----Momosuke's pov----
The market square buzzed with shouts and deals as the Kon merchant group's caravan rolled into town. Dozens of carriages, laden with fine silks, rare spices, and bottles of spring water said to have miraculous healing properties, caught the attention of everyone from curious children to shrewd traders. Townsfolk gathered in clusters, their voices dripping into my ears in a wave of murmurs and gossip.
"They say this group's been wiping out bandits along the trade routes," one elderly vendor whispered to her neighbour as she rearranged her baskets of fruit.
"Bandits? I heard they saved an entire caravan of villagers just last week. Something about their leader using a kind of medical ninjutsu that brought a man back from the brink of death," another said, his tone sceptical yet interested.
A younger woman chimed in, her face lighting up with excitement. "My cousin's neighbor saw it with her own eyes. The man was bleeding out—his arm nearly severed—and the healer stitched it back with just a glowing hand!"
The murmurs spread quickly, and by the time the caravan reached the town center, the name "Kon's merchant group" was on nearly every pair of lips.
Kirito-nii stepped out from one of the larger carriages, his sharp eyes scanning the bustling square. His looks and shinobi armour commanded attention: blue shinobi armour with dragon like shoulder guards. As he moved, a small group of townsfolk approached cautiously, their expressions hesitant yet hopeful.
Such a familiar sight.
Soon, we got the first request. As always.
"Excuse me, sir," an older man stammered, clutching his bandaged hand. "Are you… the healer everyone's been talking about?"
Kirito offered a polite smile. "Yes. What seems to be the problem?"
The man unwrapped the cloth to reveal a gash that ran deep into his palm, red and angry. Without hesitation, Kirito crouched down and extended his hand, chakra flaring faintly as he formed the mystic palm jutsu. With deft precision and ease, he cleaned the wound, removed any splinters of debris, and sealed the skin back together as though it had never been torn.
The crowd gasped, watching in awe as the man flexed his fingers in disbelief. "It doesn't hurt at all anymore," he muttered, tears welling in his eyes. "Thank you, sir. Truly."
Before Kirito-nii could respond, a loud commotion erupted nearby. A young boy, barely ten, ran up to the healer, breathless. "Please, you have to come! My father—he's dying!"
Kirito-nii nodded without hesitation, gesturing for the boy to lead the way. I and a few other members of the merchant group followed close behind, wary of the growing crowd. Because, this was also a familiar sight. Once Kirito-nii healed this patient, we would be plagued with the requests for healing. Meaning, days of full of hard work.
We arrived at a small house on the outskirts of the square, where a man lay pale and motionless on a mat. Blood seeped through the hastily applied bandages around his abdomen. His shallow breaths were labored, his life clearly hanging by a thread.
"This will take time," Kirito-nii said, kneeling beside the man. "Momosuke, keep the crowd outside. Too many people will disrupt my focus."
I nodded and had directed Yoshime, Ryu and Kenta to take the roofs. While the rest of the genin surrounded the house in formation. Genin, a word which represented much more than rest of the Kyudo's thought. Especially, after Kyudo-nii all but ordered the usage of the proper terms to get themselves familiar with the proper evaluation criteria of different ranks of shinobi strength.
He was serious. No, it was better said that he was serious for years. All that training drills for ambush and counter ambush showed in the tight nit formation of genin. Especially now, when we were at risk of ambush.
Yep.
For all the bright image and influence that the reputation of healers and bandit hunters gave us, it also made us an easy target. Especially the retaliation from any survivors of bandits. And obviously, the old grudges.
I don't think the Daimyo of grass will take kindly when the news of our resurgence in the mainland. Hence, I was sure that there would be a ambush. If not now, then in the future.
Meanwhile, I entered the house to see a familiar sight. Kirito-nii testing Karui regarding the current situation, "He's lost a lot of blood. This isn't a clean slice—must be from farming equipment or a blunt blade. The cut went into the intestine, hence, the smell of shit."
My experience told the same thing to me. As much as I want to be the one to do the interesting abdominal surgery, I couldn't. Not when Karui needed the experience.
"Prep the area," Kirito ordered, already weaving chakra into his hands.
Karui reached into her satchel, pulling out salves, gauze, and sterilized scalpels. She reinforced the man's vitals with a temporary chakra seal over the chest, steadying his heart rhythm while Kirito worked on the abdomen.
Kirito's hands glowed with pale green light as he initiated the procedure. The wound had torn through muscle and grazed the intestines. Using a focused chakra scalpel, he carefully incised the surrounding tissue to relieve pressure.
"Intestinal damage confirmed," he muttered. "I'll isolate the torn section. Karui, start sterilization and assist with reattachment."
"On it," Karui replied.
