"The strongest steel is forged in the fires of adversity,
the strongest will in the ashes of loss."
— Teachings of General Mifune
鋼
33 — HAGANE
THE WAYSTATION APPEARED like a shadow against white; half-buried in snow, a weathered timber frame, and a sharp contrast to the pristine landscape surrounding it.
"Lucky," Otsuru muttered beside him, her voice tight with exhaustion. "These outposts are scattered throughout the passes, so finding one in this weather..."
The weather, in fact, had become much worse than expected. It would soon become worse, too. Bad enough that Otsuru had muttered about possibly needing to change their itinerary.
Naruto just nodded, unable to summon the energy for words. They had been moving for hours since the avalanche, pushing through deepening snow as the storm intensified. His legs burned with fatigue, and more than even before, he needed sleep. And still, the sun hadn't risen yet.
The waystation was small — perhaps fifteen tatami mats would fit in the total area, if he had to guess — a simple structure designed for travelers caught in the mountain's unpredictable moods. Its pitched roof bore the weight of accumulated snow, heavy enough to make Naruto worry (more). Frost had turned the small windows into what one might generously call delicate crystalline art — or, less generously, cracked glass.
As they approached, Naruto noted the absence of tracks leading to or from the building. No smoke rose from the chimney, no light flickered within. If anyone had sought refuge here before them, the recent snowfall had erased all evidence.
Something about the stillness made the hair on the back of his neck rise.
Then again, he thought, he was getting somewhat paranoid, by now.
"Wait," he said, catching Otsuru's arm as she moved to slide open the heavy entrance door. She glanced at him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Let me go first, this time."
She studied his face for a moment, then nodded slightly, stepping back to allow him to take the lead. Naruto approached cautiously, fingers brushing the kunai concealed beneath his cloak. He slid the door open with deliberate slowness, wincing at the groan of wood against wood.
Darkness greeted them, thick and undisturbed. The air that escaped carried a complex mixture of scents — wood smoke long extinguished, the mustiness of disuse, and something else, something metallic and familiar that made his stomach tighten.
"Blood," Otsuru said, confirming his unspoken thought.
Naruto stepped inside, allowing his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The interior was spare but functional — a sunken hearth dominated the center of the single room, surrounded by thin sleeping mats. Storage chests lined one wall, and a small shrine occupied the corner furthest from the entrance.
What caught his attention, however, were the signs of conflict. Subtle but unmistakable to anyone who knew where to look: a mat slightly askew, dark stains on the wooden floor partially scrubbed away, a dent in one wall that might have been made by the impact of a body or weapon.
"Someone fought here," he said quietly, kneeling to examine one of the stains. "Recently, I think. Come in."
Behind him, the door groaned shut, sealing out the storm's roar. Otsuru barred it with a swift motion, her silhouette momentarily outlined by the flickering lantern-light. She moved through the room with practiced precision, checking the corners, the ceiling beams, the gaps between crates.
"Clean," she announced after a moment. "No traps. Whoever passed through here is gone." She knelt beside an old storage chest and flipped the lid open. "And they left in a hurry. Dried food. Fuel. Blankets." A pause. "Enough for at least a few nights."
Naruto remained still, his senses stretching beyond the visible. Something felt off — a vibration in the air, a pressure against his awareness that he couldn't quite name. It reminded him of the night in the cave, that sensation of being observed by eyes he couldn't see.
"Think it's safe here?" Naruto asked.
For a moment, she didn't answer.
"Safe enough to rest. A few hours, maybe. No more than that." She stood, dusting off her knees. "That's the best we're going to get tonight. You, especially, should sleep."
Outside, the wind howled, driving snow against the walls of their shelter. Inside, the silence thickened.
"Me?" Naruto asked, glancing up.
"We really have to get going, unless you want to stay stuck here." She smiled humorlessly. "But you need your beauty sleep — I'm not the one who spent half the night locked in a staring match with ghosts."
