"Why are we here, Grandpa?" Standing before a waterfall, a seven-year-old boy asked. The surrounding forest was alive, with only the sound of water signaling to the animals that this was a watering hole.
"A new lesson for you, young wolf."
The silver-haired man, who had not lost his imposing presence, turned to the water and waved his hand. In that instant, as if nature itself bent to his fingers, the waterfall split into five parts, and for a brief moment, the water flowed backward. But, like time, nature relentlessly restored the water's original course, sustaining life in the nearby lands. The five streaks that had parted the water vanished as quickly as they appeared.
Turning back to his student, he saw that the boy's eyes had transformed into a striking and coveted prize for any hunter of clan treasures. The Sharingan with two tomoe gleamed in the sunlight.
"I saw it, but at the same time, I didn't. How did you do that?" The curiosity in the young Uchiha's eyes was genuine.
"That, my student, is an advanced taijutsu attack from the style you're learning. The crutches that were a temporary measure must be discarded. You abandoned the glove that altered the chakra flow in your hand to aid your fuinjutsu training a month ago—not least because of your Sharingan—but now it's time to cast aside the weapon I gave you. You need to reveal your true claws."
"But how do I do that? I couldn't even see your strike."
"What I showed you is merely the next stage. For now, focus your chakra in your fingers, and to a greater extent, on your nails. You must stir the water. Imagine they've become blades, a weapon you'll never lose. The most reliable and most lethal. Your fingers are swords. Sharp and dangerous."
Seeing the boy follow his instructions, the teacher continued. "The key is to believe in what you're doing."
"Now strike. Strike as fast as you can."
The black-haired student did so, but the water, where his strike was aimed, didn't even ripple. A silent question appeared in the young warrior's eyes.
"Again."
"Again!"
"AGAIN!"
---
For several days, which passed like a single reel of film, I felt like a fly caught in a spider's web, my life dependent on the predator that ensnared me. Every day was filled with training, strikes, and fractures. My blood mingled with the ink I applied to scrolls. It all blended together.
The slaughter I committed, that cruelty, haunted me. The Sharingan granted me many things, including memories that couldn't be erased. I remembered every action, every death. The distorted faces of those people felt as close as an outstretched hand.
I wondered if I had done the right thing. Were their lives worth a hundred thousand ryo? After all, my target was just one man, yet I buried several times more bodies.
But everything ends eventually. So too did my mental turmoil when someone I'd foolishly forgotten about appeared at our doorstep.
It was a sunny day, as it almost always was. The land I lived in wasn't called the Land of Fire for nothing. In the year I'd been here, there was only one week of rain, and I'd never seen snow. I wondered why they didn't call it the Land of the Sun, but Asian culture made its adjustments. Even if I hadn't seen any Asians in six years.
Grandpa and I were playing shogi and leisurely discussing clans and their members. The old man talked about various clans and their politics. It had become a sort of tradition: when I lost at this game, which my brain couldn't fathom, the old man, savoring the moment, slowly explained the nuances of different clan members' behaviors. The Sharingan, by the way, didn't help with the game.
As he placed another piece, the old man suddenly fell silent and turned his head toward the entrance. This alarmed me—we weren't expecting guests. Running through various scenarios in my head, I sat in silence for about ten seconds. With a grunt, he turned back and said to me:
"It's for you, grandson. Go meet our guest. And bring her to me; she needs medical attention."
A guest? Who could it be? Rising slowly, I headed toward the entrance.
When I opened the door, I didn't even recognize who it was. Black hair, lighter than mine, was tangled and unkempt, with leaves stuck in it. Her face was covered in blood, and her gaze was as if I'd killed her family. Those brown eyes pierced into my soul. She was dressed in rags and dirt, as if she'd come straight from the forest. Please don't tell me she's related to someone I killed. I already couldn't shake the thought that I was a psychotic maniac. And how did she get past the guards? I hoped she hadn't killed them. I'd have to knock her out.
But then I noticed a detail that changed my opinion of the girl. A sword hung at her waist, clumsily sheathed, as if it wasn't hers.
I recognized that katana. It was the one I'd used to sever the neck of the bandit leader who raped and terrorized innocent people. I remembered hearing cries in that bastard's house but forgot about them—about her. At the time, I was focused only on his head and the reward for it. The battle frenzy didn't release me until I got home, and it all slipped my mind.
