze in the schoolyard!"
"I-I can't go back." Sakura moaned as she laid her forehead against the wooden table to hide her embarrassed expression. Naive Otohime poked at the shivering cherry blossom, "I feel like a delicate, womanly part of me was broken and it felt so good. I'm afraid that I can no longer marry my beloved Sasuke-kun after such an experience. You ruined me, Kamijou-san! Take responsibility!"
"I refuse! What kind of suggestive bullshit are you going on about?! You're making it sound like I just made you into a woman! Watch what the hell you're saying or else you'll make them think I'm some kind of lolicon!"
"I'm surprised myself, Kamijou-san. What you prepared was rather filling after one serving but left me wanting more. Are you self-taught or were you trained by some renowned chef in your home country?" Kakashi asked curiously as he set down his orange juice.
"Why is it that the smut-reading, creepy red-eye, scarecrow ninja is the only one speaking normally?" Touma complained as everyone ignored him in favor of their going back to their meals, "And no, I wasn't really taught by anyone how to cook. It's just...an ingrained skill I've had for as long as I could remember. Don't know why you think it's anything special. It all tasted normal to me."
Touma shrugged at the thought his cooking was anything more than normal. Kakashi couldn't tell if the teen was either humble, dull, or unable to understand he was an amazing cook. It seemed he didn't possess confidence in his own skills.
Excellent culinary talent; just another interesting note of interest to the so-called normal foreigner.
Touma looked around the room, frowning as he noted a lack of excited yelling or orange. Everyone was here but his fellow spiky-haired brother.
"Where's Uzumaki-san anyways? His food's going to get cold if he continues to sleep in."
Tazuna decided to answer him as the old man washed down his meal with juice, sighing in satisfaction, "Uzumaki-kun? Knowing that loudmouth, he'd probably stayed up all night training again. I don't think I noticed him come home."
"That idiot's been training every night non-stop ever since we heard Tazuna-san's story." Sakura complained with a light frown, "It's become an obsession that's going to kill him at this rate. Doesn't he know that exhausting chakra is the equivalent of death? He's going to run himself into an early grave at this rate."
Tsunami wasn't happy to hear that concerning the bright whisker-cheeked boy, "That's not healthy. A boy needs his sleep and staying up that late every day is sure to make him sick. He should really stay home once he comes back instead of running back to train."
"He might already be dead." Sasuke shrugged between bites of his second plate, "The dope is a knucklehead who doesn't know any better. He's probably passed out against a tree either snoring or being eaten by a stray dog."
Sasuke ignored the morbid face Tsunami was making as he spoke casually about the demise of his teammate, instead choosing to chug the remaining miso broth that was more important to him.
Kakashi didn't show any concern for the well-being of his own student, lazily waving Naruto off as he minded himself with reading his signed hardback cover of Icha-Icha, "It's alright. Despite how goofy Naruto makes himself out to be, he is a recognized shinobi of Konohagakure no Sato. He can take care of himself just fine. Knowing him, he was too tired to come back and slept outside last night."
"Do shinobi really sleep in trees?" Touma mused before his eyes landed on the plate set for said bright-faced ninja.
It didn't feel right to save it for later or eat it himself. If Naruto was sleeping in the woods because he had been training all night then the kid was probably starving. The energetic kid deserved a hot home-cooked meal for all his efforts. It was the least this normal high schoolboy could do since the blond boy had saved him.
"I might as well pack his breakfast into a bento and take it over to him. If he trained all night, he might be too worn out to make it back himself. I'll bring him something to eat and help the kid back; I got nothing else to do, so why not?" Touma reasoned.
"Are you sure, Kamijou-kun?" Tsunami asked with worry, "Making breakfast was one thing but I'm not sure if you're fit to be leaving the house yet."
"I'll be fine. I may be a normal teenager but I'm not made of glass." Touma said over his back as he went to the kitchen to fit Naruto's breakfast into a decent bento, "I need to stretch my legs out anyway. Being cooped up in your home isn't exactly doing me any good if I'm not doing anything at all."
With the breakfast bento set and ready, wrapped up in a dark blue cloth, Touma walked over to the door to leave.
A hand softly held his left shoulder, careful not to touch his tender left shoulder. Tsunami stood by him, her face concerned and afraid to let him leave once again. It was a sweet gesture but Touma felt it wasn't needed. He may have been unlucky but he wasn't some delicate flower that needed to be constantly watched.
"Kamijou-kun-"
"I'll be fine, Tsunami. I promise. If I run into any trouble, I'll have Uzumaki-san there to protect me. I'll only be gone for a bit, so I'll be back in no time. In the meantime, you mind watching over Otohime for me?" the bandaged-faced boy inclined his head to peer at the shark girl still minding herself with a large bowl of rice, trapped in her own little world of bliss, "She's become rather clingy ever since we've met. The second she realizes I'm not around, even if it's just for a few minutes, she starts panicking. But you and Haruno-san seem to calm her down. I won't be gone for long but please, watch out for her for me."
A gentle smile was Tsunami's answer.
She really did remind Touma of his own mother. Made him miss his world all the more. But just because he wished to return to that hectic but beloved normal life, didn't mean he would hold himself up and wait to be rescued.
Kamijou Touma wasn't the kind of person to ever stand still after all.
Slowly, Tsunami's hand pulled back, lingering for a moment before she stepped back with a small smile.
"Fine, just be back before Dr. Gaze-san and Anmi-chan return for your check-up, alright?"
"Got it. I'll see you guys in a bit."
Bento in hand, Touma shut the door behind him and made his way to the forest he knew Team-7 had regularly frequented this past week.
[-]
The light burn from the sun overhead was a rather pleasant sensation to feel as Touma made his way through the forest Team-7 had claimed as their training ground while in Nami no Kuni. After being cooped up at Tazuna's home for so long, he needed a chance to breathe and stretch his legs. Tsunami had been mothering him none-stop since he came back from his venture to Sector-D and while it was nice and certainly a treat to be cared for by a motherly Onee-san, Touma felt she became a little overprotective of him.
In a sense, he understood why.
It had only been two days since Team-7+Touma had sat down with Tazuna and heard the tale of Nami no Kuni's hero. A complete picture of the man Touma had only gotten bits and pieces to had been formed after learning of the tragic history of the bridge builder's family. And with the story, he had gained some clarity into Inari's resentment of not only the shinobi but himself as well.
Kamijou Touma reminded the widowed mother of her second husband, Kaiza. The hero and champion of Nami no Kuni had been killed by Gato for rebelling against his company. A sea-hardy man who loved his nation as equally as he loved his non-biological son. A literal hero who risked his life for his village when times were tough for nothing more than the smiles on their faces.
A man who wasn't talented. Who didn't possess any special power or miraculous ability at birth. A person who wasn't destined for anything greater by any gods. A simply normal, ordinary, plain, hard-working man who had nothing but his own hands to get by in a harsh world where supernatural ninjas frolicked about. Someone who had risen to the position of hero and champion to his friends and neighbors for braving the harsh storms for the sake of others without being commanded or asked.
Touma smiled ruefully at the thought of being compared to such an amazing person. Just how the hell had they seen anything similar between such a hero and this unlucky idiot?
It kinda sounded like Tsunami was overreaching when she compared this average high schoolboy with a grown man who roughed the seas and stood strong for his people with a charismatic grin. Touma wasn't anything like Kaiza in his honest opinion. While they both were the type to fight for others at the drop of a hat, they weren't alike in much else. From what Tazuna had described of the deceased man, Kaiza was confident, strong, fierce, passionate, charismatic, and kind. A real family man with a big heart.
Touma wasn't anything special compared to that martyr. He was an average guy, no different than any other high schoolboy who would fade into a crowd. At first glance, you would think that he was a delinquent who skipped classes regularly and got into trouble. He hated to admit it but his delinquent appearance wasn't far off but for the wrong reasons. He was also an idiot in most fields but could be clever when needed. And admittedly, he was a bit of a pervert but what teenager wasn't? Other than his spiky hair and right hand, there wasn't anything to make him stand out.
Putting those two next to one another and thinking they were anything alike was actually insulting to the real hero. No one should be compared to an idiot like Touma when they were far superior to him.
It was no wonder Inari didn't like Touma when both Tsunami and Tazuna believed they saw Kaiza in the average teen. It was insulting to compare the two. It was as if some moron thought they could waltz into the cynical boy's life and sit right at the seat his father had sat moments ago as if they belonged.
Touma hadn't meant to make it seem like he was taking Kaiza's place. He didn't even understand how Inari came to that conclusion. All he wanted to do was help out however he could. It wasn't like he was planning to seduce his mother too and become his new father! The kid was giving this Kamijou-san far too much credit!
But Touma nonetheless understood Inari's hostility when it came not just to himself but the rest of Team-7. Out of the five of them, it was Touma and Naruto that Inari truly couldn't stand. Touma, due to the 'similarities' between him and Kaiza, and Naruto because of his bright personality and belief that they could be the heroes to free Nami no Kuni from Gato's control. In Inari's eyes, they were both desecrating his father's memory and making promises they couldn't keep.
The little boy had already been let down by his own father who promised to always be there for him and protect him. Inari had been lied to once, he refused to be hurt again.
They certainly had their work cut out for them. What was higher in difficulty level? Restoring the faith and spirit in a cynical eight-year-old who had given up on the world or tackling a criminal empire with their personal army at their beck and call? Both were honestly far beyond this simple high schoolboy's ability in his opinion.
Touma had to wonder if things would truly be over with the completion of the bridge. The whole point of its construction was to take back their shipping routes now that Gato had taken control of their ships and resources. What was to say that the billionaire would back down after? He still had his own army of thieves and bandits to play. He could very well attack the bridge once the Konohagakure ninjas left at the end of their mission. Tazuna was of the mind that the bridge would inspire others to rebel and reclaim their nation but would it really be that simple?
There was more to this mission than expected. But to the shinobi, they were only concerned with protecting Tazuna until he was finished with his project. What would they do then? Wipe their hands clean and let the village fend for themselves?
Touma sighed in frustration at all the questions popping up in his head. He really didn't want to think anymore about the bigger picture at play. Normally defeating the main instigator of all the violence would solve everything. In fact, wasn't this strange? The longest he had been involved in an incident like this was, maybe, the attack on Magic God Othinus. Here though an entire week had nearly gone by and the problem at hand was in no way close to reaching a conclusion.
A punch to the face signaled an end. An illusion shattered. And people moved on.
Defeating Momochi Zabuza should have been it.
Defeating Waraji and Zori should have ended it.
Saving Boshi-san's family, saving those imprisoned villagers, and saving Otohime, should have ended it.
But instead, the demonic swordsman had been killed(?) in front of his eyes by a soft-spoken bounty hunter. Waraji had been killed because Touma had beaten him to the point he wasn't worth saving. What had become of Zori was a mystery and he couldn't help but feel his insides twist anxiously at what may have become of that ronin who clung onto a festival demon's mask. And though people had been saved, Gato's influence and his army of demons were still at large.
Doubt grew in that uncertain boy's heart.
Would protecting Tazuna until he completed constructing his bridge really end this tragedy?
The more he thought about it, the more he realized this was a matter far beyond a boy whose life consisted of nearly half a year's worth of memories to solve and who only knew how to solve his problems with a fight.
"As always, this simple Kamijou-san's day may be clear and bright but his future is as unsure and bleak as ever, no matter what sky he lays under."
At the very least his mind was occupied with this troublesome puzzle rather than his own plans of what to do once this was over. Find the good in the bad, right?
Troubled thoughts aside, Touma finally made it to the small clearing the Konoha ninjas could be found most of the day. Just from a few feet away, he could already see the deep slashes marring two tall tree trunks ahead that Naruto and Sasuke had claimed as their own. And in the middle of the forest clearing was a certain spiky-blond orange ninja asleep on the ground with drool trailing down his chin.
Naruto wasn't alone.
A girl stood over the lightly snoring whisker boy. Touma couldn't make out her face, only seeing her back as she leaned over Naruto. She wore a sleeveless pink kimono that fit her slim figure that reached her ankles and her dark hair fell to the middle of her back. At her side, Touma noticed a wicker basket of herbs she must have picked from the surrounding plants scattered around the forest bed.
Did the loudmouth boy catch himself an admirer? In the forest? Why did Touma suddenly want to break down in jealous tears? It felt like he lost to a twelve-year-old.
"Excuse me, but who are you?"
The mystery girl froze as Touma called out to her. Finally sensing his presence, she turned around, revealing a pale-skinned face, large gentle dark-brown eyes, two black bangs falling to her shoulder, and a choker on her neck. 'She' was pretty, prettier than Sakura.
She was a He.
'Holy shit, all that crap Aogami Pierce put me through during our arguments about Traps has pulled through. I would have never thought I'd thank that Pervert King for teaching me about such a sick fetish against my will.'
It was the small details on the boy's face and body that really gave him away. To the untrained eye, one would fail to notice the lack of any lift on the boy's chest except for his abs and the hidden adam's apple under the choker. It was only thanks to the countless debates on female archetypes with the other two members of The Delta Force that Touma was able to spy the Trap in waiting. Who would have thought all those useless bits of information about girls would come in handy?
The androgynous boy expressed surprise before smiling politely at Touma.
"Oh, hello there. I didn't know that this boy had a friend close by. I thought it was odd that he was sleeping out here all by himself. It certainly took me by surprise to come upon him while searching for herbs. It's rather dangerous for such a boy to be out here like this."
Touma had to agree on that. Sleeping out in the forest so casually was just inviting for some assassin to take Naruto out in his sleep. Wasn't the kid a ninja? You'd think the ninja academy he graduated from would explain to him that napping out in the open would invite death.
"You're telling me. Hard to believe he's a ninja with how carefree he is." Touma shrugged as he walked over to both the feminine boy and Naruto.
The spiky-blond was still asleep? There were two people talking over him. Didn't he train in being able to sense an individual by their very presence via the sound of their breathing, heartbeat, and body heat? Or was that anime make-believe? This seriously concerned Touma about the validity of the ninja status.
"He's going to catch a cold like this. Should we wake him up?" The feminine boy asked softly as he leaned down to Naruto's sleeping face.
"Might as well. I did come all this way to bring him breakfast after all. It be a waste if I let it go cold."
Nodding, the feminine boy carefully nudged Naruto's face, earning him a grumble as the orange jumpsuit boy's eyes fluttered.
"Hnn, huh? W-Who are you?"
Naruto yawned with a stretch of his arms, rubbing his eyes as he noticed the pretty girl rousing him up. He sat up, blushing slightly at the girl who surpassed Sakura in looks before finally noticing the second person standing close by.
"Touma? What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? I should be the one asking you that, Uzumaki-san. It's not normal for a professional ninja to be sleeping on the forest floor where even a harmless rabbit could slit your throat."
"Says the least normal guy among us." Naruto grumbled.
"What was that ya orange obsessed, whisker cheeked, bright blond head of spikes?"
"At least my spiky hair is natural, ya fake! I know for a fact that you've been using a gel that Tazuna's been lending ya to make them spiky every morning!"
"Ggh! S-So what?! There's nothing wrong with that! At least I'm not color-blind! Seriously, what kind of stealthy ninja wears bright orange? Are you trying to make yourself out as a target?!"
The two boys quickly fell into butting heads, snarling at the other as they were coming close to blows.
Clearing his throat, the feminine boy got between Touma and Naruto with a nervous smile.
"Let's calm down, boys. There's no need to start fighting. You might trample over the herbs beneath your feet."
Touma stopped, noticing that both he and Naruto were indeed stamping over a bed of herbs the blond had been sleeping on as a mattress. From the concern on the feminine boy's face, he wasn't happy to notice the loss of what he had been picking.
