On the border of the Land of Grass, it was raining incessantly.
This was a vital trade hub connecting the Land of Fire and the Land of Earth, usually bustling with merchant caravans.
Yet at this moment, a suffocating aura of slaughter permeated the air before the only official canyon road leading to the Hidden Grass Village.
A large merchant caravan laden with grain and medicinal herbs was forced to stop on the muddy road.
The pack horses snorted uneasily, as if sensing some great horror lurking within the curtain of rain ahead.
The caravan boss, a pot-bellied middle-aged man, was trembling as he wiped cold sweat from his forehead, staring at the dozen or so figures blocking the middle of the road.
Those people wore tattered straw raincoats and crude, patternless masks; some simply had black cloth tied over their faces.
They carried all sorts of weapons—some with chipped blades, others rusted through—looking for all the world like a band of desperate outlaws roaming the border.
For some reason, however, the boss felt these 'bandits' were far from simple, unlike any he had encountered before.
"G-gentlemen..."
The ninjas hired by the caravan had clearly sensed something was wrong and refused to step forward to negotiate. The boss could only steel himself and move forward a few steps, pulling out a heavy purse from his robes with a fawning smile and a trembling voice. "We are delivering goods to the Grass Village. This is just a small token for you to buy some wine. Please, grant us passage..."
"Passage?"
The masked leader let out a raspy, strange laugh.
He didn't reach for the purse. Instead, he tilted his head, eyeing the caravan through the holes in his mask with a gaze that suggested he was looking at sheep and pigs lined up for slaughter.
"This road is closed today."
The masked man's voice was intentionally low and laced with a bandit's coarseness. "Not only is it closed today, but it's closed tomorrow too. From now on, any delivery to that wretched village is forbidden."
"But... that's against the rules!"
The boss grew frantic. "We've signed contracts! Besides, these wagons carry tribute for the Leader of the Grass Village..."
"Rules?"
"My rules are the rules!"
The masked man sneered and swung his long blade.
He used no chakra, relying solely on raw strength and speed.
*Clang!*
With a crisp snap, the purse in the boss's hand exploded, gold coins raining down into the mud like golden droplets.
At the same time, the axle of the wagon behind him, packed with medicinal herbs, was sliced clean through by that single strike!
With a loud crash, the wagon collapsed. Expensive herbs spilled everywhere, instantly soaked by the muddy water.
"Ah!" The boss fell onto his backside in terror, his face pale as a ghost.
'Is this a bandit?'
'What kind of bandit has this kind of skill? If that blade had hit my neck...'
"My blade is the rule."
The masked man stepped forward. A killing intent as heavy as a mountain erupted instantly. Although he used no ninjutsu, that aura of someone who had crawled out of a mountain of corpses left the guards without the courage to draw their swords.
"Scram."
The masked man spat out the word. "If I see you transport so much as a single grain of rice to the Grass Village again, I'll kick your severed heads around like balls."
"Retreat! Retreat now!"
The boss scrambled back to his group, screaming at the top of his lungs, "Turn around! Back to the Land of Fire! The deal's off! What's the point of profit if you're dead!?"
The massive caravan turned back in a chaotic mess, like a flock of sheep driven by a wolf, abandoning their equipment as they fled the scene.
Only when the caravan had vanished completely into the curtain of rain did the masked leader slowly sheathe his blade.
"Yashiro-senpai... No, Boss."
Another masked 'bandit' approached from behind, lowering his voice. "That strike just now was too clean; you almost blew our cover. A bandit's swordsmanship should be much sloppier."
"Hmph. Trying to act like a piece of trash who can't use chakra is harder than killing people."
The one addressed as 'Boss' was indeed Uchiha Yashiro. He tugged at his collar irritably; the tattered straw raincoat made him feel uncomfortable. "The Patriarch ordered that we must not use the Sharingan or our signature Fire Style. Everyone is restricted to Taijutsu and Kenjutsu."
"However..."