He didn't argue, because there wasn't much to say. She crossed the room to one of the narrow windows and cleared a patch of frost with her sleeve. Her breath fogged the glass as she leaned closer.
"So yeah. Sleep first," she muttered. Then she went quiet. "And get that smoke seal of yours going. I think it's going to be a short night."
And so he slept, but not for long.
It was the kind of sleep that lingered at the edge, watching the clock and chasing thoughts best left buried.
Dawn arrived too quickly. Having passed an uneasy night alternating watches, the two prepared their supplies and set forth once more.
The fierce storm had raged while Naruto slept and seemingly spent its fury, leaving only a pristine silence and a sea of white. Otsuru, however, believed it was only a very temporary reprieve, and that it would get "much, much worse, soon."
The best thing they could do, right now, she said, was to quickly find a better shelter.
"This path connects to the eastern ridge," she explained, indicating a distant rocky outcropping. "From there, old switchbacks lead us down into the river valley."
Naruto, who had finally rested, felt slightly less on edge (slightly), and found himself increasingly drawn into her ease of conversation. "You really do know these mountains well," he noted, navigating cautiously across a rocky passage.
She snorted. "What? Didn't believe me before?"
"No, I did," he said. "But still."
"I've been mapping them since I was nine," she replied, extending a hand to help him across a narrow gap. "My father believed a child should intimately know the land that sustains them."
"Sounds practical," Naruto remarked.
"He was," Otsuru said, pausing thoughtfully. "Well, until he wasn't."
He didn't push for more, of course, half-worried about the sort of blunt explanation she might provide. And because he didn't want to mention his own father.
The morning unfolded, and the mists began lifting from the slopes, unveiling vast panoramas of jagged peaks and valleys shaped by ancient glaciers. Forests, stubbornly clinging to steep inclines. Naruto's attention was captured by something high above them — a massive cliff face studded with structures, seemingly angular, but hard to distinguish from here.
"What's up there?" he asked, pointing.
Otsuru glanced upward just as the mist closed back in. "Tenkūgane. You'll see it soon enough," she replied with a smile, pressing forward.
And so it went. By midday, they had made considerable progress despite the challenging terrain. Taking refuge behind a large boulder, they paused to eat, and the sunlight that occasionally broke through warmed their weary faces.
Naruto chewed thoughtfully, his mind drifting back to the metal rail he'd discovered earlier. "Those ruins we passed — the stone foundations and metal supports — what were they exactly?"
"A train line," Otsuru explained between bites. "But this part's been abandoned. It once ran to Yukinoyama, but it's mostly collapsed after Tenkūgane now."
Yukinoyama was the mountain town he and his clanmates were meant to reach by that damned airship — a place he knew they'd already passed on foot. The realization darkened his expression as he stared at her. "A train?"
"Yeah, nothing quite like the ones in Snow Country, but—" she began, her voice trailing off as she noticed his blank expression.
"What's a train?"
She paused, blinking at him. "Ah." Another moment passed as she searched for an explanation he might understand. "Like an iron horse."
His brows furrowed deeply. "...What?"
"You don't know what a horse is either?" she asked, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice.
He growled, bristling with wounded pride. "Of course I know what a horse is." It was one of the twelve basic symbols, for one — though he'd never seen an actual living horse, he'd seen pictures.
"Well, it's a bit like that," she continued patiently. "It's big, moves fast, and gets you places. Only instead of legs, it runs on metal tracks."
"Big?" He glanced around at the narrow mountain pass, the sheer drop visible just beyond the path's edge. "And it's up here? Going where exactly?"
She pointed southward vaguely, toward a place he knew he couldn't see. "Kiyoteru's the last stop. The train runs a few times a week to bring supplies in both directions. No matter the weather." She hesitated before adding, "Actually, I was thinking we might catch it from Tenkūgane. Would drastically cut our travel time, considering how long we might have to wait otherwise."
"How long?" he asked.
"Long, likely. Weather's turning. People are probably hunkering down already."
