Hiki was an unremarkable wandering ninja.
He knew only a handful of E-rank ninjutsu and how to handle a kunai—basic survival skills, nothing more.
An orphan of war, Hiki had once scavenged tools from a dead shinobi's remains and stumbled into following a more experienced rogue ninja. But that man died in a minor conflict not long after. Alone again, Hiki had no village, no clan, no banner—only a modest aptitude for taijutsu and the will to survive.
Eventually, he drifted with a group of stragglers into the Land of Birds, hoping to serve under the famed "Lord Mengzong," whose reputation had spread among the disenfranchised. But Mengzong died soon after—betrayed, assassinated, or simply killed in another pointless fight.
Later, a new opportunity arose: a recruiter spoke of a growing community in the Land of Vegetables—a place said to welcome wandering ninja. Desperate and curious, Hiki went.
But what he found surprised him.
The Land of Vegetables had rules unlike any shinobi village.
To learn ninjutsu here, one had to attend classes. Not just combat training—actual lessons, in the same classrooms as ordinary civilians.
Hiki was baffled.
He was a ninja, however lowly—shouldn't that alone place him above civilians? Why should he be forced to learn their subjects? Surely chakra control, hand seals, and jutsu scrolls were more important than arithmetic, history, or ethics.
But the rule was absolute.
No progress in ninjutsu unless you passed the exams. No new techniques unless you understood the theory—and the philosophy—behind them.
Reluctantly, like the others, Hiki submitted.
And slowly, something began to change.
The more he studied, the more he saw the logic in the teachings.
"I was an orphan once, just like any civilian child. I only became a ninja by chance—why should I look down on the people I came from?"
"Even the Hokage or Mizukage started as civilians. Even the Daimyo of great nations—hundreds of years ago, their ancestors were just ordinary men with ambition. Why should bloodline or birth decide one's worth?"
"Abilities may differ. Ranks may differ. But in character, in dignity, we are the same."
The words of that Lord—the one who founded the Land of Vegetables' new order—lingered in his mind:
"Disdain a man's skills or actions if you must, but never belittle his existence as a person."
He remembered how this Lord—though powerful and respected—walked among civilians as if they were equals. After class, he would eat with commoners, speak with farmers, and personally answer questions from students of all backgrounds.
It wasn't weakness. It was principle.
"In the Shinobi Villages, ninja often act like gods—but forget that war crushes the helpless. That's not strength. That's rot."
The words struck a chord. In the Land of Fire, in Kiri, in Iwa—the ninja treated civilians as tools. Even in peace, the powerful often ruled with disdain. But not here.
Here, one had to earn their rank not just through combat, but through understanding.
Hiki remembered the day that Lord—he still didn't know his name—rested a hand on his shoulder. That simple gesture ignited something in him.
Under the guidance of Lord Yomaru, one of the Lord's close aides, Hiki improved rapidly. In just over two months, he had learned more ninjutsu than in his entire life wandering the margins. His strength now approached the level of a proper Chūnin, Yomaru told him.
He still hadn't seen that Lord's face clearly.
But to Hiki, he didn't need to.
He knew what kind of man he was following.
It was Lord Yomaru who first led them to pledge allegiance to that Lord.
Hiki was deeply grateful to Lord Yomaru, but Yomaru himself insisted the one truly deserving of their gratitude was that Lord—and that they must never forget it.
Hiki, of course, was already full of gratitude. He respected and revered that Lord to the point that he rarely spoke his name aloud. To Hiki, casually uttering the name felt irreverent.
Even though that Lord never minded.
Long ago, Hiki had sworn to dedicate his life to that Lord—and to the new life he had been granted.
In the two months he had spent in the Land of Vegetables, he had seen hope he never imagined could exist.
Although his strength was only approaching that of a Chūnin, Hiki believed he was fully capable of becoming a proper Chūnin, then a Jōnin—and maybe even stronger.
He didn't desire to become a Kage. That was that Lord's rightful role. No—that Lord deserved a status even greater than Kage.
As for himself, Hiki cared little for titles. If he became stronger, respect would come naturally.
Just like Lord Jūgo and Lord Guren. They never demanded recognition, but everyone respected them deeply. They embodied that Lord's ideals and put them into practice every day.
In fact, just last month, Jūgo and Guren had held a simple wedding.
At first, it wasn't meant to be a public event—just a quiet gathering of close comrades. But when word spread among the ninja who trained under them, many showed up to offer their blessings. The value of the gifts didn't matter—what counted was the sentiment.
In the end, Jūgo and Guren had no choice but to reserve an entire restaurant, treating all their well-wishers to a lavish feast.
It left Hiki and the others both honored and a little embarrassed.
Hiki had no chance to attend that Lord's wedding—because there hadn't been one. With so many women around that Lord, it simply wasn't feasible.
Not that Hiki saw anything wrong with it. Shouldn't a man like that Lord be admired by many women?
Today marked the end of Hiki's academic studies.
By that, he meant his time attending civilian classes.
After all, they were ninja—they couldn't remain in ordinary schools forever.
Still, Hiki felt a little sad to leave. He'd made several friends there. At first, they had been cautious of his identity as a shinobi, but slowly, familiarity had broken down the barriers.
From those friends, Hiki learned a surprising truth: to most civilians, only that Lord and his earliest companions treated them with genuine equality. The rest of the ninja, even those from minor villages, still acted superior.
Hiki couldn't believe it. Even that Lord never carried himself with arrogance—how could he?
Civilians, nobles, ninja… at the end of the day, they were all people.
Ninja may possess special abilities, but that didn't make them better. True strength didn't justify looking down on others.
Besides his civilian friends, Hiki had of course grown close to other shinobi too. During the day, they were spread across different schools to study; at night, they trained together.
Every day was full, and every day felt meaningful.
"Nantō! Shizuka! You're here for your certificates too?" Hiki called out.
"Yeah," Nantō replied with a grin. He was around Hiki's age and came from the Land of Bears. The two were both rivals and friends.
"Now we can focus on ninjutsu training."
Taketori Shizuka, the girl they both admired, smiled gently. "We're just not attending school anymore—that's all. There are still other things we'll need to learn besides just ninjutsu."
The three of them were among the youngest in this new generation of shinobi drawn to that Lord's vision—and perhaps because of that, their bond had grown especially close during their time in school.
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