Chapter 170: Life or Death
A massive cruise ship—its appearance deceptively similar to that of a merchant vessel—drifted quietly across the calm sea.
On the deck, sturdy men dressed in sailor uniforms moved with sharp precision, patrolling the perimeter with vigilance etched into every step. Younger sailors, shirtless and sweating under the sun, scrubbed the planks under the stern guidance of veteran seamen barking out orders.
The entire ship held a tense and disciplined atmosphere, almost militaristic. It was eerily quiet, as if the crew were professional soldiers rather than simple mariners.
Yet, just beyond a single door, the scene changed completely.
Every time the hatch to the cabin opened, a wave of cheerful piano music would drift out, mingling with the intoxicating aroma of aged wine. Heads turned. Nostrils flared. Eyes momentarily lifted.
From the shadowed doorway, dim amber light spilled onto the deck. Despite the muted glow, to the men outside, it was as blindingly warm as the midday sun. The allure was palpable—tempting them to draw closer, to abandon discipline and step inside.
Outside the cabin lay the sweat and grit of ordinary men. But inside… inside was a dreamlike paradise.
A world of laughter, music, and velvet couches. A hall filled with swirling dresses, drunken merchants, and flirtatious glances exchanged between clinking glasses.
It was a divide that no one questioned—only envied. They were the crew. They cleaned and guarded the vessel. But the ones inside? They were the ship's true masters. The invited guests. The ones who mattered.
Snap—
A faint click echoed—the unmistakable sound of a door opening.
Instantly, the sailors' heads turned once more. But then, almost in unison, their eyes dropped.
The timing was unusual. It wasn't yet time for a shift change. Which meant whoever was stepping out… wasn't someone they should gawk at.
A young man in a white robe emerged.
He looked calm—gentle, even—with soft, symmetrical features that made him appear scholarly rather than threatening. His attire was simple compared to the lavish suits of the wealthy guests within. Yet, every man on that deck instinctively averted his gaze.
This wasn't just another traveler.
This was Ryosuke Hyuga—a guest so esteemed that even the owner of the cruise ship had personally offered him the seat of honor.
Ryosuke didn't need to understand their thoughts to read their expressions. Their deference was obvious, and frankly, predictable.
Without pause, he strode to the bow of the ship.
Before him, the sea stretched endlessly. But unlike the clear waters they had previously sailed, this region was cloaked in a thick, natural mist. Visibility was almost nonexistent.
If not for the Byakugan activated beneath the surface of his calm eyes, even Ryosuke would have been blind here.
Around them, sunlight barely pierced through the fog. Only a faint, cold gleam filtered down, enough to let them know it was still daytime—but only barely.
"Ninja-sama…"
A cautious voice called out behind him.
A middle-aged man, weathered by years at sea, approached carefully. His gray-streaked hair and salt-worn uniform marked him as the ship's captain, though not its owner.
"We've arrived near the Land of Rain," he said, keeping his tone respectful. "But this fog is thick. It's easy to lose our way. I advise dropping anchor and waiting until it clears before proceeding."
He had originally intended to bring the matter up inside with the others. But upon spotting Ryosuke on deck, he'd made the decision to speak with him directly.
After all, the way the wealthy guests bowed their heads to this young man… it spoke volumes.
"No need."
Ryosuke turned slightly, nodding gently before raising his arm to point into the mist.
"That way. Stay on course. If we drift off-route, I'll correct it in time."
"…Understood. Thank you, Ninja-sama."
The captain hesitated, then bowed and stepped back.
But rather than return straight to the bridge, his footsteps led him to the hatch. His hand reached out.
"Be careful."
Ryosuke's voice was calm, but firm.
He hadn't even turned around, yet he knew.
The captain paused, smiled awkwardly, then quietly returned to the bridge. It wasn't distrust—just the cautious nature of a man who had survived countless voyages. Ryosuke didn't blame him.
The sea breeze carried a salty tang as it drifted past Ryosuke, but he paid it no mind.
His eyes narrowed, the faint glow of his Byakugan fading.
This journey had been arranged by the Seagull Maritime Chamber of Commerce, a major player in the Allied Powers.
As a Hyuga with high standing in the alliance, Ryosuke enjoyed certain privileges. Whether traveling from the Land of Fire to the Land of Iron—or from there to the Land of Rain—he could hitch a ride aboard such vessels with ease and comfort.
