When everything was over, thirty-one ninjas stood in silence, sweat dripping from their temples despite the biting night wind.
On their backs, each bore a red seal that only Reiji—and perhaps the Gods—could see.
If anyone were to ask, what is the difference between a Cursed Contract and a Slavery Contract?
Reiji might just laugh and reply, "They're both hell. One just uses handcuffs, the other uses a whip."
The material of the scrolls is the same: mutated sea lizard skin. The scrolls are Strong. Flexible. Capable of absorbing chakra and channeling seals as if they were alive.
They start from different designs.
Cursed Contract—dark blue, with a deep red symbol like old, dried blood.
Slavery Contract—jet black, with a bright red symbol like an open wound still wet.
The nature of Fuinjutsu differs.
Where the Fuinjutsu of the slavery contract feels more… rough and possessive.
The Cursed Contract restricts the mind. Nausea, headaches, even a slow death if one dares to think ill of the Uzumaki Clan.
The Slavery Contract? It gives no warning.
It punishes directly.
Evil thoughts are met with burning sensations, stings, or like a body being torn apart from within.
Not only that—every command from Reiji must be obeyed.
No matter how disgusting, exhausting, or humiliating that command may be.
And only Reiji can give orders.
No other Uzumaki.
Not even the village head.
The only ruler over them is Reiji.
...
...
...
Reiji casually rolled up his contract, then turned while stretching his shoulders, as if he had just finished a light task like sweeping the yard, not binding souls into lifelong slavery.
"Now, after everything is settled…" Reiji said softly, but with an intonation sharp enough to pierce the ears of everyone present. "Fūinjutsu Chakra Sealing: Release."
In an instant, their bodies jolted slightly. The chakra that had been restrained now flowed back—warm, wild, and exhilarating, like the first breath after being submerged for too long.
Seeing their reactions, Reiji smirked slightly, then walked casually while saying, "Come on. Let's head to the village."
Keito, who had been standing silently with his hands clasped behind his back, stepped forward slowly towards Reiji.
Keito's eyes swept over the exhausted and weary faces.
"Will this be alright, Reiji?" Keito asked.
Keito's voice was soft, almost a whisper, but filled with an undeniable worry.
Reiji glanced at Keito, then smiled—a tired smile, but containing something unexplainable: ambition, perhaps?
"Don't worry, Uncle Keito. They are already ours."
Reiji stepped ahead, following the path to Uzushio Village perched on the cliff.
The light from the village gate danced in the distance, faint and far, like a star that was about to extinguish.
Keito, along with several other clan members, followed behind Reiji and beside him.
The ninjas who had lost everything stood for a moment, then slowly, in a long silence, they began to step forward.
Not with pride.
Not with courage.
But with heavy steps that dragged their honor into the dust.
Behind them, the beach fell silent once more.
The waves continued to roll, as if washing away the sins that had just been written on the sand.
...
...
...
Reiji, Keito, and the members of the Uzumaki Clan walked calmly ahead.
Meanwhile, the sound of the footsteps of thirty-one ninjas from three great villages echoed behind them—sounding stiff.
Like an army marching without spirit, without direction, like the living dead dragging their feet.
The shadow of defeat was still clearly etched on their faces, and every movement seemed heavy, as if each step towards Uzushio Village was a burden they had to bear along with their shame.
As they arrived at the main gate, the thirty-one ninjas reflexively lifted their heads, staring at the massive door that lay before them.
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