The morning air smelled like wet concrete and yesterday's cigarette butts. Eichi leaned out the window, letting the city's grime stick to his skin. "So let me get this straight," he said, picking at the rust on the windowsill. "You wanna trade in your hero badge for a stab in the dark?"
Shino's jaw tightened. She could still hear her father's voice—True shinobi don't need recognition—as if that made decades of wasted training acceptable.
"You don't understand," she said. "I spent twelve years learning to walk without sound, to kill with a hairpin. For what? To file paperwork at a security firm?" Her boot scuffed the floor. "Hero work was supposed to mean something. Turns out it's just another cage."
Eichi's grin was all teeth. "And little old me? What? Made you nostalgic for the good old days of poisoning rice barrels?"
"No." Shino stepped closer, the ghost of her training in every motion. "You showed me the truth. Shinobi never disappeared." Her eyes burned. "They just got smarter."
The silence stretched. Somewhere below, a drunk vomited in an alley.
Eichi exhaled through his nose. "Kami. You're serious." He turned, back against the crumbling brick. "You saw what I really am that morning in the dorms, eh?"
Shino didn't blink. She remembered the move—no wast, no struggle. "You moved like my grandfather's stories. Like something that shouldn't exist anymore."
"Yeah well," Eichi flicked a rust flake at her, "congrats. You found the last rat in the maze." His smile died. "You really want this? No pensions. No backup. Just you and the dark."
Shino's hand found the tanto at her hip—real steel, not the baton heroes carried. "I didn't come here to play ninja."
Eichi studied her. Then he laughed—sharp and sudden. "Fuck me. Alright, kunoichi." He tossed her a blank hardened mask—his own mask. "First lesson starts now."
Though part of him wanted to mock her naive thinking, another part wondered: What if he didn't have to expose himself just for money?
Even if she could be traced back to him, her clan connections meant she'd have protection he lacked. His investigation had revealed something interesting—the Yakuza now worked with the Hero Association, more puppets than power. When their influence declined, heroes seized control of the underworld instead.
The old saying proved true: 'If you can't destroy it, control it.'
"But first, let's test your resolve." Eichi commanded Shino to approach him.
They stood in the hideout the boss had given him - a dim, windowless room with concrete walls still smelling of fresh paint.
As she approached, she saw Eichi form a single hand sign - the ram - and close his eyes. She only knew one real jutsu herself: the Kawarimi substitution technique passed down through her clan for generations.
Every modern shinobi clan in Japan still preserved fragments of their arts, though the variations were vast.
The Okamoto clan specialized in stealth camouflage. The Fujiwara kept their ancestor's poison recipes. Her own Hattori clan had guarded the Kawarimi above all else. But elemental jutsu? Those were gone completely. Even the ninja arts that remained were fading fast, like ink on old parchment.
She recognized this hand sign - the basic chakra gathering technique used for focus. Simple. Foundational. But then Eichi's eyes snapped open and his hands became a blur, weaving signs faster than she could count.
Signs she didn't recognize flashed between his fingers.
The world tore apart.
One moment she stood in the hideout. The next, everything vanished - the walls, the floor, even the air itself. Absolute darkness swallowed her whole. Her chest tightened. This wasn't normal darkness - this was the void between worlds.
Genjutsu.
Real genjutsu. Not the weak hypnosis tricks some clans still taught, but the fabled art her grandfather had whispered about - the same lost power that had died with Fuinjutsu sealing techniques.
When quirks emerged, these complex arts became impossible to teach. Why spend decades mastering illusions when someone could be born with a mind-control quirk?
Just as panic threatened to take hold, a pinprick of light appeared in the distance. A way forward. She walked at first, then broke into a run as the light grew. Her footsteps made no sound in the endless dark.
The light swallowed her, and suddenly she stood in a shattered battlefield. Jagged stone formations rose like broken teeth from the earth.
Rusted kunai and broken swords littered the ground, some still embedded in the rock. The air smelled of ozone and old blood. Behind her, the portal had vanished. Only one path remained - toward the distant cliff, where something waited.
Each step forward made her stomach tighten. Something primal whispered this wasn't just a test - it was a memory. A bad one.
Just as she reached the cliff's edge, a blur of blue and red launched over it. A child. No older than thirteen.
