"It is not the strength of the body that counts, but the strength of the spirit." — J.R.R. Tolkien
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The lab was cold. And not just physically. It was cold in a way that told me that I shouldn't be here.
That was, of course, correct. But then again, neither should I be meeting a man who is supposed to be under house arrest, or in jail.
But here I am anyway...
Truthfully, this facility was supposed to be shut down a few months ago.
Something about experimenting on babies. There was a whole announcement about it and all.
A scandal, if you will. The biggest one yet since the death of the Fourth.
The civilians responded as you would expect.
Some people were shocked, and some people... Pretended to be shocked.
Props to them, though; they indeed moved quickly.
ANBU raided and cleared the base faster than you could say "Root Sucking Danzo", so at least there were no bodies in the scattered, broken tanks.
But it still looked... Dimmer. In a way that had nothing to do with light.
With all evidence cleared, who was involved and who wasn't, became... Unclear.
Well, all evidence cleared except for one...
He was a relatively tall man. Extremely pale,
in a way that made it seem as though he always avoided sunlight.
Black hair draped down his shoulders like wet ink, and his golden, slitted eyes followed my steps the way a scientist watches a specimen scuttle into view.
For someone who so resembled a snake, he made such an excellent scapegoat. Not that I would tell him to his face. Though he probably already knew.
A voice slid through the room, soft and almost amused:
"…You're late, boy."
"Good morning, Lord Orochimaru."
Being stared at by Orochimaru was like bathing in a nest of snakes, with vipers in place of water. They weren't striking yet, but you'd never forget they were there.
Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down.
"Hmm, how curious, you composed yourself faster this time..." He rubbed his chin, and his eyes roamed as if wondering where to begin dissecting.
I weathered through it, staying absolutely still until he lost interest.
"Let's go, ambitious Uchiha brat. Ah, no, is it Uzumaki now? Our transaction can now begin."
He stepped aside and gestured to a doorway deeper inwards.
Taking a deep breath and steeling myself, I walked in. The doors closed behind.
Though I got what I wanted, that was admittedly one of the most unpleasant days I had experienced so far.
The next few nights were spent recovering, then it was back to training.
.
.
.
[Orochimaru of the Sannin, for the crime of killing 32 Konoha jonin, and injuring many more, including Jiraya of the Sannin, has been declared an S-Rank missing-nin.]
The next news I heard about him was, as expected.
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Raito POV:
[̴̨̑K̷̨̕u̷̹̐k̵͈̑ǔ̸̙ḳ̴́u̵̥̿ḵ̸͘u̸̲͠.̷̢͝.̷̱͝.̵̬͐]̴̳͂
A somewhat familiar sharp pang ripped through my skull, brief but potent. Thankfully, it was only for a second, and I got it back under control almost instantaneously. The pain faded before the echo did, but I was left with one of the nastiest sounds echoing at the back of my head.
Taking a side glance at Asami Oryuu, following slightly behind me through this underground hallway, revealed that he didn't notice my slight lapse.
'Good.'
It wouldn't do to stumble in front of my subordinates.
But still...
'It's getting worse.'
The realization sat heavier than the pain itself.
It wasn't that I hadn't tried at all to solve these seemingly random fits. After all, I am still stuck in this strange world for an... Admittedly indefinite amount of time, and something tells me that frequently seeing dead people isn't good for my long-term health.
However, messing with that seal at the back of my mind is easier said than done.
Throughout my time here, the seal in question had been sitting there.
It hadn't done much of anything else but mess with my sleep cycle and occasionally bleed some... scenes.
I couldn't help but admire it from a technical perspective; the seal was one of the most beautiful works I have ever borne witness to.
Seeing it operate was like watching a spider gracefully strangle its prey before wrapping it up and storing it in a vault within its web. A beautifully haunting work of art.
'I doubt even Lord Jiraya could have done something like this...'
[Jiraya of the Sannin]...
I had borne witness to his works, and his methods and capabilities were familiar to me. This certainly wasn't him. It was so different that it might as well have been using another language.
Helplessly out of my zone, knowledge-wise, I had no idea what it was trapping or how it came to be.
But what I did know...
Was that anyone capable of making a seal of this magnitude probably could have done MUCH worse than just kill me if they wanted to.
Seals, by nature, also tended to be... Volatile.
So, as much as I yearned to get a closer look, recklessly poking at it could end badly.
Thus, all that is left to do is wait.
'Just a while longer...' I reassured myself. It seems I have my work cut out for me...
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The forest thinned unnaturally as we went deeper, trees bending away from the path as if repelled rather than cut. Roots coiled back into the earth, moss peeled away from stone, and even the insects seemed to know better than to linger. No birds at the moment, nor wind. Just the soft crunch of damp soil beneath our steps and the distant drip of water echoing through the rock.
The grotto revealed itself gradually,
Showing a curtain of hanging vines that masked the cliff face, fed by a thin waterfall that spilled into a shallow pool.
The water reflected the canopy above so perfectly that it was hard to tell where the forest ended and the stone began.
Unassuming as it appeared, a dense amount of Chakra stirred beneath the surface; it flowed through inscriptions woven so delicately into the environment that only someone actively looking for it would notice.
Its function?
I reached out, brushing two fingers against the falling water.
The illusion parted.
With a slight rumble, stone slid against stone, and seams revealed themselves where there had been none. The cliff face folded inward like a patient beast opening one eye, exposing a narrow passage carved straight into the bedrock.
Fūinjutsu script flared briefly along the edges—recognition seals, intent seals, all manner of markers and contingencies stacked atop other contingencies—before fading back into dormancy.
We stepped through the opening.
*Shuffle*
Voices and footsteps approached, and Asami steadied himself behind me.