Of course, it meant his identity as a Konoha shinobi wasn't exactly a secret.
It also put Hinata's identity at some risk.
But Ryosuke didn't care. Once they docked, he would change his appearance and chakra signature. It was enough to avoid most unnecessary complications.
He wasn't afraid of confrontation. In fact, with his current strength, there were few left in the shinobi world who could pose a threat to him.
He just… didn't feel like dealing with pests.
Many factions had begun eyeing the Hyuga Clan with growing interest. Walking around without a disguise would only attract flies—ambitious, greedy ones. Ryosuke wasn't interested in swatting all of them.
Unless, of course, they gave him a reason.
And this time, he wanted a reason.
His journey to the Land of Rain wasn't simply for diplomacy.
He intended to stir the pot.
During the last incident, Black Zetsu had orchestrated an elaborate test—employing suicide squads from the Mist Village and even unleashing Blueno, a foreigner from another world.
Blueno's ability to create pocket dimensions and teleport people across space was far too valuable. Ryosuke doubted the Akatsuki hadn't taken notice.
Blueno died in that battle. And while Ryosuke hadn't stayed to witness Akatsuki's reaction, he was certain they were furious.
After such a defeat, Black Zetsu would likely lay low for a while… or shift his focus to other Tailed Beasts.
But Ryosuke wasn't planning to sit back anymore.
If they wouldn't come to him, then he would go to them.
There was value in being proactive. In sizing up the enemy. In determining just how much of a threat the Akatsuki posed—and whether any more otherworldly invaders had infiltrated their ranks.
And if not?
Then Ryosuke still had his eyes on Nagato, wielder of the Rinnegan.
In this entire world, perhaps only Nagato could offer him a real challenge.
Of course, that's assuming none of the hidden invaders from other dimensions had power beyond his own.
Ryosuke didn't overestimate himself—but neither did he fear any opponent.
In the ninja world as he knew it, Ryosuke had already encountered beings from other universes—travelers from worlds like One Piece and Gintama. The boundaries between realities were no longer theories; they were fractures—gaping wounds between dimensions.
So, he didn't rule out the possibility that other outsiders might be hiding within this world too.
If…
If there existed a world of immortals or true gods—where someone could obliterate a planet with a mere breath—then even the most insignificant extra from such a universe could effortlessly annihilate the shinobi world.
Ryosuke's thoughts began to spiral, drifting toward impossible threats and invisible enemies.
But then, with a faint scoff, he stopped himself.
No use thinking about things that haven't happened yet.
These were just groundless speculations—pointless fears that would only cloud his mind and distract him from the path ahead.
Splash—
A faint, barely perceptible sound snapped him back to reality.
It was the sound of water being disturbed—heavy, methodical movement across the sea's surface. But it didn't come from the cruise ship beneath his feet.
It came from the left.
Ryosuke turned his head. His eyes, which had already begun to glow faintly with chakra, sharpened. Activating the Byakugan, he infused chakra into his visual nerves. The dense fog parted in his sight like curtains, revealing what was hidden to ordinary eyes.
In the thick mist, a worn and battered vessel was creeping through the waters like a hungry predator. No flags of identification. No signal lights.
Just quiet, predatory motion.
It moved low and slow, like a stalking tiger… unaware it had already been seen.
Within moments, Ryosuke had already counted the number of people onboard and marked their chakra signatures. He noted their positions and weapons, already forming strategies out of reflex.
"There's a situation. Everyone, stay alert," Ryosuke called calmly from the bow.
In the captain's cabin, the experienced helmsman felt the shift as well. Though he lacked the Byakugan, years at sea had taught him to trust his instincts. He activated the ship's internal alarm without hesitation.
To him, that sound—quiet as it was—spelled trouble.
After all, ships that approached without signal in these waters had only one identity.
Pirates.
Just as there are bandits hiding in the mountains of even the most secure lands, there were pirates crawling over every inch of these mostly lawless seas. And today, one of them had picked the wrong target.
In Ryosuke's vision, the black flag fluttered in the wind. The faded skull insignia marked the ship's intent clearly.
Aboard the vessel, men with cruel eyes and wild appearances gripped worn blades, eagerly anticipating the moment they'd board and plunder.