He hit the ground hard, rolling twice before coming up in a crouch. Blood streaked his wild red hair, his blue uniform torn in a dozen places.
Shino's body moved before her mind caught up - one foot already forward to help when the boy suddenly sprinted right at her.
"Wai-"
He passed through her like smoke.
Cold dread prickled her skin as she turned. The boy now stood behind her, a chokuto gripped in shaking hands, staring not at her - but past her.
Looking back, she saw another man in white uniform where half his torso was barren with dark skin landing where the child had crouched moments earlier. He wore a headband displaying a cloud symbol.
Her mind froze. "Wasn't the shinobi world based on Japan?" This man clearly wasn't Japanese. She knew of Shaolin monks with chakra knowledge and Chinese kenjutsu masters, but this shinobi looked American.
"You're really a slippery one," said the black shinobi as he drew his sword. "Can't believe we managed to split you from your godforsaken kin."
Shino remained frozen. "And he speaks Japanese too..."
"Oh, am I that famous?" The child replied in a voice eerily similar to Eichi's.
"Famous? Please. Eichi Uzumaki - The Mad Dog, Chunin at thirteen, and already leading a team. What did you expect when your clan shits monsters like rabbits?" replied the black shinobi.
The black shinobi's sword gleamed under the unnatural light of the genjutsu wasteland. His white uniform - standard Kumogakure attire - fluttered in a wind that didn't exist in reality.
Eichi spat blood onto the rocks. "Monsters, huh?" His grip tightened on the chokuto. "Says the guy hunting children."
Shino watched frozen as the Kumo-nin's face twisted. "You stopped being a child when you slaughtered an entire patrol team last moon."
The red-haired boy's laugh sent chills down Shino's spine - the same broken chuckle Eichi used when pretending to be harmless. "They didn't have visa's, am I wrong?"
The clash happened faster than Shino could blink. Steel shrieked as their swords met, sending sparks flying. The Kumo-nin was bigger, stronger, but Eichi moved like liquid - dodging at impossible angles, his blade always finding gaps in the defenses.
These weren't just techniques. This was real shinobi combat. Not the diluted modern versions, but the brutal art her ancestors had mastered.
Suddenly, Eichi's free hand formed a seal she didn't recognize. The Kumo-nin's eyes widened a second before-
'Suiton: Mizurappa!' (Water Release: Water Trumpet)
A torrent of pressurized water exploded from Uzumaki's mouth, slamming into the Kumo-nin's chest with enough force to crack stone. The white-uniformed shinobi skidded backwards, boots digging trenches in the dirt as he struggled against the deluge.
Shino's hands flew to her mouth. Real elemental jutsu. Not a quirk. Not some clan technique. Actual water release - something that hadn't been seen in Japan for a long time.
The Kumo-nin managed to plant his sword in the ground, stopping his slide just before the cliff edge. Water dripped from his cloud headband as he glared at Uzumaki. "You little shit-"
Eichi was already moving, hands flashing through another set of seals. "Thought Kumo ninja liked swimming?"
The Kumo-nin barely had time to widen his eyes before-
'Doton: Doryūsō!' (Earth Release: Earth Flow Spears)
The ground beneath the Kumo-nin's feet erupted into jagged stone spikes. One spear grazed his thigh, drawing first blood as he barely twisted away.
Uzumaki didn't pause, already charging forward with his dripping chokuto raised for the killing strike -
Just as the blade descended, the black shinobi's body suddenly glowed with crackling electricity. The real strike never landed.
'Raiton: Kage Bunshin no Jutsu.' (Lightning Release: Shadow Clone)
The clone dissolved in a burst of sparks that arced through Uzumaki's body, locking his muscles in agonizing paralysis. Emerging from behind the fading clone stood the original Kumo-nin - still injured from the water jet, blood dripping from his mouth onto his white uniform.
"Shame," he spat, raising his katana with trembling arms. "I really wanted to test my Kenjutsu against the fabled Uzumaki's." His breathing came ragged. "Don't blame me... blame yourselves for teaching Fuinjutsu to the tree huggers."
Eichi lay twitching on the ground, his body still fighting the lightning's aftereffects. Yet his eyes burned with defiance. "Can't blame us..." he forced through clenched teeth, "for you guys being nothing more than organized bandits."
