The samurai's quarters were an independent wooden house, looking barely better than the tenant shacks.
There were indeed nurous alarm traps outside, but such simple chanisms wouldn't trip a Chunin—especially since, long before Harusa arrived, Shisui's insects had already gnawed the triggers into uselessness.
Two guards stood outside, but they were ragged and disheveled, holding sharpened wooden stakes instead of katanas.
Sato Yoshisuke gestured, and Shisui complied. They flanked the entrance from both sides. Before the sentries could make a sound, they were silenced—throats crushed and bodies dropped to the dirt.
Yoshisuke kicked the door open, reflexively throwing a volley of shuriken into the shadows. However, the room was empty.
A broken wooden table, a few straw mats, and a pile of farm tools in the corner were all that remained. Forget samurai; there wasn't even a decent weapon in sight.
"Damn it," Yoshisuke cursed. "We've been played."
Standing not far behind him, Shisui fought back a smirk. He had known the situation for so ti. In fact, his original self had already slipped into the main estate.
The "Takigawa" standing with the Captain was rely a Shadow Clone, swapped out just before Harusa had finished her report.
In the back of the shack area...
A cold gleam flashed from the kunai in Naoto's hand as he lunged at an approaching figure. The assailant wore tattered n's clothing and had charcoal sared on their face, but the fra was small and the movents clumsy—completely untrained.
As the blade sank into the shoulder, Naoto caught a glimpse of the face. It was a girl, no more than fourteen or fifteen, twisted in pain. Her eyes held no malice—only pure terror and despair.
Naoto's heart jolted. He instinctively pulled back his strength, but the steel had already tasted flesh. The girl groaned and collapsed, blood blooming across her shoulder.
Another "bandit" shrieked and charged with a rusted sickle. Naoto dodged easily, pinning the attacker to the ground. It was then he realized he was holding down a boy who couldn't have been older than twelve.
The two teenagers trembled violently but gritted their teeth against the urge to cry. Their eyes were fixed on Naoto—fear, resentnt, and a desperate struggle burned within them, but no "wickedness."
Naoto's mind wavered. Maybe they were just following their parents' orders. Forced into this. No other choice.
"Naoto, over here!" Yuki's voice called from inside a nearby shack.
Naoto took a deep breath, pulled out a roll of bandages, and tossed them to the pair. "Stay here. Don't move."
Inside the shack, Yuki had managed to control the situation, but his lack of experience showed.
Several tenants who had been holding won hostage lay in pools of blood, but many of the won had been used as human shields and suffered injuries—minor, but ssy.
Yuki looked panicked, unsure of how to handle the collateral damage.
"Brother Naoto... they won't die because of , will they?"
"No." Naoto walked toward the corner where the won were huddled, applying styptic dicine to their wounds.
These injuries weren't just from Yuki's stray shuriken; most were the result of prolonged abuse.
As Naoto worked with increasing gentleness, the won realized they had been saved. They fell to their knees, sobbing and bowing.
"Thank you... thank you, Lords..."
Yuki, never having dealt with such a display, tried to help them up. "Please, stand up! We are ninja from Takigakure. The City Lord sent us to rescue you."
At the ntion of the "City Lord," the won's crying only intensified.
Naoto looked at the scene, then back at the two bleeding teenagers in the courtyard. He felt a weight like a stone pressing into his chest. He felt caught in the gears of sothing he didn't understand.
Neither side seems "wrong," so why do they hate each other so much?
Just then, Harusa entered the courtyard, slling of copper and salt. She had finished in the fields. The farrs' courage had shattered as soon as she executed the ringleaders; the rest had surrendered instantly.
Seeing the two wounded teenagers, she assud they were victims. "Naoto, I'll leave this to you. Bring those two in and treat them. Don't let them die."
She left the more experienced Naoto to handle the wounded while she took Yuki to assist the Captain in surrounding the "samurai."
Naoto returned to the courtyard. The boy and girl were still where he left them, clutching the bandages but refusing to use them, watching him with wary, predatory eyes. He knelt down to re-dress their wounds properly.
The girl with the shoulder wound bit her lip and whispered, "Are you... were you sent by the Lord to kill us?"
Naoto's hand shook. The dicine bottle nearly slipped. He looked into her eyes—there were no tears, only a hollow, numb calm.
"We..." he started, his voice thick. "We are here to restore order."
The girl laughed. It was a faint, bitter sound.
"Order?" she whispered. "So, being locked in a cellar to be toyed with by the overseer, or sending the n to the mines to work until they drop dead... that's 'Order'?"
Naoto froze.
Outside, leaning against the back wall, the real Shisui watched Naoto's inner turmoil with a cold, analytical eye.
He didn't stay long. In his hands, he carried four unconscious figures—the real rogue samurai. He vanished into the shadows of the hills toward the mine shafts.
Through his insects, he had already confird that this wasn't just a basic mine. It was a rich vein of aluminum and iron—minerals that extended deep underground.
It was the perfect environnt to nurture a brood of Shokuaichu (Erosion Insects). Better yet, the unique mineral composition might even induce a beneficial mutation in the colony.
He had lost thousands of insects in recent skirmishes. This wasn't a battlefield where he could harvest the dead to replenish his swarm, and he had no interest in slaughtering entire villages just for feed.
These "pests" of the Land of Waterfall, however, were perfect. In the darkness of the mine, the samurai would serve a much higher purpose than simple banditry.
They would beco the foundation for a new, stronger generation of his hive.
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