The fog thinned as Raizen left the forest, his cloak still damp with the scent of blood. Hours passed in silence, broken only by the crunch of leaves beneath his boots. When he finally reached open land, the sun was already sinking, painting the sky in bruised shades of red and gold.
Ahead, nestled between rolling hills, was a village. Small, with crooked wooden houses and lanterns swaying in the evening breeze. Smoke rose from chimneys; laughter echoed faintly from somewhere inside.
It was ordinary. Peaceful. The kind of place Raizen had not belonged to in decades.
He hesitated at the outskirts. I erased myself from the world… what right do I have to enter it again?
But hunger gnawed at him, and his feet carried him forward.
---
Inside, villagers glanced at him from the corners of their eyes. His white hair, his crimson gaze hidden in shadow, the heavy presence he carried — none of it matched a wandering merchant. Mothers pulled their children close, men whispered nervously.
Raizen ignored them and stepped into a small tavern.
The tavern went silent the moment he entered. The keeper, a stout man with trembling hands, forced a smile. "What'll it be, traveler?"
"Food," Raizen said quietly, taking a seat in the far corner. "Anything warm."
The man nodded quickly and disappeared.
The murmur of voices returned, though lower now — laced with fear.
---
As he waited, Raizen felt it again. That subtle pressure. A vibration at the edge of his senses.
It was faint, almost invisible to chakra. Something older. Something alien.
A whisper, like static, filled his ears for the briefest second:
"…Raizen…"
His hand clenched the table. No one else seemed to hear it. The villagers laughed nervously, cups clinking together, but to Raizen, the sound was drowned by that voice.
The food arrived, and he ate in silence. But whispers grew louder.
"That's him… the White Demon…"
"I heard mercenaries vanished near the forest."
"No ordinary man could have done that."
Finally, a drunk staggered toward him, spitting accusations. "You bring misfortune with those cursed eyes."
Raizen warned him quietly. The man pushed further. Raizen's gaze flared, Sharingan glowing faintly beneath his hood. The man collapsed, pale as death.
Raizen rose to leave, but before he stepped outside, his vision flickered. For an instant, he wasn't in the tavern anymore.
He stood beneath a blackened sky, lightning tearing through clouds. A colossal figure loomed in the distance — pale, godlike, watching him with golden rippling eyes.
Shibai Ōtsutsuki.
And then it was gone.
The tavern lanterns returned, the frightened villagers staring at him as though nothing had happened.
Raizen steadied his breath. Hallucination… or a remnant?
---
Outside, the monk from before stood at the edge of the road, hands folded.
"You saw it, didn't you?" the monk whispered.
Raizen's gaze snapped to him. "…What did I see?"
"Traces," the monk replied. His eyes glowed faintly with strange energy. "Fragments left behind by the one who transcended even gods. The world has forgotten him… but you cannot."
Raizen's chest tightened. "Why me?"
The monk smiled faintly. "Because even in erasing the world's memories… you could not erase destiny."
From the shadows of the treeline, Raizen's name whispered again — carried on a voice not of men, but of something beyond them.
---
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