The Kumo-nin's face darkened. He raised his sword higher - then it came down.
And just as he was about to make contact with Eichi, he froze. His muscles locked mid-swing.
Looking down, he saw multiple markings spreading across his body, glowing faintly in the dim light.
"You bastard!" he spat, veins bulging as he struggled against the paralysis. "That's why you fuckers are about to get massacred! Underhanded tricks like thi-"
His words cut off as another Eichi erupted from the ground, stabbing him clean through the back. The blade exited his chest in a spray of crimson.
The Fuinjutsu tag had been placed the moment Eichi first leaped off the cliff - back when he'd crouched to evade the emerging Kumo-nin. A trap within a trap.
Shino watched, her stomach churning. The variety of techniques shown - just four, yet each opening countless tactical possibilities - made her modern shinobi training seem laughably crude.
But the awe turned acidic as her gaze landed on the dead Kumo-nin crumpled at Eichi's feet. The coppery smell of blood filled her nose. She pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting the urge to vomit.
The younger Eichi coughed violently as his clone turned into rock. When he looked up, his eyes held none of the playful malice she knew from the present-day Eichi - just a cold, exhausted veteran.
Grunting, he searched for his pouch behind him, only to come up empty-handed.
"Shit, that was the last batch of Akimichi's pills," he muttered to himself.
Then Eichi widened his eyes and stood up slowly, his hand still gripping his chokuto.
Before him, two other shinobi appeared - one with yellow-tainted uniform bearing a rook symbol on his headband, the other with shark teeth and grey uniform displaying four symbols on his.
"Guess Kaku lost," remarked the yellow-uniformed one.
"The fewer claimants for the bounty, the more money we get, eh?" the shark-toothed ninja responded.
Eichi, assessing his situation, felt hope drain away.
But he wouldn't die without taking at least one more with him - his daily quota still unmet.
Gathering what little chakra remained, he prepared to activate his fuinjutsu.
But then...
"Let me take him with my puppets," warned the yellow-clad shinobi as two wooden constructs materialized in a puff of smoke, blue chakra threads extending from his fingers. "He's an Uzumaki - don't forget that."
Two more figures emerged from the swirling dust, and in an instant, the two dropped on the floor as one of them had his head taken off.
The first was an old women- spine straight as a spear, grey hair tied so tight it pulled her wrinkled skin. Her armor looked ancient, the iron cracked with age.
The second was in his 20's, really. Black hair sticking up in angry spikes, face still youthful. But his eyes—
Red. Swirling red with black markings that shouldn't exist in nature.
The puppet master's wooden dolls twitched on their blue strings. "Konoha," he spat, before life drained out of him.
"I thought you guys left us to rot, what changed?" Eichi grunted.
The black-haired kid's grin stretched unnaturally wide. "You're our allies - how could we abandon you?" His voice carried a mocking lilt that didn't match the killing aura surrounding him.
The old Kunoichi's armor creaked as she shifted her weight. "Our orders were to hold until the main force arrived," she grumbled. "Then the Third Hokage called retreat."
Eichi let out a wet cough, blood speckling his lips. "Gone rogue then? Doesn't matter now. You just walked into your graves coming here." Despite his words, his grip on the chokuto remained shaky.
The red-eyed boy cracked his neck lazily. "People think we Uchiha are just battle junkies-"
"You are," the elder interrupted.
"-but hurt our friends?" The swirling patterns in his eyes pulsed violently. "We get... inventive."
Eichi dragged himself forward, each step labored. "Got any Akimichi pills? I'm running on empty."
The old women grabbed Eichi's collar roughly. "Fool. Fall back and recover."
"Fuck that." Eichi wrenched free with surprising strength. "Two relics won't make a difference against-"
The Uchiha's sudden laughter cut through the tension like a blade. "Who said it was just us?"
The ground trembled.
Then the hillside erupted with movement.
Hundreds of shinobi materialized from the terrain itself. Some wore modern green flak jackets adorned with the red-and-white fan. Others stood clad in ancient iron armor bearing the Senju crest, their weapons ranging from naginata to Katana's and Tanto's.
Eichi's breath caught. For the first time, genuine shock flashed across his battered face.