"It's… surprisingly theatrical," Ryosuke muttered, more amused than concerned.
It was his first time seeing actual pirates—men who had chosen this path as a profession. For a moment, curiosity flickered in his gaze.
Behind him, the deck had come alive. The captain was already barking commands, and sailors moved quickly—no panic, no fear.
The Seagull Shipping Company wasn't some fly-by-night operation. It was one of the largest, most powerful maritime conglomerates in the ninja world—backed by the economic interests of multiple nations.
Of course, it came equipped for war.
Within moments, concealed hatches along the ship's hull opened with metallic groans, revealing massive artillery weapons locked and loaded, aimed directly at the pirate ship.
From the luxurious cabin, the laughter faded as the guests came out—still holding their wine glasses, leaning lazily on the railing, gazing at the fog-shrouded sea like they were watching a festival performance.
Clearly, this wasn't their first time witnessing a skirmish.
The owner of the ship, a refined man in his fifties and the head of one of the Seagull Company's branches, approached Ryosuke with a smile, raising his wine glass in greeting.
"No need to trouble yourself, Hyuga-sama," he said, as if this were a routine occurrence. "This ship has more than enough firepower to deal with some sea rats. Please, enjoy the show."
Boom. Boom. Boom—
The captain gave the order.
The cruise ship roared.
Explosions rocked the vessel, not from within—but from its guns firing off with mechanical precision. The deck vibrated beneath their feet. Smoke and flame burst outward as iron cannonballs, the size of basketballs, streaked across the sky like falling meteors.
Ryosuke narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Now it made sense.
According to the shipowner, sea combat followed a strict unwritten rule. Legitimate vessels always broadcasted their presence with chakra flares, sound horns, or light signals. Any ship that approached silently and unannounced was immediately assumed to be hostile.
Because hesitation—on these waters—meant death.
The pirate ship, still cloaked in fog, barely had time to react before dozens of cannonballs tore through it.
Wood splintered. Metal groaned. The vessel, already falling apart at the seams, was helpless under the barrage.
On deck, the once-confident pirates now scattered like insects. Some jumped into the sea. Others tried to abandon ship.
But in open water, there was nowhere to run. The cannonballs didn't discriminate. They punched through flesh and bone as easily as they did rotting wood.
Ryosuke shook his head, mildly disappointed. "A pity. They wouldn't last a day in the One Piece world."
The farce, it seemed, was already over.
But then—
Several figures leapt from the pirate ship.
Despite the chaos, they moved with precision, landing on the water's surface and charging toward the cruise ship at high speed.
Ninjas.
Ryosuke raised a brow, not moving. "We've got a few wave ninjas incoming. Nothing special—just Genin-level."
The ship owner paused, startled by Ryosuke's words. He couldn't see anything beyond the fog, nor hear the footsteps across the water. But he trusted Ryosuke's words completely.
He gave a nod to one of the nearby sailors, who immediately rushed inside the cabin.
Moments later, several combat-ready figures emerged—professional shinobi, hired for protection during this voyage.
They each gave Ryosuke a respectful nod before leaping off the ship's side and skimming across the water's surface toward the incoming enemies.
These were elite mercenaries, well worth the price the company paid. When it came to defending political or commercial interests, the Seagull Shipping Company spared no expense.
The shipowner watched for a few seconds, then sighed in boredom. "Looks like there's nothing interesting this time either."
He turned back to Ryosuke. "If you need anything, Hyuga-sama, just let me or the staff know."
With that, he returned to the cabin, along with most of the crowd, who had long since grown bored of battles they couldn't even see.
The gunfire faded. The fog thinned slightly.
Out in the water, the ninja guards had already intercepted the approaching wave-ninjas, and in a few swift strikes, ended them.
It's over, Ryosuke thought, turning his attention away.
Then—
Plop.
From the wreckage of the sinking pirate ship, a wooden chest broke free of its moorings and fell into the ocean. It bobbed once… then slowly began to sink.
Ryosuke's eyes, ever vigilant, locked onto it.
And through the fog, through the water's shimmer—he saw it.
Lying inside the chest was a strange, spiraled fruit. The pattern was unmistakable. The aura it exuded even through wood and water was… abnormal.
Ryosuke's expression sharpened.
A Devil Fruit.
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