He frowned, considering their options. The airship was fresh on his mind, although perhaps that was an euphemism. The idea of willingly stepping into any other vehicle — steel-bound or sky-bound — did not sit right with him.
"Is it safe?" he asked, finally.
"Safe enough," she replied, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Iron Country's rail system was built during the last great expansion. The tracks are reinforced with chakra-forged steel — same stuff they use in their samurai armor. Even up here, during storms, it rarely fails—"
"No," he cut in, shaking his head. "I meant—"
"Who might be on it, right?" She caught the look in his eye and continued. "Iron Country keeps tight control over all transit. Every train has at least two samurai on board. They check travel permits at every stop."
"Permits we don't have."
"Well..." She gave him a complicated look.
"You said we didn't have them," he accused.
"I didn't say I didn't have them — only that it wasn't the best of ideas. I might have something that could work, but we'll talk about that when we reach Tenkūgane. What you need to keep in mind is that they really don't care for shinobi."
"Their samurai use chakra too," he muttered.
"Yes, but that really isn't their issue with ninja. Besides, samurai generally use it in prescribed ways — channeled through their blades and armor, mostly. Everything is regulated."
He eyed her. "Where'd you learn that technique you used yesterday, then? First Fang, you called it."
She cleared her throat. "Uh… Mostly regulated. Besides, my technique's incomplete — as you probably noticed."
"You used an incomplete technique in a fight?" he asked, incredulous.
"As if you wouldn't."
"I wouldn't!"
"I don't believe you. You don't strike me as the careful type."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Guess. Anyway, yes — the trains are heavily patrolled. Especially through routes like this one."
His hand instinctively moved toward his weapons pouch. "How heavily?"
She noticed. "Don't get any stupid ideas," she grunted. "And I told you — two samurai minimum, wearing chakra-sensitive armor. They're trained to spot unusual signatures. Even if you suppressed yours completely, they'd notice the absence — a blank where something should be."
"Then sneaking aboard is impossible," he stated flatly.
"Not impossible. Just… complicated." She glanced at the sun. "These mountain trains are mostly industrial. They carry ore, timber, and raw goods. Passenger cars are half-empty — usually miners, merchants, and government officials."
"And I assume they inspect everything."
"Cargo, passengers, train chassis. Their samurai follow a systematic pattern. No blind spots. No exceptions."
"Then why even suggest this train?" His voice was edged with frustration.
"Two reasons. One: with this worsening weather, we have to pass through Tenkūgane either way — and samurai are stationed there too."
His stomach sank. "What?"
"Will you let me finish?" she grunted. "Tenkūgane is a checkpoint town, the outer areas are accessible enough with basic documentation — or even none, depending on how bad the storm gets and how merciful the guards feel. The inner sections, especially around the train station, have tighter security. Two: they have one weakness — their rigid systems." She pulled a small scroll from her coat. "Iron Country runs on documentation and routine. Once a permit is cleared, they rarely re-check."
"Why does it matter?" His eyes narrowed. This sort of plan was becoming more and more familiar, and it was not the sort he had a good feeling about, far from it. "And where did you even get those?"
"Hakuri bought them," she replied. "The real couriers had a sudden change of plans after reaching. Meaning we wouldn't really be sneaking onto the train — we'd be boarding openly, with papers already in the system."
"And our chakra? You said that samurai—"
She grunted again. "Will you — That's where this comes in." From another pocket, she produced two small, greenish pills. "Hormonal chakra suppressants. Not perfect — but good enough."
He eyed the pills skeptically. "…And where did you get those?"
"I… don't know where my sister got them," Otsuru admitted, rolling one between her fingers. It shimmered faintly. "Or if I even want to know. They're most effective on younger chakra users. The more developed your network, the less they help."
"And the side effects?" he asked, recognizing the cautious tone in her voice.
She hesitated. "They don't mask chakra, they temporarily bind to your chakra network. You won't be able to mold chakra properly for about eight hours after taking one. And your chakra control will be unpredictable for about twelve hours after that, while they wear off. And if you try forcing chakra while under their effect..." She made a cutting motion with her hand. "Could be bad."