"Well I'll be damned," he whispered hoarsely. His bloodied lips twisted into something between a grin and a snarl. "Uchiha. Senju. And Uzumaki..." He spat a glob of blood onto the rocky ground. "All sharing one battlefield."
The elder drew a massive Nodachi from her back. "Try not to die before the real fighting starts, stubborn fool."
Meanwhile, Shino watched the exchange from her frozen vantage point. None of this made sense - the ancient armor, the changing eyes, the way they spoke of clans she'd never heard of.
As the group moved toward the cliff's edge, equal parts dread and morbid curiosity pulled Shino forward. Her steps were hesitant at first, then deliberate as she reached the precipice.
The sight below stole her breath.
A battlefield stretched beyond the horizon, littered with corpses in various states of ruin. Jutsu of unimaginable power tore through the landscape - firestorms that could vaporize city blocks, earth-shaking explosions that left craters like meteor impacts. Shinobi clashed with primitive brutality - kunai finding throats, katanas cleaving through flesh, all amidst the chaotic dance of elemental destruction.
"The Second Shinobi War."
Shino flinched as the voice spoke beside her. Current-day Eichi stood there, but different - his hair now blood-red, clad in his old uniform. His eyes held a weight she'd never seen before.
"This is what it means to be a shinobi where I come from," he said quietly. "Battles like these aren't uncommon. Hundreds dead in a day? Thousands in a week? Just another campaign season."
Shino's hands trembled against the cliff's edge. The carnage below made no sense. Wars didn't look like this - not in her world of regulated hero battles and controlled quirk usage. This was...
"Impossible," she breathed.
Eichi's red hair fluttered in the acrid wind. "That word means nothing for a shinobi."
Below them, a dozen men in identical blue uniforms screamed as a tidal wave of fire consumed them. Their charred corpses collapsed mid-sprint, still clutching weapons Shino only recognized from history books.
"These... these aren't heroes or villains," she stammered. Just children - some no older than U.A. first-years - butchering each other with primitive blades and whatever cursed abilities let them spit lightning.
Eichi snorted. "Heroes? Don't make me laugh." He pointed to a cluster of bodies wearing that swirling red symbol. "That squad? Average age sixteen. Sent to delay an entire Platoon so their fishing village could evacuate." His finger moved to the blackened craters. "That? One man's last stand. Took out thirty enemies before they overwhelmed him."
Shino's knees buckled. The numbers... The scale...
A explosion rocked the cliffside as two figures collided midair - one wreathed in lightning, the other in swirling sand. Their impact sent shockwaves through the valley.
"You're lying," she whispered. "No society could function like this."
Eichi's smile showed too many teeth. "Oh, it didn't. That's why my people's way of life died." He turned to face her fully, his eyes reflecting the inferno below. "And why yours will too, if you keep pretending peace is permanent."
The explosion's shockwave made Shino's teeth rattle. Through the settling dust, she watched the thirteen-year-old Eichi straighten his battered flak jacket with a formality that clashed horribly with his bloodstained face.
"Before we meet the Shinigami," the boy said, voice too calm for someone chewing soldier pills like candy, "I'd like to know your names."
The old woman - no, the Senju - adjusted her cracked forehead protector. "Toka Senju." Her knuckles whitened around her Nodashi's hilt.
The Uchiha flashed a wide grin. "Kagami Uchiha!" His sharingan spun wildly, reflecting the firestorm below. "Try to keep up, kid."
Young Eichi swallowed the pills dry. His chakra flared violently - Shino actually saw it, a visible crimson aura that made the air ripple. When he spoke again, his voice had gained a guttural edge:
"Toka-sama. Kagami-senpai." He bowed. "The honor is mine. Even if this is futile..." His hands blurred through seals. "Let's make it a good show."
The pills' effect hit him like a sledgehammer. Veins bulged at his temples. Blood trickled from his nose. Yet his stance never wavered at enemy silhouettes bellow.
Shino frowned. This wasn't heroism. This was something older, and far darker - warriors smiling as they walked into certain death because the manner of dying mattered more than survival.
Kagami's Chakra fractured the air as his Sharingan spiraled madly. The tomoe in his eyes bled together, morphing into a strange new pattern Shino's mind couldn't comprehend.