"Sorry about that, man. I didn't mean to crush them." Touma apologized as he knelt down to pick up what herbs he had stepped on that could be saved. He set the boxed breakfast aside as he went to work to make up for ruining the boy's task.
Naruto felt bad as well, deciding to join Touma in picking herbs for the pretty girl who had been kindly looking after him in his sleep. He did pause for a moment to stare strangely at Touma.
"Wait, why you'd say man? That's not a nice thing to say to a really cute girl, Touma."
"Girl? What are you talking about, Uzumaki-san? Can't you tell that she's a he?"
"...WHAT?!"
[-]
A full basket of various herbs was laid out in front of the girlish-faced Haku after a few minutes of herb picking. It was thanks to the help of Touma and Naruto that the soft-faced boy now had all he needed to make whatever medicine he wished.
Haku had insisted that the two boys didn't need to help him. They were strangers he didn't feel like burdening after just meeting them. But being proper gentlemen, Touma and Naruto decided to help. Mostly because Naruto still doubted said feminine boy was indeed a boy.
"But I am."
"B-But you're sooooo pretty, Nee-san! Other than a flat chest, you look nothing like a guy! You're even girlier than Sakura-chan or Tsunami! How the hell am I supposed to accept that you're a dude?!"
"Believe it or not, Uzumaki-san but there are guys out there who can cleverly disguise themselves as girls and go as far as lure in even the sharpest of men to their lair. By using cosmetics, clothing, hair products, change of tone, body lines, and change of behavior, one's gender can be swapped out to the untrained eye. I don't blame you for falling for the deceptive honey trap but it's a good thing I told you before you began flirting with him. Which means you still have far much to learn in the art of archetypes before you can spot through such seductive illusions."
"Touma-nii-san! Please, teach me your ways! I was this close to openly ogling Nee-san and trying to get a peek down his shirt! I don't ever want to fall for such a devious trap ever again! My pride as a man can't take such a hit again!"
Sitting between the waterfall tears Naruto and the sagely demeanor Touma, the pretty-faced Hunter-nin known as Haku smiled tensely with a subtly twitching brow.
Patience, young Haku-san. It wouldn't do well to snap the necks of the two boys just yet. Especially the black spiky-haired one.
Zabuza had already claimed Kamijou Touma and Hatake Kakashi as his prey after all.
"Can you not address me as Nee-san? Since you've already realized I am a boy, wouldn't it be better if you called me Nii-san?"
"But Nee-san looks like Nee-san even if he's a boy."
Haku hung his head at the blond boy's simple logic.
Naruto didn't seem to notice Haku's defeated aura as he minded himself with a large bite of his tamagoyaki and chewed happily.
"Seriously though, Touma-nii-san, this bento is awesome! It's not better than Ichiraku ramen but it's definitely second on my list of favorite meals! It's enough to make me want to cry." Naruto sniffed.
With a bento box of his own, Touma dipped the last of his rice into the sauce before dropping the white clump into his mouth, "Don't be over-dramatic. It's just a plain old breakfast set that any novice cook can make in their spare time. Other than a few little sprinkles of seasoning here and there, it's nothing to praise."
It really wasn't. Touma wasn't sure what the big whoop about his cooking was. He wasn't a master chef or taught any interesting techniques. Everything he knew was the remnants of the original Kamijou Touma's cooking skills that Touma picked up via muscle memory. Plus creative liberties discovered in order to make use of every part of his produce. His cooking was a hand-me-down that he considered average and only unique due to his lack of a proper budget.
So there was no need for Naruto to be cradling the simple bento breakfast to his cheek like a puppy with a trail of tears. Kid really must have been starving.
"What about you, Nee-san? Don't you think Touma-nii-san's cooking is awesome!?"
And why was the hyperactive kid addressing him as Nii-san?
Haku stiffened before suddenly remembering the weight on his lap. His brown eyes fell on the breakfast he had been given, an extra set Touma had brought along in case Naruto was really hungry. He had been kindly given the extra bento as they all sat down on the field of flowers and plants after picking the last of the necessary herbs he had been searching for.
He hadn't taken a bite of the food. The boys didn't know it, but he was wary of the gesture despite knowing that neither Touma nor Naruto suspected he was the Hunter-nin who had disposed of Zabuza.
Tentatively, Haku picked up a bit of the cucumber salad and gently dipped the green thinly sliced veggie into the unique sauce. He gulped as he brought it to his mouth. The food did smell good and he had gone without breakfast since he went out early in the morning. Surely it wasn't poisoned.
Taking a risk, Haku bit into the simple cucumber glazed with sauce.
A euphoria of favor washed over his soft tongue from just a single bite.
"Mhmm~!"
"Please, never make a sound like that again, Nee-san. Even if I know you're a boy, you sounded a lot like a moaning girl who was just fondled. It's confusing me!"
Touma nodded to Naruto's outburst with a green-tinted face. He gave the girly boy credit, the moan sounded very alike to the sounds he would hear in certain X-rated films. What a sick talent for a boy to be gifted.
Haku blushed in embarrassment and made sure to control his moans as he began to dig into the very tasty breakfast. He could honestly say he had never tasted such delicious food before. He wanted to cry as he realized that the delectable treasure would soon be gone with each bite he took.
"By the way, what are you two doing so far out in the woods?" Haku asked with a sip of miso soup.
"Twaining!" Naruto shouted with a mouthful of his remaining food. He gulped it down, sighing in contentment as he patted his now full stomach with a bright grin.
"I'm out here checking to see if Uzumaki-san hasn't become chow for the woodland critters who developed a taste for energetic loudmouths." Touma answered as he set down his empty bento.
"Training? I suppose it isn't uncommon for a ninja to be training by themselves. The headband on your forehead is proof of your status despite how young you are."
"Are you impressed?! It's pretty cool, huh?! They don't just give these headbands out to just anyone, you know?!"
Naruto's excited talk made Haku laugh softly at the pure glee in the boy's voice.
"That is incredible! I don't believe I've ever talked so closely to a real shinobi before. You must be strong, Uzumaki-san."
Hearing such praise made Naruto rub the back of his head as his ego was stroked and grinned smugly.
"What about you, Kamijou-san? Are you also a shinobi?" Haku asked curiously.
Touma shook his head as he leaned back on his hands, "Far from it. I'm nothing more than a regular guy who's got no special training, martial arts skill, or charming good looks to his name. I'm as far apart from those deadly shinobi as they come. I'm only hanging around Uzumaki-san and his team due to circumstances."
"Don't believe a word he says, Nee-san." Naruto leaned over to Haku with a flat expression, "Out of all of us, Touma-nii-san is the strangest one of us all. He scared a demon-nin with just a glare, punched a dragon made of high-pressured water into nothing, took out an entire camp of bandits while bleeding out and saved a shark girl while knocked out, and even seduced a widowed housewife without even trying. He's also got this freaky cursed hand that gives him shitty luck. He doesn't even die when he's passed out in a puddle of his own blood."
A fist was knocked atop the gossiping whisker-faced boy by an annoyed Touma.
"OW!"
"There's more of that coming if you insult your elders, Uzumaki-san." Touma said dryly as he batted Naruto's swiping hands.
Haku giggled into his hand at the two bickering boys.
A sense of bitterness hit his chest. The delicious meal on his lap suddenly felt as if it would crush his lap like stone slabs weighed by his sins.
"Why would you be training though, Uzumaki-san? You already appear manly and strong as is."
"More manly than you that's for sure." Naruto muttered lowly before flinching as a stray grain of rice hit him in the corner of his eyes, "Gah! What the hell?!"
"Oops, my apologies, Uzumaki-san. I don't know how a single grain of rice slipped out of my chopsticks to drill your eye. Maybe you're as unfortunate as Kamijou-san?"
Touma scoffed at the literal grain of bad luck.
"Please. If this Kamijou-san was a target of misfortune then that rice would have somehow flown itself high into the air, struck a bird's eye, and incurred the wrath of not just one bird but an entire flock of those furious pecking becks bastards. And that would only be the first link to the chain of misfortune that would lead to this Kamijou-san stumbling into an incident that has him fighting an evil forest spirit that wishes to cull humanity from the earth."
Both Naruto and Haku stared at Touma, unsure if the older boy was kidding around. From his defeated tone of voice, he was being completely serious. They weren't sure how to respond to such a ridiculous likelihood of happening to the normal teen who accepted the possibility.
Rubbing the slightly damp left eye that stung, Naruto went back to talking to Haku, "Anyways, I'm not strong enough yet. I still got a whole lot more training to do before I'm the strongest there is!"
"Why though? You already seem strong enough. Aren't you satisfied with your current strength?"
"Course not! I can't be satisfied until I'm the strongest shinobi in Konohagakure no Sato! Once I've reached the top then everyone in the village will have no choice but to acknowledge me as their Hokage! Even the people who glared at me in the street, the people who stared at me like dirt, and ignored me like a pile of trash discarded on the road will have to give me the respect that I deserve. They'll just have to! Because I'll be too awesome and powerful to ignore!"
"What is this Hokage thing you're always spouting about?" Touma asked casually.
He'd always heard the knucklehead shinobi shouting about becoming Hokage this, Hokage that with a wide grin and excited glimmer in his blue eyes. But Touma had never really been told what this Hokage title was. Back when he had been hogtied by Hatake Kakashi during his first meeting with Team-7, he idly recalled hearing something about that. It must have been something special if Naruto was always going on about it.
Naruto sputtered in disbelief at Touma's innocent question.
"You don't know?! Have you been living under a rock? The Hokage is the strongest shinobi in our village! He's our leader and protects the peace of Konoha by making all the tough decisions for us while sending us out on missions to protect others. Out of all the shinobi in the village, he's the most well-known and revered as the greatest. Everyone loves and respects them because they've fought tooth and nail to become a kage!" Naruto exclaimed energetically with a fire in his voice.
"And that's what all the training's been for?" Haku asked with a slight frown.
Touma was skeptical, "You became a shinobi, a cold-blooded warrior who fights in the sticky shadows, just so you can one day become popular? So, like a Prime Minister or President?"
When it was put that way, Naruto had the decency to be embarrassed as he scratched his whisker birthmarks with a small laugh.
"W-Well that's not all of it. I mean, it would be great if everyone in the village looked up to me in awe instead of the usual dirty glares they give me." Naruto said bitterly before brightening up, "But I also want to prove myself to a certain someone who believes in me. I want others to see me just like that person sees me now."
"So which one is it? Do you wish to be strong for your own reasons or for that person?"
Naruto furrowed his brow quizzically, reminding both Touma and Haku of a fox.
"What? What do you mean by that? Isn't it the same either way?" he questioned childishly.
The innocence of it made Touma smile. As expected of a kid. Even if Naruto was a full-fledged shinobi that didn't mean he was some wise assassin who would speak in riddles. Relaxing his slightly aching arms, Touma decided to lay back on the soft bed of flowers and rest his hands behind his head.
"Can't help you there, Uzumaki-san. Personally? I'm fine being nothing more than a weak and powerless guy who can't even bend a spoon even after undergoing years of doping. If I could, I'd rather stay away from making a fist at all or worrying about being strong."
Strange looks were sent his way by the fox-eyed blond boy and the feminine boy.
"You know, I kinda forgot that you're not a shinobi or some kind of warrior. Didn't you say you were some kind of boring old student wherever you're from?"
"A student?"
Subtly, Haku's soft features grew ever so narrow at the small piece of information. Flapping his right hand nonchalantly at him, Touma explained.
"I'm not like Uzumaki-san or his friends; do I look like a shinobi or anything cool? I'm not trained in hand-to-hand, espionage, tactics, or anything militaristic. But I guess they do educate us to unlock...certain abilities using drugs, mental exercises, injections, surgery, and other exercises to further develop one's mind. But compared to many others, I'm a failure as a student: probably won't even graduate onto the next year at this pace."
Clouds of lament and bitterness shadowed the now sulking spiky boy.
"I don't get you."
"Hm?"
A glance back at Naruto revealed a strange expression on the young ninja. Frustration and confusion were seen in his scowl.
"You keep talking down about yourself like your some weak and plain guy even though you brushed off No-Brows intense blood-lust and killer intent without even showing a sweat! You punched a water dragon in the face, for Kami-sama's sake! You were taken prisoner by Gato's thugs, busted out of prison, got a bunch of the other prisoners to follow you and trash the place, and probably killed a bunch more of his lackeys even though you were on the brink of death! Compared to me and Nee-san-"
"Nii-san and I, Uzumaki-kun."
"If you weren't a girl, I'd treat you to a Thousand-Years of Death, datte-bayo."
Ignoring the weird twitch on Haku's seemingly serene face, Naruto continued.
"Compared to us, aren't you strong? Why else would you have charged in like that all on your own? You got to have some kind of super cool and powerful moves hidden underneath your sleeve then! I mean, how else were you able to keep fighting for that long against all those bastards? Weren't you taught anything to be this powerful? Don't you have some kind of amazing ability that lets you fight and match monsters like No-Brows without shaking in your boots?"
For all the whiskered genin's boasting, overblown confidence, and even his large reservoir of chakra, thanks to the cursed demon stuffed inside his stomach, not even he could deny the older boy beside him of the accolades he had garnered in the short time they had met when compared to himself.
One could even hear it in his voice as he spoke and clenched his back teeth.
Envy and jealousy.
Haku was taken aback, his smooth and gentle features caught in a rather cute puzzled frown.
Even more so by what was followed next by the strangely quiet older boy.
"Do you need to be strong to save people?"
With a patient and simple smile on his face, the strange boy who wasn't dyed in the colors of violence and deception as either Naruto or Haku answered the question without giving it much thought.
As if, at some point, he had come across that question before in another form and cemented it within his heart.
"I don't know how many times I have to explain this: why do you have to be born with some kind of special power or gift to save anyone? Why do you have to assume the person charging ahead into a burning building is someone who was born destined to combat flames or rescue people in harm's way? Why do you have to assume they're some kind of noble hero of justice who has to protect people or defeat the villain? Someone weak and generic stood up to a bunch of thugs, clenched their fists, and fought until they found themselves bloody with the person they were protecting capable of smiling another day. Without being taught how to even make a proper fist in order to prevent them from breaking a finger, that weak idiot saved someone's precious world."
An ordinary hand rose up and poked at the naive whiskered blond boy's forehead.
"I'll be the first to admit it: I can't see myself as anything more than average and ordinary. As of late...I don't think I can keep clinging to that comfy title after everything I've endured. But compared to you? I'm weak. But even though I'm weak, I'm not going to use it as an excuse to turn my back on others if they need help."
"I don't...I don't get it."
"Don't bother yourself with being strong or powerful; even someone labeled as worthless, cursed, a plague, an idiot, weak, or selfish can become the kind of person who can stand up and fight to save others from tragedy."
Kamijou Touma was a weak Level-0 who was labeled as One With No Power. He was useless against the might of knives, guns, and those who knew martial arts. He hadn't been born with a destiny for greatness or a special supernatural power that would pave the way for a new world of smiles. He was simply an unlucky boy who didn't have any grander dreams than graduating high school and living a normal life. He was just another face in the crowd. One seemingly incapable of shining unless he was drowning in violence and misery.
Yet he had been able to stand up to the likes of Academy City's Strongest Level-5 Esper who was regarded as The One Way Road. He had fought with Espers of varying powers, Magicians who conjured spells based on religions and myth, battled against superhuman Saints, brought down a Magician who had stood atop the world as One Above God to summon heaven above the skies of the world, defeated an organization of Magicians lead by a Magic God, endured over a hundred thousand hells against said Magic God, and fought against the entire world for the life of his tormentor before later having to fight against true Magic Gods who could distort the world as easily as they could tie a shoe.
Even in this new world, in a place wrought with their own problems and supernatural tricks, this weak child had survived an encounter with The Demon of The Bloody Mist and clashed against ronin and mercenaries without the aid of some all-powerful ability or flashy power.
