In the days following the capture of the Ninja Tool Pouch, Luna had been studying that map.
The map was crudely drawn, and its lines were somewhat blurred from being soaked by rain, but the key landmarks were still recognizable.
The location of the shrine was marked in an inconspicuous corner, while she counted the red circles—four in total, scattered across different locations on the map.
One of the red circles was closest to the shrine, about half a day’s journey to the northeast.
Luna hesitated for a long time, but ultimately decided to go and take a look.
Yahiko was opposed to it at first: “That’s a place marked by Ninjas. Who knows what dangers lie there? What if it’s one of their outposts?”
“That’s exactly why we need to check it out,” Luna’s reasoning was simple.
“If it’s an outpost, we’ll know where to avoid. If it’s a supply point, maybe we can find more useful things. This map wouldn’t have red circles drawn on it for no reason.”
Yahiko couldn’t win the argument and ultimately had to compromise.
However, he insisted on going together and dragged Nagato along as well.
So early the next morning, the three of them set out, leaving Konan behind to watch the shrine.
…
The location marked by the red circle was an area of low hills.
The trees there were much sparser than those around the shrine, and the ground was covered with large patches of gravel and exposed rock.
The rain collected here into tiny streams, flowing through the crevices in the rocks into low-lying areas.
Luna walked at the very front, holding the map in her hand, comparing it to the terrain as she walked.
Yahiko followed a few paces behind her, holding the broken blade he had finally repaired.
Nagato walked at the rear, silently keeping watch on their surroundings.
Then, Luna smelled something.
It was a faint scent of rust, mingled with the smell of rain and soil.
Her footsteps came to a halt.
“…Do you guys smell anything?”
Yahiko stopped as well, sniffing the air, his expression changing slightly.
“…Blood.”
The three of them slowed their pace, cautiously rounding a massive boulder.
Then, they saw it.
In the low-lying area ahead, on a patch of muddy ground soaked by the rain, several corpses lay scattered in disarray.
Luna’s pupils contracted sharply.
There were four corpses.
They wore different styles of combat gear; some lay face down, others flat on their backs.
Their bodies were somewhat bloated from being soaked in the rain, and the blood on their wounds had been washed pale by the downpour, but the fatal injuries were still clearly visible.
On two of the headbands, the symbol of Iwagakure was engraved. This story is hosted at novelping.com.
On the other two headbands, a symbol resembling an hourglass was engraved—the Hidden Sand Village.
Luna’s stomach churned violently.
She had seen dead people before.
In her past life, in the news, on the internet, and in various films and television shows, she had witnessed countless deaths.
But those had all been through a screen, abstract and unrelated to her.
At this moment, those corpses lay less than ten meters away from her.
She could clearly see the expressions on their faces; a young man’s eyes were still half-open, his pupils already out of focus.
She heard the sound of Yahiko gasping behind her, followed by Nagato’s suppressed breathing.
The three of them remained silent for a long time.
In the end, Yahiko was the first to move.
He gripped the broken blade tighter and stepped forward, his voice tense but not shaking:
“…Search them to see if they have anything useful. Hurry up, don’t dawdle.”
Luna stood in place, watching Yahiko’s back as he walked toward the corpses.
It took her a few seconds before she forced herself to take a step.
She walked over to the corpse of an Iwagakure Ninja and crouched down.
There was no expression of pain on the corpse’s face; he must have died quickly.
The fatal wound was on his chest—a deep slash that had pierced through both his combat gear and skin.
Luna clenched her teeth, suppressing the wave of nausea.
She reached out, her fingertips touching the corpse’s clothing.
It was ice-cold.
The rain had soaked through the fabric, and it felt no different from any other waterlogged clothing.
She unfastened the corpse’s Ninja Tool Pouch and emptied its contents: a few Shuriken, a small roll of bandages, and an empty Military Rations Pill bag.
She gathered these items and stood up.
Throughout the entire process, she did not look at the corpse’s face again.
Yahiko scavenged a reasonably intact short sword and a small bag of dry rations from another corpse.
Nagato also found some useful supplies on a third body.
The four of them—no, the three of them, after gathering all the usable items, stood in the low-lying area, looking at the four corpses being washed by the rain.
Their headbands reflected a faint light under the gloomy sky.
“…They died yesterday,” Yahiko’s voice was calm, but Luna could tell he was deliberately maintaining that composure.
“The wounds aren’t completely bloated yet. Although the blood has been washed pale, there are still traces around. They must have fought yesterday afternoon or evening.”
“Iwagakure and Sunagakure…” Nagato said quietly.
Luna did not reply.
This was war.
Not the hot-blooded scenes of anime, nor the data of video games, but a real, cold war that turned people into corpses.
Luna lowered her head and stared at the few Shuriken she had scavenged from the corpse, remaining silent for a long time.
“…Let’s go,” she said.
Her voice was much calmer than she had expected.
Yahiko and Nagato glanced at her but said nothing.
The three of them turned and retraced their steps.
As they walked out of the low-lying area, Luna looked back.
The four corpses lay quietly between the gloomy sky and earth.
Rain fell upon them, upon the ground, upon the distant woods, and upon every corner of the Land of Rain.
It was as if it were holding a funeral for them.
And as if it were telling them that this was only the beginning.
…
After returning to the shrine, Luna stood at the entrance for a long time.
Konan came out to meet them.
Seeing the supplies they had brought back, she first let out a sigh of relief, but upon seeing the expressions of the three, she swallowed back the words on the tip of her tongue.
She did not ask what had happened.
She silently took the items, organized them, and then poured a bowl of hot water for each of the three.
Luna held the bowl of hot water, sitting by the campfire, silent for a long time.
Then she raised her head, glanced at the Uzumaki Rune on the wall, and lowered her head again.
Her hands were trembling slightly—not from the cold, but because she was constantly suppressing that feeling of nausea.
There were no regrets.
She had to get used to this.
In this world, death was not an accident; it was daily life.
If she couldn’t even accept this, there was no way she would survive.
Luna gripped the bowl in her hands tightly, slowly suppressing the churning nausea.
She recalled a phrase.
Survival of the fittest.
She must become the “fittest”.