Mask Storage Temple.
According to Reiji's memory, this was where the Shinigami Mask was kept.
The Shinigami—an unfathomable existence.
Light purple skin, twin horns on his head, a mouth full of fangs clutching a short sword, thick pure white hair, and a loose, flowing white robe.
He wasn't just creepy-looking—the jutsu used to summon him was just as unsettling.
The Dead Demon Consuming Seal. Sacrificing one's soul to drag the enemy's soul along into death.
The Third used it to take Orochimaru's arms, and Yoko used it to extract the soul of the Nine-Tails.
If anything's clear, it's that the Shinigami's a freeloader.
The Third was old and exhausted, but instead of lending a hand, the Shinigami just struck a pose like it was none of his business.
Then again, that sword in his mouth... is it a Zanpakuto? Can it go into Bankai?
With that thought, Reiji feigned innocence, bid farewell to the white-bearded old man, and pretended to leave.
Moments later, Reiji reappeared using the Nurarihyon Technique, sneaking over to the side of the Mask Storage Temple on tiptoe.
Not far off, the white-bearded old man was pulling aside another scavenger who had wandered in by mistake, muttering something cryptic. His expression was exactly the same as when he warned Reiji earlier.
That piqued Reiji's interest. He leaned lazily against a pillar at the temple entrance, watching with amusement.
In less than half a day, the old man had driven off seven or eight scavengers and almost got into a fight with a feisty young guy.
It didn't seem like he was a scavenger himself—more like he was stationed here to keep others away.
"Interesting," Reiji muttered, turning to step inside.
Despite being called a temple, it was really just a large, sparsely furnished room with a single narrow wooden railing.
Behind the railing, an entire wall was lined with three neat rows of twenty-seven masks.
Looking at them one by one—white faces with long horns—each bore a different expression.
There was a bearded old man, a smiling woman, a man with a sinister grin, and an old crone wailing.
Suddenly, a chill ran down Reiji's spine.
It felt like a dozen pairs of glowing red eyes were hiding behind those empty sockets, all staring straight at him.
As if behind each mask was a different face, each with its own eerie expression.
His scalp prickled.
Reiji instinctively took a step back in alarm.
Damn, this place is creepy as hell!
Right then, the white-bearded old man reappeared behind him at the entrance, his face dark and grim.
"Young man, didn't I tell you to stay away from here?"
The hollow echo of his voice in the vast room made it all the more chilling.
At the sound of it, Reiji slowly turned his head, a strange gleam in his eyes as he examined the old man closely.
"Old man, you look kinda familiar!"
"Do I?" the old man sneered, rolling up his sleeves slowly.
"You look familiar too. The night Uzushiogakure fell... you abducted quite a few of my clansmen!"
With that, he fully rolled up his sleeves, revealing arms covered in densely packed Fūinjutsu seals.
Reiji, who knew a thing or two about Fūinjutsu, was instantly startled.
Not because of the seals themselves—but because he had never seen these types of Fūinjutsu before.
Then the white-haired old man spoke again.
"Young man, there's still time to leave. Use your space ninjutsu—otherwise, you'll be stuck here with me forever."
The moment he finished, a torrent of black ink burst from his arm, splattering the ground.
Reiji gasped quietly, eyes wide in shock.
He finally recognized the source of that strange familiarity.
This man... wasn't alive.
He had died many years ago.
He was the founder of Uzushiogakure—the one hailed as the progenitor of Konohagakure's Fūinjutsu: Ashina Uzumaki!
At that realization, cold sweat broke out across Reiji's forehead.
This guy... he should've been long dead! How is he still around?!
"Uzumaki... Ashina."
At those words, the white-bearded old man froze for a moment, then glared at Reiji with even greater intensity.
"You actually know my name?! Are you from Konoha, kid?"
Reiji ignored Ashina's question and asked his own.
"That doesn't make sense. How are you still alive? Shouldn't you have been dead long ago?"
"Hmph! I did die, a long time ago!"
As he said this, a dangerous glint flashed in Ashina's eyes.
Got him.
The next moment, a circle of black, ancient characters began to slowly rise from the floor, encircling Reiji.
Simultaneously, eight pitch-black iron chains burst from the markings, snapping tight around Reiji's limbs, waist, and neck.
Only then did Ashina slowly lower his arm, his sleeve falling back into place and covering the corpse spots on his skin.
"Kid, you've got no chance now. You'll be staying here with this old man forever!"
Reiji looked calmly toward Ashina Uzumaki in the distance and spoke slowly.
"Keeping you company doesn't sound so bad. I've got nothing better to do.
But, can you tell me how you survived?"
Seeing the curiosity on Reiji's face, the sinister expression on Ashina's face faded slightly, and he began to speak slowly.
"I don't mind telling you.
See the seventh mask on the first row?
Behind that mask lies an ancient, malevolent deity—the Shinigami!
It's because the Shinigami was sealed that the souls of the dead could return to the Pure Land and find eternal peace.
But if the Shinigami still roamed the world, every soul of the dead would be devoured and trapped in endless torment within his stomach.
That's what gave rise to a certain sealing technique—or rather, an unsealing technique: the Dead Demon Consuming Seal!
This jutsu allows a temporary breach of the Shinigami's seal, summoning his projection and offering the enemy's soul as a sacrifice.
Of course, the price is steep—the caster must also sacrifice their own soul."
Ashina let out a long sigh, pausing for a moment before continuing.
"The biggest regret of my life... is that I never trained a proper successor.
That's why I worried—worried that once I died, no one would be left to guard the Mask Storage Temple.
So I came up with a plan.
I had one of my clansmen use the Dead Demon Consuming Seal on me, sealing my soul inside the Shinigami's stomach.
Then, another clansman—who was arranged beforehand—put on the Shinigami Mask, tore open the Shinigami's belly, and sealed my soul back into my dead body.
That's why I said—I'm not a living man."
After hearing all this, Reiji's eye twitched slightly, his thoughts a mess.
Damn, if I were the Shinigami, I'd be done with both you and Orochimaru. You two practically glitched the whole system.
If it were me, I'd grind your souls to dust before swallowing them.
Still, it figures.
When it comes to knowledge about these dark gods, no one in the world knows more than Ashina Uzumaki.
With that thought, another question crept into Reiji's mind.
"Old man, when Uzushiogakure was attacked by Kirigakure, why didn't you go help?"
"You little punk, you think I didn't want to?!
I can only use the powers I had in life while inside the Mask Storage Temple!"
So that's it!
No wonder Uzushiogakure was wiped out while the Mask Storage Temple remained untouched.
Kirigakure probably tried attacking the temple too—but got driven off by this old corpse.