Touma wasn't powerful as one would expect. His stats were all average in his honest opinion. Other than Imagine Breaker's ability to negate the supernatural, he didn't possess any other tools to fight with.
Why then?
Why had he made a stand against Waraji? Why had he agreed to save Boshi-san's wife and daughter? Why had he spat at Gato's face? Why had he made up his mind to save all of the imprisoned villagers, and kunoichi, all while he was on the verge of passing out from blood loss?
Against a Ronin, an opponent who primarily fought with an authentic Japanese katana, who could kill him with a mere draw of his blade, why had he fought to shatter his illusions instead of falling prey to the darkness threatening to devour his vulnerable heart?
Why the hell was he fighting so hard to save the smiles of people who weren't a part of his original world when he was completely lost and unsure of what he was supposed to be doing next to save himself?
Touma hadn't noticed Naruto and Haku paying him any attention as he spoke, finding himself lost in the now bittersweet memories of his home that lay impossibly beyond his fingers.
"Do you want to be strong for yourself? Or for others? Can either power really outshine the other? I can't answer that. Because what I want won't stop me from attaining it just because I don't meet some special attribute in order to meet said goal. Whether it's for myself or not, just because I'm not strong like the two of you, doesn't mean I can't clench my fists too."
Naruto's face twisted with thought as he crossed his arms over his chest.
Being strong...didn't matter? Just because he lacked an ultra-cool ninjutsu that could destroy his enemies or possessed a sweet kekkei genkai, didn't mean he had to accept being...powerless? Weak? Afraid?
B-But that right hand! What was it called? Imagine Breaker? Right, right! That was a power, a special ability! Didn't that mean…
Mean what? Just because he had a weird right hand, he could fight against a bloodthirsty freak like Momochi Zabuza without freezing up in a cold sweat? Was it the power, the ability, that gave a person the courage to fight with only their fists against a B-rank ninja.
What made the person? What made the individual fearless and strong? When it came down to it, was one really defined by a power, a force, a gift, or a curse that was almighty and frightening?
Naruto's right hand fell over his stomach, gripping the area where a certain seal lay.
Kyubi no Yokai.
A demonic nine-tailed fox of calamity, capable of creating tornadoes with a swish of its tail, level mountains with a mere swing of its claws, rain hellfire with a roar, crush buildings with its feet, and reduce an entire village to ruin overnight, was contained in his very being.
Naruto Uzumaki possessed a unique and terrible beast, a power, that could not be copied or gained through training. Just like Kamijou Touma, he held a strange power too that seemed almighty and terrifying. Yet he had been stricken by fear no differently than the child prodigy known as Uchiha Sasuke.
He didn't get it. He couldn't understand that line of strange logic when he was raised to be a strong and competent shinobi.
"I don't get it."
"And you don't have to. Like I said: don't bother yourself with the idea of being strong. Just keep acting as you always do and I'm sure you'll come to your answer. I'm sure when you do, you'll become even stronger than this weakling."
Haku found himself smiling brightly at Touma's answer with an almost knowing gleam in his eyes.
"Do you have someone special in your life, Kamijou-san?"
Touma gave the girly boy a dry glare, "I apologize, Nee-san, but this Kamijou-san is sexually interested in big-breasted, clumsy yet stern Dorm Manager Onee-sans who, despite being stern, hides a secret clumsiness along with a garter belt. Even if you were a girl, your lack of breasts imminently discounts you when compared to those mature motherly figures. Reincarnate, try again, and make sure your dreams consist of growing up to be a curvy older sister character who goes 'Ara, ara, ara'."
Haku had to hold himself back from slipping out one of the many concealed senbon on his person and stabbing it deeply into Touma's inner thigh. Call him Nii-san! His girly figure wasn't his fault and he only wore these kimonos because they were easier to move around with. Plus deception was one of his greatest tools!
Naruto blinked as he stared at the lax high schoolboy, "Is that why you've been hanging around Tsunami so closely these last few days and sleeping in the same room with her? No wonder Inari hates you. Wait, does it still count as NTR if Kaiza-san's dead?"
A certain right fist punched Naruto's shoulder harshly. Another fight broke out between the spiky idiots who crushed the bed of herbs and flowers in their brawl.
Clearing his throat with a twitching brow, Haku explained.
"I mean that I believe people become stronger when they're fighting for more than themselves. When one fights for someone precious to them, they can grow stronger than they're normally. That desire breaks whatever limiters hold them back and provide them the necessary strength to overcome any trial they're facing. Surely you understand as well. After all, you fought not for yourself but for the sake of those who were in despair. Wasn't there someone special there to push you to act?" Haku smiled as he set down his empty bento onto the piled boxes in front of Touma, "It's why I asked you, Kamijou-san, if you had someone special in your life. You made me believe that you understood that strength very well because you've experienced that power yourself. Your eyes...they seemed so bold and determined. Surely, you understand such a unique strength born out of such a noble desire."
Someone special in your life.
"Touma!"
"Human."
"...Yeah."
Voices, sweet and endearing, cut into his heart far crueler than the blades of Waraji or Zori. Pain was heard in that one word like he was leaking blood from a deep wound that wouldn't close.
It's been nearly a week since he was separated from both Index and Othinus. How many times had he nearly died since then? How many times had he mistakenly woken up believing he was back home? What were they doing without him? Were they the same as him? Were they safe and sound?
Were they...were they miserable?
Throat quivering with a hot pressure slowly building behind his eyes, the shivering boy did what he always did.
Swallow it.
With great force and will, he gulped down the jumble of emotions he knew he had no time to entertain.
"But, so what? They don't have to be someone special in your life. After all; why do you need a reason to save anyone?"
"Eh? If that's true, would you have bothered to save No-Brows even though he was trying to kill us?"
"Of course."
"!?"
"!?"
Without pause, without giving such a thought a moment to settle, without caring about what such an answer would entail, Touma answered simply with nothing less than an ordinary expression. As if he had just answered a boring old question as to what 1+1 would add up to when questioned by a child still in kindergarten.
In other words, his response was nothing more than simple in response to a juvenile question.
Naruto being Naruto stared at his fellow spiky-haired brother with a gaping mouth that struggled to properly shut. Just like Touma, he had been assaulted by the demon of the bloody mist and nearly crushed with mere blood lust palpable enough to confuse with pressure. Even if it had been a mere copy molded out of water, the Mizubunshin Momochi Zabuza was a real demon who had stared them down like flapping fish dragged out of the water to be gutted for profit.
Kill or be killed.
Even a greenhorn like Naruto understood the basics of basic logic taught by the academy before graduating to become a tool for their village.
"B-But! He's the bad guy! He's the villain! They don't call him a demon because he's badass! Kakashi-sensei said it himself: he's a bloodthirsty killer who killed his entire graduating class in the academy in order to pass at ten years old! He's being paid to kill Tazuna-san! Why would you even joke about saving him if it came down to it?!"
Naruto practically yelled. Confusion, outrage, and shock could be heard with every word as stood up and almost glared in disbelief at the rather nonchalant older boy.
"Who says I'm joking? You were there; I pleaded with Hatake-san to put down his weapon when Momochi-san was already beaten to the point he could hardly speak and would soon collapse. If it weren't for that Hunter-nin...would things really have been the same?"
If Momochi Zabuza survived their fight…
"If Momochi Zabuza had been defeated, not killed, then maybe there could have been another chance."
"Another...chance?"
Haku spoke softly with a complicated expression marring his beautiful features.
"Yeah, another chance for me to understand him. Back then, when we fought, before the Hunter-nin 'killed' him, I caught a glimpse of him. Not the Demon Of The Bloody Mist, not one of the former Legendary Seven Ninja Swordsman, not the ex-Mizu shinobi who graduated beneath a pile of his classmates' bloody corpses to become a vicious horned oni; for a short moment as we clashed, I saw Momochi Zabuza. If I could fight him again, cross fists with him one more time then maybe I could understand why his eyes were so desperate and determined back then."
"…"
"You're...really weird, you know that, Touma-nii-san?"
At that moment, Naruto gave up and let himself fall back into the lush grass and herbs like a cushion. His ocean-blue eyes were twisted into an irritated frown that refused to give out as he stared up at the clear blue sky.
Was he serious? Was the older boy next to him, who could stand his ground against a powerful and demonic shinobi, seriously saying he wanted to understand his enemy?
Why?
Why bother trying to empathize with the bastard who is trying to kill you? What did their reasons matter in a fight? Especially when the person you were fighting was clearly in the wrong and right to be labeled as evil. Why would anyone care about such soft reasons even an amateur like Naruto understood were useless to the mission at hand?
But those thoughts and reasons were what seemed to push that normal and supposedly powerless civilian to fight against Gato's thugs. If so then in that corrupt hell known as Sector-D, had he been trying to understand the many thugs, bandits, criminals, and killers he had beaten up despite bearing witness to the same sick scenes he had come across?
Had Kamijou Touma...not killed anyone back then? Did that mean he hadn't found a reason to kill them and chosen to simply defeat them? Meaning he had saved even those demons?
Seriously.
What a weird guy.
"I actually thought you were some kind of super secret shinobi from a cool village, trained to fight shinobi and gifted with forbidden ninjutsu, and that you were just acting innocent and naive to not give yourself away. I really thought you were just trying to act cool to snatch Sakura-chan from me while also seducing Tsunami-san."
"Oi, do you want me to punch your teeth in?"
"But you're not. You're just some weird guy. It's almost like you're from another world."
Not catching the odd silence from Touma, Naruto smiled.
The older spiky boy next to him was weird. Kinda like a puzzle piece that didn't fit into the picture. Something that shouldn't belong and seemed to force itself into the world without caring about the kind of damage he was doing. Add the weird right hand that sent goosebumps along his skin whenever it was close by, and the boy known as Kamijou Touma would be the kind of person not even Uzumaki Naruto was sure if he could get along with.
But meeting Kamijou Touma, talking with him, listening to him, fighting beside him; it felt like the small world he had been confined in had been shattered to reveal an even broader and expansive world.
"Back home, no one likes me."
Later, when Naruto thought back to their conversation, at a point when the words that the older spoke to him in this comfortable and pleasant moment surfaced again, he would still struggle to understand why he said what he said.
"I don't fit in either. I'm annoying, I'm a pest, I'm a demon. I've never known why but all the adults seemed to hate me just because I existed. I never did anything wrong. I never hurt anyone. Even before I began acting out and pranking everyone, they had all decided I was bad. Until a while ago, I never know why. Now that I do, I still don't get it and it pisses me off when I think about it deeply. Because of the actions of people I never met, I was forced to be a scapegoat and had to accept the hate before I could even crawl."
Fingers dug into the dirt beside him, tearing the earth like claws gouging at flesh.
Shadows of those early days of his childhood arose and gnawed at his heart. He could never forget the silent malice, the unspoken hatred, those cold stares, and the unfair language, he had to endure with tears running down his whiskered face.
No one had tried to understand him. No one cared. It wasn't until he was a bit older that he had finally found someone who had decided to speak to him, to talk to him, to care about him, that those malicious shadows were finally defeated.
But now that small world he had been imprisoned in had opened wide.
"But if I had met a weird guy like you back then...maybe I wouldn't have been so lonely. If people had been as weird and hard to understand as you, maybe things wouldn't have been so bad."
As weird as the guy next to him was, as hard to understand as he was, as difficult to agree with him as he was. Naruto found he was happy to have met him.
You didn't need a reason to save someone, huh? Was that the same logic Touma had in mind when he had charged into the scene with a barreled fist to protect Sakura from the Demon Brothers?
"That is...certainly a unique way of thinking."
Next to Naruto, Haku was in a similar dilemma. Though he did well not to show it, the words of that ordinary boy had struck him.
Hard.
Momochi Zabuza's most efficient tool held his composure. But if one looked closely at the soft and well-groomed hands resting on his lap, one would notice the deathly white of his clenched fists.
"But such a way of living, of fighting, it seems so cheap and flimsy if such power was so readily available. After all, only when you put the happiness and success of someone you cherish dearly with all your heart can you gain incredible and unmatchable strength. Compared to the strength of fighting for random people you hold no bonds or love for; how could you possibly compete?"
In the end, when the time came that such ideals, desires, such strengths directly clashed, only one would remain the victory.
Surely, if it was for the sake of the person who meant the entire world to you, who gave you purpose, who was solely responsible for the smile on your face then it would trample over the generic ideal of saving anyone just because you wanted to.
Between a selfish desire and a selfless desire, only one would gain the strength to overpower the other. And in this violent and unfair world, surely, it would be the one who fought out of selfless ideals who would triumph.
Still, though, a sweet and kind smile settled its way onto that frigid and precise tool of bloodshed.
'Fighting for strangers; Was that the kind of strength you had used to temporarily match Zabuza-sama's own terrifying force with nothing more than a fist? The same strength that allowed you to defeat both Waraji, and Zori, and take down one of Gato's bases in a single day?'
The Hunter-nin knew of that lost base that was built in Sector-D to better monitor the village. Gato had certainly threw one hell of a fit when the defeated mercenaries he had hired had crawled back to him in defeat to inform him of the situation. From what Haku had heard, there was news that their employer had been planning a public execution to quell any more actions of rebellion after he had lost Waraji to a villager who had fought back against Gato's control. But as he was preparing to spread word and set up the execution, he had discovered the loss of his base and been forced to step back. The shinobi who had been guarding Tazuna had acted to Gato's actions and decided to do more than protect one person but the village as well.
Kamijou Touma had been slated to die a gruesome and gristly death before the quivering eyes of Nami no Kuni.
Haku wasn't sure why but when Momochi Zabuza had caught wind of such plans, he had barked with laughter as if it was the funniest thing he had ever heard. Hearing that the base had been left in smoking shambles soon after, the vicious demon had only snorted with a savage grin better fit for a beast waiting for its prey.
The two boys seated by Haku's sides were truly bright.
Had things been different…
If this had been a different time, a different world, different beginnings, I'd like it if we could have become close friends.
Such a gentle thought had surely been whispered from the small, shivering, cold, hungry, and lonely child who had once huddled for warmth all on his own.
Truly, this was a cruel and bitter world they had all been born into.
It would be better if they parted here before the pain grew greater when they finally met again as enemies.
Haku bowed gratefully to Touma and Naruto, expressing his gratitude for the pleasantries they exchanged as he got up. He dusted off his kimono before turning away and grabbing his wicker basket of herbs.
"Thank you again for your help and the meal! I truly did enjoy meeting the two of you. I admit it's been a long time since I could chat with others close to my own age. It was rather pleasant!"
"It was nice meeting you too, Nee-san! Even if you did trick me into thinking you were a girl." Naruto grumbled sourly to Haku's silent ire.
"That was never my intention, Uzumaki-san."
"Really? Then why are you dressed as a girl if you didn't want people mistaking you for a girl?!"
"He's got a point, Nee-san. Don't tell me that you honestly thought you wouldn't be seen as a girl for wearing a kimono, a choker, and having painted nails with a figure that brings out the lines of your loose kimono. You don't really have anything manly about you either, Nee-san."
"Please stop calling me Nee-san. And what I wear shouldn't be scrutinized by society. My gender shouldn't be decided on just because of what I like to wear or how I speak!" he shouted rather shrilly.
"...Loaded question, Nee-san: Do you have a...you know?"
"I am morbidly wondering the same as Uzumak-san but I don't want to be given a visual example. Don't make me shatter your illusions."
Haku's red face and teary eyes certainly weren't helping his case right now. He had come rather dangerously close to proving himself with a flash of his personal kunai(which just so happened to be strapped to his finely shaped thighs). Clearing his throat-mentally cursing how feminine the action sounded- Haku waved his goodbye to the boys as he began to walk away with a few partings words behind him.
