"I'm going to kill that damn old man!"
"Let go of me, or I'll cut you down too!"
Shinji didn't even look at Hidan.
"If you want to start something, do it after we reach the coast."
"Until then, behave."
Hidan ground his teeth.
"…Fine. But I'm killing him someday."
Shinji sighed.
"Threatening a crippled old man doesn't make you impressive."
Hidan snapped back.
"Both of you are dead!"
Shinji raised an eyebrow.
"Say another word and I'll harvest your kidneys and cook them for dinner."
Hidan froze.
Hands immediately covering his sides.
He shut up.
Shinji relaxed slightly.
He had his own line.
Joining the Jashin Cult didn't mean slaughtering civilians.
If someone came at him, he would kill.
If they didn't, he wouldn't.
That was the difference between survival and becoming a monster.
They followed the old man to his home.
A small wooden house.
Dimly lit.
Simple.
A little boy came running out.
"Grandpa!"
The old man's face instantly softened as he scooped the child up.
Shinji watched silently.
Normal.
Warm.
Something he hadn't seen in a long time.
A woman stepped out.
"Father, dinner is ready."
"These two young men are travelers," the old man said. "They'll stay the night."
She nodded and retreated into the kitchen.
The old man gestured.
"Sit wherever you like."
Hidan immediately began chugging water from a clay cup.
He looked genuinely dehydrated.
Food arrived soon after.
Fried eggs with peppers.
Wild vegetable soup.
Pickled radish.
No meat.
Clearly, this was what the family could spare.
Shinji understood.
Hidan did not.
He poked the dishes with his chopsticks and scowled.
"I said pork cut—"
Shinji covered his mouth instantly.
"He means it looks delicious," Shinji said smoothly. "He bit his tongue."
Hidan's eyes bulged in rage.
The old man laughed.
"My daughter-in-law's cooking is famous in this village."
The woman flushed red.
Shinji nodded.
"Thank you for the hospitality."
They ate.
Quietly.
After a moment, Shinji asked.
"May I ask… where is your son?"
The room went silent.
The old man's hands trembled.
"Dead."
"Years ago, two groups of ninja fought here."
"A fireball fell from the sky."
"My boy never made it out."
The woman wiped her eyes.
Shinji felt a tightness in his chest.
Civilian casualties.
Collateral damage.
The standard cost of ninja wars.
No memorials.
No justice.
Only survivors.
He understood now.
This was the real world.
Not heroic.
Not glorious.
Just cruel.
That night, Shinji lay awake.
The cursed treasure could wait.
The mission could wait.
But the truth was clear.
Strength was not optional.
Without power, you were scenery.
And scenery burned.