Together, the two shinobi worked in sync. Kirito guided the chakra threads, knitting together the internal tears with surgical precision. Karui cleaned each layer of tissue, sealing off internal bleeding and stabilizing the man's energy flow. When a section of intestine required rejoining, she formed a steady stream of chakra across both severed ends while Kirito fused them together.
Sweat dripped from Kirito's brow as his chakra thinned. His vision blurred briefly, but he blinked it away. He pressed on.
"Vitals stabilizing," Karui noted, checking the man's pulse. "You're almost through."
With a final surge of energy, Kirito sealed the outer wound, skin pulling together under the soft glow of his palm. The green light faded.
The man's color returned slowly—cheeks no longer ghostly pale, breathing deep and even.
Karui let out a slow breath. "He's going to live."
Not just going to live, he would thrive. Kirito-nii ensured that there would be no chance of complications by properly fusing the layers of intestine together and the peritoneum that covered the gut. His chakra reserves made me feel envy but the sheer fact that I would also attain them in the future had consoled my heart.
Kirito-nii slumped slightly, catching himself with one hand. "Alright, that was a surgery well done. Let him rest. Monitor him for infection."
"He'll live," Kirito-nii said to the boy while standing up. The boy clung to his father's hand, tears of gratitude streaming down his face. In a way, such sights were the reason Kyudo clan went along with Kirito-nii's plans happily.
It made us feel as if we were human, not the cold living weapons which the entire world considers shinobi to be.
As Kirito-nii stepped outside, wiping his hands clean, he was met with hushed silence.
Now, that was ominous.
I was preparing myself for a barrage of requests instead of silence. Now, we had a fully disciplined crowd awaiting us outside the house. I looked and noticed that Yoshime was holding the formation in place and there was no sign of violence.
It didn't take long for us to the reason behind the odd circumstances.
The crowd parted, revealing a group of well-dressed retainers approaching, their robes adorned with the sigil of Toka's ruling family. At their center was a middle-aged man dressed in samurai armour with sharp features and a commanding presence.
"I am Lord of Toka, Kōza Kubisaki" the man introduced himself, his tone both formal and curious. "I have heard much about the Kon merchant group and their healers. Your actions today only confirm what I've been told."
Kirito-nii inclined his head respectfully. "It's an honor to meet you, my lord."
I wonder if it was a coincidence whether the target of our merchant group came to meet us so easily. Knowing Kirito-nii, I was sure he did something.
"I must admit, I was sceptical when rumours of a healer reached my ears, especially when it was a shinobi with such noble character." the lord continued, his gaze thoughtful. "But seeing the crowd's reaction—and witnessing the results of your work—has made me reconsider. You are a good man, Kirito Kyudo."
Despite knowing beforehand that this lord was no simple character, the ease with which he revealed the information put me on edge. Because, with a confirmed identity, It was a piece of cake for the underworld to find their entire history. From birth to death.
"I'm simply doing what I can to help," Kirito replied humbly to the lord.
Lord Koza nodded, then gestured for Kirito to walk with him. "Your group has brought prosperity and safety to the lands you've traveled through. I am thankful for that, but I must ask—what is it that you seek in Toka? Surely a man of your talent does not wander aimlessly."
Kirito considered his words carefully. "Our goal is to establish a network of trade and mutual aid. We've seen the devastation that unchecked banditry and war can bring, and we aim to prevent it wherever we can. In doing so, we gain reputation and good will. Such things means profits for a newly established merchant group like ours. Afterall, it was the very reason you were in front of us now."
Kirito-nii then said in matter of fact tone, "Of course, the fact that we made the world a better place was also a good thing."
The last point was only thing I was sure to be true. While I couldn't say when Kyudo-nii lies, I could say when he says the truth in which he totally believes in.
The lord's expression softened, and he clasped his hands behind his back. "A noble vision. I have a proposition for you, Kyudo Kirito. Stay in Toka as my guest for a while. I believe there is much we can learn from each other—and perhaps ways we can work together to better the lives of my people."
Kirito met the man's gaze with equal enthusiasm, "I would be honoured, my lord."
It didn't not stop there, Kirito-nii took out a storage scroll, "A small meeting gift to you my lord. Though, I hope you open it in the privacy of your study."
Now, that was controversial thing to do. Especially on the first meeting.
However, Lord Koza laughed aloud at that gesture, "Now you make me curious. To think, you prepare such a gift."
Kirito-nii said while handing the scroll out, "Even if you didn't come here to meet me, I would have visited you myself. You see, any merchant group worth their salt needs a home base. What better place than Toka region that surrounds itself with rest of the hotsprings, Land of rice, Land of fire and the Sea."
