The rain poured relentlessly.
Everything beneath the curtain of rain had been reduced to shades of gray.
Even the rumble of thunder could no longer stir the lifeless land.
The sun still shone somewhere beyond the dense storm clouds, but only a dim, oppressive light filtered through the cracks in the sky.
Yet amid that desolate landscape walked one gaunt figure after another.
Their expressions were numb.
Their steps unsteady.
Like ghosts wandering the earth.
But they were not ghosts.
They were people.
Refugees.
Boom!
Thunder crashed across the heavens.
One of them trembled, stumbled, and collapsed into the mud.
He never stood up again.
No one turned back.
The others continued walking with empty eyes, their faces devoid of emotion.
Such deaths happened every hour in the Land of Rain.
People like them disappeared as silently as drops of water falling into a river.
As citizens of a small nation caught in the wars of the great powers, numbness was all they had left.
None of them knew whether salvation truly awaited ahead.
But they knew one thing.
If they stopped walking— They would die.
So they staggered onward toward the capital, hoping it lay beyond the reach of war.
Aimlessly.
Helplessly.
Like stray dogs caked in mud.
…No.
Like dried stalks left in an empty field.
One gust of wind would be enough to topple them.
Perhaps they would fall even without the wind.
Still…
Not everyone among them looked like a walking corpse.
“Hey…
um…” “Yahiko!” “You should use an honorific!” “I know, but…” Hearing the two children whispering behind him, Unkawa glanced back.
His eyes lingered briefly on Yahiko’s awkward expression before he smiled.
“If you don’t mind, just call me Unkawa.” “I’m only a few years older than you two.” Konan blinked before hurriedly waving her hands.
“W-We can’t do that!” “You saved us…” Unkawa paid little attention to her concern over proper manners.
Instead, he looked ahead at the bleak road stretching into the distance.
“Don’t worry.” “We’re almost there.” They had walked for who knew how long.
Although the scenery remained barren, wagon tracks and hoofprints had begun appearing beneath their feet.
The horses hadn’t been slaughtered for food.
Which meant there were still people ahead.
And where there were horses…
There was food.
The number of refugees had grown noticeably larger.
Unlike before, the roads were no longer lined only with corpses.
Survivors from every direction were converging here.
Perhaps…
They all believed that reaching the capital meant surviving.
“Konan.” “Yahiko.” Without looking back, Unkawa asked, “You were planning to trade those ninja tools for food in the capital, weren’t you?” “Yes…” “Y-Unkawa…
Brother Unkawa.” Konan hesitated before finally nodding.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Yahiko spoke loudly.
“The capital is the only safe place left!” “Only the Daimyo can still protect people!” He clenched his fists.
“Damn those shinobi…” “If it weren’t for them—” “Yahiko!” Konan hurriedly tugged at his sleeve.
“That’s enough.” After all…
The boy walking in front of them was also a shinobi.
To Yahiko, shinobi had always been ruthless people who cared nothing for ordinary civilians.
They were the ones who had brought war to the Land of Rain.
He had believed that all his life.
Yet he had been saved by someone he considered one of those very people.
The contradiction left him conflicted.
Konan had once shared the same belief.
But now…
Looking at the young man ahead of them, she found herself thinking: Brother Unkawa…
doesn’t seem like the others.
The warmth he had shown them lingered in her memory.
“…Brother Unkawa.” After a long silence, she asked quietly, “Do you mean…” “…that even if we reach the capital…” “…it still won’t be easy for us to survive?” Yahiko froze.
He had been clutching the ninja tool pouch all this time, excitedly talking about trading it for bread, fruit, and finally eating a full meal.
He stared at Konan in disbelief.
How could she suddenly think something like that?
“I can tell…” “You’ve never been to the capital before.” Unkawa chuckled softly.
“But dismissing your chances of survival outright…” “That wouldn’t be like me.” “So…” “See it with your own eyes.” “It just so happens I’m passing through the capital myself.” With that, he said nothing more.
Ignoring the questions Yahiko wanted to ask, his gently curved eyes—devoid of any real smile—settled upon the refugees staggering ahead.
Konan, however, noticed something hidden within his words.
“Passing through the capital…” So…
he doesn’t actually live there?
Unlike the Five Great Nations, the Land of Rain was far too small for its hidden village and its political capital to exist separately.
Amegakure was located within the capital itself.
The capital, protected by every shinobi of Amegakure, should have been the safest place in the entire country.
Given the strength Unkawa had displayed…
Surely he would be welcomed there.
So why hadn’t he chosen to stay?
Why?
Just as Konan lowered her head in thought— Yahiko suddenly stopped walking.
“We’re here.” “The capital of the Land of Rain.” Hearing Unkawa’s voice, Konan instinctively looked up.
The instant she saw it— She froze.
Just like Yahiko.
Her young face became utterly blank.
Before them…
Outside the capital’s walls…
There was only desolation.
Black rain washed endlessly over the ruined outskirts.
Most of the houses had already collapsed.
Although dusk was approaching, not a single cooking fire could be seen.
Broken walls.
Overgrown weeds.
Rats and insects crawling through the ruins.
Nothing resembled the image Yahiko and Konan had imagined.
The stench of decay…
The mountains of corpses…
Everything exceeded even their worst nightmares.
The capital itself was surrounded by a moat dozens of meters wide, its depths impossible to see.
Only a single bridge connected the city to the outside world.
The gates remained tightly shut.
The city had entered complete lockdown.
No one was permitted in.
No one was permitted out.
Even so…
More and more refugees continued arriving, allowing the cold rain to soak through their ragged clothes.
Countless figures slumped against the city walls.
Their eyelids barely remained open.
Their expressions were empty.
Their bodies were little more than skin stretched over bone.
Sunken eye sockets.
Stick-like arms trembling weakly at their sides.
Each breath they exhaled seemed greater than the one they inhaled.
Like lamps burning on their last drop of oil.
Death could claim them at any moment.
Some already had.
Others still clung to a faint breath of life.
As for those who remained alive…
Sniff…
Sniff…
Almost instinctively, Konan and Yahiko drew in a breath.
The air carried the endless smell of blood and decay.
Yet beneath that overwhelming stench…
There was another scent.
Meat.
A smell so strong that even the odor of countless rotting corpses couldn’t hide it.
“…Urgh!” Konan collapsed to her knees.
She began vomiting uncontrollably.
Yahiko’s face was equally pale as he stared at the scene beyond the walls, his entire body trembling.
“I don’t know whether future generations will remember this war…” “…or how history will describe what it did to ordinary people.” A trace of pity appeared in Unkawa’s eyes.
Yet the chill on his face was colder than the harshest winter.
He spoke quietly.
“But one sentence I once read describes it perfectly.” “In times of great famine, people leaned against city walls and moats piled with the dead.
The invaders fed upon the captives.
Thousands died each day.
They set up hundreds of great mortars, grinding bones and flesh together before consuming them.”