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Chapter 7

no mercy in the heart of the sea

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64年2月13日

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Missions in Kiri are different.

In Konoha, Kumo, and Iwa, even in Suna and Ame, ninja are handed missions at the mission assignment desk— or whatever it's actually called— specifically because of their skillset, rank, or experience, or because of the skillset of their jōnin-sensei. If any information is outdated, false, or otherwise compromised, they can request backup or choose to retreat. (Unless you're Hatake Sakumo.)

Kiri doesn't give.

In Kiri, you take. Take missions, take rewards, take lives. Whatever you need to do to survive as a ninja, you do. No mercy, no empathy, no sympathy. Kiri's a bit similar to Suna in that sense, actually. Anyway. Missions in Kiri aren't assigned to you unless you catch the Mizukage's attention, either by being born kachū, or taking so many bloody missions and doing well until eventually he has to acknowledge your existence.

Because Kiri doesn't have a ninja registration system like the rest of the Elemental Nations (sans Ame).

Until he does acknowledge your existence— at least for katō, that is— missions are posted on a mission board for everyone to see, find, and approve of. Really. Everyone. There's no limit to the amount of people to take the mission but there is, mostly, only ever space for one person, or one group, to cash in the reward.

Thus, there's loads of infighting.

Loads.

If you're quick enough, and rarely you are, you can take the mission posting with you before anyone else sees it, leaving you with no competition. If you're really lucky, it's a mission with many reward spaces, so to speak, so there's less competition. Like most frontline missions during the war, or like the missions to Suiiki, Water Country's only harbour and trading city (aside from Kiri).

Akuto's doing one such mission to Suiiki, courtesy of Okan.

Not on his own, not yet. Aneki said taking on solo missions as a freshly harvested mung bean sprout is basically suicide and definitely not recommended. By her, anyway. He's pretty sure nine out of ten Kiri-nin he'd ask would wish him death before he could even finish his question.

He's currently about five kilometres away from Suiiki, trying his best to keep up with Nanami and Mei. As in that Terumī Mei. Future Mizukage, dual kekkei genkai wielder, and pun expert extraordinaire.

And she looks so young. Her face is softer, rounder, and more open compared to her controlled, hardened look in the source material. Her eyes are wide and bright, still full of life and hope, despite the active war. She already wears her hair in a herringbone braid, though much, much shorter.

Their mission itself— guard duty, eugh— is a C-rank (though Aneki said it's essentially a D-rank, due to the comparatively low risks), because Kiri doesn't really do D-ranks either. Those who can afford D-ranks opt to hire workers by themselves instead and those who can't afford D-ranks either simply do it themselves or trade with favours, etc. Thus, no D-ranks in Kiri.

Also. Kiri doesn't need to build an image the way Konoha does. Or, encourage more enlistment, the way Suna does. Kiri has her clients. The sort that knows Kiri'll take the worst of the worst, missions other villages wouldn't think of taking even in their worst nightmares. The sort of missions Danzō accepts.

"Our CO's Hijiki Katsuro," Aneki says. She wrinkles her nose in disgust. Mei looks amused, her green eyes shining. They aren't as bright as Not-Uzumaki's but not dull either. A forest green, he guesses. "Guy's a total prick. Thinks he's Sage's gift to shinobi."

Mei sighs. "Maybe if you didn't feel the need to provoke him every time you saw him..."

Akuto glances at Mei, then at Aneki, and finally back at Mei. Nanami never told him who that kachū cunt was who gave her those scars— two deep slashes across her right cheek, stopping just below her eyes— but now he thinks it might be this Hijiki guy. Sucks that he's a jōnin. And a, what, fifth cousin twice removed of Sandaime Mizukage Hijiki Isui.

"Our mission is straightforward— patrol the streets, keep an eye on the harbour after dark, and make sure no one gets too creative with the law," Mei continues explaining. They're slowing down a bit, likely noticing his increasingly heaving breaths. "We won't be here long— two weeks, tops. It's decent pay, though, even with the taxes nibbling away at it."

Aneki smiles wryly. "We're mostly here for the gossip and snacks, if we're honest."

"And a little break from the war isn't so bad, is it?" Mei adds, her tone lighter.

Akuto nods gravely. If he's got his timeline straight, then Mei likely took the Old Exam a year before Zabuza did his Thing three years ago. Which means she's been on and off the battlefields ever since. Aneki didn't attend the Academy at all and saw little of the war until two years ago— an advantage of the lack of a registration system. If you have someone who can teach you, all you need is a headband and you can do missions.

Unless you're a clan kid. Akuto once asked Okan why so many katō clan kids had to go through the Old Exam, when they could've just been taught at home. For civilians, orphans and even some children from shinobi families it made sense for them to attend— they either didn't have anyone to teach, couldn't afford to hire someone, or couldn't afford to spare the time. But for clan kids? Turns out, they were forced to attend.