Lord Koza laughed aloud at the praise for his region, "Thank you! Your flattery honours me. I accept your gift."
Though from the looks of his retainers, they seem to be against the fact that their lord was accepting something from a unknown shinobi. But, they stood silent, and that sight was impressive. It meant the Lord of Toka had that much of hold, no, respect from his retainers.
As the two men continued their conversation, the murmurs of the crowd faded into the background, replaced by my thoughts of our future.
-----------Night, Hoshu Hoshu inn--------
------Kyudo Kirito's pov----------
The Hoshu Hoshu Inn complex loomed large in the heart of the town — a series of wooden buildings with high tiled roofs, winding bridges over hot spring streams, and steam that coiled through the air like lazy spirits. The inn was as much a stronghold as it was a place of comfort. Tucked just a stone's throw from Lord Koza's towering castle, it was also our current residence — strategic, comfortable, and central to my plan for the night.
I was certain Momosuke wouldn't believe me if I claimed I had nothing to do with why Lord Koza sought me out. But facts were facts — he had. And more surprisingly, he'd accepted my request. A request that could easily be seen as both insult and bribe, depending on the mood of the recipient.
WHOOSH WHOOSH
Momosuke was jumping around the room to kill the numerous mosquitoes and flies with quite brutality. The chilly air was cleared with a heated lamps around the room. I on the other hand set the table and bottles of sake for our guests.
CLACK CLACK
The sliding door was opened by Karui and the three cloaked figures entered the room. Karui took her leave and went to sleep with Tsubasa and other new kids, taking on the role of being their primary caretaker, guardian and teacher.
I turned towards the guests who answered my request and plea for this hidden meeting.
The central figure sat with quiet dignity, removed his hood, and accepted the cup of sake I offered. He took a sip and sighed, weariness giving way to a faint smile.
"This sake," he murmured, "has the smooth burn of northern rice. You can taste the spring minerals in the back of your throat. Just like the waters of our homeland… healing but sharp."
Another of the men chuckled. "The old hot springs still bubble, but fewer warriors soak in them these days. They say peace has made everyone soft."
"To be soft," I said, "is not the same as being weak. So long as strength is preserved underneath."
I got looks of approval from the trio when I completed the famous saying of Land of hot water.
Lord Koza gave another hum of approval before setting his cup down. Then he stood.
The cloak fell from his shoulders.
Beneath it was armor — lacquered black plates bearing his family crest, a heavy sword resting at his hip, fingers never far from the hilt. His gaze locked with mine — sharp as a drawn blade.
"Now… Head of the Kon's Merchant Group," he said. "Or should I call you Kyudo clan leader?"
Momosuke, standing beside me, tensed immediately — chakra sharpening like a blade drawn. But before he could speak, the two samurai flanking Lord Koza stepped forward. The air shifted. Their chakra was heavy — Jonin-level, no question. And not the trashy bandit I encountered. But, true jonin level combatants who trained in the sword styles of samurai since they could walk.
I kept my expression easy and leaned back with a wry smile.
"Please, Lord Koza, just call me Kirito. As for the Kyudo clan…" I gave a slow, theatrical shrug. "I'm not the clan leader. Consider me the acting head at most. Momosuke here is the heir — the future leader."
Momosuke looked at me like I'd grown another head. I didn't blame him. It sounded like bullshit. But it wasn't.
Tying myself formally to the Kyudo mantle would only complicate things when courting other clans into my future Hidden Village. I wasn't one of those near-divine shinobi who could lead with sheer charisma or power. I had to rely on politics, leverage, and careful planning.
But the biggest reason?
That child marriage contract the old Kyudo patriarch left behind — a smart move. If Momosuke took up the Kyudo mantle with dignity, the match could be honored. And the bride?
A daughter of the Hatake clan.
Worth every step of this game if I could pull that clan into my Hidden village.
Lord Koza studied me carefully. "What do you want, Kyudo Kirito?" he asked. "Your actions puzzle me. This letter?" He pulled a folded scroll from his robes — the one I sent that morning. "And this request to meet me like a rat sneaking through my town… I'm still not sure why I agreed."
I smiled faintly. "Because you were curious. Curious about who dared to send you investigation reports, an economic scale analysis, and a breakdown of shinobi distribution across the Land of Hot water. Especially the parts about the noble families… I imagine those pages were enlightening — for someone pursuing their dream."
The tension thickened. Koza's samurai stepped forward, killing intent spiking like a sprung trap.
Koza's voice turned to steel. "What do you think my dream is?"
I met his gaze. "The Daimyo throne."
Silence. The kind that either ends in a sword swing or an alliance.
Then Lord Koza sighed, deep and tired. "So, how's the old man these days?"