"Either way, it really was good meeting you two. I'm sure that you'll become stronger, Uzumaki-san; incredibly so. I believe the same goes for you too, Kamijou-san, even if you're not a ninja. I'm sure we'll meet again."
Sitting up with a slight groan, Touma smiled back at Haku with a few words of his own to the girlish boy.
"Yeah, we'll see you again soon, Nee-san. And I hope that when we do,"
A broad grin was seen on that normal idiot's face as he spoke.
"There won't be any more need for masks between friends."
It had been for a brief moment, so slight that Naruto had failed to catch onto it until he felt a slight sweat on his forehead cool his face.
An intense spike of killing intent with no origin he could pick up on. It reminded the blond boy of Zabuza's own.
The boy Naruto regarded as Nee-san must have felt it too since he stopped perfectly still. He couldn't make out his face but Naruto was sure that it must have been shaken as well since his shoulders trembled.
Wherever that spike of killing intent had come from, it had vanished without a trace. The only not effect was Touma who continued to stare at the back of their new friend with a strange gaze Naruto couldn't comprehend.
Haku calmed his rapidly beating heart and breathed slowly. The heavy metal needle slid back into his sleeve as he smiled a bittersweet smile.
"We shall see, Kamijou-san. We shall see."
Haku left with a conflicting heart. The desire to see those two boys who saw him as a friend and upholding his duty to his master who he cherished above all else were at war. A cruel blade would be the only answer to such emotions.
And a part of that gentle soul forced into the role of a killer creaked.
[-]
It had been his voice.
That's what had given the pretty-faced boy, who was secretly the Hunter-nin working alongside Momochi Zabuza, away.
Touma hadn't forgotten how soft, gentle, and kind that Kiri ninja had spoken to them after 'killing' Momochi Zabuza with two needles to the neck. It was probably around the point Haku had been denying Naruto's insistence on addressing him as Nee-san that Touma grew suspicious. And it was during their talk of strength that had cinched it.
Typical.
Kamijou Touma encounters a nice guy collecting herbs for medicine who appears a hell of a lot like a beautiful girl, only for said Trap's true identity to be a deadly ninja whose partner was a Demon wielding a buster sword. Misfortune, why are you so cruel?
Nothing to be done about it though. Touma sighed inwardly as he packed up the bento boxes and wrapped them up.
Nee-san was a nice person. He hadn't been faking his gentleness or kindness when they were speaking with one another. He had been as honest as can be, treating them as if they were good friends despite his true identity as their enemy. Never once did Nee-san ever make a threatening motion to them. You know, other than when they were making fun of the girly boy's appearance.
There had been no animosity, no hate, no malice. Just a gentle soul collecting herbs for medicine, eating breakfast with two strangers without a care in the world. That was the scene that had been created upon their meeting instead of one of violence. One Nee-san had decided on with her(his) own deadly hands.
"Can't believe Nee-san's a guy though. If you hadn't told me, I would have been talking to her like she was a pretty girl and been blushing at how close she was. I can't help but shiver and feel my stomach churn at how close I had been to fantasizing about his pale skin and puffy lips. Blegh!"
Yeah, the friendly and idiotic time they had shared hadn't been some cheap illusion. What was created was a sweet memory the blond-whiskered boy sticking his tongue out childishly, would surely hold something dear.
So, he would protect it.
Even if wasn't meant to last should things continue down the path they would all intersect.
When next those boys meet, surely, that pleasant and fun atmosphere they had enjoyed would surely devolve into violence.
"As I said, you have much yet to learn about the ancient ways of archetypes, Uzumaki-kun! The Trap is a deadly one, possessing the beauty, figure, and voice to trick even the manliest of men with just a wink of an eye! It takes many lessons, many debates, and many tests to reach the level where you can discern a cute flat woman with a slender frame and enchanting voice from a man in clever drag! I'll be honest with you, Uzumaki-kun, it is a torturous course that may make you question your own desires but you must always hold strong. Only true men come out of such trails alive and still in love with big-breasted women with kick-ass thighs and child-bearing hips- especially middle-aged onee-sans!"
"Teach me your ways, Touma-nii-san!"
"...What the hell are you idiots doing?"
It was to the scene of crying Naruto bowing on his knees to a proud stance Touma that Sasuke had arrived to after passing by the suspicious pretty girl. The cool-faced Uchiha heir stared at the two as if they were disgusting worms meant to be crushed underneath his foot.
Just what kind of discussion were they having that involved fem-boys, archetypes, and breasts? Sasuke had half a mind to leave now before he threw up the delicious breakfast made by said pervert.
...Aaaaaaand now he only felt queasier.
"Oh, it's Sasuke-teme. What are you doing here?" Naruto complained.
Sasuke scoffed at the spiky-blond loser, "What do you think? I'm here to return to my training. Unlike you, I don't need to stay up all night to train to gain any results." he said with a smug smirk.
"...You notice a girl pass you by on your way here?"
"Hm? Yeah, what about her?"
"Did you think she was cute?"
Sasuke clicked his teeth, refusing to meet Naruto's teasing grin.
"...I guess you can't say she was ugly. Far better to look at than Sakura." he shrugged nonchalantly.
For whatever reason back at the Tazuna household, Haruno Sakura collapsed to the floor and held her aching chest as if she had been stabbed with a kunai to her heart. Naive Otothime, who had been standing close by, happily poked the damaged young woman's head with a wooden cooking spoon.
"Oh, really?"
"Why do you even care? And what's with that far too-wide grin? You got something to say, dope?"
"Nope, nothing at all, Sasuke-kun. As your friend, I won't judge you and your taste."
"Why do I suddenly have the strong urge to break your teeth in?"
Touma let out a sigh, knowing that now would be as good a time as any to head back to Tazuna's place before Tsunami herself began searching high and low for him. After all, the bickering between men was a sacred ritual that must not be disturbed except for the interference by a large forehead girl with large breasts and an iron fist.
Sakura had a long way to go before she fit the role of a certain Iron Wall girl.
"Well, I better head out. As I'm not a shinobi, I have no business out here in the training ground. I'll leave you, kids, to your tree climbing and see you when you guys get back."
Lugging the wrapped-up bentos over his shoulder, Touma left the two arguing shinobi to continue their training.
[-]
Upon arriving at the Tazuna household, a few familiar faces Touma had gotten to know these last few days had greeted him.
And proceeded to strip him of his shirt.
"It's astounding. Most of your wounds are nearly finished healing without the need for medical ninjutsu or high-quality medicine to speed the recovery process. Why your bruises and sprained wrist have already mended themselves. Other than the deep stab wounds, every other wound is coming along very well and won't need any other attention. We may as well remove the bandages while we're at it."
Upon returning to Tazuna's house, Touma found a few familiar faces standing outside the bridge builder's door. Seemed he made it back just in time for his daily check-up as Dr. Gaze, Nurse Anmi, and her two assistant daughters smiled at his appearance, greeting him with a late good morning before they were welcomed inside by Tsunami as Tazuna had already left with Kakashi and Sakura to work.
Sat down on his knees with his shirt removed, Touma awaited Dr. Gaze's assessment of his condition while trying to ignore the flickering gazes of Anmi's daughters who observed their mother help the village doctor in his inspection. The giggles he could hear from the girls close to his age made him feel self-conscious as he began to perform a few arm movements per Dr. Gaze's instructions.
"Your muscles seem to have returned to their normal elasticity and you don't show any discomfort in motion. I still ask that you don't exert too much stress on your left arm though. While the arm itself is fine, any sudden movements may affect the sutures on the said shoulder that must remain in place. Anmi-san, how are the muscles in his upper body?"
"There's no more swelling to his upper extremities and I don't believe there are any signs of inner bleeding that you were worried about appearing after your first assessment. He isn't shuddering to take a breath. The cuts on his chest have also healed for the most part. Though the deep stab on his side still requires the sutures, I'm beginning to see that the skin is indeed repairing itself faster than expected without any outside sources. He doesn't even show any signs of pain when I inspect the stab other than a wince when I prod it directly."
This was weird, really weird. Back with Heaven Canceler, the frog-faced man never prodded his body this much with fascination and he also didn't have nurses giggling and peeking at his naked upper body...anymore. To think Touma would miss that second home-away-from-home that was A Certain Hospital. They didn't think he was weird. As far as he knew.
At least Tsunami wasn't around to gawk at him. She had returned to her room to continue on her pet project: repairing his original clothes that had suffered the loss of his sleeves and had been cut up in his fight with Zabuza. She said that she was nearly done and that he could return to wearing his favorite hoodie and jacket soon. It would be nice to return to wearing his winter school uniform again.
Touma flinched as he felt Anmi begin cleaning around his side sutures carefully, instructing her daughters on the proper procedure of caring for such an injury with a professional tone. Hard to believe that the despaired woman he had saved in that cell those last few days would end up caring for him.
"Um, Kaa-san? W-Would it be alright if I could try cleaning Kamijou-san's shoulder wound next? I'd r-really like to try myself in how it's properly done if I could."
"Eh?! That's not fair, Kiku-nee-san! As the oldest, I should be the one who gets to touc-I mean, clean Kamijou-san's wounds! It's only fair!"
"Kamijou-san's not yours to hog, Wei-onee-san! Besides, I'm more delicate than you could ever be! Kamijou-san needs a gentle, kind, and soft touch to fondl-caress! Yeah, caress his wounds so as not to bring him discomfort."
"Tch, you think I don't see what you're up to, imouto!? I've seen how you're hungry eyes have been roaming his pecs!"
"Oh? And what's that on your chin? Sweat? Or drool!?"
Once again, Touma was treated to the sight of two thirteen-year-old girls coming at each other like a calico cat at war with a miniature Magic God of Norse mythology.
What were they even doing here if all they were doing was fighting? He understood their reasoning for following in their mother's footsteps in learning an important profession as medicine but you'd think they would be paying more attention to Anmi's lessons instead of picking fights with one another.
Wait, what was that about pecs and drool?
Cutting off the last unnecessary bandage on Touma's left arm, Dr. Gaze sighed tiredly as he watched Anmi's daughters shamelessly wrestle on the floor.
"So, they want to be nurses?"
Anmi was just as skeptical as the doctor as she cleaned her hands with a washcloth.
"So they say. They practically begged me on hands and knees to learn everything that I knew about first-aid so that they could better care for their father as he heals. I was more than happy to since they hadn't shown any passion for anything else during these tough times under Gato's control. They may not look it right now," she flinched as her oldest, Wei, had captured her younger daughter, Kiku, in a chokehold while Kiku pulled on Wei's long hair, "But they do have a knack for treating bedridden patients and soothing what ails them. And they've been paying very close attention to my lessons despite how rusty I am."
"Is that so?" Dr. Gaze drawled flatly, bearing witness to the youngest child throw her older sister to the ground and proceed to strike with a diving elbow, "It had nothing to do with said girls having a chance to talk to a certain hero of theirs who they could see shirtless all they want under the guise of learning?"
Touma couldn't help but feel said old man staring at the back of his head as finished the last of his inspection. And why was Anmi staring at him dryly with a smile?
"I never said that. But they are more or less eager to learn as much as they can. And we are in need of more help since you're the last remaining medical professional in the village."
Now that there was no more need to be exposed, Touma quickly threw on his shirt, an action that caused the two sisters rolling around the floor to stop and grumble.
"So you really are the only doctor in the village, Gaze-san? What happened to the rest?" Touma asked.
Dr. Gaze wearily shook his head as he began to put away his tools, "Same as most good folk around here: Gato. Most were either killed, taken to treat the man's personal army, or ran away when they could. I'm all that remains due to my frail appearance and the fact that I was retired. Now I'm forced to return to work while hiding in the shadows to avoid detection of Gato's many eyes. Last thing I need now is one of that bastard's many heavy taxes for treating so much a child's scrape. Piece of shit probably would have had you fork over Ryo just for breathing." he spat scathingly.
The balding old man groaned as he got back up, holding his back with a grimace accompanied by audible pops. With his boney figure, wrinkled face, and cane, it was hard to believe Dr. Gaze had been the one to treat Touma and Kakashi for their wounds after their encounter with Zabuza. He did good work though despite his frail demeanor.
A smile did make its way to the frail doctor's face as he regarded Touma, his old eyes brightening ever so slightly.
Compared to the bitter doctor who had been irritated to have saved a life several days ago, the old man standing in front of Touma was a completely different person.
"But I suppose we won't be needing to fear that greedy mole-man much longer now, eh? You shinobi have already caused Gato to retreat his men from our village after knocking down his base in Sector-D. That fear and despair that has infected all the people have begun to lessen. Soon enough, we folk that have failed to live up to Kaiza-kun's expectations and sacrifice will no longer be able to remain silent. A change is coming, all thanks to you."
Touma wasn't so sure about that.
"You'd have to thank Hatake-san and his students for that, Gaze-san. They're the ones who've been fighting for you guys since they got here. All I did was pick a fight with a ronin and get locked up for it. Heh, I needed to be saved by them because I wasn't strong enough to save everyone else on my own. I really didn't do much else but try to resolve violence with my own brand of violence." Touma said with bite in his voice.
That's how its always been after all. All Touma knew how to do was throw his fists around and hope one punch could fix everything. And while he was able to stop the imminent threat from doing any more damage, it was the hands of others more skillful and experienced than him who were the ones to restore order and peace. Last time hadn't been any different.
Touma fought as hard as he could but it had been Team-7 and Kyofu who had saved Boshi's family and the rest of the prisoners from Gato's base.
"Is that so? Seems you don't understand how infectious courage can be."
"?"
"Indeed. I have many thanks for the Konoha shinobi, don't get me wrong. They're just as much heroes to the villager's eyes as you are. But you were the one to act before anyone else. You didn't shy away or play any excuse when those demons began attacking. Simply by fighting for one person, you sparked the growing fire of rebellion and hope in many others who took up arms for themselves. An ordinary boy who appeared no different than anyone else in the streets fought for one of our own and won. You inspired others who had given in to despair to clench their own fists. That is more than enough to express our gratitude to you, Kamijou-san. Not because you fought but because you had the courage to fight at all so that someone else could live." Gaze chuckled kindly.
Touma scratched his face bashfully as even Anmi and her daughters began to smile honestly at him. He really didn't do anything more than punch a few people in the face. There really wasn't any need to see him as something as cliché as a hero.
Finished putting the last of his tools and medicine away, Gaze patted Touma's back carefully.
"You may not be a shinobi but you are nonetheless heroic for standing up for a stranger's safety. Such kindness and bravery are something this village is sorely lacking. It's about time we are reminded of another ordinary champion we've failed to protect and learn from our mistakes."
Touma had nothing to say back. Words didn't come to mind and he couldn't help but look away.
Seeming to understand the spiky boy's awkward demeanor, Gaze let it drop and went about his next mission.
"Now, where is that little guppy you salvaged from that hellhole? If I'm here, I might as well give her a check-up. Though I can't heal the issue we'd previously discussed, I can still make sure she's well."
Other than the battered injured idiot, there was another person who was in need of a check-up.
Calling out to the doctor's next patient, it didn't take long to hear the rushed thudding footsteps of an energetic child running down from upstairs.
With a beaming smile, the shark-skinned girl known as Otohime ran into the scene. Immediately she headed straight for the spiky-haired boy without so much as acknowledging their guests. Her gray eyes only sought the boy she would childishly refer to as Ryu-sama. A habit said ordinary boy was desperately working on breaking.
"What is it, Ryu-sama?" she asked happily with a large toothy grin on her face.
"Kamijou. Or Touma. Pick one." Once again, he responded to the ill-fitting moniker the shark girl was vehemently keeping. Seriously, whoever wanted to be known as Ryu-sama? When the hell did he become a crime boss of the Yakuza?
"Ryu-sama."