To keep the numbers low enough so they wouldn't think of rebelling, apparently.

He attended only after Okan was sure the Old Exam truly was gone (Fuguki-oji pulled some strings and he placed in Year 6 instantly) and only because she wanted him to make friends. He supposes that plan sort of worked out in the end.

Akuto takes a deep breath, ignores the burn in his calves, and pushes onward.

Suiiki sits in the centre of Water Country's sprawl of islands. Similar to Venice, he imagines, it's a city built on water, with a labyrinth of canals and waterways acting as the main ways to get around.

It's an interesting city. Near the water, traditional Japanese— or, well, Mizunan here— houses cluster close, each one looking like it's been plucked from some ancient scrolls. Wooden teahouses line the canals, their curved roofs like waves caught mid-splash, glowing with paper lanterns come nightfall. But the closer you get to the land, the more the architecture changes to Renaissance-like— Kumonan— buildings. They're grand and imposing, with rows of columns and murals of sea voyages.

Right in the middle, half on pier and half on ground, is the marketplace. Stalls with sloped roofs stand shoulder-to-shoulder with halls flaunting arched windows and walls splashed with faded colours. People from across the Continent and the isles beyond Water Country fill the place. Haggling, trading, dealing. And the bridges. Don't get him started on the bridges. Some are all Mizunan woodwork, while others are stone, proudly arched with carvings telling stories of old alliances and trades.

Then there are the main canals. Wide enough to host everything from small amibune boats to the big sendai-bune and takasebune ships. They cut through Suiiki like veins, pulsing with activity, as vessels jam-packed with goods come and go, their bows dipping low under the weight of cargo.

But the heart of Suiiki? That's the harbour. Right next to the market, right where the canals open up to the sea, it's chaos and life all at once. Docks stretch out, flanked by warehouses and bustling stalls, ready for ships to pull up and offload. The air's thick with sounds— the scrape of crates, the shouts of dockworkers, the clanging of metal against wood. Salt and sea mix with a dozen spices Akuto's never even heard of.

Mei drags him from stall to stall, practically glowing with excitement. Every one is alive with sound, colour, and scent. Round and round they go, pushing their way through hundreds of stalls, cluttered and chaotic as they are. Everywhere he looks, there's something new, something foreign, something beautiful.

Mei grins at him, her palm warm and calloused against his. "Welcome to Suiiki!" she says, bright and full of glee.

Nanami chuckles behind them, though she eyes everything critically. "Keep an eye on your pockets, squirt," she warns. "These traders'll nick your fingers if you're not lookin'."

Mei rolls her eyes, nudging Nanami. "Oh, come now, Nan-chan, let him have his fun. Just for a minute." She drags him over to the nearest stall. It's crammed with baskets of fresh fruit, shining in the afternoon light, from the deep oranges of sun-ripened peaches to the prickly skins of exotic fruits he can't even name.

"Here, try this," Mei says, pressing a soft, fuzzy peach in his hand. "It's like biting into sunshine."

Nanami leans over, already reaching to grab the peach out of his hand. "Sunshine, huh? What's next, Mei, a full-on haiku?" She laughs, taking a huge bite from her own peach and wiping the juice from her chin with the back of her hand.

"Oh, spare me," Mei laughs, plucking another piece of fruit and tossing it to Akuto before Nanami can swipe that too. "Keep devouring those like that, and you might just turn into a peach yourself."

Nanami shrugs, unfazed. "Least I'll be a tasty snack."

They pay (ignoring the vendor's wary gaze at the headbands on their foreheads) and wander to a fabric stall. Bolts of silk shimmer in hues that certainly don't belong in the muted, grey world of Kiri. Mei lifts a deep purple length, holding it up against Nanami, who strikes an exaggeratedly regal pose. "Well? Too regal for the infamous Nanami of Kiri?"

"Proper posh, that," Akuto snorts, earning himself a playful jab in the ribs from Nanami. She tilts her head, looking herself over in the reflection of a polished metal plate hanging nearby. "Maybe I'll turn it into a cloak— wear it while I wipe the floor with Katsuro."

"Only if you let me have it first," Mei laughs, draping herself in a swath of emerald-green silk, her eyes flashing with amusement. "Picture it—us, waltzing into Kiri's council chambers, wrapped in the finest Suiiki silk. Now that would make a statement."

"Oh, it'd make a statement, alright," Akuto mutters, rolling his eyes. "One that'd get us killed faster'n a stuck pig."

Mei snorts, and they drift to a spice stall, where the air is thick with the scent of cinnamon, cloves, and some sharp, spicy undertone that makes Akuto sneeze. "Ever try cumin, squirt?" Nanami grins as he sneezes again. "Might drop some in Kiyoshi's food, see what happens."

