Hissing from the pain, I limped through the doorway. The Iro-nin had healed most of the damage, but it still hurt. Deep bruises beneath the skin, muscles trembling with exhaustion. Maybe after one night of sleep, I'd feel human again.
This world never ceases to amaze me. Injuries that would've been life-threatening in my old world—cracked ribs, torn muscles, fractured bones—here, they're just… minor setbacks. In this world, you push your body until it breaks, and then you push even more.
I stepped inside, dragging my feet.
"I'm home," I muttered.
My uncle glanced up from the table. "Looks like you got beaten."
"Badly," I admitted, half a smirk forming.
His expression shifted, suddenly serious. "There's something I need to discuss with you. Sit."
I didn't hesitate. The pain was dull now, background noise. I sat.
"There's going to be a war, Yuji. With the Hidden Waterfall Village."
My breath caught. War? I thought those only happened during the Great Ninja Wars. But of course… this world is governed by strength and greed. Why wouldn't there be other wars?
"You didn't react like I expected."
I looked at him. "Reacting won't change anything. And it's not like I'm going to fight in it."
He held my gaze for a moment, then dropped the weight.
"Well… you might have to."
"…Doesn't the village have enough shinobi?"
"Not since the Nine-Tails attacked. We're short on manpower."
Just as I feared.
"The official word is that we're just preparing—taking precautions. They say students will only be sent if things get desperate. But we both know that's just for the public. The truth is, the village can't afford to send too many elites. If they move too many top-ranked ninja toward the Waterfall, it'll leave our borders exposed. Other nations are always watching. Waiting."
I swallowed, suddenly cold.
"So instead… they're sending us," I said quietly.
He nodded. "It's a tactic used by all the Great Nations. They send young ninja to war, accomplishing two things at once: they meet their military goals, and they forge stronger shinobi from the survivors. War kills many… but those who make it through become greatest weapons. That's what they want."
"I don't know what to say… or how to feel," I whispered. "I… I'm scared."
Silence settled between us, heavy and unspoken.
"But we're still a Great Nation," I said, trying to understand. "Why would a small village think it could challenge us?"
"They're not alone. The Stone Village is backing them. The Great Nations don't always fight directly. They use smaller villages as proxies—tools to wage war without bearing the full cost. No open declarations. Just blood."
I stared at the floor, thoughts racing.
"What should I do? When does it start?"
"The war has already started," he said. "But don't panic. The village isn't throwing you into battle yet. You'll undergo six months of training—intense, guided, brutal."
He looked at me with the sternness of a soldier who's seen too much.
"If you want to survive, you'll have to get stronger. Starting now, you sleep five hours a day. No more. Every moment from now on counts."
I didn't respond.
I just sat there, listening to the silence between the words.
And feeling the weight of everything that was coming.