Childishly pouting, Otothime refused to call him anything else. Whether it was because she truly believed Ryu was a far better name than the one his loving parents had given him before his memory destruction, or because she found it easier to remember such an easy-to-remember set of characters, he didn't know. All he did know-
"Ryu-sama...so cool."
"A fierce beast of justice who tears down his enemies with a savage grin, and terrifies demons with just a glare; uwaaaaahh!"
"Is that what they're calling you these days? Well, you did beat down Gato's personal guards who ranked high above his many little armies, and brought down one of his bases in a matter of hours. It's no wonder you're being called out as something terrifying; are you intent on becoming the new boss of the underworld?"
"Is that not your name? I always thought it was something cool and deadly. If I was younger and single-It's no wonder Tsunami-san is sooooo..."
-Was that he was sick of the weird stares he was garnering from the peanut gallery!
Touma! Kamijou Touma! Was it that hard to remember his name?! What was wrong with the characters his beloved parents had chosen out for him? Was he going to have to resort to pounding each individual character, ingrain the kanji, of his full name into the impressed and awed doctor and nurses with his fist?!
And why the hell was Otohime standing taller with her small fists resting on her waist? Was she proud? Of what?! It was like she was some cult recruiter who had miraculously managed to trick a bunch of brain-dead morons into believing whatever nonsensical bullcrap she was spouting as truth. Don't spread the word of Ryu-sama The All Mighty as gospel!
With a flat stare, the ever-violent and selfish boy knocked the top of the smug shark-girl's head with his balled fist.
"Ow! What was that for, Ryu-sama!?"
Demon King Kamijou Touma ignored the small tears on the innocent girl's face and repeatedly bopped the cult leader's skull.
"Ka-mi-jou To-u-ma! Must I force you to write down those bland and boring character's over a hundred times until you get it through your thick skull? Seriously, where are you getting such a scary name from? It's monikers like that that get people's attention; the wrong kind of people who lurk in alleys and need to prove themselves by fighting the biggest and toughest guy there is."
The brief time after he had defeated Accelerator, the Strongest Esper, the One-Way Road, ranked as the #1 Level-5 among all 2.3 million residents of Academy City, had already left this very weak Level-0 to have to fend off droves of punks and thugs wishing to make a name for themselves by defeating this idiot who was on the verge of flunking his first year of high school. He didn't need such a troublesome reputation in a whole new world!
"B-B-But Ryu-sama is cooler! And that's what you are: a Ryu! Ryu, Ryu, Ryu, Ryu!"
Ceasing his assault on a defenseless and malnourished child(at the very least, two years younger than him), Touma stroked his chin in thought as the teary-eyed prepubescent shark massaged her sore scalp.
Had she...had she seen IT?
The deadly, sinister, vicious, malicious, bloodthirsty, and savage abominations dwelling behind his right arm? His memory was foggy but he did recall a brief moment when he was sure those destructive idiots had broken free.
Touma shook his head stubbornly.
No. If such a friendly and gentle girl as Otohime had seen such carnage painted in his own blood, she would have never grown so attached to him. Such nightmarish terrors seeking only to tear their teeth into anything, living or not, would never be regarded as heroic or cool.
So then, why was she referring to him as a Dragon?
What else had happened in those hazy and corrupted memories?
He sighed, knowing he wouldn't really get an answer.
Not unless he asked.
…
He didn't. He didn't want to.
To Otohime's surprise, a large hand fell on her dark blue locks and rubbed her head. As if to ease the slight ache.
"I really would like it if you were to say my name properly. But it's fine. So long as you're happy; that's all that matters to me."
Whatever else had occurred in the last moments of Sector-D's downfall didn't matter.
The prisoner who had lost her name and memories that he called Otohime, the name of someone gentle and sweet he had fond memories of but had only ever met during a world-scale magical crisis involving body swapping, was saved in the crumbling hell.
Who cares about what else had happened in those foggy memories? A girl was smiling and no longer crying as she was harassed and tormented by demons.
Seriously, what else would matter?
"Dr. Gaze needs to give you a check-up, so behave yourself and listen to the old man."
Back to the matter at hand.
With a head pat and a gesture to walk over to the grandfather-like doctor, Touma stepped back as the clingy girl listened to what he said and took a few hesitant steps toward the professional physician.
Since this check-up would probably entail a physical, he decided it would be best for him to go outside, promising the worried and nervous child he would be only a few feet away.
Fresh air was a pleasant thing to experience.
City Slicker Kamijou had only ever experienced such clean and sweet breezes in the short time he had spent outside of Academy City. For an impoverished boy who lacked the funds to properly feed himself and his roommates, he had traveled to several nations(Read: against his wishes). Italy, Russia, London, America(Hawaii was a recognized state, right?), and Ireland; he had found himself bashing his fists against a long list of magical threats spanning many different countries.
Outside the small family home belonging to Tazuna, Touma let his muscles relax and sighed softly as he felt the gentle breeze wash over him.
Even though he was lost in an entirely different world, realm, dimension, reality, or phase, it was always a good idea to let those tight and bundled nerves relax. To let his busy mind continue to swarm with problem after problem, settle down, and clear up.
Many people would tell him so. Especially if one were to hear of the many troubles he had been caught up in this month alone. Taking a break from back-to-back battles was recommended and he had heard such suggestions plenty of times from those around him.
Touma felt one of his fingers twitch.
Gato's Company.
Momochi Zabuza.
The Hunter Nin.
His lack of resources, home, friends, and general knowledge of this world.
The fate of Nami no Kuni's troubled future.
The...this…
'I was so close. I almost lost sight of myself. I nearly gave in to those feelings.'
Phantom cackles, twisted masks adorned by demons playing humans, a crushing atmosphere of dread and despair smelling of foul rotting flesh and putrid fluids. A small pocket of hell not spun by a lonely girl who had lost sight of herself and become a demon god. A den of misery created by human hands who had grown genuine smiles and joy out of the pain and torment of the innocent. A small space where words and understanding wouldn't reach those giddy demons overjoyed at the mess they made with their sticky hands.
For once...he had rejected his desire to save even those he battled.
And desired to soak his fist in the dark red ooze of their beaten bodies.
Fingers curled around the wrist of a seemingly ordinary right hand.
And threatened to crush bone, muscle, and nerves as his right hand grew tense and clawed viciously as if it were eager to gouge into those phantom memories trickling out of the recesses of his mind as Touma inclined his head in shame.
The previous conversation he had with Naruto and the gentle boy came to mind.
What a fucking hypocrite.
No one saw it.
No one knew it.
But Kamijou Touma hadn't crawled his way out of that disturbing hole in the ground without any damage to his heart.
It was quiet and peaceful right now. Despite what was to come and what was still transpiring at the hands of Gato's greed, a soothing lull of tranquility was present. Only nature could be heard in the soft crashing waves, the whisper of the clean breeze, the chirping of birds and chatter of the small wildlife scurrying about, and even a soft murmur of voices carried by the wind. Grassy green, ocean blue, a pleasant wooden brown, and other bright and gentle colors painted the world around him.
A pocket of peace surrounded the trembling spiky boy who openly gnashed his teeth.
And he hated it.
Because those thorns, those shards, the remaining bits of those dark and cruel experiences he had endured would shiver and slowly sink into his thoughts.
He took a breath, his lungs shuddering as his heart grew a bit frantic.
'Forget about it.'
Don't focus too much on how vicious your attacks had evolved against Gato's men to break bones. Don't think about just how slick your hands had grown with your own blood mixing with their own. Don't recall the cries of those you weren't able to reach or protect as they were subjected to all kinds of depraved torment. D-Don't let the memory of how close you had become to crossing that line several times throughout the fighting in that hell poison your heart.
Forget about the sharp loneliness that had nearly knocked you down to your feet.
These thoughts and pain were perfectly normal. To an ordinary boy who had come out of such a nightmare alive, it was to be expected.
Tsunami had said it herself.
'You could have been killed! You saw awful, disgusting, evil, and cruel atrocities! You were cut up, beaten, stabbed, and treated like an animal to be slaughtered! Didn't you want to cry? Didn't you want to beg someone to save you? Didn't you pray to god for a miracle?'
If he had no one to save, if Kyofu hadn't been in the same cell as him, if it weren't for the invisible spark he had clutched tightly in his battered hand…
Even a high school boy would have been swallowed whole by the behemoth of that hell.
But he had survived and found those memories, regrets, anger, disgust, and damage remaining like shrapnel piercing deep into his flesh.
Somehow it was worse.
For some reason, those tiny fragments of the latest misfortune were more painful and dug far deeper than when he had endured hell after hell. And he couldn't understand why.
Compared to the many times he had endured literal hell, what was so different about now? What was missing?
…
An innocent, sweet, gentle, and lovely face flitted through his troubled thoughts. Naive sea foam green eyes looked at him with warmth and gave him a beautiful smile.
"I wonder...h-how you're d-doing."
He whispered lowly to no one.
Because the words were meant for those who were astronomically out of his reach.
Really, it was these quiet and peaceful moments he despised the most.
"?!"
An odd metallic crinkle was heard and broke Touma out of his heavy thoughts.
Small feet had stopped right in front of him, having suddenly noticed the spiky boy at the last second.
Both boys lifted their heads from the ground and found their wet gazes colliding on the porch of Tazuna's home.
Touma found Inari, the cynical grandson to Tazuna, and the only child to Tsunami, arriving from whatever activity he would mind himself with whenever the shinobi or Touma was around. He realized the little boy must have liked fishing since he carried an old metal pale bucket carrying a few fish and a hand-me-down fishing lure over his shoulders. These last few hours he must have been taking his mind off of with a seat by a pier and a handful of bait to catch whatever he could.
A flash of anger came over Inari's dark eyes.
DRIP.
A faint plop of liquid hitting the wooden boards below their feet was heard in the quiet atmosphere.
Whose tear had that been?
"...Tch."
Inari swallowed whatever words he had wanted to say with a small click of his tongue. It seemed as if he wasn't in any mood to start another fight as he rubbed his hand over his eyes.
The child who had given up on heroes, on fighting to protect his home, on believing in others to rescue him or his family, walked past the stiff high school boy. His incredibly small back glared back at the boy who struggled to say anything back.
Kaiza's son had rejected Kamijou Touma's desire to save him. Because he refused to acknowledge a boy who had walked a very similar path as his champion of a father, had done what such a great and wonderful man couldn't.
Touma had lived.
The little boy's anger wasn't complicated. It wasn't deep. It wasn't complex.
Simply because Touma had fought against Gato's men, saved those who had been captured as slaves and merchandise, been beaten black and blue to near death, and not only defeat those demons but survive to be cheered as a hero, Inari hated him.
Because the person to have greeted Inari's eyes upon returning from fishing was replaced by a shadow he would never love.
Neither boy said a thing back to another. No 'Welcome back!'. No 'How'd fishing go?' No 'How are you doing?'.
The lack of even anything mean or rude stung far more.
With nothing to say, the door was shut with not even a thunderous bang by the silent and brooding eight-year-old.
Touma hung his head with a bitter frown.
"What am I supposed to say that everybody else hasn't already? He died standing up for what he believed in? He was smiling proudly in the bitter end? He did it to protect you and your family? He's probably heard every cliché sentiment in the book by now. Coming from a guy like me? I'm surprised he hasn't spit in my face yet."
What kind of pain was that? To have the person you looked up to, believed in, had complete faith in, and loved as a genuine father despite lacking the same DNA, butchered right in front of your eyes with a brave smile on his beaten face.
What was it like to lose your father right in front of you?
Tazuna's story pertaining to Nami no Kuni's current failing state, its beloved champion, and the public execution of a father, was still fresh on Touma's mind.
The story of an average man of the seas who protected his village with all his might, who had fought for the happiness of passersby with a rough grin, and who had grown to love the little boy he had rescued from drowning on their first meeting as his own biological child and grown to fall in love with said boy's mother.
Every story had its main character, its protagonist. And the story told by the usually drunken old man had been a cool and sweet one. A story like that, with such a strong and caring protagonist who had everything to lose and everything to win, with an honest to god reason to fight with everything he had-Why hadn't it concluded with a happy ending?
Why did it have to end with such a sad and cruel ending where no one was saved?
Had it all been too much?
"That kind of weight was always on your back, huh? Your village, your friends, your family, your nation; they were all being lifted up just on your shoulders the entire time. What the hell were you? A Saint?"
Even if the story had left a grainy bitter taste in his mouth, it wasn't over. The book hadn't been shut and left to collect dust in a forgotten bookshelf in an old man's attic.
Gato hadn't won. He lacked absolute control of Nami no Kuni. People were still staving off his influence in their own little ways and fighting their own fights in the shadows. Not everyone had lost hope.
After all, if things were as hopeless as they seemed, wouldn't Tazuna have abandoned this dead nation with his family in his arms?
An amazing hero had died in his solitary stand against a criminal organization powerful enough to overtake a small nation. His fire hadn't been completely put out even underneath the trampling tide. And protected the ever-faint unseen spark close to his chest to shield from the crumbling nation's despair.
Old, wrinkled, weathered, and tired hands had caught the tiniest of ember before its heat could go out. And fought every day to keep the minuscule fire from fading away.
Surely Inari had seen his grandfather's struggle to keep his father's spirit alive? Didn't he feel anything at the sight of the old man who should have been enjoying his golden years in peace, stumbling home late into the night with sweat and grime coating his exhausted body? Or did he genuinely see the elderly man's attempts to give the nation his father had loved, hope as pathetic too?
Just how broken was Inari's heart?
Not even Imagine Breaker could shatter the darkness of such a heartbroken child.
"Am...am all I really good for is throwing my fist around?" Touma lamented.
He looked to the hand capable of destroying high-level spells that manipulated causality, controlled life, and death, distorted reality, and restored the world to its original state with the knowledge of a Magic God. With this very normal-looking appendage, he had defeated Academy City's strongest esper, a magician who had claimed the title of La Persona Superior A Dios, battled a Saint or two, a battle-lusting magician known as Lightning God and Almighty Thor, and defeated a few Magic Gods.
Only because of this hand, he had saved others in the short time that would have taken years for others.
So, why couldn't he lift the spirits of one measly child in front of him? Why was he struggling so much to close that gap?
"Ryu-sama! Where are you?!"
A scared voice searched for him from inside Tazuna's home.
Hearing it, the pathetic boy felt the corners of his lip begin to lift. If only a little.
At the very least, he had saved young Otohime. And Boshi, and the other villagers who were locked away. The means had been bloody and vicious as usual, but he saved them in his own way.
Just because he hadn't been able to make Inari smile, didn't mean had to grow such a big head and grow a pout like some spoiled brat when he failed again.
Even if this was a new world, had no one to ease his inner demons, and struggled to survive against opponents a weak high school boy could never defeat, he wouldn't give up.
He would keep trying. It was the least he could do for the kind hero who had saved that boy's smile long ago.
[-]
Question: How much force is required to crush an apple with your bare hand?
Answer: 150 lbs of force was required from a human's grip to crush the fruity treat to squash.
The remains of the juicy red fruit fell from a grayish-skinned tone hand, staining the man's hand in bits of a red-skinned apple before opening his hand wide.
"Next."
Second Question! How much force is required to crush a potato, a much sturdier vegetable?
Answer: close to 500 lbs of force was required for a human's grip to crush the starchy veggie to mash.
It had taken a moment but the potato was crushed in the same grayish skin-toned man's hands with an audible crack. A satisfied chuckle was heard as the man flung the potato mush and apple juices off his hand without a care about the mess he made.
"Excellent. My strength is just about back to a hundred percent again. It won't be long now, Haku. Am I to believe that you've finished your assessment of our target's weaknesses?"
Within the main headquarters of Gato, Zabuza lounged back on the sofa of their personal quarters with a lack of bandages on his person. The deadly Demon of the Mist was no longer in pain and found his strength coming back to him despite the wreck he had been left in after his bout with the Konoha shinobi.