Mei chuckles, adding a pot of her own to her bag. They pay again. Then, Mei pulls Akuto closer and gestures to another section of the market. "Come on, you have to see the jewellery stall across the plaza. It's worth it, I promise."

As they reach the jewellery vendor, Nanami picks up a leather bracelet strung with beads of jade and turquoise, sliding it onto her wrist and examining it thoughtfully. "Too fancy for the battlefield, or just the right amount of pizzazz?" she asks, flashing her wrist at Mei with a smirk.

"Just fancy enough to make every shinobi in Kiri burn with envy," Mei declares with a playful smirk. "You'd start a fashion revolution overnight."

Akuto rolls his eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure Kiri's just dyin' for a fashion revolution."

Nanami shrugs, looping the bracelet around her wrist and glancing at him. "Hey, you're either livin' or just survivin'. Might as well have some fun while you're at it."

Unfortunately, all goods things come to an end, and they leave the marketplace. Not very far, though. Across from the plaza stands an imposing house wedged between two stone watchtowers. It's massive and intimidating, every inch of it carved with waves and sea dragons rippling in the light. Ornate columns stand like sentries on either side of the entrance, and balconies with carved balustrades wrap around the upper floors, adorned with motifs inspired by the Mizukage.

"Subtlety? Mizukage? Never met," Akuto mutters, raising an eyebrow.

Nanami snorts, crossing her arms. "Subtlety doesn't keep people in line, Akuto." She stands a little straighter, flashing him a quick wink before striding confidently toward the entrance.

They follow her up the steps, and as she pushes open the heavy wooden doors, a wave of cool, still air greets them. The interior is just as grand— and stifling— as the exterior. Statues of the three Mizukage line the entrance hall, their expressions carved in stone, gazing down with an air of authority that feels almost judgmental. Akuto can't help but mutter, "Feels like they're watchin' us."

Ahead of them stretches a wide, spiralling staircase that dominates the room, leading up to the higher floors. A few jōnin linger in the hall, dressed in Kiri's standard-issue black uniforms with pinstriped bracers and greaves, their grey flak jackets fitting snugly over their broad shoulders.

They walk up the massive stairway, all the way to the third and last storey. Up here are more ninja; mostly chūnin and genin. It's still hostile here, loads of tension and subtle killing intent, but not nearly as much as in Kiri. Or on other missions, according to Aneki.

A large arch separates the foyer from the command room where a cluster of self-important jōnin are talking. A massive mural depicts a vignette of what Akuto assumes is a small part of Byakuren's Conquest.

Mei passes by the ninja, heading towards the jōnin, ignoring the sneers from the kachū— Aneki flashes them her middle fingers— and Akuto follows them, laughing.

"What's this now?" the jōnin currently holding court drawls, his voice laced with mockery, cutting Akuto's laughter short. "Back already? Thought the frontlines would've chewed you up by now."

Aneki juts out her chin and tucks her hands in her blue trousers. "Big words for someone who hasn't seen a battlefield in months, Katsu-tan."

So that's Hijiki Katsuro.

He's a brute of a man, broad-shouldered, strong as a bull, and probably would've been a heavyweight boxer in Akuto's old world. He's ugly, too. With his dull brown, suspicious eyes, plain brown hair, and scowling mouth, he looks more like a mouse than anything else. An angry mouse. A rat.

Yes, he thinks. He looks like a particularly ugly rat.

Hijiki glares. If this were an anime, Akuto's pretty sure steam would be leaving his ear. Then, Hijiki smirks. From his peripheral, he can see Mei looking worried. "Nami-chan," Hijiki sneers. Shivers run down his spine. "No one's been stuck in Hinkon-chiku yet. I hear the stench is delightful."

Aneki's eyelid twitches. "Hope you drown."

"For you? Not a chance."

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It does smell terrible in Hinkon-chiku.

It reeks of stale beer, rotting food, and something sharper, almost metallic, that makes Akuto gag just a little. Every few feet, the smell changes. But it never gets any better— just different layers of grime piled on top of each other.

They're walking in a formation of sorts. Aneki's walking ahead— she's looking relaxed but her fingers keep twitching to the kunai in her weapon pouch strapped to her left leg— Akuto's in the middle, and Mei's at the rear. Her eyes sharp, scanning every corner.

The streets are cramped, lined with dingy, decaying buildings covered in graffiti, some shockingly artistic. Broken glass lies on the sidewalks and bars cover every window. They pass a couple of liquor stores with peeling signs, half-empty bottles cluttering their shelves, and customers who look like they've never been anywhere else.

A loud argument breaks out across the street, two men yelling at each other over a stolen wallet. They're shoving each other, fists up, and no one bothers to step in. Instead, some lean against the walls, watching. Waiting. Like it's the most entertainment they got all day.