"You're—"
Before I could ask, she fell to her knees, drew the katana, and grasped the blade with both hands, offering it to me with the edge toward herself.
"My lord. Please, take my life into your service. This unworthy samurai begs for your mercy, my lord. I implore you."
Well, damn. To say I was shocked would be an understatement.
---
Kotetsu Hitara. The girl was only fifteen. After she changed clothes and washed, she was unrecognizable. Just a young girl, no older than my daughter from my past life. I'd pushed thoughts of my family away for five years, but seeing her eyes and condition awakened a sense of care in me.
From her story, Kotetsu was a samurai of the fifth generation. There was no samurai village in the Land of Iron yet, and many samurai served various daimyo and aristocrats across the land. Kotetsu's family served an aristocrat on Crimson Island, deep in the Kaiju Ocean that bordered the mainland. They served the local aristocratic family loyally. Sadly, her family was wiped out—inter-clan wars affected everyone, including samurai in distant lands. The only family she had left was her younger brother, whom she lost when they were captured. Yes, a chakra-using samurai could be captured, too. Though her chakra reserves were dozens of times smaller than mine, she fought fiercely, according to her. Like a true samurai, she cut down about thirty men before being overwhelmed. I wouldn't have been surprised if some unknown shinobi had taken her down, but my expectations were unmet.
A man came, she said, with white eyes devoid of pupils, and knocked her out in two strikes. Quick and merciless, as if waiting for her to exhaust herself. A Hyuga, I realized. When she woke, she was in an unfamiliar place, in a cage. Her chakra was gone, and her chances of escape were even slimmer. She was sold to our mutual acquaintance, the now-headless Sentaro. He took her to his hideout, and that's when I showed up. She couldn't restore her chakra in the house where she was held; that bastard used some kind of paper tags that drained the meager chakra she managed to gather. This alarmed me—Uzumaki creations had fallen into the wrong hands, and an ordinary girl with a tragic fate suffered for it. How many more victims were enslaved like this? There was no centralized authority or police here. It was up to us to uncover and punish the scum who raped young girls. My chakra surged as if responding to my resolve, but I reined it in. Not the time or place.
The Uzumaki clan's policies suddenly became unacceptable to me. I knew something had to change. But I didn't have the strength for that yet.
Slavery wasn't surprising to me. If a world that developed technology and knowledge for thousands of years still had slavery, it was bound to exist here, especially with relics of the past like aristocracy. But that didn't change the fact that such people needed to be punished.
Kotetsu's situation and the place where slaves were held piqued Setsuna's interest. I didn't know why, but when he heard about the Hyuga, he seemed to grow younger. The next morning, the three of us set out. Kotetsu remembered the location where she'd been held for a week. She'd memorized everything to return and learn her brother's fate. When she woke in the cage, he was already gone. It would take us a week to get there.
She'd restored her chakra overnight, and we kept pace with the old man, who charged forward like a rhinoceros.
But another question gnawed at me: how the hell were the white-eyed taijutsu masters involved in all this?
---
"Kotetsu, tell me, how did you find us? I didn't leave any tracks." Chewing a strawberry-filled bun, I looked curiously at the girl, who was also munching her bun and washing it down with water. The old man had taught me forest navigation first. Though with my chakra reserve, which I couldn't hide, I was like a beacon in the night. Kotetsu, however, was a complete novice at this, so I had to teach her the basics.
After hours of running at top speed, we stopped for a break. There hadn't been time to talk during the run or back at the house. Setsuna had healed her injuries, including those from the assault. As the old man said, she was severely malnourished and covered in wounds. That bastard had broken her fingers multiple times. Strong girl. Seeing her smile at a simple bun, I was glad I'd cut off that man's head. All my guilt about the killings evaporated.
"Oh, there's nothing surprising about that, my lord. Shinobi skills aren't encouraged among us, but I was born a sensor, so my father assigned me a teacher to help with it. I sensed your chakra and followed the trail. You were easy to track."
"Hm. So you're a sensor?" Setsuna looked at the girl with interest.
"Yes, Lord Setsuna. My family was always known for tracking people by their chakra."
