The Third Great Ninja War began with Sunagakure's invasion of Konoha, yet their conflict was also the first to end.
Right now both sides are mired in separate quagmires against other foes; they have no time to reopen this front, leaving only small Border pickets just in case.
Serving as a buffer and the main battlefield between the two countries, the Land of Rivers didn't improve once Sunagakure and Konoha signed their peace treaty. Two years on, the nation is still a wreck.
War destroys production, chaos breeds thugs.
Bandits, Rogue Ninja, masterless samurai, and petty shinobi clans all flock to the minor nations between the Five Great Countries, fighting over scraps of profit or meaningless creeds.
It's a scene of boundless vitality, where everything contends to thrive.
Among the smaller states, the Land of Rivers has considerable territory but no hidden Village of its own; its mission requests are basically meat in Konoha's pot, with Sunagakure picking up a few scraps.
The Daimyō and Nobles, enjoying the attentions of two great powers, don't worry about their positions, so they care little that the country rots.
As long as the key wealthy towns stay safe, who minds how many die out in the countryside?
After all, those people have leek-like resilience: shut your eyes for a few years, open them again, and—surprise!—the population has respawned. How magical!
—
In the Border Forest between the Land of Fire and the Land of Rivers, Team Three were an unusual sight: instead of leaping through the treetops, they sprinted across the ground.
Suddenly the leader, Yūgao Uzuki, stopped and crouched to examine something on the earth.
"This is the right direction, no mistake!"
Gekkō Hayate nodded. "Then let's keep tracking."
Higashino Shin, bringing up the rear, said nothing; he simply followed his teammates as they changed course.
Among the three, Yūgao was currently the weakest, so they were deliberately cultivating every skill she might need.
The Land of Rivers teemed with Mountain Bandits, and the clever ones near the Fire Border often slipped across to do business here.
Every Village worth looting in the Land of Rivers was already bled dry; why stay and fight over scraps when you can rob the rich folk of the Land of Fire instead?
It carries some risk, but fortune favors the bold—what if, by sheer luck, no Ninja catches you?
Naive, utterly naive; they have no concept of a Ninja's tracking speed or mobility.
Soon the trio crossed into the Land of Rivers. As the Forest thinned and Rolling Hills rose into ridges, a cluster of Log cabins appeared at the foot of a River-cut mountain—fresh-looking, rough-hewn, clearly built not long ago.
The structures looked new, crudely fashioned; they couldn't have stood for long.
Yūgao asked, "Shin, are there any Ninja inside?"
Since settling into shinobi life, the girl had seemingly grown up overnight; when addressing Shin or Hayate, she no longer tacked on "big brother."
"None—just ordinary people."
"All right. Same as always—finish it fast."
With that, the three drew their weapons and charged straight into the crude Stockade. Superior skill was confidence enough; against common bandits, stealth and assassination were unnecessary.
The camp spotted them at once. Seeing the Konoha Forehead Protectors, they knew exactly what had come calling.
Yet instead of fleeing they snarled and rushed to meet the trio, waving blades, spears, staves, axes—faces twisted in savage determination.
"Damn it—Konoha Ninja!"
"Just three brats!"
"Kill them—once they're dead we're safe!"
Such innocence: no grasp of a Ninja's power, no clue how a great Village operates.
The three tore through the mob like tigers among sheep; no matter how wildly the adults swung, they couldn't touch a single hair.
Screams rose and fell across the chaotic field. Towering men toppled one by one, until at last the survivors realized the gap in strength and understood: even children who are Ninja are beyond their reach.
The remaining bandits scattered in panic, but it was useless. Relying on speed, the three calmly harvested lives, their eyes showing neither disgust, excitement, nor thrill.
Nearly two months had passed since their first killings. Under Gekko Yun Jian's guidance, the team had re-examined their hearts, ensuring they didn't turn into bloodthirsty maniacs.
A Ninja must kill, yet must never be ruled by killing.