"So we'd be defenseless."
She snorted. "We'd be defenseless anyway, if we had to face samurai."
"We killed that thing out there."
She gave a short laugh. "A Kuroguma is nothing compared to trained samurai."
"Still." He shifted slightly. "I… don't like the idea of being defenseless."
It was an understatement, in fact. His voice had gone quiet, and a chill settled over him as memories surfaced unbidden. All he saw were several images, juxtaposed — frail bodies, fires, accusing eyes. The familiar panic began to rise in his chest.
"Well," she amended herself. "Not defenseless. Just limited to non-chakra options." She glanced at the kunai holster on his thigh. "I'm assuming you know how to use those without chakra enhancement?"
The cold receded some. He gave her a frustrated look that answered her question — while he could, a kunai was a kunai.
"The pills would dull our signatures to civilian levels — like we really are two couriers headed back to Kiyoteru. The samurai won't be scanning for civilians much, young ones even less — only high chakra profiles." She rummaged through her pack again and tossed him a coarse-woven shirt. "These are treated with forest herbs from the west of the Land of Earth — helps mask residual chakra. Not enough to fool a half-decent sensor, which they won't have, but enough for cursory checks."
"Eight hours without jutsu," he muttered again. Too much.
"Twenty in total, likely." She winced when she noticed his expression. "You might still be able to use your seals, who knows? Depends."
Naruto's hand unconsciously moved to his side, where an idea had begun to take form during the night. "If we're caught—"
"We make a run for it." She met his gaze steadily. "Look, I was trained with a sword before I ever learned to mold chakra. I'm a good runner. And I have an... escape tool. Hopefully that's enough. Were you always reliant on jutsu?"
The question stung his pride some, but it didn't change the direction of his thoughts. "How quickly do the pills take effect?"
"Full suppression in twenty minutes. We'd need to take them just before the train or the summit, depending. If we take them at all. Perhaps we could get into Tenkūgane without them. The train leaves at dawn — enough time to get in place."
He was silent for a beat. "Was this always your plan?"
"No." She shrugged. "But things changed. Now, we have to pass through Tenkūgane regardless. As for the train — your call." She held up the pill. "This… or several more days stuck in Tenkūgane. With samurai around anyway."
"What about staying out of it?"
"Out of the town?" She gave him a flat look. "So, in the wilderness, with a storm raging, and search parties crawling over every ridge?"
Silence.
"...If these pills don't work," he muttered, and held out a hand, "I'm blaming you personally."
She smiled faintly. "I'd expect nothing less. Think it over."
His fingers tightened around the pill as the cold in his gut. He would. Yes, he truly would.
Snow fell silently as Naruto and Otsuru crested another ridge. Below them, nestled in the valley's hollow, lay the bones of a town that might once have thrived. Now, only thin wisps of smoke rose between abandoned buildings, curling through the winter air.
At the valley's center, a dark pit yawned — black, motionless, and watching.
Naruto felt a strange tightness in his chest.
"What is this place?"
"Hagane," Otsuru replied. "Once the pride of the north. Their steel was famous — forged from mountain ore, hard enough to cleave stone. Hence the name. We're not very imaginative here."
They began the descent. The buildings were hollowed husks — doors ajar, windows shattered, their bones bared to the cold. In places, the snow had vanished entirely, revealing scorched ground that steamed faintly, as though the land was still weeping.
"We're just passing through," she added. "Try not to breathe too deep."
Naruto crouched, brushing his fingers against the bare soil — and recoiled. The heat struck a nerve deeper than flesh. In an instant, he was somewhere else: crawling through burning corridors, metal hissing beneath his palms, the smoke thick with the scent of his clanmates.
"It's been burning for about thirty years," Otsuru said, seemingly unaware of his reaction. "The Great Shinobi War that ended before we were born. Shinobi from Rice — I think — crossed over our borders, despite the Land of Iron's neutrality. They called it a preventive strike."