"A very useful skill, especially for you, grandson." He sipped tea from a scroll—such a tea enthusiast, he even had a dedicated scroll for it. Looking into his eyes, I saw a hint. "No matter how gifted you are with chakra, you'll never be a sensor. The Sharingan doesn't help in that regard. I know a few ways to hide from your eyes. A sensor doesn't have that drawback, especially one as unique as her, who can track chakra by its trail."
I understood what he was getting at. When she offered her service, I hadn't responded. There was no point thinking about it yet. Better to find her brother first and then decide. She was emotional and had acted rashly. Youth is full of mistakes.
"I get it, old man."
I steered the conversation away and looked at the girl.
"What happened after I left, Kotetsu, and why did you take that sword? The old man gave you a new one, didn't he?" I pointed at the katana dangling at her waist. Two swords looked odd.
"This." She caressed the katana she'd arrived with. "It's precious to me now, my lord. You killed my tormentor with it. I pulled it from the ground, cut off that bastard's privates, and shoved them up his rear. My soul found peace after that."
She smiled sweetly and gently stroked the sword's hilt.
I looked at the old man, and he looked at me.
We understood each other without words. This girl was something else.
Thus, the days of our journey to the slavers' den passed in conversation. I got to know Kotetsu, and she got to know us.
---
*Perspective: Setsuna Uzumaki*
They were gradually approaching a massive mansion nestled in the dense forests of the Land of Fire. This was the territory of another daimyo, not the one who ruled the cities, including where Setsuna and Okami currently lived.
Setsuna shook his head as he eyed the sprawling mansion. Clearly, these people had ties to the aristocracy. Such a place couldn't be built without manpower and money. Slaves played a significant role in that.
The Uzumaki clan had once swept through the surrounding lands for thousands of kilometers, cutting down slavers with sword and fire. But that was a hundred years ago. It seemed new scum had emerged. Yet, the old warrior's interest wasn't sparked by ordinary people playing gods, deciding others' fates. The Hyuga were what intrigued his mind.
The white-eyed clan, fond of playing aristocrats, had crossed his path twice in his life. The first time was when a young Setsuna traveled the world with his teacher. White-eyed taijutsu masters attacked the teacher-student duo and perished in the earth. By then, Setsuna had been training under his teacher for a decade and dispatched them quickly and calmly. Unfortunately, he didn't know about the Byakugan back then. Not that it helped them survive. Blocking the tenketsu of a monster with immense chakra was beyond them.
The second encounter was at the end of his teacher's life. The Hyuga came to the funeral to offer condolences to the teacher's family. Somehow, the teacher had known some Hyuga masters. That's when Setsuna grew curious about their eyes. He discreetly learned about their abilities from those present at his teacher's funeral. Then he forgot about them.
He hadn't thought of them again until his grandson appeared with his Sharingan and the girl whose tragic fate was now tied to his grandson.
By nature, Setsuna was a warrior who didn't shy away from any means of enhancing himself. Medicine aided him in this. He experimented on various shinobi, improving and developing organs and muscles, removing what was unnecessary, and artificially strengthening bones.
Having tested these enhancements on himself, Setsuna became one of the strongest warriors in his clan. Now, he only waited for Okami to grow so he could apply the same enhancements, including to the chakra pathways in his eyes to handle more chakra. The Byakugan would help in this. He wasn't about to experiment on his grandson.
The eyes themselves were a nice bonus for his grandson. Setsuna didn't need them, nor did his grandson, who already possessed a dojutsu. His sensory perception extended for kilometers, though it was a pity Okami hadn't inherited that trait. But the samurai girl was a different case. She could become his grandson's first follower—loyal and devoted. A samurai who had chosen her lord, no matter what his grandson thought, would not stray from her path.
The Hyuga's sensor-clan eyes would aid her in serving his grandson. The stronger his grandson's allies, the stronger Okami himself would be.
---
Dodging a kunai, I blocked with a dull thud, as if a stone had hit wood. A spinning kick followed, and my opponent crashed through a wall with his back, not getting up.
I turned to survey the scene. Shattered paper screens and piles of unconscious bodies. Silence, broken only by screams from the other side of the mansion. Sounds like Kotetsu's having a blast.