This was only a job, and the targets were bandits without the slightest moral bottom line.
To ordinary civilians in the Ninja World, they were still sunny, humble, and polite youths.
The screams cut off abruptly; every last bandit had become a corpse, leaving only their leader alive.
He was a tall, middle-aged man with long hair hanging to his shoulders, his face dense with scars and twisted in savagery.
Leaning on his long blade, he knelt on one knee, staring at the three kids with bone-deep hatred.
"Never imagined kids in the great nations' Ninja Villages would be monsters too. Hear that? You're all monsters—why don't you just die?"
Higashino Shin had long since grown tired of such insults: "Right—but aren't you one as well?"
"We're no monsters; we're rebels. It was you big-country Ninja who turned our homeland into a battlefield and drove us to this."
"Sorry, you may be right—but a mission is a mission. You crossed the Border, raided two Villages and a town in the Land of Fire, and killed more than thirty people. Time to pay the price."
The scar-faced chief sneered, "And when will you Ninja pay for the lives you've taken?"
"That day will come—but you won't be around to see it. Goodbye."
Oh, it exists all right—the Rabbit Goddess is still hanging in the sky; every Ninja's Chakra is just her food.
When he'd finished, Shin raised his right hand, thumb and forefinger extended, and mimed shooting the scar-faced chief.
A tiny sphere of Chakra condensed at the tip of his index finger, razor-sharp wind-natured Chakra spiraling wildly behind it like the tail of a miniature badminton shuttlecock.
Wind Release: Wind Finger-Gun
Another of Higashino Shin's self-invented, no-seal Ninjutsu—a weakened, mutated version of Wind Release: Rasenshuriken, inspired by the Hozuki clan's Water Release: Water Gun technique from the Hidden Mist.
Could the genuine article kill? Of course—but did one death need that much Chakra? No. Chakra is life, and Shin hated waste, so he refined it.
Under the chief's terrified gaze the spinning Chakra bullet, faintly whistling, drilled straight into his heart.
The ultra-sharp wind Chakra exploded inside him, shredding his life core. The scar-faced chief felt only a brief pang in his chest before crumpling lifeless to the ground.
Gekkō Hayate and Yūgao had seen this move before—envied it, wanted it, but couldn't replicate it. It demanded the perfect fusion of form and nature transformation; who knew how many more years of training that would take.
"All right, C-Rank mission complete."
As soon as Yūgao announced it, the three swept the bandit stronghold for cash and valuables; any special intel would be a bonus.
Nearly two months had passed since wiping out the Sea Shark Gang, and they'd already knocked out several similar jobs since.
Some had involved Rogue or masterless ninja, bumping the Rank up to B, but most were C-Rank affairs without any Ninja involved.
No A-Ranks: those pull in Tokubetsu Jōnin or Jonin—people with status in the Village. Even if they defect, they can live well anywhere; there's no future in banditry.
Every mission's cash loot was a pleasant surprise—after all, how much does a C-Rank pay? Even a top-tier B-Rank only brings 200,000 ryō, split four ways.
Remember the earlier D-Rank beast-clearing job? Shin marked each kill on the map because the ranch had to collect the carcasses and convert them to cash for the team.
Same with the Sea Shark Gang's captured ship: officials at Hemo Port would convert it to cash. No one dares embezzle money owed to Konoha Ninja—unless they fancy dying.
The money from that ship, however, Team Three unanimously gave to the victims they'd rescued.
Ninja are tools—but they can't be heartless.
When the cleanup was done, Shin tallied the haul and grinned, "Let's head back and meet up with the teacher. I hear the town's hot spring is great—perfect for relaxing."
After such hard missions, didn't they deserve a little enjoyment?
Besides, none of them were short on money these days.
The Village never claims side-earnings; Ninja live in the Village and spend plenty. Meat stays in the pot—there's no need for forced reclamation, which would only chill subordinates' hearts.