Naruto didn't respond. His breath came shallow. A child's toy lay half-buried in ash. A storefront sign swung in the wind. Through a broken window, plates still waited on a table no one would return to. Each detail twisted the knife — dragging him back to a dining hall turned graveyard, the airship's hull torn open, the inkiness of the sky.
"If it was just one battle," he said slowly, "why abandon the whole town?"
Otsuru stopped beside a wide crack in the road. Smoke spilled from it steadily. Somewhere deep below, something glowed red: a silent, endless burn.
"They collapsed the mines. Then someone — no one's sure who — followed up with fire jutsu. Or explosives. Whatever it was, it caught the coal seams under the iron." Her voice was calm, her face unreadable in the glow.
Naruto barely heard her.
"Coal seams?"
"They run like veins through the mountain. Once they catch, they burn for a while. Nothing the samurai tried worked. General Mifune led the effort — they brought in water-style users from the Land of Water, and earth-style from the Land of Earth. Still spread. So they evacuated."
They passed a monument near the center — a simple carving of a miner, face weathered and determined. Names had been etched into its base, hundreds of them.
Naruto reached out, running his fingers across the stone. Names. People. Families. All erased in the clash of powers they had no part in choosing.
"The samurai tried," Otsuru murmured behind him. "But, well..."
"This is neutral territory," Naruto protested, his voice tight with sudden anger he couldn't explain. "The ninja villages shouldn't have been fighting here at all."
Otsuru laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Sure. But that means nothing." She gestured around them. "The Land of Iron says it's impartial in the conflicts between nations, but the town burned anyway."
Naruto stepped away, into the ruins of what must have once been a home. A shrine stood in the corner, now buried in ash. Dishes still sat neatly on their shelves.
"—to me again," he whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them.
"What was that?" Otsuru called from the street.
He didn't answer. His hand rested on the broken frame of the door, and he was far away — back in the fire, in the fall, in the helplessness.
"Naruto?" Otsuru appeared in the doorway, her expression questioning.
He gestured vaguely at the ruin. "Someone did this. What for?"
Otsuru leaned against the charred doorframe. "Politics. Resources. Power. Because they could. Take your pick." Her voice was matter-of-fact, detached in a way that made his skin crawl. "Rice wanted their northern flank secure. Iron was selling precious steel to their enemies. So they lit a match. Said it was Waterfall's fault."
"That's all?" Naruto echoed. "An entire town destroyed because it was producing steel?"
"War isn't fair," she said with a shrug.
He turned away, hands clenched. The airship's groan echoed in his skull — metal screaming, fire roaring, eyes wide with fear. Green eyes. Red eyes.
She watched him. Her gaze wasn't quite pity. Not quite detachment either. He didn't know what it was, only that it saw more than she let on. But how could she possibly understand?
Naruto had no answer that wouldn't sound childish or naive to her. Instead, he looked past her, to the abandoned street outside.
They walked together in silence. On the walls of broken homes, Naruto saw messages scrawled in soot and charcoal. Names. Pleas. Curses. One simply read: We were here.
"The survivors came back sometimes," Otsuru explained. "Some looking for each other, not willing to believe the rest hadn't made it to the designated shelters. Others left what words they could. I think eventually, even they stopped coming."
They reached the far side of town, where the road continued toward the summit.
"The land of Iron, like any other country, is full of stories like this," Otsuru continued. "But here, it's almost a national trait at this point. When something burns down, we build it again." She glanced sideways at him. "Not much choice in a place like this."
But Naruto wasn't fully conscious. His mind had drifted back to the airship, to the screams that still echoed in his dreams. He'd been helpless then, watching as everything fell apart around him. Not again. Never again.
"Some say it'll burn another hundred years," Otsuru said. "I don't know if that's true. Eventually, there'll be nothing left to feed it. Right?"