The old man didn't help us. He only said this was another training session. Kotetsu took on the main figures, and I didn't object or restrict her—she's a free person and an adult by local standards. I got the regular guards.
Big, with less-than-intelligent faces, and pretty dumb. Can't they see I'm knocking them out effortlessly? Why not just surrender and lie down? But no, I have to waste chakra stacking them like firewood.
The one I sent flying backward was the last. The beautiful Japanese mansion, with a pond at its center, impressed me with its population. Like ants, new people kept rushing out of countless rooms, only to collapse unconscious just as quickly. I was careful not to kill anyone. If Kotetsu wanted, she could kill them all herself. I felt no pity. There were no clients, only guards—seems the recent sales were the last. A shame; I wanted to find out who used this place's services and kill them all.
Reaching the center, I crossed half the pond, gazing at the stars shining brightly. The full moon illuminated the mansion's core. Before I could move further, I didn't notice where the unconscious body came from.
Kotetsu.
No wounds, but knocked out. Blood on her hands told me she'd managed to cut someone down. I thought the screams had stopped because she'd figured everything out.
Slow footsteps echoed from one of the corridors, and a man stepped into the moonlight. A brunette, around thirty, maybe older. White kimono and pupil-less white eyes told me who he was. A Hyuga. No seal on his forehead—main branch. A tough fight. Setsuna was nearby, so I didn't worry too much, though I knew this opponent was formidable.
"A child?" Veins bulged around his eyes. "No, an Uchiha." How did he know? My Sharingan wasn't active. I had guesses—his eye pathways were thicker than usual. He turned his head, though I thought those eyes saw 360 degrees. "You're alone, but where are your kin, and why are you so far from your clan's territory? Uchihas are sick bastards, but they don't usually risk losing dojutsu bearers. Answer!"
"Sir." I activated my Sharingan and began circulating chakra through my body. "You know what blind cowards say before a fight?" I seemed to throw him off, and he responded.
"What?"
"Stand still, be scared!" I cast genjutsu on his mind. It gave me a split-second advantage, which I used to the fullest.
A dash that tore up the floorboards, my figure blurring in space. The gloved fingers the old man gave me nearly reached his face when he snapped out of it. Damn, not fast enough.
He began spinning rapidly, and I was thrown toward the exit. Bodies still lay there, and I landed on one. Kaiten. Damn Hyuga—he'd managed to block a tenketsu. Now chakra flowed poorly to my left arm. I knew it was temporary and my chakra would fix it, but I had no time to recover.
Hearing his unhurried steps, I assumed a stance. He approached, still pristine. I hadn't even dirtied his kimono.
"I'll give you credit, little Uchiha. I don't know how you did it, but you've got talent. The last time someone stopped me with genjutsu, I was your age."
I looked older than I was. Good food and training added five years to my appearance. So this Hyuga probably thought I was ten or eleven. I don't know why that thought popped into my head—random nonsense floods your mind in a life-or-death situation.
"Come at me. Let's play until I rip out your eyes. A Sharingan can fetch a high price."
His smirk sparked disgust and anger in me. But I didn't rush. He wasn't taking me seriously. I could use that.
Circling him to the left, I watched him closely. He was calm.
A dash, and I began a combination. A claw strike with my right hand—he ducked. I raised my right knee toward his face, which he blocked with just his hand! I could crush stone with that much chakra, and he didn't care. No, my eyes caught him wincing slightly—I'd gotten through. I'd put a lot of chakra into that strike.
Before I could lower my knee, he threw me back and followed with a strike to my chest. Damn, if my chakra were less dense, he'd have shredded my organs.
I'd already spent a third of my reserve. If this continued, I'd burn out quickly. A plan formed fast. My chakra-fueled brain quickly devised a way to try winning this deadly fight. In a direct confrontation, I was no match—my chakra was depleting faster, and his experience far outstripped mine.
Standing, I threw a scroll to the ground, which exploded into smoke. Special smoke I'd used against the old man, knowing it'd come in handy. The chakra-infused smoke disrupted sensory perception. My own invention.
Only two seconds passed, and he blew the smoke away. But I was ready.
"This is getting tiresome. Time to end it."