I chuckled. "I assume you don't know his name either, since you just call him 'the old man.'"
That drew a ghost of a smile. "That Uzumaki elder was already ancient when I was a child. And he's still outliving us all. The Uzumaki really are something."
"That they are."
That old man once mentioned a commission — a summoning scroll he made for a noble who bonded with a boss summon. It stuck in my head. Long enough that I pulled up the AI's archives.
Koza Kubasaki. Summoner of the Chameleon Boss. The same chameleon who waited fifty years for a friend who never came back. And I found the thread that tied him to this world's future. Now it was one of the few fillers I watched, and it got stuck in my mind since it involved the summons.
Koza wasn't just powerful. He was the one I needed.
He had the strength to survive assassination. A legitimate claim to the throne. A loyal following. His character and personality was vetted by the Old Man and confirmed by my AI. Everything about him screamed "risk worth taking." Especially when the risk itself was non-existent when I knew for a fact that he would become a Daimyo.
Not to hype myself, I believed that with support he would have even more easy time in achieving the same position as in the canon.
"So, what do you want in return?"
His tone hardened. "Everyone who supports me wants something. My father-in-law wants his grandchildren to be future Daimyo. My friend wants disputed borderland. Shinobi like you, who came to me, want money or land. So, tell me… what's yours? Revenge? I've heard about your clan."
I answered honestly. "All of it. Wealth. Land. Revenge."
He raised a brow. "If you want me to order the assassination of a foreign Daimyo, it's a steep cost. One that would ruin my country — assuming I even survive the fallout."
I nodded. "I know. No matter how tempting revenge is, I won't ask for something that ruins the living."
One of his samurai — Kuroba, if I remembered right — scoffed. "Then let it go. Revenge is a poison. A path to ruin."
I replied with dry sarcasm, "Easy to say. But letting go of the slaughter of your entire clan isn't called peace. It's apathy. If I or my shinobi were that apathetic, Lord Koza wouldn't be having this conversation with us."
Koza nodded slowly and shifted the conversation. "Then why the secrecy? Why the rush? You only arrived yesterday."
I met his gaze. "Because waiting even one more day would mean missing the chance to change everything. The chance for you to breakthrough the constraints set by the current Daimyo. The chance for you to legitimately become the Daimyo of the land of Hot water."
Koza straightened, finally alert on words for the first time since he entered the room.
"My lord," I said, "you've hit your ceiling. Your economic, political, and military gains have peaked. Any further, and the current Daimyo will brand you a traitor. Hence, the situation will escalate to a civil war. Even if you won a civil war, you'd rule as a usurper — surrounded by constant rebellion. Now, the chance I am taking about will allow give you legitimacy."
Koza grunted. "Each second you talk, you sound more like the devil Jashin — whispering to my ambition."
I grinned. "Then let me show you a path. You don't need to start the war. You just need someone else to make the first move. Like the current Daimyo."
One of the samurai said, "Why would he do that? Most of the nobles knew that Lord Koza is an accomplished samurai. Meaning he would hold the upper hand in the war."
I immediately answered, partly from excitement and partly from anticipation. It was because the conversation went where I wanted, "Because you could legitimately grow too powerful for him hold himself back from declaring war. A way to grow economically, politically and militarily in such rapid way that Daimyo would rather choose a civil war on his own rather than risk inaction."
With a deep breath I said, "The way to break the deadlock you find yourself in is simple- Conquest."
GASP
Considering that the neighbors of land Hot springs were barren land of Frost, powerful Land of fire and the small land of rice. They knew what I was talking about. The Land of rice which had good fertile lands but a small country with little military might. The reason it could exist was its strong alliance with land of iron and it's samurai.
Lord Koza sighed in exasperation and said, "Do you think I don't know that? But, declaring war without legitimate justification invites political and economic sanctions that could cripple me. Not to forget my Daimyo cousin who would use this chance to declare me as a warmongering traitor and end me."
I answered back, "You will find the justification right now. You see my lord. That was the chance that would slip away if you didn't come to the hidden meeting today. Afterall, what better justification for a war of conquest than an attempt on your life."
His eyes narrowed. "What?"
Despite the growing tension between us, I continued the talk because the moment he came here under the cover of darkness, the die had been cast.
"Right now," I said, "assassins follow my movements. They plan to kill me and my clan. They probably were hired by the Daimyo of grass, but we can easily turn the evidence towards Daimyo of rice. You can rely on me regarding that. The fact of the matter is that the assassins don't know you're here. But when they strike… you'll be in the room. Their failure will be your justification. Your declaration of war — not as a traitor, but as a survivor."
Koza's face paled. Then twisted with fury.
"Fucking shinobi."
BBBOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM.