Pulling her chakra blade smoothly from the enemy’s chest without a trace of emotion, Ayane watched quietly as the Konoha shinobi collapsed to the ground, completely devoid of life.
The cold corpse was rapidly converted into heartwarming Achievement Points, which cheerfully jumped across her vision.
[Assisted in killing a Chunin!] [Achievement Points +42!] [Current Achievement Point Balance: 1,024!] The points she had recently exhausted upgrading her Traits had successfully climbed back into the four-digit threshold.
Looking at that hefty balance displayed on her panel, she felt a profound sense of security wash over her.
Achievement Points equaled strength, and strength equaled a future!
In this dangerous and chaotic shinobi world, the raw, unadulterated security that Achievement Points provided Ayane far surpassed any ninja tool or weapon.
“Swan, take a rest.” Woodpecker’s voice broke her train of thought.
“Your sword strikes have slowed down significantly compared to earlier.” Ayane nodded silently.
She found a relatively clean patch of ground, sat down cross-legged, and closed her eyes to recover her mental energy.
She still had plenty of chakra left in her reserves—more than enough to unleash a dozen more jutsu if necessary.
However, after continuously sprinting through the mountains and engaging in multiple rapid-fire battles against numerical superiority, her physical stamina and mental focus were beginning to slip.
During that last skirmish, she could actively feel it: her reaction time when parrying and her acceleration when counter-attacking simply weren’t as razor-sharp as they had been at the start of the day.
To be completely objective…
Ayane’s raw baseline stats currently capped out at roughly the level of an average Konoha Chunin.
It was only because she leaned heavily on the percentage multipliers provided by her Titles and Traits that she could frequently output combat effectiveness that vastly exceeded standard Chunin parameters.
But a multiplier is only as good as the base number.
Since her foundation was still developing, her absolute ceiling was inherently limited.
This meant that for every single battle, she had to meticulously orchestrate the terrain, manipulate the flow of combat, and scheme constantly just to ensure she didn’t make a fatal mistake…
Chaining multiple battles back-to-back under those conditions…
The physical chakra drain was fine, but the sheer mental taxation of constant hyper-vigilance was staggering.
‘It’s time to fold.’ ‘If we keep pushing our luck and hunting, the risk factor is going to spike exponentially.’ She reasoned internally, ‘I’ll admit, the sensation of continuously growing stronger through slaughter is incredibly addictive…
but a smart gambler knows when to walk away from the table with their winnings.’ A wise person doesn’t stand under a collapsing wall.
They had no idea when the main bulk of Konoha’s invasion force would cross the border.
If they accidentally ran headfirst into a fully formed military battalion, it would be like a praying mantis trying to stop a chariot.
It would be pure, unadulterated suicide…
“That makes three squads down!” Eagle, who had grown quite accustomed to getting carried to victory, hopped out from her hiding spot once the enemies were entirely wiped out.
She cheered excitedly, “We make such an amazing team!” For a shinobi to officially prove their combat merits, the corpses of their enemies were undoubtedly the absolute best evidence.
But war was chaotic and treacherous.
It wasn’t always feasible to haul entire bodies back from the battlefield.
Therefore, collecting the enemy’s forehead protectors served as the standard secondary method for kill confirmation.
However, trading in headbands meant the Amegakure high command would heavily discount the corresponding merit points, usually settling at roughly a third of the full value.
This was simply because a headband was a dead object with minimal intelligence value.
An intact corpse, on the other hand, could be dissected by the intelligence division to extract residual memories, map out hidden jutsu pathways, or glean critical military secrets.
“What’s the final Konoha casualty count?” Ayane asked Eagle directly, too lazy to manually scroll through her system combat logs.
“Fifteen Chunin and three Tokubetsu Jonin!” Eagle rattled off the numbers without a second thought.
“If we pool all these merits together, it’s easily enough to requisition a B-rank jutsu from the Anbu vault!” Woodpecker chimed in, “If you cash those merits out for money instead, it translates to roughly three hundred thousand ryo!
Throw in a little extra, and you could buy a very nice house in the village!” Eagle scoffed, “Who on earth would trade combat merits for cold hard cash?!” Three hundred thousand ryo.
While it didn’t sound like a legendary fortune—it was technically less than one-tenth of the bounty on Asuma Sarutobi’s head…
It was still roughly equivalent to the payout for a low-tier A-rank mission.
And even within the Five Great Nations, executing an A-rank mission usually required the deployment of an elite Jonin.
But when forced to choose between a pile of cash and a B-rank jutsu, there was no contest.
The latter was infinitely more valuable.
After all, for an ordinary shinobi without clan backing, advanced jutsu were impossible to obtain!
Unless you managed to officially become the apprentice of a powerful master…
your only real avenues for acquiring high-level techniques were either bloodline inheritance or seducing someone who knew them…
Even jutsu exchanged through military merits within the Anbu or the village archives were strictly classified and forbidden from being taught to outsiders!
However, as a single father trying to raise a kid in a warzone, Woodpecker naturally held a different perspective on the matter.
“You’re still too young, Eagle.” “Jutsu are undeniably precious, but having a stable home is a fundamental necessity!” He lectured her earnestly, “You might not think money is important now, but what happens when you get married?
If you don’t have a place to live, are you going to drag your husband around to sleep in cheap inns or the back of izakayas?” Eagle tilted her head, thoroughly confused.
“Even if I didn’t have any money, my family owns so many vacant properties we couldn’t possibly live in all of them.
Why would I ever sleep in an inn?” Woodpecker was instantly rendered speechless.
“…” Eagle clapped her hands together, a bright, clever idea striking her.
“Oh, right!
If having no money is the problem, that’s easy to fix!
I can just sell you one of our spare houses for exactly three hundred thousand ryo!
Problem solved, right?” That sentence completely ended the conversation.
Woodpecker had literally dropped a boulder on his own foot.
He cursed internally: Curse these legacy kids!
Do you think just because you’re filthy rich you can do whatever you want?!
Listening to her two teammates bicker, Ayane found it highly amusing.
Between the two, she actually sided with Eagle’s philosophy.
Woodpecker was an extremely traditional shinobi.
His concept of “making money” was entirely restricted to two rigid paths: grinding mission payouts or exchanging military merits.
He was a pure traditionalist.
But Ayane was not.
She had always been a revolutionary.
If I learn powerful jutsu and become an absolute monster on the battlefield, why would I ever worry about money?
When my neighbor hoards grain, I hoard guns.
And then my neighbor becomes my…
Cough, cough!
Taking that line of logic any further would be wildly inappropriate for a hero.
The girl stood up.
“Alright, let’s table this discussion for later.
It’s time to evacuate the area.” The successive slaughter hadn’t gone to her head.
In fact, Ayane was remarkably clear-headed.
“Konoha’s main invasion force could roll through here at any second.
They are absolutely guaranteed to have Hyuga Byakugan users deployed in their vanguard!
If we get spotted by those eyes, escaping will be a nightmare.” She turned to Woodpecker.
“Is the Summoning Jutsu still unresponsive?” He shook his head, maintaining a grim silence.
Being unable to summon their messenger beast didn’t mean they were completely cut off from Amegakure.
The Anbu had established several safe houses across the sector to serve as backup relay points, and all three of them knew the coordinates.
But receiving absolute silence from the main Amegakure encampment during an active invasion was undeniably nerve-wracking.
Don’t tell me Lord Hanzo has already…
A heavy, unsettling weight settled in Ayane’s chest, her gaze uncontrollably drifting toward the direction of the main Rain camp.
Perhaps it was because she knew the plot of the original series.
Even though her physical vision was currently filled with nothing but endless, rain-drenched forests and overlapping mountains…
Her mind’s eye couldn’t help but hallucinate the terrifying image of a giant serpent, a massive toad, and an enormous slug completely surrounding Hanzo’s colossal salamander…
Sigh…
I really hope Hanzo makes it out of this okay.
She clasped her hands together and offered a brief, silent prayer, figuring it couldn’t hurt to throw a genuine buff of good luck toward her faction’s ultimate boss.
