On the edge of the battlefield, everyone gathered together to eat lunch.
With Makoto—a master of sensory perception—present, there was no need to worry about an enemy sneak attack.
The best way to replenish chakra was to rest and let one's spirit recover, then eat a good meal to restore physical energy. Soldier Pills were something no one would use unless it was a life-or-death situation—the taste alone was indescribably awful.
Moreover, the chakra restored by Soldier Pills was not much. Their greatest function was to stimulate a person's spirit and bodily cells, forcibly squeezing out the ninja's own chakra reserves.
To put it with a simple analogy: if you've run out of liquid funds, you can always mortgage your houses, land, and other fixed assets.
As for claiming there's no harm to the body—only a fool would believe that.
When conditions allowed, everyone still preferred to light a fire, hunt, and cook a proper meal. As for the smoke produced by an open flame, ninja had their own methods to deal with it.
While eating, Yūgao did not seem to have much appetite, but everyone knew it was not because there was a pile of Kumogakure corpses nearby.
Eating with corpses as company was basic battlefield routine, whether for ninja or ordinary soldiers.
If you couldn't manage that, then congratulations—you'd found yourself an excellent weight-loss program.
Makoto asked with concern, "Yūgao, are you feeling unwell somewhere? Are you hiding an injury?"
Although ninja combat made no distinction between men and women, if certain parts of a woman's body were injured, it was inevitably a bit hard to talk about.
"Not at all, Makoto. They're all just superficial wounds—I've already taken care of them. I just… don't understand something."
"What is it?"
"Does Kumogakure have a deep grudge against us Konohagakure? Why do they look at me like they have some huge vendetta against me?"
Hayate thought for a moment and said, "I noticed it too. Their goal seems to be to kill all of us. Could that be the reason Kumogakure joined this war?"
"But if that's the case, they should be focusing their efforts on Iwagakure instead—after all, the Third Raikage died at the hands of Iwagakure ninja."
The Iga Squad had been in the north the whole time, so they had seen more of this. He recalled, "Honestly, at the beginning, there weren't that many people with personal grudges. Quite a few of the enemies I ran into early on only looked down on us verbally. To put it plainly, it was nothing more than refusing to accept that Konohagakure held the title of the strongest ninja village."
"But as the fighting went on, more of their comrades died at the hands of Konohagakure ninja, so naturally there was more hatred. But aren't we the same? I've had friends and teammates die to Kumo ninja too. The two companions I have now are already the third time I've been reorganized into a squad."
His teammate also echoed, "It's all the same. This is my second time forming a squad. My former teammates—now their names are all carved on the Memorial Stone."
The other teammate glared resentfully at the corpses nearby. "Those bastards. I'd be happiest if they all died out."
It seemed he likely had family who had died at the hands of Kumo ninja, so the hatred in his heart was no less than anyone else's.
Yūgao looked at the fellow village ninja who had fought alongside her earlier, and sudden understanding dawned in her heart—so everyone carried the same kind of hatred.
She realized why she had not understood it before: it was because everyone around her was still alive. If they had died, perhaps she too would wish for the enemy's entire village to ascend to the heavens—even the mosquitoes in that village would get sprayed with insecticide for a whole month.
After swallowing the meat in his mouth, Kumomi said with emotion, "Well, this is the hatred between ninja. I've heard that during the Warring States period, ninja wouldn't reveal their clan traits when outside, and even when dealing with others, they wouldn't inform each other of their surnames."
"Now it's much the same. In times of peace, when we carry out missions abroad, we're also careful when encountering ninja from other countries, because you never know whether someone might be figuring out how to kill you behind your back."
Yūgao asked curiously, "So, sensei, is this the reason war breaks out?"
"Maybe!" Kumomi was a traditional ninja himself, and his own understanding was something he couldn't say was truly right or wrong. He suddenly turned his head. "Makoto, what do you think?"
Which one of us is the teacher here, damn it!
Makoto felt a bit speechless, but still replied, "Yūgao, you've got it backwards. Hatred isn't the cause of war; on the contrary, it's just a side effect that war inevitably catalyzes."