And a so-called ordinary boy.
Ordinary? Ha! What a deceptive little lie. Admittedly, he had fallen for it and even lost himself in blind rage at the very idea that a weak and normal boy had gone as far as to break his nose. He scoffed at the foolishness that had cost him greatly. He truly was fortunate to be alive after falling for such a simple trick.
Demons like Momochi Zabuza slaughtered ordinary. Ordinary didn't mean enduring bone-breaking hits just because you were determined. Ordinary crumbled when drowned in the heavy atmosphere of blood-lust that tempted weaker prey to go as far as slit their own throats in terror. Ordinary did not react to a severing swing of a guillotine slipping into their personal bubble from out of nowhere.
Nothing about that deceitful demon was ordinary.
Zabuza knew better than to underestimate such a clever target. There would be no mistakes when they fought again. Kakashi would feel the same fierce and cruel barrage of swings from his executioner sword as Kamijou Touma. Compared to the young brats who've revealed to be stronger than first believed, it was those two main targets on his list that were to be dealt with by Zabuza's own hands.
The Genin would be dealt with by Haku. There was no worry there as his most refined and deadly tool was a cut above that soft-hearted ninja who lacked a killer instinct.
Haku gave him a pleasant smile as the boy handed him a clean towel to wipe his hands with.
"Correct, Zabuza-sama. I've already analyzed Hatake-san's sharingan and noted its weaknesses that you can exploit should he begin the fight with it. The Kirigakure no Jutsu is the most well-suited card in your hand that can cancel its hypnotic effects once you've deepened the fog's density. I believe the sharingan was able to mimic your every movement to create fear and insecurity that he would use with a combination of illusions to defeat you. As long as you keep yourself concealed in the fog and close your eyes, you will be able to hunt him down with sound alone and finish him."
Cut and dry. No flattery. No boasting. Logical yet simple to understand.
"Optical abilities are not almighty. There are many ways to deal with such tricky but easy-to-handle thorns regarded as the strongest dojutsu. Block their sights, disrupt their focus, distract their gaze, fool their senses, blind their vision, slice their eyes; all you need is ask, and I will advise the best course of action to take if you yourself are in need of any suggestions. Though the Sharingan is simply one card in Hatake Kakashi's deck, so you will have to counter whatever moves he has yet to utilize."
As intelligent as always. That's what made Haku such a proficient tool. He could do more than just spill blood like some cheap knife. The brilliance of such a unique weapon at his disposal was its ability to perform multiple tasks to suit the situation to Zabuza's benefit. Haku alone would make his own precious Kubikiribochu jealous if it was sentient.
Not even the fabled sharingan was safe from Haku's sharp eyes and observation. Just from one fight, the masked boy was able to dissect the red eye's abilities, strengths, and weaknesses by memory alone. It was outstanding and put Zabuza's own skills to shame. Given a few more years of training by his side, Zabuza was confident the street urchin he had picked up that winter day would become a demon far outclassing himself.
And that cold blade Zabuza had been tailoring would then be able to carry out his dream and accomplish what Kirigakure's deadliest shinobi failed to do.
"Good work, Haku. Now, what about the other one? The boy known as Kamijou Touma. Have you discovered the weakness of his ability to negate my ninjutsu."
At the mention of the thorn in Zabuza's side, Haku tensed. It was subtle. No one else but Zabuza would have noticed how the young teen's shoulders stiffened.
How curious.
"His ability to negate ninjutsu seems to remain dormant in his right hand only. Throughout your battle, he only ever utilized his right hand to tackle your ninjutsu. All it takes is a simple touch of any part of his right hand and your attacks fall apart no matter how deadly they may be. I believe such a skill can't be anything else but a Kekkei Genkai like my own Hyoton[Ice Release]; it's a unique technique that can't be replicated." Haku explained with a thoughtful mar of his fine brows, "I believe it can also suppress chakra after you've explained to me how you lost your ability to call upon it when he had you under the water. If he touches you, you will not be able to perform any skill that requires chakra unless you break his touch."
Zabuza had already come to his own ideas for the deceitful spiky boy pertaining to his frightening power.
It wasn't every day that his most destructive and crushing ninjutsu was destroyed by a measly fist.
To accomplish such a feat without utilizing hand signs as the trigger and release mechanism; what else could it be other than a forbidden blood art?
From the mouth of a fellow kekkei genkai inheritor coming to the same conclusion, it cemented Zabuza's own thoughts.
'I wonder...is he really like Haku then? The remnant of a lost clan slaughtered in the bloody genocide spurn by the Sandime Mizukage? It wouldn't surprise me. How else could such a nobody display such a talent?'
His thoughts were interrupted by his protegee.
"It seems his kekkei genkai is purely destructive in terms of its nature. Whether it be highly concentrated jets of water, weapons constructed from water, full-body clones created from water, or even a towering dragon with stone-crushing jaws made from water, his ability destroys it all at a touch. I did notice the destruction he performs is only effective on ninjutsu. Even after he landed a hit on you,"
Haku smartly ignored the venomous growl of a demon.
"the damage you sustained was only superficial; just a deep contusion."
"Brat hits like a cement block. Ordinary my ass."
Again, moving on.
"It is ineffective on matter not based on chakra. Your physical blows were capable of dealing significant damage and I believe even an ordinary pebble found on the ground will be unable to be destroyed by his ability. So long as it is not ninjutsu, his right hand will be ineffective."
"Kubikiribochu is it then?" Zabuza grunted as he had already come to that answer himself.
To his surprise and ire, Haku shook his head with a frown.
"Kamijou-san's ability...it excels in destroying constructs of chakra, has proven to suppress an individual's tenketsu responsible for providing the body with chakra, all with a touch. What then of Kubikiribochu? Is it not an ordinary blade? No, after all, Kubikiribochu isn't an ordinary blade, is it? As one of the seven legendary swords of Kirigakure, it possesses a unique build that allows it to repair itself from any damage it sustains as long as it absorbs red blood cells to replace its mass and matter. It's a weapon that was created with chakra and other unique arts, correct? It can be seen as no different than a kunai made of water then. This is simply speculation, as I am not well versed in the creation involved in those legendary blades or the full extent of Kamijou-san's unique ability, but I would suggest refraining from attacking with Kubikiribochu straight away. At best, it would rend his right hand in one swift motion; on the other hand, it could very well be shattered to pieces."
Zabuza grit his teeth with a furious scowl.
"If that boring-faced boy touches Kubikiribochu, there's a possibility he could break it with just a touch of his finger?! God damn it! Just what kind of bullshit Kekkei Genkai is that?! How is it that one righteous idiot can cripple my arsenal so easily as if it wasn't a big deal!? A bloodline power like that; is he really the last survivor of some unknown clan slaughtered in the bloody massacres?! How the fuck did such an incredibly valuable tool go unnoticed until now? That fucking piece of shit Sandaime!"
He nearly threw back his favorite lounging couch in anger as he balled up his fist with a vicious crack.
Raging torrents gave form to bear the resemblance of a mythical beast of legend. A serpent of flowing crushing water capable of tearing through the earth like a massive carving blade. Ninjutsu devoid of any fancy or elusive gimmicks; it was might and strength that only obliterated its foes with crude jaws born of waves.
And smashing said destructive dragon of waves with a measly naked right hand, was a spiky-haired boy who had casually stepped up to toss aside one of his strongest mizujutsus.
Ninjutsu was out. And now? Hearing of a mere touch of that boy's bloodline art could break Kubikiribochu? It was maddening.
How was it that dealing with a supposedly normal teen became more of a chore than dealing with a full-fledged Jonin?
"Fighting Kamijou-san with Kubikiribochu may shatter it, in theory. I don't know if that is only true with ninjutsu and not just items that were created using chakra or any supernatural means as well. But that doesn't mean Kamijou-san is difficult to deal with either. After all, he's merely a commoner, not a shinobi."
Zabuza glared menacingly at the ever-smiling tool, "How so? Ninjutsu is nullified and my main weapon may as well be null if his right-hand meets it. I'm merely an inheritor of Kubikiribochu; its creation and means of giving it its unique ability to mend itself through bloodshed are lost to me. Only a few would risk such a gamble against an unknown that's already proven to be deadly."
"You forget that Kamijou-san's power remains in his right hand only. As long as you remain out of reach of said hand, you may still use both ninjutsu and Kubikiribochu as long as you evade his ability's reach that can only go as far as he can reach. 29.19 inches is the average arm length of an individual of Kamijou-san's build, giving you an area of danger to avoid in combat. He has yet to show any skill in utilizing ninjutsu, he lacks proficiency in weapons, and does not appear to possess your physique nor the physique of your typical shinobi. All you would need to do is disable his hand and deal with him as you see fit."
Zabuza scoffed at the assessment.
In other words, the boy who had broken his nose was weak. An easy prey. Someone he could easily dispatch with a single hefty swing of his executioner's blade.
Apparently, his tool was still in need of more refining and education.
"You've seen it yourself, Haku. That boy's reaction time alone...those are instincts. Ingrained and hardwired into his muscles to react before even the mind senses danger. The kind of muscle memory only ever found in those who have undergone battle, after battle, after battle, after battle where one is sweating blood from every pore, and muscles are torn to shreds. Even that fist of his, disregarding its unique and rare gift, isn't soft. I blacked out for a split moment when he drilled his knuckles into the center of my face. Ordinary? Weak? A lost traveler or civilian. Are you trying to fucking insult me? He's no different a blade than you or I; a weapon forged by constant violence and bloodshed."
To simply regard the very bastard who had thrown a wrench in his plans and been responsible for the nearly lethal injuries he had been inflicted, would be to sully Momochi Zabuza's very name and integrity as a warrior.
Maybe it was his ego. Or the training he had endured and survived to be the lone graduate of his ninja academy.
Deep in the core of his very being, he couldn't acknowledge Kamijou Touma as normal. If he did, he felt as if some cruel and terrible beast would sink its teeth into his being the moment he turned his back on such a threat.
Kamijou Touma's quick reflexes and evasion spoke a tale of grueling battles that had him risking his life with each encounter. A veteran shinobi like Zabuza could see it in how that common older boy had swiftly dodged his clones' killing blows without ever missing a beat. Just how many opponents had such a normal figure defeated to gain that high level of reaction speed to anticipate his silent kill techniques?
It was almost as if Kamijou Touma possessed the ability to sense danger with little more of a twitch of his opponent's face.
Haku's face twitched ever so slightly. But he continued nonetheless with his combat assessment.
"I believe that utilizing the Kirigakure no Jutsu as you would against Hatake-san would work as well. I...can not deny your analysis. You did not give him any room to evade your attacks; not once did you not aim to take his life with every swing of Kubikirbochu. Kamijou-san is able to read your body to anticipate your every move just like Hatake-san's sharingan, so you will need to cut off his ability to read your movements. Unfortunately, his right hand can also break apart large sections of the fog and reduce your ability to hide with every swing of his fist. So, I suggest dealing with Kamijou-san first before Hatake-san. If the two remain teamed up, it will prove difficult and may result in another loss."
What a pain in the ass. Just the thought of having to deal with both Kamijou Touma and Hatake Kakashi made Zabuza's arm tense. Both could read his movements, one could negate his ninjutsu, and the other could copy them while both could evade his Kubikiribochu. They certainly had their work cut out for them for his high-paying mission.
But it would all be worth it in the end. Nothing would stop their dream.
"Speed it is then. I'll have to move quickly and take out the annoying boy with the strange right hand as quickly as possible before dealing with the scarecrow with the red eye. We will have to busy ourselves with preparation to take them out before cutting the old bridge builder down. After that, we're done with Gato."
He'd grown sick of working for that pompous billionaire by now. The pay was good but enough was enough. If Zabuza stuck around any longer, Gato would feel entitled to believe the Demon of the Mist was his own personal lap dog. Gato was already demanding that Zabuza take care of the shinobi after their little raid on one of his bases. And to turn his executioner blade upon the cowering masses of Nami no Kuni like some pathetic thug. It had only gotten worse as some unknown enemy was targeting the remaining few in the shadows.
Zabuza was a hired arm. A paid killer. His targets were powerful or held great political influence.
He had no desire in dirtying his blade with those who were too weak to even put up a fight.
This would be the last job. Once the shinobi were dealt with and the bridge builder was dead, Zabuza would take his money and leave. If the rich mole-man had any complaints then he'd have to direct them to Kubikiribochu.
Zabuza stood up, rolling his shoulders with a groan as their strategy meeting was concluded for the moment. His strength was just about returned to its former glory. It wouldn't be long now.
"Our dream is within sight, Haku. Once we've collected the last of our war fund, we'll return to our preparations for dealing with Kirigakure no Sato. It'll take a few years to rebuild our troops and grow you into a much deadlier tool, but we'll return to finish our coup. We won't fail again."
This world required only one Demon like Zabuza. There wasn't any need for his kind to be bred under such a blood stain-ed and cruel environment again. He would drain the swamp of that blood cesspool he had been submerged in since birth.
And if such a dream required a mountain of bodies seeping an ocean of blood, innocent or not, then so be it.
[-]
Day turned to night rather quickly for Touma. As he had nothing else to do while he recuperated his health, he was left with nothing better to do than to aid Tsunami with a few household chores throughout the day. Washing and drying clothes, tidying up the house, taking a few trips out into the now safe town for ingredients and to even chatting with a few of the village people, and even helping with the mother's knitting and sewing.
As your typical Level 0, who was financially challenged, such tasks were all things he had experience with. Little money meant he had to be creative with his finances and how he spent what little he had on the essentials. Meaning, in order to save on money, he had taken to learning how to sew together his torn-up uniforms instead of buying new ones, cooking for himself, washing stubborn dark stains out of his clothing from another battle to the death, and taking care of his dorm that he shared with a messy grimoire library and an entitled mini-War God.
Kamijou Touma had all the makings for a househusband. He simply refused to acknowledge it.
Now that he wasn't hampered by all the bandages restricting his movements, and that Tsunami wasn't constantly worried about a stitch coming undone, he could finally stretch his legs and pull his weight around the house.
And since he had done a great job on breakfast, the lonely housewife was more than eager for him to help with prepping dinner tonight too.
The wafting smell of pork sizzling in its own juices was a delight Touma had missed. Eating fish was alright but it got tiring after seven days straight of having it as the main protein of their meals. Touma understood why that was. Due to Gato's control of the food supply that the village held, much of the produce available for others to buy after Gato had taken a large majority of their supply consisted of soon-to-rot veggies, rice, and some fruit that could hardly feed fifty people.
Fish was a commodity that everyone could eat due to the village being situated by the sea, so anyone could catch a few to feed their family. So long as they could sneak their catch from the preying demons.
But as of late, the village didn't have much trouble. Ever since Gato had pulled back his forces in fear of another retaliation, the village's food supply hadn't been stolen by his men. For once even the poorest of families could afford something to take back for their family. Touma even heard the occasional rumor that a few more of Gato's bases were being raided by an unknown assailant leaving behind his stolen wares and men in flames.
The attacks should have caused Gato to react and attack the village. Instead, the billionaire continued to stand back and wait to end the insurgence with his strongest card.
If Zabuza was indeed alive, he would attack once he'd recovered from their previous battle. If not, Gato was out of cards to play and now left to watch as his criminal empire burned to the ground. If Gato was smart, he would pack his bags and leave while he still could.
It was because of the lack of Gato's presence that the village seemed to gain a bit of normalcy back to it. Gone was the air of oppression and defeat, replaced by a slight glow of hope that allowed the people to walk out of their homes without the fear of being attacked or kidnapped by Gato's army. Their Ryo was no longer stolen and they could once again make money for themselves instead of filling the pocket of a short mole-faced bastard.