Yashiro looked toward the Hidden Grass Village in the distance, a cruel arc forming on his lips beneath the mask. "Even without them, dealing with these weaklings is more than easy. Pass the order: seal the entrance tight. Don't let anything in, not even a bird."
"Understood!"
...
Hidden Grass Village, Leader's Office.
*Bam!*
A heavy solid wood table was violently overturned, scattering documents and maps everywhere.
The Leader of the Hidden Grass Village, a sinister-looking old man with sunken eyes, was pacing back and forth in the office.
"Bandits? You're telling me those are bandits?!"
The Leader pointed at the Intelligence Captain kneeling before him, spittle flying. "What kind of bandits don't want money and only block the road? What kind of bandits can seal off every road within ten miles? It's been three days! Three whole days! Not a single grain transport has made it through!"
"Lord Leader..."
The Intelligence Captain was soaked through and trembling. "The enemy... they're too strong. As soon as our patrols get close, they're knocked unconscious and tossed back. Although they haven't used ninjutsu, their Taijutsu and swordsmanship... they're like elites from a Great Nation."
"Great Nation elites..."
The Leader's expression darkened. "Is it the Hidden Stone? Or the Hidden Cloud? What do they want? To annex us?"
"They don't seem like regular forces."
The Advisor Elder nearby was pale, holding a statistical report. "They aren't wearing forehead protectors, nor have they used any signature ninjutsu. It looks... more like someone hired a top-tier group of wandering ninjas specifically to target us."
"Targeting us? Why?"
The Leader was beside himself with rage. "Our Hidden Grass Village has always played both sides; we never lightly offend the Great Nations! Who wants to see us dead?"
"Leader, now is not the time to investigate who."
Another high-ranking official interjected anxiously, "The hospital is reaching its limit. More and more injured are returning from failed breakout attempts, and our medicine stores hit rock bottom yesterday. In the black market, the price of a single bottle of hemostatic agent has skyrocketed, and even then, there's no supply!"
At the mention of the hospital, the atmosphere in the office instantly grew even more oppressive.
It was a silence born of a mixture of despair and regret.
"Damn it..."
The Leader slumped into his chair, clutching his thinning hair. "Of all times... why did the medicine have to run out now?"
His gaze was vacant as he muttered, "If only... if only that woman were still here."
These words were like a thorn, piercing the hearts of everyone present.
"Indeed."
The Medical Minister sighed, his face full of nostalgia and lament. "If that woman from the Uzumaki Clan were here... even without medicine or bandages, we'd only need to carry the wounded over and let them take a bite. What injury couldn't be healed?"
"That woman was just too convenient."
Another official chimed in with a tone of sickly greed. "Last time, that Chunin with ruptured internal organs took one bite of her and was walking the next day. That recovery speed... it's far more useful than any medical ninjutsu."
What they missed wasn't the lives of that mother and daughter, but their physiques that rivaled the best medical ninjutsu.
In the eyes of the Grass Village's upper echelon, they weren't human beings; they were merely strategic resources.
"And the little one."
Regret flashed in the Leader's eyes. "Though she was young, the purity of her chakra was even higher. If they were still here... would we be cornered by a bunch of bandits? Even without medicine, we could hold out just by relying on those two!"
"Why did we have to lose them now of all times?!"
The Leader slammed his hand onto the armrest. "The guard squads are absolute trash! They couldn't even keep watch over two pieces of 'property'! If I find out who kidnapped them, I'll skin them alive!"
He had no idea that the man he wanted to 'skin alive' was currently sitting in the Hokage's office in Konoha, coldly watching the Land of Grass.
"Leader, it's too late for that now."
The Advisor Elder said bitterly, "Without that woman, our casualty rate is skyrocketing. Coupled with the food shortage, the people are panicking. Some have even fled because they couldn't take it anymore, but we haven't heard a word from them."
"Bastards!"