Naruto looked back at the town, where thin plumes of smoke still rose from cracks in the earth. He thought of fires that never truly stopped burning, of scars that never healed. The people of Hagane had been caught in someone else's war, just as he was starting to realize he had been.
"Well," Otsuru finally said, stretching her arms above her head. "I guess there's nothing much we can do about it."
Her voice was light, almost careless. But Naruto caught the flicker in her eyes — the tiny crack in the mask.
They continued in silence, leaving Hagane behind, as everyone else had. Its empty streets receded into the distance. But something of the town stayed with Naruto, adding fuel to a fire that, already, burned hotter than any coal seam beneath the earth.
For nearly an hour after they left Hagane, Naruto said nothing, lost in thoughts that spiraled further.
It wasn't the best time to be making plans — but that didn't stop his mind from doing exactly that.
"You're quiet," Otsuru said eventually. "Hagane got to you, didn't it?"
He glanced at her, then back to the path ahead. Maybe to her, Hagane was just another terrible scar on the map — a cautionary tale told to travelers. But to him, it had felt like looking into a mirror.
"I kinda thought," he said softly, "that once a battle ended, the field just… went back to being land again. But it doesn't always, does it?"
She kicked a loose stone from the path, sending it skittering through the snow. "It's just one ghost town among many," she murmured. "The world's full of places like Hagane."
"That doesn't make it right."
She raised an eyebrow. "I never said it did. Just that it is."
That didn't sit right with him. Not at all. The idea that this was simply the way of the world — that towns burned, ships fell, and lives ended for reasons no one could explain — felt like swallowing gravel.
They crested another ridge, the path dipping down again. In the distance, a thin column of smoke rose from what appeared to be a cluster of buildings.
"Tenkūgane," Otsuru called over her shoulder. "We need to get our story straight, Naruto. First houses are just ahead."
They took shelter in the lee of a boulder, shielded from the worst of the weather. She knelt and built a small fire inside a ring of stones, keeping the flame low. Naruto handled the smoke.
On mostly dry earth, she spread a tattered map between them, weighing its corners with pebbles.
"We're Takumi and Mio now," she said, tapping a pair of folded travel permits. "Cousins from Kouka, a border town to the south. Hired to deliver medicinal herbs to Yukinoyama. On our way back, we decided to take the scenic route."
Naruto raised an eyebrow. "Scenic route? Through a blizzard?"
"Through the mountains. Before the blizzard," she corrected. "We were caught unexpectedly by the storm, which is true enough. The papers show we passed inspection at Yukinoyama five days ago." She pulled out two small cloth bundles. "Actual herbs, from Kouka. Just in case they check."
"And if they ask about our route?"
"We went west after the delivery, stopped by Momiji Pass — a known detour — then headed south toward Tenkūgane." She looked up. "It fits our timeline. Civilians taking the long way home after completing a contract."
Naruto studied the route, committing it to memory. "Backstories?"
"Takumi — that's you — son of a blacksmith, sometimes helps with deliveries but prefers wandering to forging. Thinking about becoming a full-time courier. Mio's studying medicine, funding her apprenticeship with courier jobs."
He nodded slowly.
"In Iron Country, civilians bow from the waist when greeting samurai," she added. "Not too deep — we're not desperate. Just polite."
Naruto practiced the bow she demonstrated, feeling awkward and stiff.
"No, more natural," she corrected. "You've been doing this your whole life, remember?"
He tried again, and she nodded her approval.
"These papers should get us into the outer ring — that's where inns and teahouses are. But the train station's in the inner section. Stricter security." Her tone shifted slightly. "Which means…"
"I can't give up my kunai," Naruto said. "Not if I'm already giving up chakra."
"You won't have to. Not all of them." She shrugged. "Travelers are expected to carry something for protection. One or two blades — normal. The rest, and mine, we'll have to seal. You can handle that, right?"
He gave a slow nod. "I'll need a little time to get used to them, but yeah."
