"Boss! What's wrong, Boss?!"
One of the bandits cried out in panic.
Their leader lay sprawled on the ground, face pale, blood soaking through his clothes. His eyes were wide with disbelief.
"You… who… who are you? Pfft!"
Another mouthful of blood burst from his lips. The next instant, the bandit leader collapsed lifelessly, eyes frozen wide open in unwilling death.
"Run! This bastard must be a shinobi! He tricked us by pretending to be harmless!"
The surviving bandits finally realized the truth. Without sparing another glance at their fallen boss, they scattered in every direction, hoping to split up and escape.
Zorro and Hayata exchanged a single glance.
In the next instant, their figures blurred as they gave chase. Against shinobi, what chance did mere bandits have? Blood splattered across the field, dying screams echoing briefly before silence fell. In moments, the last of the more than ten bandits collapsed in pools of blood.
Nearby, Sosuke's face had gone pale, his hands trembling. The sight of so much blood was almost unbearable for him.
Zorro and Hayata returned, glancing at Jiraiya. His expression was calm—slightly surprised, but not shaken. Both couldn't help but look at him with admiration.
This left Jiraiya speechless. Who was he, after all?
The great Toad Sage of Mount Myōboku. One of the Legendary Sannin of Konohagakure. A name known across the entire shinobi world. And yet… they were looking at him with admiration?
Zorro stepped closer, speaking firmly.
"Sosuke, you'll have to get used to this sooner or later. Once you walk this path, your life no longer belongs to you alone. Do you have that resolve?"
Sosuke opened his mouth to reply, but Zorro pressed on.
"This road is paved with blood. To achieve anything, you're bound to cross the interests of others. In the end, one side must fall. My greatest honor is to dedicate my blood to the organization!"
His words left Sosuke stunned, and even Jiraiya felt a stir within. Such conviction wasn't something anyone could casually claim. Clearly, this so-called "organization" was no ordinary group—it had the power to inspire such loyalty.
"Big Brother Zorro!" Sosuke finally clenched his fists, his voice trembling but firm.
"I've already decided. Rather than drifting through life in confusion, I'd rather die fighting! Even if I fall, I'll never go back to that pathetic existence I once had!"
His eyes burned with determination, though there was still the shadow of struggle within them. Zorro gave a satisfied nod. He had been watching Sosuke closely—bright, clever, with the right mindset, though far too obsessed with Icha Icha Paradise. That habit wasn't a good one, but at least Sosuke had finally found his resolve.
As for Jiraiya, he gave a wry smile. Wasn't Icha Icha Paradise his own masterpiece?
"Let's deal with the bodies," Zorro said grimly. "If they're left to rot, they'll only spread plague."
Together, they buried the corpses before setting off once more.
Hayata fell into step beside Sosuke, his tone stern.
"Don't think we're cruel. If those thieves escaped, they'd just harm others again. Remember this: never show mercy to enemies. When you strike, do it with the force of thunder. Mercy is reserved for comrades."
Jiraiya nodded. Those words aligned well with the reality of the shinobi world.
Not long after, the path opened up into a wide clearing. Jiraiya's eyes narrowed in surprise—he could sense chakra fluctuations ahead.
Several people were working in the fields. Their chakra was faint, weaker even than most Genin. A few had slightly stronger signatures, about the level of a Chūnin at best.
This is the base of their organization? Jiraiya thought, puzzled.
A middle-aged man clapped his hands, and the soil in front of him shifted and overturned.
Further away, an elderly woman formed hand signs. Though slow and clumsy, her seals were correct. A sudden whirlwind swept across the field, and freshly sprouted seedlings rooted themselves neatly into the soil.
Jiraiya blinked in surprise.
Others were tilling the earth by hand with surprising speed. Some stood practicing martial forms, their movements sharp and disciplined.
"Brother Zorro, what is this place?" Jiraiya finally asked.
"You'll get used to it soon enough," Zorro replied. "Have you heard of the Rice Planting Jutsu? This is it."
He pointed toward the cultivators.
"Those people are Sorcerers. The ones practicing martial arts—Warriors."
"Sorcerers? Warriors?" Jiraiya frowned. "What exactly are those?"
Jiraiya raised a brow in surprise.
"Sorcerers can also be considered shinobi," Zorro explained calmly.
"But we prefer the term Sorcerer. We're not like the shinobi of the Hidden Villages who take on missions for money. We walk our own path."
"As for the Warriors… that's something you don't need to know just yet."
After the group entered the village, a young man stepped forward to greet them.
"Zorro, you're back! And these two are…?"
"They're new recruits preparing to join the organization. You can welcome them. Hayata, handle the supplies."
With a nod, Zorro gave his orders before leading Jiraiya and Sosuke into one of the houses. Jiraiya glanced around, quietly observing. The place resembled a hidden village—organized, structured—yet unlike the Five Great Nations' shinobi villages, it seemed to maintain open contact with the outside world.
And so, Jiraiya remained there temporarily… completely unaware of just how far-reaching the butterfly effect of his actions had already become.
At this very moment, Naruto and his peers continued their seemingly mundane missions back in Konoha, oblivious to the currents surging in the shadows. Forces were already in motion—preparing to break away from the Leaf.
The shinobi world, though outwardly peaceful, had already begun to shift.
Far away, in the desert of the Land of Wind, the Kazekage Rasa stood flanked by several Sunagakure Anbu. His sharp eyes were fixed on the figure before him.
"Orochimaru," Rasa said coldly, "you claim you want to cooperate with me. But do you understand? A starving camel is still larger than a horse. Do you really think you are qualified to work with Sunagakure?"
His voice dripped with disdain.
"Impudent!"
A surge of killing intent exploded from Kimimaro, who stepped forward with murderous intent.
In an instant, the Sunagakure Anbu unsheathed their weapons.
"Stand down, Kimimaro," Orochimaru ordered with a thin smile.
"Yes, Lord Orochimaru," Kimimaro replied reluctantly, withdrawing.
The killing intent faded, though a dangerous glint lingered in Orochimaru's snake-like eyes.
Then, with a swift sequence of hand seals, Orochimaru pressed his palm to the ground. Several coffins burst forth from the earth with a dull thud.
Rasa's eyes widened. "This… could it be…?" A chill crept into his voice.
"This is the Second Hokage's forbidden technique—Edo Tensei, the Impure World Reincarnation?!"
The jutsu was infamous throughout the shinobi world, its existence whispered in fear. Rasa had thought it long lost. To see Orochimaru wield it so casually shocked him to the core.
"Now then," Orochimaru said with a sinister, almost charming smile, "do you still think I am unworthy of cooperation?"
Rasa's expression hardened, though curiosity gnawed at him. "But why reveal this to me? Why do such a thing at all?"
Orochimaru's golden eyes gleamed coldly.
"Although I despise that old fool, he was my teacher. As his student, I will at least grant him a death worthy of a hero in battle, rather than letting him wither away from old age. That is the last… respect I can offer him."
For a moment, Rasa was taken aback. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
"Hahaha! As expected of the infamous Cold-Blooded Sage, Orochimaru. Very well—this will be a profitable partnership."
Of course, Rasa could not see through Orochimaru's true intentions.
To him, the dead were simply dead—nothing more. What mattered was strength and opportunity. And if his alliance with Orochimaru succeeded, Sunagakure would surely rise again.
...
TN:
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