—— Karui Kyudo ——
".....Thank you for your service, lady shinobi."
Hearing the simple and sincere gratitude after curing his illness, I couldn't help but return the smile with the same warmth.
"It was a pleasure to heal you, Kokun-dono."
The 43-year-old potbellied merchant kept bowing even after I assured him he'd already paid in full. He continued even as I left his shop.
I pulled out my mission scroll and patted it like a job well done.
[Mission No. 24 – Completed]
Rank: B
Type: Healing
Client: Kokun, Head of Toka's Merchant Association
Details: Heal the client's son, bedridden at Kinkon Merchandise Shop in Golden Street, Toka
Accepted by: Karui Kyudo
Rewards: 110,000 ryō
Hearing Kirito-nii explain these things was one thing. Seeing them play out was another. A normal visit from a medic-nin, something that should've been a C-rank mission, was bumped up to B-rank just because the client was a powerful merchant and paid generously.
Unfair?
Yeah.
But so is the world.
My mother's screams that night. Momosuke's silent tears in the dark, while his broken voice told stories like a robot. Kirito-nii's cold-hearted transformation. The careful back-and-forth between the Uzumaki and Kirito-nii—mutual use disguised as cooperation. All those memories burned into me what Kirito-nii meant when he said this world wasn't fair. I just… wished it wasn't true.
WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH
Didn't take long to hear the signs. Body flickers. Light but practiced footsteps.
I didn't need to look. I could feel them. My little brothers—Kenta, Ryu, and Kyu—landing behind me.
"Karui-nee! We're back!" Kenta called out first, full of energy.
I scanned their bodies, head to toe. No wounds. Just exhaustion. Good.
"Did the mission go well?"
Ryu hesitated before nodding. "Y-Yes."
They were still considerate, worrying about how I'd react. They grew up too fast. The same boys who once cried into my chest from nightmares now returned from killing bandits like it was routine.
"Go enjoy the hot springs," I said gently. "It'll help you relax."
"OK! OK!" they chorused, disappearing again across the rooftops.
Seeing that brief flash of childish joy? It warmed me. Even if it faded too quickly. Their mission wasn't like mine. Kirito-nii assigned me healing tasks. Theirs were combat—bandit extermination.
The blood-soaked scrolls in my hand said it all.
Mission no 23,54, 54,56, 64- [Completed]
Client: Lord Koza Kubisaki
Mission Type: Bandit Removal
Rank: C
Details : *Specific to each mission*
Shinobi: Ryu, Kyu, Kenta
Rewards: Varied [Between 50,000-100,000 Ryo per mission.]
The bandits had become emboldened lately, spurred by the movement of Koza's army. With troops relocating for an anticipated war, security weakened. And like cockroaches, the bandits crawled out from their holes.
Koza's answer was to outsource to shinobi. And Kirito-nii—who was following him like a bee after honey—handpicked my brothers for the easy missions. Even though they were just recovering, he still deployed them.
That irritated me. But… I understood. Kirito-nii wasn't being careless. He was preparing them. Like always.
Besides, he ensured that the bandit groups he picked were weak and just strong enough to make them work for the mission success. Considering he sent 100 explosion tags with them, I was sure he prepared for the worst of the worst scenario.
Speaking of war reminded me of Momosuke—who had left for the Land of Fire, leading the rest of the clan on an S-rank diplomatic and recruitment mission.
When Kirito-nii first said Momosuke should lead the mission, I almost choked. He was a Chunin! The mission would definitely involve Jonin-level threats. But then we got a single update.
Hatake Clan: Recruited.
That changed everything.
Momosuke might be a Chunin, but if the Hatake agreed to the marriage contract and aid our mission, it meant one thing—they acknowledged him. Or at the very least, saw potential. Maybe they would wait until after the war to seal the marriage, just in case he died. But even that level of consideration meant they were serious.
The Hatake were worth the alliance. Powerful, proud, and not prone to foolish decisions.
All of this… still left a bitter taste in my mouth.
I pulled a vial of blood from my sleeve, poured it over the seal etched onto my arm, and performed the hand signs:
Boar → Dog → Bird → Monkey → Ram
POOF
The greenish chameleon with its forked tongue and beady eyes appeared with a snap, immediately slapping down a mosquito with its tongue.
"Shikimi-chan," I said, "these scrolls need to be delivered."
She yawned, then swallowed the entire scroll bundle in one gulp. "Yum! I'll make sure Kirito-nii gets them."
I hesitated, then asked, "Any update on Momosuke?"
Shikimi-chan rolled her eyes—literally—and muttered, "Yeah yeah. The leader boy got spun around by veteran shinobi, merchants, and nobles. The merchant boy—Hiro, was it?—got humbled, but he still seemed weirdly excited. But eventually, the Hatake clan leader took pity on the boys and helped in the negotiations . At the end of the day, the Supplies were secured."