"Random scans during the journey are the real issue. That's where the pills come in." She held up the small green tablet again. "If we're selected, they'll only detect civilian-level chakra signatures."
She paused, studying his face.
"You don't have to decide now. We could try and wait in an inn — for the weather to improve and the fogs to lift — and then take the mountain pass." She gestured toward the looming peaks to the west. "It's longer, going to be much riskier after the storms, but we wouldn't need these." She balanced the pill on her palm.
Naruto stared at the pill, then at the mountains. The airship. The beast. Hagane. Each image fed a single, instinctive resistance: the idea of giving up what little power he had left — even temporarily — made his skin crawl.
How long would it take?
"What would you do?" he asked at last. "If you were alone?"
Otsuru considered this. "I'd take my chances with the train," she admitted. "But I'm not in your situation, I'm not shinobi. However, I'm not alone. And neither are you."
She held out the pill, resting on her palm.
"Your call, Naruto. Train or pass. Pills or no pills. I'll make it work, either way."
The fire crackled softly. The pill gleamed in the firelight. He hesitated.
Hagane. The airship. The wreckage. The promise he'd made to himself.
A shadow passed over them. Though the sky was already dark, it didn't come from above.
"I know," he said quietly. "And you're right. There are always alternatives."
He reached for the pill, hesitated for a heartbeat, then took it from her palm.
They crossed the bridge into Tenkūgane before nightfall. Far off, beyond the mountains, a train's whistle rose — low, distant, and mournful.
Annex — Thirty Years Gone
They said the fires would burn out in ten years. Maybe fifteen.
It's been twenty-seven. Still smoldering. Still breathing. And I'm still counting.
I was forty-three then. Had a wife. Had a boy. Both worked the foundry with me. Now, I'm the only one left.
I — The ground cracked like a rotten tooth. Third quake dropped our house. Hisako shoved me through the doorway just as the beam gave. Didn't get a chance to thank her.
The earth — it tore open. Fire came up from below, not down from the sky. Steam, sulfur, black smoke. Whatever you'd call it, it came, and the coal seams caught. Whole town lit up like a forge left to rage. Ha!
I ran to the west. That's where Daichi was posted. Didn't get far. The foundry blew before I reached the crossroads. Woke up with ash in my mouth and half the district buried in the pit.
The rest, I barely…
General Mifune showed up that afternoon. Brought fucking shinobi with him. Tried water-style, nothing worked. Fire ran too deep. I heard him say it was planned. No mistake. I believe him.
Three days they tried to dig. Then they gave up. Too hot. Too toxic. Too late. Some young captain had to haul me out himself — I was kicking and screaming the whole way. He set me down just over the ridge. I turned around and watched the sky blacken.
Folks from all over came to help. Engineers. Herbalists. Monks. Fire didn't care. Just kept eating. Moving through the seams like a sickness.
Six months later, the last crew packed up. We got a stone with some names on it. My boy's — my boy's up near the top.
Now it's all just ruin. Parts of the town sink in on themselves, glowing at night like coals under a dead fire. The rest stands, but it is empty. Buildings with no doors. Streets with no footsteps. Snow won't even stay — it melts as soon as it touches ground. Mist hangs in the air year-round. Nothing grows.
Everyone pointed fingers. Rice said they didn't do it. Waterfall said sorry and sent nothing. Iron stayed quiet — neutral, as always.
I moved to Kiyoteru. Built a shop. Nothing fancy. Just tools. Shovels. Nails. Good iron, not art. I teach kids now. They've never seen a real forge. Not one that breathed.
Every winter, I go back. People ask why. Say I'm dragging myself through grief on purpose.
They don't get it.
I promised Hisako and Daichi I'd come home. So I do.
From the journal of Takeda Yori, retired blacksmith
Recorded in the 27th year after the destruction
i/oNiUcQ : Tenkūgane
i/oNifEA : Extra — "Take the green pill, Naruto."
AN: Hero's coping just fine with the adventure so far.
Next chapter: Silk-Wrapped Shit