Chapter 64 — The Curtain Falls
Taichi's signal drew worried looks from Yōhei and Saori.
"It's the worst-case scenario," Taichi said, his voice low.
"No way…" Yōhei couldn't believe it.
Saori covered her mouth, shocked.
"We left, and three more people came back. My shadow clone overheard them talking to the village chief. This place isn't sheltering bandits — the whole village is the bandit den." Taichi's tone held a mix of disbelief and resignation. A whole community abandoning ordinary life to become predators — it was a grotesque inversion, but somehow not unheard of.
"Taichi… what do we do now? Do we really have to kill every villager?" Saori asked, her voice trembling.
"There's no choice. The mission order is explicit. We're shinobi — the mission comes first." Taichi's voice hardened; the decision was made.
Yōhei and Saori hesitated, then nodded in agreement.
"For caution," Taichi continued, "we need final confirmation. Which of you can use genjutsu?"
Both looked to Yōhei. He protested, "Why are you looking at me? I never said I knew genjutsu!"
"Uchiha are supposed to be good at genjutsu, right?" Saori asked innocently.
"I haven't learned it," Yōhei said, embarrassed.
"I'll do it," Taichi said. "I'm not an expert, but I've trained some. I'll try an interrogation."
He checked his status briefly: subtle notes of his genjutsu abilities available against ordinary people — enough for this purpose.
"Once we're in the village, we'll control the chief first. I'll use genjutsu to ask him everything." Taichi outlined the plan, and the three set off again.
Night had fallen. The village slept under an unnatural hush. Three silhouettes slipped back into the chief's house.
Taichi silently formed seals and cast a simple genjutsu, gently coaxing open the chief's buried fears. Because he'd taken time to build the illusion, the chief felt nothing amiss — and in the trance he confessed everything.
They had once been simple villagers, terrorized by an earlier gang that occupied the mountain stronghold. Rather than healing together, the long oppression had eroded empathy and seeded a darker impulse in some hearts. When a caravan stopped by the village one night and wealth became visible, greed took hold. The merchants were lured and murdered. That first atrocity unshackled a pattern: repeated raids, then silencing dissenting neighbors, then using the old stronghold as cover. They'd even managed to slip through two sweeps ordered by the Daimyō by playing the part of frightened villagers.
Only the arrival of Konoha ninja exposed the truth.
With the confession heard, the three exchanged looks. There are all kinds of people in the world — but actions have consequences.
Taichi drew a short blade and drove it into the chief's chest. The pain snapped the man out of the trance; he looked at the three, then at the blade in his body, and with a bitter, resigned smile murmured, "I knew it would end like this," before dying.
Then, as they had agreed, the three split up under cover of darkness and moved through the village to finish the mission.
Taichi had spoken of duty and the righteousness of the mission when trying to steel his teammates. But up close, confronted with sleeping children and the ruined homes of people who had once been neighbors, words failed him.
At one house he paused before a child of perhaps five years old — a child who could not possibly understand any of this and was simply innocent in sleep. The child's parents lay nearby, killed. Taichi's usually steady hand trembled; he found himself circling every justification he could invent: the child might grow up to inherit the guilt of his parents; leaving him alive risked later vengeance; the mission required no survivors.
None of those reasons quieted the ache in his chest. Still, in the end Taichi obeyed the cold calculus he had chosen: to live and protect the few people he truly cared for, he would do what was necessary. He ended the child's life quickly and without flourish.
It was not glamor or glory — only a heavy, necessary silence descending with the night. The mission would be reported; consequences would follow; and Taichi would carry the weight of what had been done.
At least, that was what Taichi believed — at this moment, in this blood-soaked quiet.
Standing before the lifeless family of three, he felt something inside him change. The boy who had coasted along, guided by the power of his Attribute panel, began to fade. In his place stood someone heavier, steadier.
He finally saw himself clearly — and saw the shinobi world for what it truly was. No illusions, no childish pride. Just the ruthless order of a world that demanded strength above all.
He had found his place in it.
He had taken his first true step toward becoming stronger.
Congratulations. Mental State Evolved. Spirit +1
Evaluation: At last, you resemble a real shinobi. Until now, you were just a child playing ninja.
Taichi's eyelid twitched as he read the system prompt.
He had just managed to still his thoughts, and this line almost shattered his composure.
"...Seriously?" he muttered, glancing away. "Even now, you're mocking me?"
He dismissed the panel and stepped out of the house, heading toward his next target.
But peace in the shinobi world was always an illusion. The moment you thought things would go smoothly, chaos would come from the shadows.
A sharp whoosh pierced the silence — then a flare burst into the night sky, bathing the entire village in a blinding red light.
"Damn it," Taichi hissed, eyes narrowing. "That's Saori's side!"
Without hesitation, he abandoned his current target and sprinted toward the source of the flare.
By the time he arrived, the entire village was awake. The once-meek villagers who had feared them by day now flooded the streets with weapons in hand, gathering in a frenzy. From the opposite side, Yōhei came running to join them.
"I'm sorry, Taichi, Yōhei," Saori said softly, guilt written across her face. "Someone got up in the middle of the night… I didn't see him until it was too late. He managed to fire the signal."
Taichi shook his head. "It's fine. We wanted to avoid chaos, that's all. It just means more work for us now."
The Taichi who stood here now was different. The hesitation was gone. Whether these people had once been farmers or merchants didn't matter anymore. They had chosen their path. They were bandits — and in the shinobi world, that meant they were already dead.
"Yeah," Yōhei said with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Honestly, I was wondering when I'd get to test out my new jutsu. Now's as good a time as any."
He turned toward the growing crowd and began forming hand seals in rapid succession.
Tiger. Ox. Dog. Horse. Monkey. Boar. Rat.
"Fire Style: Great Fire Annihilation!"
A massive fireball erupted from Yōhei's mouth, slamming into the ground ahead. In an instant, it expanded outward into a roaring inferno. The front ranks of the mob didn't even have time to scream before they were swallowed by flames, collapsing one by one.
The heat was suffocating. The smell of burning flesh filled the night.
Even Taichi, hardened as he was, froze for a moment.
That kind of power — was that really something Yōhei could unleash?
He turned sharply, and his jaw clenched. Yōhei, who moments ago had been full of bravado, was now slumped on the ground — pale, drenched in sweat, completely drained.
Taichi felt a vein pop on his forehead. Seriously? During a fight?
Yōhei gave a weak grin. "Heh… got a little carried away. Used up all my chakra. You two are up next."
Taichi exhaled through his nose, half in frustration, half in resignation. "Idiot," he muttered, forming a shadow clone to guard Yōhei while he and Saori charged forward.
Together, they cut through the chaos — hunting down the terrified villagers scattering in all directions, one by one, until the flames devoured the last echoes of the village's cries.