The Land of Hot Water lay on the northeastern border of the Land of Fire. Once famed for its steaming springs and bustling bathhouse avenue, it now held a hollow elegance—shopfronts abandoned, lanterns swaying in the wind. Occasionally two shinobi would clash on a rooftop, only to tumble through the air like macabre ornaments, red spray splattering the tiles below.
Most forehead protectors no longer bore the symbols of the Five Great Nations. This street had become a cemetery of pawns—expendable soldiers from minor nations, unregistered rōnin, disposable blades fed into the war's gullet. The victors—faces lit with thin excitement—barely had time to strip the corpses before a kunai from some hidden corner silenced them forever.
Killing and being killed had become the avenue's ghastly ritual, a cycle that devoured its own tail.
After the First Shinobi World War, nobles would feast on the ruins, buying up the empty storefronts and reshaping them into inns and bazaars that would lay gilded eggs for decades. For ordinary shinobi, such profits meant nothing. Yet through his bond with Juno, Soren had taken several cleanup jobs along this avenue—clearing rival agents, forcing claims, collecting the rewards the system granted.
"People die for money; birds die for food."
Soren walked down the abandoned hot spring road in crimson-and-white samurai garb, a katana sheathed at his hip. His sleek black hair was tied into a high ponytail, proudly revealing the sharp features of the Uchiha clan.
He carried himself like a pampered noble's son sampling the world's delights, and the hyena-like predators crouched in the shadows salivated at the sight—too tempted to pass up one last score before the war collapsed.
A flurry of kunai slashed through the air.
Soren leisurely drew his katana. The thrown blades were laughably weak—he didn't even bother to awaken the Sharingan. With a casual flick, the kunai curved back toward their owners, faster and deadlier than before.
Wet splatters, choking gasps, bodies slumping against stone—one by one the would-be robbers froze in disbelief as they died.
Not even worth noticing—mere insects playing thief.
Soren didn't linger. In a blink, he vanished; several effortless shunshin steps later, every prowler who had harbored killing intent toward him lay dead.
His system existed to keep him alive in a world where even children were dragged onto battlefields. Killing was currency; caution was sanity. He reminded himself that the dead had chosen their path—an attempt to keep from becoming a mindless butcher.
"Don't court death and you won't die. Piracy isn't a job for just anyone."
He straightened his coat and checked the newly gained ascension points—small trickles from low-level shinobi, hardly any chūnin. The war really was winding down; the big players had already left.
At the beginning, he thought this place swarmed with jōnin—so many that he wondered if this was a main front. Later he realized most were private retainers or unregistered operatives. Now only rōnin and minor-nation expendables remained—people who, once the dust settled, would be remembered only as the first blood spilled for the Five Great Nations' genin.
"Lord Soren, meow."
Juno leapt from the void and landed on his forearm, her plush face bright with news. "Word came in—Second Hokage and the Raikage picked a negotiation site. They're meeting at—"
Two thunderous explosions ripped through the sky.
A malignant chakra wave rolled across the land. Soren's eyes narrowed, his Sharingan opening reflexively. Juno burrowed into his arms, trembling.
"That huge, savage, malevolent chakra… a Tailed Beast."
Cradling Juno, he bounded toward the source, slipping into a dense forest.
He recalled the First Shinobi World War: the mutiny at Kumogakure during the joint ceremony—the sudden attack of the Gold and Silver Brothers, how the Second Raikage and Senju Tobirama had nearly fallen. Only a few from Tobirama's escort survived—young men who would one day become Konoha's pillars, including a certain blond youth destined to be the Third Hokage.
His memory blurred around the edges, but one truth remained: opportunity rarely came twice.
If Tobirama's faction—the Senju heirs tied directly to the Second Hokage—were wiped out at this peace meeting, the Senju would lose their future. In the aftermath, the Uchiha could finally rise to uncontested dominance.
The Uchiha and Senju had founded Konoha together. The Senju had produced two Hokage. But they were dwindling; their only prominent figure now was an aged, weakened Nine-Tails jinchūriki, and Mito Uzumaki was well past her prime. Other clans—Inuzuka, Nara, Akimichi—were little more than vassals. The Hyūga, who fancied themselves the second house of Konoha, were rigid and decaying.
Soren sneered. If the Uchiha rose—and with a Mangekyō Uchiha like him—who could challenge his claim to the Hokage seat? Anyone who bragged about seniority would discover how persuasive a forty-meter blade could be.
"Juno, I'm going to watch. Don't you dare play coward."
Juno's face drained of color; she squeezed her eyes shut with a strangled meow. "Those are the supreme figures of two nations—the Kage and a Tailed Beast. I'm just a small, weak cat—no thank you."
"Nonsense. You're my summon. How will you see the world if you hide in my sleeve? If a little scene like this scares you, how will you survive the end-of-the-world spectacles to come?"
"I-I won't wet myself!" Juno snapped indignantly, then wilted. "But Lord Soren… they're the greatest powers of two countries. I'm only a helpless cat…"
Soren rolled his eyes. "You talk more than any intelligence operative I've ever met. Faster gossip than a messenger hawk."
She smacked him with a tiny paw. "You human scum—stop hypnotizing an innocent, adorable cat! Cats have privacy too!"
"I already know everything about you. There's no privacy left."
He pinched the loose skin at her neck, earning a flurry of dramatic flailing, then glanced toward a thick branch overhead.
Juno, sensing footsteps, settled onto his shoulder.
Figures emerged from the forest—members of Tobirama Senju's Escort Unit:
Hiruzen Sarutobi,
Homura Mitokado,
Koharu Utatane,
Danzō Shimura,
Torifu Akimichi,
and Uchiha Kagami—
the six who, in this moment, were destined to die.