Of course Hiro was excited. Even when they lost in those lopsided trade talks, he learned. Kirito-nii would be pleased—not for the result, but the experience Momosuke's group accquired. If it was about profits, he would've led the mission himself.
He wasn't after money.
He was grooming us for roles. Different ones. It was something I could see easily now-a-days. Especially after coming under Lord Koza, he even became quite blatant about it.
Then I asked the other thing gnawing at me, "What about the supply route protection? Any mofd recruits?"
Shikimi-chan slurped her tongue back and nodded. "Some small shinobi clans. Wandering samurai. Oh, and talks with the Kurama clan hit a wall. But your Kirito-nii apparently sent an offer they won't ignore."
Just how does Kirito-nii know what to offer? Another thing I need to dig into. Unfortunately, Shikimi-chan couldn't bothered to leave me to my thoughts. After all, I was not her contractor. Just some temporary help hired.
"Alright. Enough business, I have a fly fest to attend. Bye now!"
POOF
Looking at the vanishing smoke, I thought back to that day we were given vials of blood and a fuin formula. It was surprising sight for me and everyone else when Lord Koza himself—Daimyo-to-be—filling sealed vials of blood.
Blood laced with preservatives, his own. Distributed to us immediately while muttering that he might as well use us for all our worth. With the right summoning fuin formula and the main contractor's blood, we could now summon chameleons at the cost of chakra on Lord Koza's behalf. Using that, we, Kyudo clan could send messages instantly.
According to Lord Koza's words in his court, it was really helpful.
Theoretically, I could summon his chameleon partner, Shiromari, if I pumped in enough chakra. But then again, Shiromari would probably eat me. Not the imprisoning kind but the digesting kind of eating.
According to Shikimi-chan, he preferred his food alive. Said it helped with "transformation refinement."
Ugh.
Just the thought made me sick.
The sick feeling in my stomach didn't leave, not even after the warm steam of the hot spring or the walk back through the market. It sat there, heavy and twisting, until I stepped through the castle gates of Lord Koza's estate.
Even then, it didn't fade. Not until I saw them in the training yard.
Tsubasa. Jino. Chiaki. Kanoi. Jiren.
Five new names. Five new Kyudo.
Three kunoichi and two shinobi in training. Together, they make up the next generation of the Kyudo clan.
I won't lie—at first, I hated the idea of recruiting orphans. Not out of cruelty, just… unease. Kirito-nii despite being an orphan before his recruitment into old Kyudo clan, he never felt like that to us. But he was already part of the clan by the time my worldview took shape. But these kids? They were strangers.
I couldn't believe that they would be new family. Fortunately, I was wrong. They meshed into our clan so easily that it bought me sorrow. Because our history was filled with broken memories and relentless memories.
Tsubasa proved that these kids were just like us in the past.
He didn't flinch when the samurai trainee brats made snide comments about his mother being a scribe. Didn't rise when they mocked the callouses on his hand from ink work instead of kunai drills. He just kept moving, ignored them, and dropped into pushups.
Again.
And again.
Until his pale arms trembled and his breathing broke rhythm. But he didn't stop.
Behind him, Jino dragged a weighted vest that clearly didn't belong to him—probably one of Ryu's hand-me-downs. Little Kanoi practiced his Taijutsu stance silently in a corner, while Chiaki and Jiren did practice spars against each other.
They weren't training.
They were grinding their teeth on misery.
Just like we did in the Land of Whirlpools.
Their shoulders hunched the same way ours did. Their eyes had that sunken, grim shine of kids who knew what corpses smelled like. Kids who understood that the world wasn't going to give them anything.
Tsubasa was the most fortunate out of the current Kyudo clan members. He still had his mother. But even that was….complicated. Everyone knew. The whispers reached even the kitchen servants.
What she went through.
What she survived.
What she endured before Kirito-nii gave her that quiet job as Kon's merchant group's scribe. There were things that couldn't be blunted. Not even by Kirito-nii willing to raise salary with slightest excuses.
Even Tsubasa, who was the most fortunate out of Kyudo clan, was the pitiful victim of an unimaginable nightmare for the castle born kids.
And suddenly, I understood.
Back then, when Taro and the other Uzumaki kids gave us hell—maybe this was why.
We were different.
Hardened in ways they weren't.
Just like these five were now different from the castle-born brats mocking them from safety. It was like seeing the history being repeated.
Hopefully, it won't be fully replicated. Flashes of red hair, warm lips and tight hugs passed through my mind.
Hopefully, it won't be fully replicated.
I don't want these kids to experience the same heartbreak. Both mine and the castle born kids.
Of course, if we talk about the favourites. It wasn't Tsubasa for me. No, he was Kirito-nii's favourite due to his grit and logic.