One of said benefits of Gato's lack of presence was the tasty red meat now available for the village to eat. The hunters who would normally hand over whatever game they hunted no longer had to hand it over to Gato's men and could sell it to be sold to the village people instead. Which was why Touma was currently cooking pork for tonight's dinner.
"But fissssssshhhhhhhhhhh!"
"I don't care if you are a shark girl; you need more than just white meat to survive! If you keep eating nothing but trout and salmon, you're going to wake up permeating its strong odor. Do you really want to be the kind of girl that people discretely point to and say smells fishy? Is that the kind of corny and stereotypical life you want to live? Show some diversity in your archetype! Like how a Dorm Manager Onee-san can carry certain traits from other types from Bookworm, Disciplinary Officer, Nurse, or even Tomboy!"
"Ryu-sama, you're saying weird things again. Are you alright? Your nose is leaking red juice."
Having returned from aiding Tsunami with her housework, young Otohime had sped past everything and everyone once they've gotten a few feet close to the house to what she found as her rightful spot since her rescue: Touma's side.
Touma found himself furrowing his brow as he glanced back at the happily grinning shark-skinned girl mincing ginger on the cutting board next to him.
Unlike this morning when he had sent the shark girl away due to her thieving hands, he had decided to let her stay in the kitchen and even help him with tonight's dinner.
While Touma's wounds were mending(better than expected), he wasn't a hundred percent yet. Meaning he would need some help with some prep, so he wouldn't have to strain his injuries just as they were nearly closed up. And with Tsunami being preoccupied, and Touma not wanting the lovely mother to go through the trouble after everything she's done, he had accepted the eager girl's assistance.
For tonight's dish, they were having Pork Curry!
'Time's like this I miss my faithful rice machine. Even if it was used and refurbished, and suffered a few dings, I still got the job done to feed Index every day. But there is something to be said about white rice made the old-fashioned way. It's definitely more fluffy and flavorful; even if it takes longer.'
With a pout on her face at the lack of fish in the main dish for tonight's meal, Otohime handed him the diced carrots, potatoes, celery, and onions to add in to the finished pork. He smiled gratefully, and with a slight wince, as he felt his wrist ache, he added the vegetables into the pot as he stepped away from the sticky Japanese white rice.
Ginger, red miso, reserved pork stock, finely grated garlic, and the final remaining ingredients to the curry were soon added. To Touma's surprise, despite this world being set in a timeline closely associated with the Edo period, the world's technology and practices were a few decades ahead. Things like refrigerators were a thing, indoor light had been invented, thank god for indoor plumbing, and gas stoves were real.
Simmering reddish-brown creamy curry swimming with pork loin, golden potatoes, orange carrots, and green celery was a pleasant sight to behold to even the fish-obsessed Otohime, who found herself staring in awe with drool at the pot.
"You know," Otohime licked her lips hungrily at the simmering pot, "It would be a million times tastier if you added salmon, shrimp; oh, oh, oh! What about an octopus or squid!? It's not too late, Ryu-sama!"
"Denied. Yes, seafood does cook far quicker and easier than red meat: especially shrimp. But prepping it is a pain in the ass this late in the cooking process. Maybe some other night. Now, stop discretely eyeing Tsunami's fridge for any leftover fish and finish working on the salad. All that's left is to wait for the curry to finish simmering before we can start platting."
Since all that was left was to wait for the curry to finish simmering, there really wasn't any need for him to have the helpful shark guppy help out. Better for her to go back and join the others than to have to carefully observe her in case she attempted to dump in something fishy at the last moment. With a shooing motion of his hand, he told Otohime to take a seat.
"I don't want to."
"Hm?"
"Not if he's there. I don't want to be near a demon like that, not anymore."
Touma felt something cruel snap at his heart at the soft anger in Otohime's words. The shark-girl refused to meet his eyes, a small glare tainting the innocent face that was slowly regaining its fat as her little fists were clenched at her side.
Last night's argument with Inari came to mind as the source for such an unnatural expression.
Demon. The title of one of those malicious bastards who were directly responsible for the failing state of this nation and the loss of hope for its people.
Just like Inari and his family, Otohime had been subject to the horrors and pain of those horned oni who found genuine joy in hurting others for their own satisfaction.
Otohime couldn't remember anything. She had suffered a form of amnesia most likely due to the trauma she had been through in that small pocket of hell she had been stuffed into for who knows how long.
Dr. Gaze had explained it best once he had met the old man again and discussed the shark-girl's condition: 'Memory loss comes from many factors to the brain. Aging, drugs, physical trauma, mental trauma, emotional trauma, or disease; in Otohime-chan's case, it would have to be due to mental trauma. This isn't anything strange as a survivor of Gato's cruelty. Many of those children rescued from Sector-D have been found to suffer from Dissociative Amnesia as well. This is a protective measure of the psyche to shield those poor boys and girls from the scarring time in that hell, and can go as far as causing the victims to not only large chunks of time but also their very names and personality.'
The shark-girl was different from Kamijou Touma, who had almost sixteen years' worth of memories, not lost, forgotten, sealed away, but physically destroyed.
This wasn't a wound, an injury that could be healed, but a means of shielding her small heart from the horrors she couldn't withstand.
She couldn't remember what they had done to her, but it had been malicious enough to force her subconscious to possibly permanently block those memories away for her own safety. All she knew was that she had been imprisoned and abused, ignored, and hurt; to what extent, she couldn't remember. What bits she could recall was enough to cause her eyes to tremble and for her breathing to grow heavy.
Demons were the reason she had been locked away in a cell, abandoned as their depraved playground was brought to ruin, and left to die as something even more terrifying tore everything to shreds.
No matter how cynical, bitter, or hurt Inari had been, even that scarred boy must have realized what it meant when a fellow victim of Gato's tyrant called him a demon.
"Otohime…"
The amnesiac girl's shoulder's stiffened at the tone in her savior's voice. Touma could make out her small lips to stretch into a thin line.
Sighing, he put down the wooden ladle and scratched the back of his head.
"I know what Inari-san said hurt you; I get it. But he's suffered too. Maybe your pain can't be matched with his, and neither can his, and maybe the two of you will never find any common ground in your suffering. That doesn't mean you should hate him either; you can't call him a demon."
"But-!"
"Demons robbed him of someone precious too. Just like you, he must have cried endlessly because of the malice of demons. He's just a little kid though, one who wasn't fortunate like you or I."
"?"
Touma smiled a bitter and melancholic smile.
"Inari-san is still stuck in that dark and abusive cell. He still remembers everything clearly even after all these years. We're not chained down like mangy beasts anymore. We're not being tormented or abused. He's different: those rusty bars are still trapping him in a dark place. Even though it doesn't look like he has any reason to cry, to shout, to hate, to grow spiteful, you can't assume he's not hurting."
"He said you should have died instead."
"Just because he hurt you first, doesn't mean it gives you a well-earned reason to hurt him back. This is no different than saying a foul curse when you're suddenly hurt; aren't you curious as to why he's hurting?"
Otohime sucked her bottom lip in, reminding him of a puckered fish. Despite not saying it, a part of her must have been curious. Unlike the rest of Team 7 and Touma, she had been absent when they had been told the story of Kaiza's death displayed right in front of the young bitter child. She was ignorant to the deep scars still burning hot on the surface of his broken heart that had twisted his naive innocence with the kind of knowledge and understanding only wartime veterans would attain after enduring bloody battles.
"If you don't take the time or effort to understand him, you don't have the right to despise him. Trust me, it's much easier and worthwhile to try to breach that wall littered with sharp spines with compassion and words rather than using your brute force."
Be the kind of person who can use their words to understand others rather than turning them away with sneers and hate. Abandon those violent and hurtful actions.
Become someone who isn't so useless or pathetic that they have to resolve every tragedy with bloody fists in order to save a single smile.
Young Otohime's conflicted expression spoke enough to tell him she couldn't comprehend what he was trying to convey. He couldn't help but find a warm smile growing on his face as her brows were knitted together in frustration.
She didn't have to understand what he was trying to say right now. It was fine if she didn't arrive at the answer for even ten years. Such things weren't crucial right now.
All it ever takes is a single moment for such an answer to ring out loud and clear.
Patting the cutely conflicted girl's back, he urged her to at least attempt the first step to grasping the answer.
"Come on. I think I see a seat open next to Haruno-san at the dinner table. And it looks like Uzumaki-san and Uchiha-san have already stumbled in together too. You better take a seat next to the flower-smelling girl before you're forced to sit between two sweaty boys who reek of hard work and rivalry."
Otohime's nose crinkled at the idea of sitting between smelly boys. Taking a peek at the dinning room, she could already see the two boys barking at one another as they tried to find a seat where they wouldn't have to sit next to one another: I.e, next to Sakura. Between a fishy fishcake fox or a foul reeking vengeful raven, she would rather sit by the nice girl with the giant forehead. Her highly sensitive nose was already picking up on their foul odors, so she nodded absently and quickly dashed for the available seat.
Touma breathed a sigh of relief.
Honestly, why couldn't they all just get along?
Hearing some laughter from the dinner table, it seemed as if he didn't have anything to worry about though. Since everything was done cooking, Touma went on to platting everyone's meals by himself: he felt the hard-working single mother who had always cooked for them deserved a chance to be served without having to lift a finger once.
With a few plates carefully balanced on his arms, the spiky boy with a hidden talent for the role of househusband made his way over to the dining table.
"Why the hell are you laughing?!"
Just as Touma set foot into the room, he heard the furious and bitter shout of a boy rejecting the happy mood they were all indulging in. With a faint clack of the dishes in his arm abruptly caught before they could fall as he found his feet turning into stone, he found himself standing still as Inari stood up from his seat with his small fists balled in anger.
He couldn't move. His feet refused to budge as he found a buzzing anger radiating from the small child like a swarm of frenzied bees who had their home prodded. Hot plates of food in hand, he found he could only stand by and listen to the cynical child bleed words of pain and rejection.
[-]
Sick.
Inari felt something sickening wriggle in his small stomach like slimy eels. Like restless pests finding a new home to shelter in, the sensation building up inside him kept wriggling.
Just like yesterday night: when he had to sit through the cheap happiness those idiots were tossing upon his family like an infectious disease. He felt that bubbling fury refuse to simmer down or die.
His anger had exploded and he had been struck by his own mother for it, and been called a demon by a girl who had suffered at Gato's hands. He still felt the sting across his cheek and the sharp cut in his heart. Because of the pain he had caused his mother, he had decided to try.
To try and remain silent. To endure those smiles and grins. To shut out the laughter and praise from those heroes. To just ignore that damn false hope they were shoving down their throats.
It hurt. Containing that bile those idiots wrought as it built up as they talked about coming close to saving them. This frustration and anger just kept rising until he felt hot tears spring from his eyes and his shoulders tremble terribly.
Inari tried; truly, he tried his hardest! For the sake of his mother, he tried to ignore this damn hatred with everything he had.
But it was just too damn much.
When he heard that idiot loud-mouth blond mumble in his sleep about ramen, it had been the small drop of water to cause the full glass representing his anger to spill over.
"Why the hell are you laughing?!"
With a grieving howl from his shaking throat, the young child loudly rejected the smiles and laughter threatening to crack the darkness in his heart.
With searing hot tears threatening to roll down his eyes, he stood up and glared with all his hate at the figures who were insulting his late father's heroics without a damn care in the world.
Had everyone lost it? Or had they forgotten that Gato was still at large? This wasn't a time to be laughing and smiling as if they had already won! It was only a matter of time before Gato decided he was done playing around and decided to stomp them all out like pests crawling out of the floorboards. Yet again they were continuing to celebrate one lousy win when the score was 1 to 100!
Did they honestly believe that a little training could do them any good against an army of ruthless killers? That they were immune to losing as they did? What complete crap!
All they were doing was making it easier for Gato to crush their hopes when the moment was right!
So, why couldn't they understand that?!
"Why are you even wearing yourself out? Don't you understand that it's pointless to even try?! You could train all you want, for however long you want, and you'll still be no match against Gato's thugs! Why can't you see that?!"
"Inari! That's enough! I thought we talked about this?"
Inari swatted his mother's hand before she could grab his shoulder, his furious tear-stained face turned her way now. Tsunami found herself stepping back at the raw anger directed her way by her own son.
He felt his heart cry out; a small voice told him to stop for the sake of his mother, who had no right to be caught in his tirade.
Raw hatred poisoned his thoughts and quashed his guilt and remorse for sweet release.
"Why can't you see that either, Kaa-san?! Why are you indulging these idiots when you know as well as I do that there's no such thing as heroes either?! You should know by now that all that big talk and cool acts are just a front to hide how weak they truly are! They're just spotting the same lies Tou-san said before he was killed fighting the same fight! How could you be brainwashed so easily?!"
The way his mother's eyes had grown impossibly wide as if she had been punched directly in her stomach by a large fist, and grown wet with pain, nearly caused him to crumble and apologize.
But then his grandfather had stood up and shouted at him.
"Hold your tongue, Inari! It's one thing to talk to our guests like that but it's crossing the line when you speak to your own kaa-san like that! Don't you understand that these shinobi and Kamijou-san are fighting for their lives to protect us and Kaiza's dream!?"
Inari snarled at his grandfather at the mere mention of his father's name, taking the old bridge builder back as he now found himself faced with his long pent-up anger.
"All they're doing is wasting everyone's time in a pointless fight! Do you really believe that Gato will really back down once you've finished your bridge?! Of course, he won't! All he needs to do is throw some Ryo around and he can just as easily have his army destroy all that you've worked yourself to death for! You're just as bad, Oji-san! They're only four people! Against an army, they're nothing! How come you can't see that?!" Inari cried furiously with a strangled sob.
Enough.
He had enough of this. Of this false cheer. Of these fleeting smiles. Of this momentary happiness.
Inari was fed up of with how everyone around him was denying reality for some flimsy illusion of hope. Before those arrogant shinobi showed up, his mother and grandfather had been just fine accepting how pointless it was to try. It was only a matter of time before his grandfather gave up on the bridge and had them run away. Inari would have been happy to leave behind this doomed nation.
Instead, his mother and grandfather had fallen for petty words and cheap promises. They had been lured in to place what little hope they had remaining in false heroes who didn't even realize how full of shit they were until it was too late.
No more. He was done allowing those doomed idiots to hypnotize his family to their deaths too! He was done being lied to!
H-He was fed up with losing his loved ones to cheap and flimsy hope.
Inari faced those stunned shinobi, growing angrier as Naruto stared at him as if he was an annoying child crying over spilled milk. It was time those morons faced reality!
"Just looking at you guys pisses me off! Do you think you're doing any good for this village?! All you're doing is raising everyone's hopes up to be sent plummeting to the ground later! You go around laughing and smiling as if you don't have a care in the world! Just because you got lucky once and caught Gato off guard, you suddenly think that he can be easily dealt with some training and teamwork? Do you really think of yourselves so highly that you can do what no one else could in just a few days?! Are you seriously mocking my Tou-san who had fought harder than any of you, who was far more deserving of praise than any of you, by proclaiming you're far better fit for his role!? How's that any different than saying he died pointlessly and that you bastards should have stepped in instead?!"
Everyone was staring a him again. But instead of seeing what he had seen last night when he let loose his bottled-up hatred, he found a new emotion.
Pity.
They were pitying him; they felt sorry for him. They saw him as a poor little child who could only cry and needed to be comforted: like a baby. Something heavy and hard formed in his chest.
Waking from his little nap, the spiky-blond loudmouth growled in irritation.
"Big talk coming from some melodramatic brat!" Naruto scoffed angrily, "Stop trying to make it seem as if you deserve any pity! All you do is bitch and moan when we're the ones risking our lives for you! You're not the only one who's suffering, you brat!"
Some part of his cynical heart was happy to find someone to reject him so strongly. Without more wood, the malicious fire in his heart might have died if no one fed it with more fuel.