The Susano'o's ribcage formed with the sound of splintering redwoods, its armored bulk casting shadows that swallowed the valley.
Shino's breath caught - not just at the impossible spectacle, but at the sea of red eyes igniting behind them like hellfire. Dozens of Uchiha, their Sharingan blazing, stood in perfect formation.
"Susano'o," young Eichi exhaled through bloody teeth. "So that pest Mariko really does have the Sharingan."
The spectral warrior's helmet turned sharply. "Mention her like that near Danzo without the honorifics of 'Sama' and you'll be on latrine duty until the war ends." The emerald blade remained sheathed. "Not that it matters - she's not Uchiha. Just some stray Tobirama-sensei picked up during ANBU's founding." A bitter chuckle. "Showed up one day with our eyes and his trust and became Danzo's second Sensei in a way."
Toka spat. "And his kinjutsu scrolls. This mess is on Konoha."
Below them, the enemy forces moved in controlled chaos. No drums. No banners. Just the whisper of thousands of shinobi killing each other.
Toka stepped forward, her weathered sandals crushing loose stone to powder. The moonlight caught the Senju crest on her faded flak jacket as she raised her nodachi high - not as a weapon, but as a standard. When she spoke, her voice carried the weight of centuries:
"Uchiha!"
Her blade swept across the assembled forces - Uchiha and Senju standing shoulder to shoulder for the first time in living memory. Hundreds of Sharingan burned crimson in the darkness like a constellation of bloody stars.
"My grandfather fought yours at the Valley of the End. My great-uncle put an entire Uchiha patrol to the sword during the Clan Wars." The Nodachi's edge quivered with restrained power. "And you -" she pointed at a scarred Uchiha officer, "- your ancestor drove a kunai through my cousin's heart at the Battle of Burning Fields."
The silence was absolute. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
"Yet here we stand!" The blade came down with finality, embedding itself in the stone between them. "Not as Senju. Not as Uchiha. But as shinobi of Konohagakure!"
She turned toward the enemy, her voice dropping to a lethal whisper every soldier strained to hear:
"They think us divided. They believe Uzushiogakure stands alone." A mirthless smile cracked her weathered face. "Let us educate them."
Behind her, Kagami's Susano'o flared brighter as a hundred Uchiha activated their Sharingan in perfect unison. The synchronized click of senbon pouches opening rippled through the Senju ranks.
"Tonight we write history in blood and chakra!" Toka's hands flashed through seals too fast to follow. "For the Will of Fire! For the Whirlpool's Covenant! Spill Blood!"
The final word became a war cry as a thousand voices roared together. The very air trembled as the allied forces moved as one living weapon - Senju earth techniques churning the battlefield while Uchiha fire illuminated the slaughter to come.
All three launched forward simultaneously.
Shino's vision blurred. The scene before her warped and twisted like wet parchment. The stench of blood and burning flesh became overwhelming-
CRACK.
The genjutsu shattered.
(A/N: I did the Genjutsu scene for the sole purpose of world building for my other fanfic, as my OC 'Mariko' is from the ff Bratva if you wanna check it out.)
Shino collapsed to her knees in the hideout, sweat pouring down her face. The concrete floor felt icy against her palms. Eichi stood over her, his modern black clothes replacing the bloodstained uniform, his hair dark again.
"Welcome back," he said, offering a water bottle. His voice carried none of that battlefield madness. "War's ugly, isn't it?"
Shino's hands shook too violently to take the bottle. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. What could she possibly say after witnessing that?
Eichi shrugged and took a swig himself. "First time's always the worst."
"Are... Are those people, those villages... still out there?" Shino managed to breathe out, her fingers leaving sweat marks on the concrete floor.
"Four of us left,"
He said, crushing the empty water bottle with a single sharp twist. "Me. Some explosive-obsessed kunoichi. A speed freak. And one crazy bastard even I can't track down." The plastic crackled in his grip. "Rest are fertilizer."
Shino's fingers dug into her thighs. The math didn't add up - that apocalyptic power reduced to just four individuals?
Her grandfather's bedtime stories came rushing back - tales of shinobi who could topple regimes with a whisper, of the Red Sage whose word carried more weight than the emperor's seal. She'd rolled her eyes at those stories. Now?