“Let’s move out!” Ayane commanded with a wave of her hand.
“Since no new directives have come through, we fall back to the safe house at the Eastern Peak and await Captain Raven’s secondary contact!” She had only taken a few steps before she noticed Eagle lingering behind, stubbornly hugging her supply backpack and dawdling.
The girl glanced back.
“What are you doing?” “Ugh, my bag is completely full!” Eagle complained miserably.
“I’m going to have to throw away a few of these Genin headbands to make room.
It’s such a waste…” Only then did Ayane realize the sheer absurdity of the situation.
Eagle had literally strapped Konoha headbands to her forehead, her arms, and her thighs—basically covering every single inch of her body that didn’t directly impede her mobility…
No wonder she was waddling so awkwardly.
Wait…
are rich kids seriously this greedy?
“If they don’t fit, just leave them,” Ayane said with an exasperated sigh.
“Consider them a parting gift to accompany these Konoha ninja on their journey to the afterlife.” “Absolutely not!” Eagle crossed her arms in a firm ‘X’, refusing the logic entirely.
“Didn’t we just do the math?
All of this combined is exactly enough to requisition a B-rank jutsu!
I’ve already made up my mind—I’m trading this in for the Water Dragon Jutsu!
Woodpecker said it would be absolutely perfect for you!” Ayane froze, entirely caught off guard.
She had never expected Eagle to harbor such intentions.
No wonder she had been pestering Woodpecker with those specific questions earlier.
A profound warmth bloomed in her chest.
She replied softly, “But Eagle…
these combat merits belong to all three of us.
It’s our combined effort.” Eagle waved her arm dismissively, her tone incredibly magnanimous.
“Don’t sweat the details!
I’ll just cover Woodpecker’s share out of pocket.
I can easily convert my own funds into cash to compensate him, and I’ll throw in a hefty bonus to make up the difference!” Ayane couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the absurdity of the gesture.
She held out her hand.
“Give them here.” “Huh?
What?” Before Eagle could even process the demand, Ayane snatched the surplus headbands right out of her hands.
Her fingers instantly blurred through a rapid sequence of seals.
Poof!
With a soft puff of smoke, the two cold, metallic Konoha headbands magically transformed into two vibrant, blooming flowers!
Ayane inspected them closely, feeling quite satisfied with her handiwork.
This was an advanced application of the basic Transformation Jutsu.
Most fresh Academy graduates held the shallow misconception that the Transformation Jutsu could only be used to disguise oneself as another person.
But that was entirely false.
The jutsu wasn’t limited to ‘disguises’; it could also transform the user into inanimate objects.
In the anime, Naruto famously used it to transform Sasuke into a giant Fuma Shuriken.
At the absolute highest level of mastery, the Transformation Jutsu could even be forcibly cast onto an enemy—such as Jiraiya’s Toad Transformation Jutsu from Mount Myoboku, which could forcefully permanently turn an enemy shinobi into a frog…
Ayane had long suspected that such an outrageously overpowered transfiguration technique was only possible by blending Senjutsu chakra into the formula.
Regardless, she was currently completely incapable of forcefully transforming another conscious living being.
However, altering the shape of a dead object like a headband was vastly simpler…
She reached out and playfully tucked the two vibrant flowers somewhat crookedly into the hair near Eagle’s ear.
“Not bad.” Admiring her masterpiece, Ayane smiled softly.
Although the dark, grim aesthetic of an Anbu uniform clashed violently with bright floral hairpins…
Eagle’s adorably naive and bubbly personality inherently clashed with the Anbu aesthetic to begin with!
With the two flowers tucked into her hair, the overall visual somehow circled back around to being perfectly fitting.
It was like a fish finding a babbling brook, a tiger growing wings, or a meme character finding their perfect background music…
It radiated an incredibly bizarre, yet undeniable harmony!
Eagle didn’t quite catch Ayane’s murmured evaluation.
She excitedly adjusted the flowers, tilting her head up with eager anticipation.
“Well?
How do I look?
How does it look?!” “The flowers are beautiful.” “Aww, what does that mean?” Eagle pouted, clearly disappointed.