All he wanted was release: a way to bleed out this sickening ooze born from his wounded heart refusing to heal.
"What the hell would you all know about loneliness and suffering anyways?"
His words quivered with an intense pain that his voice was shuddering and it was hard to breathe. His dark eyes glared at Naruto like he was trying to crush him.
"You can't possibly understand how it feels to be lied to and abandoned by a hero who promised to protect you from this kind of pain! So, don't speak to me as if you could ever possibly understand!"
"But...that's not fair."
Inari's searing tirade was paused by a soft mutter. He found switching his glare to the weird shark girl who didn't belong in his home like the lousy false idols. Words were ready to be hurled back at the girl who was supposed to be older than him but acted like a sniveling child.
"How can we understand your pain when you keep rejecting anyone from helping you?"
Inari felt his words blocked in his throat as the shark girl returned his glare with a conflicted scowl. There wasn't any anger or disgust; just confusion she couldn't comprehend.
"I was hurt too. Demons...those demons took something from me; I think?" she gripped the center of her chest, where her heart lay, with a tremble of her blue fingers, "I wanted someone to save me for so long. But no one came. I think...I think I gave up too. I just accepted I was doomed to die there and to be haunted by those demons who treated me like an animal. T-There was even someone who put a collar on me and...a-and made me snap at others like a guard dog? Was I-I h-hurting people?"
Even Inari could tell there was something threatening to crawl up from deep within the shark-girl's scarred heart that would cause her to weep.
But those dark spines left buried in her heart didn't surface. When she looked up slightly, she looked as if she had found something to gain strength from that he couldn't see behind him.
"But someone did save me. Someone heard me crying at the very end. It might have taken a long time, I might have given up hope, it might have seemed too late, but I was rescued at the very, very, very end of that nightmare."
To the boy she had called out as a demon, a figure no different than the monsters who had hurt them both in different manners and left them scarred, Inari found a weak smile containing a small fragment of light.
"This might be false hope. I could very well find myself being fooled into believing my nightmare is over. Gato could tear me away from here at any moment and chain me up like a stupid dog who should have known better than to run away. But I don't care. Even if it means I'll get hurt again, I want to believe in the kind of heroes who appear out of nowhere to save me from ever having to return to that smelly cell ever again."
Inari felt something stab his heart at those words.
"Why?"
He hung his head, lips quivering as his anger felt like it had lost a chunk of its fire to the idiotic reasoning of someone who should have shared his hate too.
Maybe that was why he couldn't stand the shark girl either. Because she should have been like him. What did it matter if she was rescued? So long as Gato continued acting as this nation's lord, she was as doomed to his cruelty as the rest of them. Just because she wasn't locked in a cage didn't mean she was free.
"Why can't you be reasonable? Why are you fooling yourself by putting your faith and happiness in a bunch of idiots who make themselves out as heroes? My Tou-san was a hero too. So…"
Inari gnashed his teeth together and felt a sob caught in his words as tears rolled down his face.
"How are they any better than my Tou-san who fought for my village, my family, and our nation, when compared to a bunch of self-centered ninjas who are only involved because someone paid them to save us? Where the hell were heroes like them then?"
Yes, without a doubt, this had to be the core of his cynicism and hatred for the Konoha ninja. It had to be!
Why was that his father, who had everything to lose, a failure as a hero when compared to soldiers who were only fighting for them because it was a mission handed down by their village leader for wealth and recognition.
How was that a hero?
Did that mean...his beloved father should have never stood up to Gato, and instead, have begged on his hands and knees to some arrogant village of soldiers who had ignored their despair and cries because it didn't concern them?
He couldn't accept it. He refused to be saved by such cheap imitations who had only answered their cries because they had to fork over money in order for them to be worthy of salvation and find themselves fooled to continue suffering!
Yes, that had to be the reason for this anger he couldn't comprehend!
"Is that all? Do you really think we're putting our asses on the line because our Hokage told us to? Just because it's our job to help you guys, we deserve to be treated like crap?!"
Inari didn't even lift his head up at the sound of a bang of two hands slamming onto the dinner table. He already knew whose voice it was; such an annoyingly bright and arrogant voice.
"Bitch and whine, bitch and whine! Is that all you can do, you lousy crybaby?! Don't you think there's something better you can do rather than blow snot and act pathetic?!"
"Naruto!"
"Uzumaki-san!"
"Brat!"
Naruto bristled at the shouts but pressed on with his teeth visibly stamped down in frustration.
"Fine then. Keep crying, keep cursing us out: call us pathetic losers! It doesn't matter in my eyes at all, ya miserable crybaby. Cause guess what?!"
An aggressive finger was jabbed in Inari's direction as those grit teeth morphed into a vicious grin.
"We don't care! Because we're going to save your bawling ass no matter what, datte-bayo! Why? Because I want to!"
"Tch."
Clicking his tongue with disgust, Inari brushed off all the eyes watching his every move and hopped off the seat. He'd lost his appetite. Any longer he stuck around listening to this crap would only cause that seething poison in his chest to burn right through like acid and collapse his chest.
Arguing with those idiots wouldn't change a thing. There was no saving them.
For some reason, he felt his eyes burn hotter at the realization.
'Why? Why can't you idiots get it through your thick skull? If this isn't about money or recognition then why waste your time running to your death? Seriously...why do I even bother?!'
As he turned away from the table to leave, he caught the eyes of him.
Inari's fists cracked with a thick clack. Small shoulders trembled and his small chest felt like it was being suffocated by an unbearable weight pressing itself atop his heart. Of all those here who irritated the bile of hate boiling into the point of eruption, it was that fake, that impersonator, that damn thief to his father's memory!
Kamijou Touma: the reason everyone was still choking down this crappy sense of false hope!
But just like earlier this day, upon meeting those dark blue eyes, Inari found the sputtering hate on his lips doused by what he found in those orbs.
Unlike everyone sitting at the table, Kamijou Touma didn't say a word. He made no motion of stepping in or adding in his own thoughts as he did the other day. There wasn't shock, anger, disappointment, disgust, or stoicism on his face as he observed Inari's tirade.
Sympathy, regret, pain, and melancholy.
As if...as if the fake hero had some inkling to Inari's situation.
Not even Inari himself understood why he didn't throw his ire at that fake hero's face. But he turned away with a soft scoff, almost feeling disappointed.
At himself.
At that faker.
As if he had been expecting something from either of them once their eyes collided. For a spark to ignite more of that furious fire churning his heart.
Instead, he found himself leaving feeling depressingly empty.
"Seriously...why'd it have to be you, you faker. A walking corpse like you isn't fit to take his place."
…
…
He had no way of knowing it.
But those soft words had stung far more than he would have ever realized.
[-]
Night's sweet and gentle dark curtain swept in to bring an end to the day. It was time for everyone in this nation ruled underneath the thumb and greed of a tyrant to leave all the hardships, the strife, the pain, the misery, the suffering behind for a moment so that naive dreams and wishes could soothe the wounds of many.
"Worthless pieces of shit!"
The soft quiet atmosphere was broken by the sound of a walkie-talkie slammed into the ground with a foul curse.
Late into the night, so dark the stars could be seen dotting the entire expansive night canvas over the nation like bits of pure light, in his well-furnished office, the pseudo-lord of Nami no Kuni was snarling furiously like a mad dog infected with rabies. As always, he was not alone, accompanied by two large well-dressed guards since the loss of both Waraji and Zori. Standing against the door of the office was the very last strong tool in his possession that wasn't a mercenary or paid thug, Ku; an ex-shinobi from some nameless village who was in charge of sealing his fortune with scrolls.
With shaky hands, the increasingly pissed-off Gato cleaned his face of the sweat on his forehead after receiving the latest news of his operations.
An unknown figure had been discovered pillaging his bases. Not one as the fall of Sector-D in the mainland of Nami but multiple strongholds where he had stored many of supplies, wares, drugs, weapons, slaves, and soldiers. A total of five bases, each the size of a small village fit for 50 people, were raided and razed to the ground. Men were beaten or killed, precious resources were either stolen or destroyed, his slaves were freed and even joined in the assaults, and his territory was threatened with each fallen base.
Such a thing should have never been a cause for concern. The people of Nami no Kuni were cowards, pathetic, weak, and scarred. Not since the death of their beloved champion had one of them even had the balls to stand up to him. If they had, they would be silenced and forgotten.
All but some drunk architect had the naive notion of fighting his rule.
Now though?
"It's all because of you!"
A boy's face came to mind, one bloodied, bruised, beaten, and filthy. A prisoner no different than the many residing in his prison camps.
Unlike those empty, listless, and hollow eyes who were subjected to torture and beaten to near death, he found dark blue eyes rebelling with a sickening glare and savage grin unfit for anyone who would even call themselves a hero.
"Because of that fucking brat! Who does he think he is? A Kaiza-wannabe? Just because he lived and brought down one measly base? Do those retarded shits honestly believe they can just rise up because they scored one win? Are they really that stupid?!"
It had all begun because Sector-D had fallen into shambles. All because the boy he had intended to be gutted like a slaughterhouse pig in front of the entire mainland and be reminded of the price to be paid for standing up to him, had survived. Because those whimpering worms had seen flames dancing across his prison camp, they had rallied and fought back against his men.
Because of one boring-faced brat! Everything was starting to come undone at the seams!
"Shall we reorganize the troops and strike back at the villages?"
"Don't you think I would have done so!?"
It had only taken a week of those damned ninjas being within his village for Gato's entire operation to crack and wobble at the seams. Tension could be felt in his village now, a pressure that would ignite at the littlest of spark. It was as if those weak-willed and defeated masses were now waiting for Gato to give them a reason to stand up for themselves.
Normally all Gato would need to do is send a few of his thugs out to the village, brandish their weapons, maybe kill a person or two who hasn't been paying up on time, and wreck a few things; basically, let them have a bit of fun with the people.
It wouldn't work out that way though, not again.
He was losing men. Resistance could be found in the other villages scattered across the island nation. For once, he was getting reports from his other bases that people were fighting back and actually managing to push them back a bit. In the background of the mainland, small pockets of fed-up villagers were rising up to do whatever they damn felt like and biting back at the hand of their masters.
Wasn't that the general vibe nowadays?
Even-
"What about Momochi Zabauza? Hasn't he recovered enough of his strength to resume his assassination of the bridge builder? Leaving aside the shinobi, or that boy, the hopes of the entire nation are all gathered around the old man and his bridge. Should he die, not even a nationwide rebellion would-"
"Do you think me slow? I'm paying that washed-up ex-legendary nin a literal fortune to kill one senile and wrinkly piece of shit; of course, I demanded he gets off his lazy ass and do his job! But what do I get?"
Gato slowly crushed his hand into a fist, as if imagining snapping the throat of the object of his ire.
"Fuck off. That son of a fucking bitch told me to fuck off!? He's not listening to the commands of his master and is just doing whatever he wants! Just like everyone else!"
Do whatever you want. No, it was fine, there wasn't any need to tell Gato, their owner, and controller of their miserable lives, a damn thing. Who cared about order? Just do whatever you felt like.
Those damn pathetic wallets were wasting his coin. Once again, they were all growing arrogant and smug, self-righteous and proud. As if they had never lost their unruly mutt of a champion all those years ago.
The problem at hand was growing with terrifying momentum. Something needed to be done.
Frustrated as he was, Gato found himself grinning viciously.
If Zabuza wanted to fight those skilled shinobi on his own with his little fem-boy of a lapdog then that was fine. Let him either die to those dogs and save Gato the trouble of paying him, or slaughter them with his own fair share of injuries like before. In the end, the Demon was out of a job. He was no longer of any use to him.
If the villagers believed they could fight back now that they had some hope then that was fine. If they were so eager for a reason to fight, why not give them one? They were just a bunch of no-nothing fools only worth whatever Ryo they carried. It was time they remembered what true and utter fear was that made them bow down to him.
If everyone wanted to do whatever the hell they felt like then who was Gato to not do the same?
What did Gato feel like doing, you might ask with an innocent tilt of your head?
"Send word to the remaining bases. Tell them to bring in all their men, I don't care if you have to abandon their posts, take whatever weapons they like, and let them go as wild as they like to the village. Burn the shops to the ground if they want, slaughter who they like, take what they want, pillage and rape for all I care! As long as it spreads the very loud message of terror and fear to the masses, let them have as much fun as their twisted heart's desire!"
What other course of action was there than to crush the heart, the root, the core of the issue into a soppy wet clump of limp meat?
Everything causing him headaches and frustration was found in the mainland of Nami no Kuni. The seed of rebellion growing to the point the roots were breaking through the concrete of his work, needed to be destroyed before any more of its annoying roots could spread any further. As with everything else, the solution to the issue at hand was simple and could be remedied with one thing.
Death and money.
"Tomorrow, we make them remember why they should fear Gato. I'm done wasting my time with them. Gather everything we have and raze the homeland of Kaiza and that boy to cinders and blood-soaked dirt!"
What remained of Nami no Kuni's heart would be a nation that would understand the full control and power Gato wielded ruthlessly. It would be a decimated ruin of its former glory that Gato would raise back up with his unlimited resources and funds. He would rebuild it into a nation that was created by him, owned by him, and thrived for him.
The Daimyo of this poor nation would have no choice but to step down and hand over the land to the wealthy businessman who stepped in to build it back up in his own image. The people, the land, the waters, everything worth of profit would belong to Gato and only Gato!
And everything that refused to kneel before him, prostrate themselves before him, lick his boots for him, and call him lord would be seen as worthless.
That which was worthless had no meaning. That with no meaning had no reason to stand or breathe.
Nami no Kuni was going to be bathed in the flames of its own rebellion and learn humility. Because that was what Gato felt like doing.
The gathered nicely dressed thugs in the room didn't ask questions, they did what they were told. They understood that as long as they did whatever demeaning task Gato asked of them, they would be paid in riches and freedom to do whatever they desired in Gato's country. They understood the value of working for him unlike those self-entitled villagers and would be paid more than just Ryo for their services.
Ku, the ex-shinobi skilled in fuinjutsu, only nodded simply.
"Do you wish I accompany you and continue with collecting the remaining profits that remain in the other bases then?"
"No. I have a much more important task for you, Ku."
A truly nasty and depraved grin sliced across the pompous pseudo-lord.
"If we are to raze Kaiza's beloved home to the ground, I'd at least like a little souvenir to remember him, and that drunk architect, by. If I remember correctly: didn't he have a rather lovely and fine wife left behind?"
No more lounging around. It was time to do whatever the hell he felt like too.
The finale is now set to crash down in ruthless waves.
This darkness at hand is not so easily shattered. After all, this is a world outside the control of a certain human who designed a small world fit for a boy nurtured to hone his violence.
Your words failed to connect. Again and again. Those hateful eyes only know despair and loss. Heroes are liars and you are no different.
So, give up. Save yourself.
Sadly, no matter how many times you meet failure, such an option will never be a thought.
If your words touched a god, why can't you empathize with a human?
Alright, we're hitting the last few chapters to close up Wave! We got some exciting action in store, some of my favorite scenes, and one hell of a final battle! And like I said, we're only going to be focusing on clearing Wave from here on out.
If only I can find the time to sit down, write, and edit my junk. I wanted this published on Christmas day, and New Year, but those were holidays: I was drinking heavily, sue me. Didn't even get to release those presents I was busy wrapping up for you guys.
Ah, well you'll see them around this month, so don't worry about it. I owe a certain buddy on Discord a one-shot anyway.
Lot of stuff I want to tease ya guys with but I got to sleep. Work is calling me first thing tomorrow, so I'll see ya'll again when I update with some gifts old Saint Nick got for ya's.
Yes, yes indeed, I did dress up as Santa Clause. I do so every year: kids and single mothers love me.
Read and Review! It's common courtesy.
NeoShadows fading in and out.