"So hatred isn't the cause? Then what is?"
Now even the three members of the Iga Squad pricked up their ears, sighing inwardly—truly worthy of being a genius of the village. At such a young age, he was already thinking about problems this profound, and had even formed his own views?
"Of course, it's about interests," Makoto said. He didn't want to explain it in overly complicated terms, so he condensed it. "Wars arise because of interests, but those who pursue interests aren't gods. They can't control wars, so wars spiral out of control amid hatred."
"Only when a country falls and feeds everyone, or when everyone is too exhausted to keep fighting, does a war stop. But the hatred accumulated in that war gets exploited again as the surface-level reason to start the next one."
"It's a vicious cycle. As long as humanity exists, it's hard to break free of it. So, do you understand now? In the future, just live happily—don't spend all day thinking about these things like Shisui."
"I know!"
Yūgao puffed out her cheeks, but she still felt that Makoto really was a genius—just a few simple sentences had made her understand the essence of war.
The adults fell into contemplation. What Makoto had said seemed to completely step outside the framework of being a ninja, opening up an alternative line of thinking for those who had always approached problems strictly from a ninja's perspective.
Hayate pressed on, "Makoto, is it really like you said—there's no way to escape war?"
Hayate, what's going on with you? Have you gone full Shisui too?
"There is—there is, brother," Makoto said with a wicked grin. "Wouldn't wiping out all of humanity solve it?"
"Are you insane?!" Hayate looked horrified. Then he suddenly thought of something and shot back, "No, wait. You said wars are started by people pursuing interests. Then wouldn't getting rid of those people be enough?"
Now it was Makoto's turn to be stunned. "Hayate, you bastard—you really are a genius. But have you ever thought about who the people pursuing interests actually represent? You—are you trying to start a rebellion?"
"Uh—this—"
"Enough! Stop this discussion. Hayate, forget everything Makoto just said. Once you're rested, get back to work."
Kumomi stepped in just in time to stop the spread of dangerous ideas.
Damn it—if this kept going, he was going to get dragged into a pit by his son and his disciple.
The three members of the Iga Squad also exchanged glances with each other—basically the kind of look that said: Yeah… let's pretend we didn't hear that.
There was still one Kumogakure ninja left alive—the dark-skinned, powerfully built squad leader. After being hit in the back of the neck by Wind Release: Wind Finger Gun, he was left with a high-level paralysis below the neck.
At the moment, he was lying on the ground, praying to the heavens to give his body back to him.
So it had to be said—Makoto's move was truly vicious. Instant death was the best possible outcome for anyone hit; otherwise, it was a fate where one could neither live nor die.
It was easy to imagine that, in the future, hospital beds in every village would be in short supply, greatly promoting the development of their medical and nursing sectors—truly something to celebrate.
While everyone was busy dealing with the enemy corpses and equipment, checking whether there were any unexpected gains, Kumomi was also interrogating the lone survivor, hoping to obtain some intelligence about this Kumogakure operation.
Unfortunately, by the time everyone had finished their tasks, he had gained nothing.
Iga asked, "Kumomi-senpai, did that guy refuse to talk?"
"Hmph. He's stubborn as hell. There's nothing I can do—mainly because of a real ninjutsu problem. He has no sensation anywhere below the neck now, so most torture methods don't work."
"And I can't very well go after his head. If I accidentally kill him, that would be a waste—and it would also give him what he wants."
The three members of the Iga Squad glanced at Makoto, silently warning themselves that they must never offend this living Yama.
Iga said helplessly, "Then we can only send him back to headquarters and let the Yamanaka clan from the Intelligence Division figure something out."
Kumomi shook his head. "If he's someone important in Kumogakure, there will definitely be anti-leak sealing techniques placed in his mind. If there aren't any, then it means he doesn't carry particularly important intelligence. At most, Konohagakure can squeeze out the secrets of his ninjutsu."
Makoto thought for a moment and said, "Then… how about letting me give it a try?"
Iga and Kumomi both froze. Wait—don't tell us you even know the Yamanaka clan's secret techniques? This isn't a joke.
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