Beneath the sprawling canopy of a low-hanging Umbrella Tree, Hatani and Nawaki finally reached their limit. After torching that literal hell on earth and trekking with the young orphan, Akiren, for several hours, they collapsed into a much-needed rest.
The unique climate of the Land of Rain made starting a fire nearly impossible. In such a damp environment, staying warm became their most pressing struggle.
Even though the weather wasn't freezing yet, Akiren—whose only protection against the rain was a large lotus leaf he'd scavenged—was scrawny and weak. The moment they stopped moving, he began to shiver uncontrollably.
"Akiren, come here. I'll take you up into the branches," Nawaki said, his compassion surfacing once again. "Getting out of the mud will help warm you up."
Hatani had already scaled the tree. He sat with his back against the trunk, eyes closed, already deep into a meditative rest.
He knew he was their final line of defense. Because of that, he forced himself to remain calm—outwardly, at least—to the point of appearing cold.
Under Nawaki's persistent urging, Akiren finally summoned the courage to approach. Nawaki scooped him up and leapt onto a high branch where the foliage was thickest, setting the boy down gently.
Akiren was visibly stunned by Nawaki's ability to walk vertically up the tree, but once he was settled, he retreated into himself like a frightened ostrich. He kept his head bowed, hands white-knuckled as he gripped the surrounding branches, terrified of falling. He didn't dare make a sound, fearing that if he disturbed Hatani's rest, he would be cast out.
Gurgle—!
The one thing he feared most happened. He could keep his mouth shut, but his stomach—which hadn't seen food in god-knows-how-long—was beyond his control.
Akiren was so malnourished that his head looked too large for his spindly body, making him look like a scrawny bean sprout. Yet, his stomach roared with the intensity of a giant beating a war drum.
Fear instantly flooded his dark, bright eyes. Even at the risk of losing his balance and falling, he pressed his hands against his midsection, trying to stifle the sound. But his stomach continued to howl its protest, screaming for the sustenance it had been denied for so long.
"P-please... don't. Don't throw me away," he whispered, his second time speaking. His voice was thick with terror.
"Relax, I'm not going to throw you away," Nawaki said. Despite his own exhaustion, he forced a reassuring smile, though his heart ached for the boy.
"Just sit here for a bit. I'll look around and see if I can find something to eat. I'm getting pretty hungry myself." He pushed himself to his feet, trying to sound energetic.
It wasn't exactly a lie. He had thrown away their last Soldier Pills that morning, and he hadn't eaten since. He'd thought the horrors he witnessed at noon would kill his appetite for three days, but he had clearly underestimated his body's primal craving for food.
"Don't waste your time. If food were that easy to find here, people wouldn't be risking their lives to flee," Hatani's voice cut through the air. He hadn't even opened his eyes, looking for all the world like he was asleep.
"If you're really that hungry, strip some leaves or bark off the tree to chew on."
"Leaves? Bark?" Nawaki was staggered. "You can actually eat that?"
"Why do you think we saw so many stripped trees on the way here?" Hatani countered.
"Ninja-sama... I-I... I used to eat bark before," Akiren whispered, suddenly finding a spark of courage.
"Ninja-sama, please sit. I-I'll help you peel some bark." He tried to stand up, his face full of a desperate, awkward desire to please.
The cruelty of his life had forced him to "mature" rapidly. Experience had taught him one thing: he had to be useful, or he would be abandoned.
"No, stay down."
Watching the boy, Nawaki felt a sharp pang of sorrow. He thought of the orphans back in Konoha. He used to think their lives were hard—losing their parents, living on meager stipends, and having to catch fish in the creek to supplement their meals. But compared to the children in the Land of Rain, Konoha's orphans lived in paradise. At least they didn't have to worry about being butchered every second of the day, and they certainly weren't reduced to eating trees.
I swear, once we're back... you'll never have to eat bark again. Nawaki made a silent vow. Once they reached the front-line camp, he would beg, plead, or throw a tantrum in front of his sister, Tsunade—whatever it took to keep this child safe. He wouldn't let him live in fear or gnaw on wood ever again.
Hatani, meanwhile, let out a silent sigh.
This damn world.
It was no wonder Hashirama Senju and Madara Uchiha had developed their grand ideals and spent their lives fighting for them. It was no wonder Madara eventually believed in the Infinite Tsukuyomi—the "Eye of the Moon" plan—to trap everyone in a dream.
It was no wonder Yahiko's vision attracted so many followers, or why Nagato would eventually go to such extremes to make the Five Great Nations "feel pain."
Even Hatani himself... he understood now why he had lost control, why he had slaughtered those monsters and saved this boy without a second thought.
However, while he didn't regret saving the child, now that his cold logic had returned, he knew he had to keep the boy—and Nawaki—grounded. He never hesitated to assume the worst of human nature in a war zone.
Besides, why would he let a "bean sprout" like Akiren, who looked like he'd fall off the branch if a breeze hit him, do the heavy lifting? Did the kid think Hatani was incompetent?
"Hmph!"
Hatani snorted, his tone annoyed. "Worry about the future later. For now, just eat the damn bark."
With a casual flick of his hand, several Wind Blades whistled through the air. They cleanly severed several branches roughly the thickness of his wrist. Then, buoyed by the wind, the wood floated over and hovered before him.
Akiren stared, his eyes shining with envy, even as his posture became even more subservient and fearful.
Even Nawaki's jaw dropped. He stared at Hatani in pure disbelief.
When Hatani had killed those scavengers and wiped out their nest, Nawaki had either been too far away or arrived too late. Caught in a whirlwind of shock and rage, he hadn't actually seen Hatani's techniques.
Seeing it now, up close, it felt like his entire world had been turned upside down.
No-seal ninjutsu?
As a member of the Senju clan, Nawaki's heritage was vast. With an elite Jonin like Tsunade as his sister, his understanding of shinobi arts was deeper than most Chunin.
He knew exactly what it meant for Hatani to release a Wind Style jutsu strong enough to shear through solid wood with a mere wave of his hand—and without a single hand seal.
In his experience, even the man hailed as the "Professor," the man who supposedly mastered every jutsu in the Leaf—the Third Hokage himself—had to weave signs to mold his chakra and manifest a technique.
The only no-seal technique Nawaki had ever heard of was the Flying Raijin created by his granduncle, Tobirama. But even the Flying Raijin required pre-placed formula markings on kunai or scrolls to function. For Hatani to just flick a jutsu into existence... it defied everything Nawaki knew about ninjutsu.
Hatani really is a monster-tier genius...
Nawaki watched Hatani, who was trying to look cool despite the fact that he was clearly grimacing at the bitter taste of the tree bark in his mouth.
Nawaki's eyes gleamed with newfound excitement.