That wasn’t what she wanted to hear at all!
Ayane leaned in close, lightly tapping Eagle’s forehead with two fingers, and smiled.
“And so are you.” Finally getting the compliment she wanted, Eagle completely ignored the fact that she was wearing a mask.
She covered her face with both hands and let out a series of strange, entirely un-Anbu-like squeals: “Eeeeeeeeeee~!” Meanwhile, in the town of Aodoro.
Standing in the narrow alleyway, looking down at the unconscious, critically injured shinobi, Yahiko found his heart gripped by agonizing indecision.
The safest, most rational course of action right now…
was undoubtedly to run as far and as fast as possible, pretending they had never been here and had never seen this man.
But if he did that, he would be actively throwing away what might be their one and only chance to step into the world of shinobi!
How could he possibly accept that?
Aside from running away, his remaining options were brutally simple.
Either he saved the man.
Or…
he killed him!
Yahiko didn’t have the luxury of time to logically weigh the pros and cons.
Listening to his own heartbeat pounding like a war drum in his ears, he chose to follow his deepest instincts.
“Konan.
Nagato.” He turned his head to his companions.
“Help me move him somewhere safe!
He can still be saved!” The two kids instantly rushed over.
Nagato nodded silently, his scrawny, malnourished arms surprisingly steady as he lifted the Rain shinobi’s legs.
Though Konan was visibly terrified, she immediately stepped up to help.
Together, the three children strained with all their might, dragging the heavy, dead weight of the man through the rubble and debris.
The rain began to fall even harder.
The torrential downpour washed over the shinobi’s pale face, conveniently washing away the drag marks and footprints they left behind in the mud.
Stumbling and slipping, they managed to drag the wounded man into a relatively intact, half-collapsed abandoned house.
The structure provided shelter from the wind and rain, likely belonging to a civilian family before the attack.
Yahiko carefully laid the shinobi flat on the ground.
He dug into his pockets, pulling out a small roll of clean gauze and a set of bandages that had been washed so many times they were practically white.
With surprisingly practiced movements, he began to bind the man’s horrific wounds.
Konan watched quietly from the side for a second before painfully tearing her eyes away.
That was their entire stockpile of medical supplies!
Watching Yahiko use them up so rapidly made her heart physically ache!
For street urchins like them, who never knew where their next meal was coming from, a single roll of clean gauze was often the literal difference between life and death.
Once the bandaging was complete.
The trio scrounged up some dry firewood from the corners of the house and managed to start a small fire.
They had done everything they possibly could.
The rest was entirely up to fate.
Nagato, hugging his tiny dog close to his chest, did something incredibly rare—he initiated the conversation.
“Yahiko…” The orange-haired boy, who was absentmindedly poking the campfire with a stick, looked up.
“Yeah?” “What if…
when he wakes up…
he refuses to teach us ninjutsu?
What do we do then?” Nagato’s voice was laced with an invisible, heavy anxiety.
Sitting nearby, Konan froze mid-fold.
She was currently folding origami paper, but her ears immediately perked up to listen.
In truth, she hadn’t always loved origami.
Folding paper required intense focus and delicate effort.
Moreover, the beautiful creations she painstakingly folded rarely survived long in the perpetually damp, humid environment of the Land of Rain.
Usually, by the very next day, they would turn into soggy, unrecognizable mush.
But her mother had loved it.
When she was very little, whenever she cried, her mother would fold beautiful paper flowers and animals to make her smile.
Then, one day, her mother died.
Konan had cried over her mother’s body for a very long time that day, but the familiar paper flowers and comforting voice never came.
So, she had no choice but to fold them for herself.
By doing so, it felt as though…
her mother had never truly left her side.
Hearing Nagato’s question…
Yahiko forced a strained smile, trying to project confidence he didn’t entirely feel.
“He won’t do that.
Look at the headband he’s wearing.
It proves he’s from the Land of Rain, just like us…” He stared into the dancing flames of the campfire, his gaze growing distant as he subconsciously muttered, “People from the Land of Rain…
wouldn’t lie to other people from the Land of Rain.”