He relaxed only a fraction when he identified the silhouettes emerging from between the trees.
Three figures stepped into view.
They moved carefully, favoring old injuries that hadn't fully healed yet. One had his arm bound in fresh bandages, the cloth already darkened in places. Another walked with a slight hitch in his stride, stubbornly refusing the aid of the spear he used as a crutch. Their armor was mismatched—patched reinforced cloth, scavenged metal—functional, if inelegant.
Normal humans, nothing worth mentioning here. No bloodline or secret techniques, armed with just their swords.
Aspiring swordsmen or exorcists who, for some reason or another, ended up being removed, even from Sensei's dojo.
Reason?
It wasn't that they were lacking in character or in skill. From what I've seen, some of them would trounce any mundane kendo practitioner.
But reality dictates that no matter how skilled the human, they cannot defeat their predators; the Supernatural, without supernatural abilities as well.
They were discarded for lacking the fleeting spark required for Qi manipulation or Onmyōdō.
Simply constitutionally incompatible with the arts and practices needed to preserve their lives on the battlefield.
Sensei was admirably merciful. The easiest thing would have been to use them as cannon fodder; instead, he expelled them. Even then, only when he was sure he could not keep them.
A group of individuals who were ousted from serving the Principal Clans and then expelled from the barely acknowledged dojo. The rejects of the rejects.
It came as little wonder when men who had been told they lacked talent or pedigree, with nowhere left to go except the various mundane Yakuza families lounging around the streets of Kyoto, driven by hopes and promises, turned to their last line to any sort of power, and held on for dear life.
Truthfully, I can't fault them. Having witnessed the feeding grounds of Stray devils and the occasional... "Gourmet Yokai", I'd also be less than enthused to remain powerless, hoping they don't notice me.
Normally, empowering them would not be something I would concern myself with.
However, as much as it pains me to admit, my strategy for getting back home could not be performed in solitude within a visible timeframe, and I would likely need more hands to speed up the process.
So, I accepted their allegiance.
I wasn't my Sensei.
I was not above using them as fodder if necessary.
And I would continue to recruit more.
They froze the moment they recognized us.
Then, as one, they knelt.
"Captain Asami."
"Lord Raito."
These were members of Asami's squad.
The ones who had returned from Aokigahara injured.
I let the silence stretch after their greeting, long enough for the weight of it to settle. Long enough for them to wonder if they had done something wrong.
"Aokigahara," I said at last.
The man in front nodded once. "Yes, Lord Raito."
"You were not ordered to pursue," I continued. "Nor to engage beyond placing the tags."
"Hai Raito-sama."
"And yet, even then, you still returned like this."
Another pause. This one sharper.
Asami attempted to verbally come to their aid, but a raised hand stopped him in his tracks.
"I want to be clear," I said, voice even.
"You call me 'Lord', but know that following me does not come with guarantees. Not of victory. Not of safety. Not of survival."
I took a step closer. "If you choose to walk away now, retire to the mundane like you were supposed to; no one will stop you. No debt. No punishment."
Asami shifted beside me, surprised, but he said nothing.
"The Shinobi life is incredibly hazardous as you can see; you have already bled once," I went on.
"You will certainly bleed again. And one day, one of you may not return at all."
I looked down at them.
"So I will ask only once more," I said. "Are you certain you still wish to remain?"
For a moment, no one answered.
Then the man in front bowed his head a fraction deeper.
"Yes," he said.
Another voice followed, rough with pain. "We are."
A third spoke, quieter but no less firm. "If we wanted safety, we would have stayed in Tokyo."
The first man lifted his head just enough to meet my gaze, not defiant, but insistent.
"We know what this path is," he said. "We saw Aokigahara. We braved the Spectres themselves."
He shivered as he drew a slow breath.
"And we still came back."
His hand tightened briefly against his thigh before relaxing again.
"You warned us before we ever stepped into your shadow. You never promised us anything you couldn't give."
"That's enough," Asami said softly.
The man shook his head once. "No, Captain. It isn't."
He turned back to me.
"If we die," he said, "it will be because we chose to stay here. Not because we were thrown away."
Foreheads struck the rough stone floor before me, the sound dull and heavy.
Asami, to the side, winced a bit.
"Please accept us, Raito Sama!!!" They called in unison.
Silence settled over the cave.
I stared down their bowed forms as I mulled over their reasoning. Their willingness and how their voices carried a hopeful kind of respect when addressing me.
I had heard that tone before. It had come from one of our "Allies", back home.
The Sunagakure Shinobi used it when they spoke to their Kazekage, reverent in a way that had nothing to do with love.
It was the tone one used when standing in the presence of a man who could end your life in a hundred ways and make it look like misfortune.
A man you obeyed not because he was kind, but because the world beyond him was worse.
Fear, sharpened into discipline tinged with a bit of hope for gain. Survival, dressed up as loyalty.
That kind of respect was brittle. Conditional.
But I could work with this.
I was no "Will of Fire" kind of leader. I would not ask them to burn themselves to protect the sprouts whilst expecting unconditional loyalty.
Besides...
'My arts are not easy to learn. Whatever they can gain will be purely by their own efforts.'
I signalled to Asami before walking on.
"At ease," Asami said immediately, irritation flickering across his face as he stepped forward. "You're still injured."
"Return to the inner shelter. Get those wounds treated. Rotation will cover this entrance."
They backed away carefully, bows shallow now, careful not to strain themselves as they retreated into the forest. The vines fell back into place behind them, the waterfall resuming its lazy curtain as if nothing had disturbed it at all.
The passage sealed shut, and silence returned.
We turned and moved deeper.
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End chapter.
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Another Chapter here: Though it's a bit late, Happy New Year.