Now she understood why the old man would get that distant look when speaking of the Heian Era.
"I... My clan has records," she said slowly. "Of a time when shinobi weren't just security guards or assassins. When we-" She caught herself. "When they commanded respect. Built empires from the shadows." Her throat tightened. "I never believed... never imagined..."
Eichi laughed. "Yeah? Well believe this." He leaned in close enough for her to see the old scar cutting through his mouth. "Every technique you saw back there? The real shit died with the nations that created it."
"What's left is just echoes."
He straightened, rolling his shoulders with a series of unsettling pops. "Your people?" A dismissive wave. "They got smart. Forgot the old ways." His eyes glinted with something dark. "Mine? We remember every fucking second."
Eichi's grin faded like a dying ember. He crouched suddenly, bringing them eye-to-eye. The movement sent his coat reeking of gunpowder and old blood swaying.
"So." His finger jabbed her collarbone. "Still wanna play ninja?" The words came out sticky with sarcasm. "Now that you've seen the price tag?"
Shino's mouth went dry. The phantom screams of that battlefield still echoed in her skull. That Uchiha's manic laughter. The Senju's last stand. The way young Eichi had smiled through the blood.
Eichi's calloused hand grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "This ain't some hero shit where you get medals for participation." His thumb smeared dirt across her cheek. "We don't retire. We don't get pensions. We die choking on our own blood in some ditch."
"But if you're dumb enough to say yes..." Eichi released her with a shove that wasn't quite gentle. He reached into his jacket and tossed something at her feet.
A senbon needle glinted against the concrete, still crusted with something brown that wasn't rust.
"Second lesson starts this night. Midnight." He turned toward the door, hands in pockets. "After we finishes the meeting."
---
The neon lights of Musutafu's skyscrapers blurred beneath Shino's feet as she leapt across rooftops. She moved faster than any fourteen-year-old had a right to.
Go there, I'll be in the building in case something goes south.
The paper specified Ten PM exactly.
Shino couldn't fathom the layers of duplicity she now associated with Eichi. Tasked with keeping an eye on him by both her father and Principal Nezu, she never imagined she'd discover his connections to the Yakuza—the group that controlled a staggering portion of Musutafu's black market. Still, it wasn't the association itself that unsettled her.
It was the nature of the deal she had witnessed. Among the scrolls and seals exchanged, one stood out vividly in her mind: the explosive seal.Her unease deepened as she pieced together Eichi's intentions.
Though she didn't fully understand the scope of the protective seals in play, the implications of the explosive ones were clear. These weren't ordinary items one could find in the Japanese market. No, Eichi's network extended far beyond—into war-torn regions like Mexico, Venezuela, Central Africa, and Sudan.
These were nations ravaged by the emergence of Quirks, where governments had long since crumbled. With the global Hero Association struggling to maintain peace in such places, the chaos was a breeding ground for warlords, drug lords, and political factions to vie for control.
If explosive seals were found in these regions, they wouldn't raise alarms. To the world, they would appear as another tool in the ongoing tug-of-war for dominance—just another tragedy in lands already drowning in bloodshed. Even if the Global Hero Association, operating as peacekeepers, became targets, it would be dismissed as another ripple in the never-ending conflict.
Shino's stomach churned. To see Fuinjutsu, a revered and noble shinobi art, reduced to tools of profit in such a way felt sacrilegious. Yet, she couldn't entirely blame Eichi.
He had no family, no allies—nothing left but the crushing weight of responsibility and his relentless quest for justice.And yet, the memory of his Genjutsu lingered, haunting her.
The battlefield he had shown her was unlike anything she'd ever imagined. The destruction, the power—it was beyond comprehension. How could wars of that scale have gone unnoticed?
But then again, the participants in those wars were as diverse as the chaos itself—different nationalities, villages, and races. Perhaps the battles had always been carefully hidden, shrouded in secrecy that no modern surveillance could penetrate.
Her mind turned to one concept that sent a chill through her:
Space-time.
Her eyes widened as realization struck.
Space-time abilities were still a mystery to this world, a concept as elusive as it was powerful. Eichi had mentioned that his arrival in Musutafu was through space-time—a portal between dimensions, perhaps?