His veins were bulging, Byakugan active. Seems someone lost track of me. I caught his dash—still far slower than the old man.
My Sharingan spun wildly with chakra as I ducked a strike to my head. Stepping back as if falling, I saw him already savoring victory.
Fuin.
His body froze, his gaze fixed on my hand flying toward his face. Strike.
He flew back from my blow and didn't rise.
Victory.
It was quick but exhausting. Half my chakra reserve was gone.
Setsuna appeared, carrying Kotetsu over his shoulder. Looking at me and the Hyuga, he only tossed words into the air.
"Bad, very bad. We'll increase your training when we return. But the paralysis idea was good."
Ugh.
---
*Perspective: Hyuga Clan*
"My lord." Before an old man studying a scroll, a white-eyed man in loose robes knelt, a seal adorning his forehead. The elder Hyuga wore the recognizable white kimono, like the one worn by the man in the mansion where the Uzumaki and Kotetsu had struck.
"Ichiru is missing, the mansion destroyed. Kamisara and his accomplices had their heads severed, found nearby, and all the guards are dead."
"Shinsura, find my son. Dead or alive." The elder set the scroll aside and fixed his eyes on his subordinate. "Take everyone you can and kill all those responsible. You have one week."
"Yes, my lord."
Shinsura rose, bowing, and left the elder's house. The old man, one of the clan's elders, sighed.
"What to tell the head?"
---
The Hyuga didn't say anything useful. There was no boy matching Kotetsu's description—not when she was captured, nor in the mansion. Setsuna knocked him out after the interrogation and sealed him.
After that ill-fated fight, the old man hounded me like a madman.
The fight analysis and pointing out my mistakes took just an hour. But the training afterward… I could've hanged myself.
My strikes, which wasted too much chakra, and my lack of feints infuriated the old man most. To my logical argument that I had an ocean of chakra and no need to conserve, he waved it off. He blamed my lack of dodges and tricks on my inexperience. If that Hyuga had been even slightly serious, the old man said, he'd have knocked me out in a couple of breaths. As he put it, shinobi fights are fleeting. This white-eyed guy decided to drag it out. There are perks to a child's body, after all.
As for the Hyuga, the old man said he'd handle him. I don't know why he needed the guy—surely he wasn't planning to transplant his eyes? I didn't ask; it didn't interest me much.
Kotetsu stayed with us. For her sake, the old man bought the house and expanded it. Now it was two stories with several bedrooms.
When asked about her brother, she said no one in the mansion knew where he was. When she was captured and they searched for him, the boy was already gone. Escaped or killed, she didn't know. She cried for a long time, and I had to hold and comfort her. My small body was like a toy to her, so she fell asleep with me.
Having entered my service, she now followed me everywhere like a shadow. I didn't push her away or distance myself. To me, she was like a daughter I needed to care for; to her, I was her lord. Though she didn't stop sleeping with me and hugging me like a toy. When I asked about such behavior toward her lord, she claimed it was for protection. Sure, I believe her.
Thus, in training and caring for the girl who was coping with her loss, another six months passed. The old man didn't transplant the eyes. When I asked about the prisoner's fate, he brushed it off. I didn't pry—he'd tell me if he wanted. A new problem loomed on the horizon.
We ran out of money. Turns out, when you spend on two, a hundred thousand ryo disappears fast. The old man said that since I was her lord, I had to provide for her needs. Clothes, food, women's things like combs and other necessities. Small stuff, but the money drained. That's how the savings from that guy's killing ran dry.
She started training on her own, but then the old man, seeing her efforts, took her under his wing. I don't know what they did—he asked me not to interfere—but Kotetsu came back battered every time, especially around her fists. Like she was constantly punching a wall, though she's a swordswoman. She joined me in medical lessons, too. The old man said she had talent and began practicing within three months of starting training. Fuinjutsu, for obvious reasons, wasn't taught to her—clan secrets and all.
A new mission awaited me. I asked the old man for something pricier. My skills had reached a new level, my control improved. I'd ditched the crutches—the gloves—and gained a new deadly technique. The old man said in a year or two, I could start learning ninjutsu. I can't wait. I wonder which elements I'm attuned to.
My fingers now cut sharper than any predator's claws, even at a distance.
A new target awaits.
---