The Leader's face twisted into a mask of rage. "Someone is definitely behind this! Pass the order: tell Hozuki Castle to send people! Release a few of those high-security prisoners to scout the path! I don't believe those bandits can stop the monsters from Hozuki Castle!"
"But Leader, Hozuki Castle is..."
"I don't care about that anymore!"
The Leader roared, "We're starving to death! Who cares about the rules? Tell Mui that if he can open the trade route, I'll allow him to use the power of 'that box'!"
...
Hidden Grass Village Hospital, Critical Ward.
The air here was thick with a nauseating stench of decay.
Due to the lack of medicine and sterilization, many ninjas' wounds had begun to fester.
Wails of agony rose and fell, turning the place into a living hell.
"It hurts! Give me painkillers! Give me medicine!"
An elite Jonin with a severed arm struggled frantically on his bed, his eyes bloodshot. "Where's the doctor? Where the hell did they go?!"
"There's no more... Sir, there really isn't any medicine left."
A young medical ninja cowered in a corner, clutching an empty medicine bottle and shivering in fear.
"No medicine? Then go find that woman!"
The Jonin screamed in despair, his mind beginning to fray. "Where's that red-haired woman? Drag her here! Now! Just one bite... if I can just take one bite, the pain will stop! Go now!"
"Sir... she's gone..."
"You bastard! How could she be gone?!"
The Jonin shoved the medical ninja aside and rolled off the bed, crawling painfully across the floor, his fingernails leaving bloody gouges in the floor.
"I remember... that taste... it was sweet... if I just take one bite..."
Like an addict in withdrawal, he wallowed in the memory of the euphoria felt when consuming another's life to mend his own.
Hearing his screams, the surrounding wounded also began to show a greedy, vacant light in their eyes.
"That's right... if only that woman were still here..."
"Even that little girl would do..."
"Why did we lose them? Why didn't we lock them up tighter?!"
The entire ward was filled with 'longing' for the mother and daughter.
This longing held no warmth; it was nothing but naked appetite and exploitation.
They regretted not their past cruelty, but that they hadn't preserved those two pieces of 'meat' for a little longer.
Outside, the rain poured even harder.
The Hidden Grass Village was like a lonely island, sinking bit by bit into a dark abyss of hunger, pain, and unknown terror.
Deep within the forest outside the village.
Uchiha Yashiro leaned against a tree trunk, listening to the faint wails carried by the wind, coldly wiping his long blade.
"Do you hear that?"
He spoke to his clansmen beside him. "They can no longer be called human."
"Captain, how much longer are we going to maintain the siege?"
"Until they're reduced to eating bark and dirt."
Yashiro sheathed his blade, his gaze icy. "This is the Hokage's order. A village of cannibals deserves no mercy."
"Remember, we are 'bandits.' And bandits have a certain way of doing things."
Yashiro pulled down his bamboo hat. "Tonight, we'll burn a few more granaries. Let's speed up their demise."
...
Flames soared into the sky, reflecting crimson off the Hidden Grass Village's final granary.
The heat distorted the air, but it couldn't warm the hearts of the Grass Shinobi, which had long since turned cold.
"Food! My food!"
A Grass Shinobi, so thin his features were gaunt beyond recognition, charged toward the sea of fire like a madman. Before his withered fingers could touch a grain sack, he was forced back by a sharp flash of a blade.
Uchiha Yashiro sheathed his blade, his gaze beneath the mask as cold as ice.
"Burn it. Not a single grain is to be left."
Lamp oil was poured, and the fire roared instantly.
The scent of scorched rice filled the air. To the Grass Shinobi who had been starving for three days, this scent was more lethal than poison.
That Grass Shinobi collapsed, desperately grabbing a handful of hot black ash and stuffing it into his mouth, swallowing frantically through tears and blood, letting out a beast-like whimpering.
"No! You devils!"
"Why don't you just kill us?!"
Wails of agony rose one after another. At this moment, the psychological defenses of the Grass Shinobi completely crumbled along with the food turning to ash.