The thought was absurd, yet it made more sense than the idea of hidden shinobi villages warring for centuries unnoticed. And yet, when she recalled Eichi's battle-worn techniques, his mastery of Genjutsu, and his eerie confidence, she couldn't entirely dismiss the possibility.
Maybe those ancient shinobi had been so adept in their arts, so skilled in stealth, that they erased all traces of their existence after every battle.
The building loomed ahead in the ghetto district - a rundown apartment complex with half its windows boarded up. Shino's boots touched down on the fire escape as her digital watch beeped.
Three minutes left.
She moved through the hallway, stopping at Door 307.Knock knock.
Footsteps shuffled inside. The door creaked open to reveal a hulking figure with slick purple tentacles where his arms and lower face should be. Kraken's three eyes widened in unison when he saw the masked figure - not the expected black-clad nuisance, but someone shorter.
"What in the fuck-" His tentacles coiled instinctively, chakra sparking between the suckers.
Not Eichi. Too short. Too still.New player? Yakuza? Hero? His pulse hammered in all three of his temples. Or worse - government.
Then something threw him off. The individual bowed."Greetings, Kraken-san." The voice behind the mask was calm. Female. Young. "I am Eichi's assistant. You may call me Neko."Kraken's leftmost eye twitched.
Since when did that pain-in-the-ass have assistants? Since when did he bother with manners?Kraken's middle eye narrowed to a slit. "Eichi's assistant my ass." A thick tentacle slammed against the doorframe, splintering wood. "That little shit send you to get rid of me?"
Neko didn't flinch. The mask remained perfectly still. "I'm here to inform you that from now on, I will be the link between you two." Her gloved hand took a slip of paper with Eichi's jagged handwriting - and more tellingly, the hidden Uzumaki spiral watermark only Kraken would recognize.
Goddamn bastard and his goddamn paranoia.
One tentacle snatched the note while two others kept poised to strike. Kraken's suckers tasted the paper - yep, that was definitely his ink. The same batch he'd been supplying that brat for months now.
The ink Eichi always claimed he needed for his "special calligraphy" but which somehow made Kraken's tentacles tingle when he got too close to the finished products."Fuck me." The fight drained out of his tentacles. "He actually got himself some gal." A wet chuckle bubbled up from his chest. "What's next? The brat gonna start building an organization?"
"He requested three vials of your ink," Neko continued, ignoring his sarcasm, "as well as information on any high-profile bounties - underworld or government. Villains preferred."
Kraken's leftmost eye twitched violently. The suckers along his rightmost tentacle puckered in irritation. This wasn't their usual arrangement. Normally, Eichi would take whatever two-bit thug Kraken needed vanished - no questions, no special requests. Just a vial of ink in exchange for making problems disappear.
Now suddenly the kid wanted specific targets? High-profile ones at that? Kraken could feel a headache developing behind all three of his eyes."And what do I get in return?" he rasped, a tentacle unconsciously stroking the hidden compartment where he kept his ink reserves.
"Half of the bounty." Neko's reply came plainly, no hesitation. The mask gave nothing away.Kraken's pupils dilated unevenly. Half? That was... suspiciously generous.
Eichi usually haggled over single yen coins like a starving raccoon."Bullshit," he spat, acidic saliva eating tiny holes in the welcome mat. "That brat wouldn't give up half a stick of gum, let alone—"
"You're the only broker with access to high-profile targets." The mask tilted slightly, catching the neon glow from the street below. "Naturally, he'd compensate accordingly."
A tentacle twitched toward his knife. This whole situation stank worse than last week's takoyaki grease. Since when did Eichi care about bounties? Since when did he share profits? And since when—
Kraken eyes snapped open wide. The epiphany burned through his synapses like cheap liquor.
This wasn't a business transaction.That unhinged little bastard was standing right behind this Neko girl's training wheels.
Kraken could practically smell Eichi's trademark mix of blood and candy lingering on her clothes. The way she held herself - too still, too controlled - just like him during a hunt.One of his tentacles instinctively curled around the ink vial in his hidden compartment. The special batch that always made his suckers tingle. The same ink Eichi used for those creepy-ass symbols that made corpses disappear cleaner than yakuza acid baths.