They turn a corner. The streets narrow. The buildings lean over them, casting long shadows making the alleys feel darker and more claustrophobic. Neon signs buzz overhead, advertising cheap liquor, "24/7 Specials", and seedier services Akuto would rather not think about, thank you very much. They pass a store that's either a sex shop or something equally shady, with grimy posters plastered across the windows and a neon "Open" sign blinking like it's on its last leg.

Then— finally— they stop. They stand in front of another house, this one much more run down than the first. The walls are cracked and peeling. The windows are either missing glass entirely or filled with jagged, cobweb-covered shards, while broken tiles cling stubbornly to the roof, some clearly one strong breeze away from tumbling down. A few stray cats slink around the foundation, picking at scraps from the garbage lining the edges of the property.

"Wow. Real fancy," Akuto mutters. He pushes the door open, and the three of them step inside.

The smell hits first— a mix of mould, stale air, and the unmistakable odour of rats. Loads of rats. Dead and alive. Most scatter at the sounds of their footsteps, skittering through the holes in the walls. Akuto watches a particularly bold one scurry under a table, its beady eyes flashing before it disappears.

Hijiki would fit right in.

"Well," Aneki says. "That could've gone worse."

Mei scoffs. "Of course. You could've been killed."

Akuto throws his bag, ninjatō, and quiver and bow on the table and goes exploring. It's really run down. The walls are thin— he can hear them fight even from upstairs— and adorned with mould and cobwebs and loads of water patches. Windows on both sides of the house offer good watching spots. From the west side, Akuto can even see as far as the bustling harbour. From the east side, Akuto can see things he'd really rather not. A small kitchen offers scrolls filled with ration bars. He unseals one, sniffs it, and shrugs. It's dry.

"Sorry, alright," his sister says. "But that bastard pisses me off."

Mei sighs. "I know."

They quiet when he enters the room again. Nanami looks away, in the way she always does when she's feeling guilty, and Mei's just staring ahead. Her fists are clenched and it smells vaguely of acid.

"Well," he says, when the silence stretches on and on into something uncomfortable, "I ain't gonna say no to food. What 'bout you lot?"

Aneki snorts. "Boys." She pulls out a scroll and unseals it, revealing containers filled with dishes immediately filling the room with a mouthwatering smell. They have steamed rice, seaweed soup that promises warmth and comfort, mackerel for protein, and a side of pickled vegetables.

Akuto leans in, letting the savoury smells wash over him. "Brilliant as always," he says, grinning. "Appreciate it!"

They gather around the small wobbly table, share food placed in the middle. Mei pulls out three pairs of chopsticks, then they dig in. It's delicious, as expected. They're halfway through the meal, when Akuto interrupts with a question he's been burning to ask, looking at Mei. "I know this kid— Kirimaru, ring any bells?"

Mei snorts. "Oh, sure. Only a dozen or so."

"Fair point." He frowns. "Green eyes, auburn hair— kinda like yours. Usually hangs with Hoshigaki Shizuki.

"And you're thinking he might be one of ours?"

Akuto nods. "I think he's out in Saigawa."

"He could be Uzumaki," Aneki says.

"No. Hair's too dark for that." He purses his lips. "Could be, though. But if he was, wouldn't he be livin' with the kachū? Or at least the chūtō?"

Aneki shakes her head. "Doubt it. Why would he?"

She's right. Why would he? Uzumaki are still feared in Kiri, so they'd try their best to kill him, if he were. Back in forty-eight, two years before the Second Great War started, Kiri allied with Iwa to annihilate Uzushio— one of Kiri's proudest achievements, if Munashi's smugness whenever he spoke of it is anything to go by— mainly out of fear. Not that Munashi taught them anything about that.

(Not that anything ever justifies a massacre so terrible.)

Fuguki-oji once told him that the Uzumaki— with their fūinjutsu, incredibly powerful chakra, and adamantine chains— had caused a lot of devastating damage in the First War, especially to Kiri and Water Country, and as tensions rose again, Kiri (and Iwa) got scared of said destruction happening again. So, in the quiet of the night, they prepared their ambush— two battalions each against Uzushio's total of five hundred people, one-third of them ninja— and destroyed the village before help could arrive.

Only very few survived— Kushina, Karin's mother, and Nagato being the only ones Akuto knows of. Fuguki-oji knows of only Kushina. Odds that the survivors hid in Kiri are low. Akuto certainly wouldn't, if he were an Uzumaki old and strong enough to survive what happened.

He'd probably try to go all Pein on Kiri.

"It's possible," Mei says, tearing Akuto from dark thoughts, "We try to care for all our children, but even we can't catch everyone. Introduce us, won't you?"

Akuto smiles. "Course."

"Any more weird questions?" Nanami asks, sealing away the empty containers. "Before we show ya the sights of beautiful Hinkon-chiku?"

"Nah, I'm good."