"Motherfucker's using my ink to train his replacement," Kraken muttered under his breath. His pupils darted between Neko's mask and the shadows behind her, half-expecting Eichi to materialize like the goddamn boogeyman.
The girl's head tilted "The ink, please."
Not a request.Kraken's throat sac inflated with nervous laughter. Oh, this was rich. That crazy bastard had finally found someone just as unsettling as himself.
"Fine. Take the damn ink." One suckered limb slid a crumpled bounty list across the sticky surface. "But if this is some fucked-up training exercise, I want double the usual disposal seals."
Neko's gloved hand didn't immediately reach for either item. The mask tilted slightly, catching the flickering hallway light in a way that made Kraken's third eyelid blink rapidly."Eichi mentioned you'd say that." Her voice carried that same unnatural calm. "He said to remind you about the Katakane incident. And that he still has the photos."
Kraken's chromatophores flashed an involuntary puce.
That little shit. That absolute fucking—
A tentacle slammed the cabinet hard enough to rattle his ink stock. "You tell that ungrateful brat his next batch gets diluted with squid piss!"The bounty list on the phone crashed to the floor as Neko collected the vials.
"I'll be sure to pass along your... feedback."She turned with that same eerie control, not a single wasted motion.
---
The alley air tasted of rotting garbage and ozone as Neko emerged beneath a flickering streetlight.
Eichi leaned against the brick wall, his new porcelain mask reflecting the sickly yellow glow. Where his old mask had leered, this one was utterly blank - a perfect twin to hers.
"You handled it like a pro," he said, pushing off the wall. The mask made his voice echo strangely. "Not gonna lie." A pause. "Did you get the bounties?"
The phone's glow painted eerie shadows across Eichi's featureless mask. The screen displayed three high-profile bounties, each more dangerous than the last.
Eichi's masked head tilted. "Hmm. Kraken actually came through for once." His gloved finger tapped the screen. "This one first. The good doctor's been... disrespectful."
"Doctor Jigoku" Quirk: Nerve Rewiring. Underground surgeon turned serial killer.
A metallic click echoed through the alley as Neko unfolded her tanto."Do we..."
A dry chuckle rasped from behind the mask. "Of course." The phone disappeared into his coat like a magician. "Two birds, one stone."
"Typical shinobi wetwork while you are doing the world a favor."
Eichi started walking into the darker part of the alley, boots quiet on the wet ground. After a few steps, he paused.
"Oh—and you've got the week before the trip," he said without turning. "If you find him, and it's clean, the bounty's yours and I'll start training you, use everything under in your favor."
Then he looked back, facing her fully. The mask didn't show it, but his voice was steady.
"And if the job's too tough, and things go sideways—remember what I said."
He tapped two fingers against his chest.
"The Nameless protecting peace from the shadows, that's what a true shinobi is. Because at the end of the day, someone has to make the rotten fellas of this world scared of the dark."
He let the words hang for a second.
"We get dirty, and the world stays clean. That's our purpose."
Then the wind shifted—picking up fast and strange.
Before she could say anything, Eichi was gone.
Neko stood there, alone beneath the flickering light, her tanto still gripped in her hand. She exhaled slowly.
"Of course you'd leave like that," she muttered.
She turned on her heel, slipping back into the night. There was work to do—and she needed time to think.
She had a full week. Plenty, by her standards. But this wasn't just an assignment. It was a test, and she had a feeling she'd be judged not just on completion, but on speed.
A shinobi must see the underneath of the underneath.
Her father's words. Lessons once ignored, now echoing louder than ever. It was a hard truth, and one she only started to understand after enrolling in hero high school. Back then, she thought becoming a hero was the nobler path—the path of light, of changing lives for the better.
But hero work, for all its ideals, was full of disillusionment.
Then came Eichi.
And through him, she saw a different path. A quieter one. Not clean, not celebrated—but real. She was finally using the skills she'd learned as a child, not just to survive, but to shape something new.
With Eichi's guidance, she began to see the bigger picture. The network he'd built. The people he moved. The business he ran—separate from the Hero Commission, beyond the laws of heroes and villains. Independent. Untouchable.
Part of her even envied that. The way he moved without chains. No family ties. No need for approval. Just a purpose.