Neither was it Jiren who keeps shadowing Ryu.
No, My favourite was Chiaki.
Little blue-haired Chiaki with the doll-like face and voice like polished wind chimes. Pretty and soft in every way I wasn't. She shouldn't have fit in this clan full of misfits and orphans soaked in survival. But she did.
And I… liked her.
I knew Kirito-nii, Momosuke-kun, even Hiro would give reasons like chakra control, mental resilience, sensory aptitude, or some other "logical" justification for why they liked a new Kyudo.
Not me.
I liked her because she had beautiful hair. Because she made the barracks sound a little more like a home when she hummed to herself after drills. Because I could look at her and—for just a moment—pretend we weren't shinobi being trained for wars.
She reminded me that there was still something delicate in this world. Something untouched. Something I wanted to protect without logic or reason.
Maybe that was selfish. Maybe it was stupid.
But in the middle of all this madness and bloodshed, it gave me a reason to keep moving. To keep smiling. Even if just a little.
Chiaki looked up mid-sweep of her training staff and saw me watching. She waved.
I waved back, trying not to look as awkward as I felt.
The training field was quiet. No shouting. No exploding tags. No ridiculous power displays that were a common occurrence when we the original Kyudo's trained. Thank Kami! It wasn't the norm.
"Alright, break time," I said firmly. Chiaki happily ran towards me, making me fell that the affection was not one sided.
Unfortunately, Tsubasa didn't stop running.
"Break, Tsubasa."
He stumbled slightly on his next step, clearly debating whether it was a test. It wasn't.
"I said, break. That means all of you."
They slowly gathered near me—hesitant, stiff, wary. Like I was about to change my mind and bark an order.
Chiaki sat down first, wiping her brow with her sleeve. Kanoi followed without a word. Tsubasa finally stopped moving but didn't sit. Jiren dropped down in a heap, while Jino walked over like he wasn't tired at all—liar.
I let the silence sit for a bit, just long enough for them to start shifting awkwardly.
"You know," I started, pretending to glance up at the sky. "You remind me of us. The old days. In the Land of Whirlpools."
Chiaki tilted her head. "Us?"
"Momosuke-kun. Me. Ryu. Kenta. Kyu. Even Yoshime when he wasn't blowing things up." I smiled at the memory, even if it was a little bitter. "We trained like maniacs too. Pushed each other. Argued. Laughed. Cried."
Jiren snorted. "You cried?"
I leaned down and ruffled his hair. "Of course I did. I was the only girl. Do you know what it's like to share a house with a dozen boys?"
He tried to dodge my hand but failed.
Chiaki giggled quietly at my question.
Kanoi muttered, "Why did you keep going?"
I knew that she didn't mean about the mess boys made. No, she was asking something much more serious. Something I could understand empathize easily.
I straightened her collar and replied, "Because we didn't have a choice. We wanted strength. Not to show off. Not for glory. But to survive. And maybe, just maybe, to stop others from going through what we did."
Tsubasa looked down at his hands, clenched tightly. I let that silence linger. He needed it.
Chiaki broke it.
"What about Kirito-nii?"
I blinked. "What about him?"
She shuffled her feet. "Was he always like this? Serious and scary?"
That drew a small chuckle out of me.
"No. Not at first. Back then, he was... warm. A little weird. He used to make up dumb jutsu names and challenge us to contests. He helped Hiro count coins and always tried to make Momosuke-kun laugh. He even made Kenta cry once by threatening to turn add slugs into his hope. I still remember the 6 year old Kenta crying into his mother's lap about Kirito-nii's bullying."
Jino made a face. "That's... oddly specific thing to remember."
"Well, I might have been the one to give the idea to Kirito-nii."
That drew the first shared laugh among the 5.
"He was like that. But then, after the fall of our clan, he changed. He stopped being our brother and started being our leader. Took all that warmth and buried it under a mountain of responsibility." My voice shivered when I remembered his cold and serious tone to make our first kills on bandits he captured, "He ensured we grew strong. Whether we were willing or not."
I still remember that day. It was something Momosuke seemed to get past. But, I couldn't. The cold day I had slit the throat of man for the first time under the cold eyes of Jizen while Kirito-nii rested under the shade of a tree nearby.
Tsubasa finally looked up. "Do you hate him for it?"
I shook my head slowly and adjusted the tie on his training vest. "No. Because he's still protecting us. In his own way. Even now."
I know how much he was risking by inserting himself into the politics of Toka, at much bigger scale, Land of Hotsprings. But, he did that solely for the sake of staying off Grass Daimyo's influence on us. The tense situations between Land of Hot springs and Rice, were in part due to Grass Daimyo's actions. Thankfully, that fact seemed to scare him off for the time being.
In truth, He was like distant spectre until we first laid eyes on the Aburame shinobi. Even now, that grass Daimyo felt distant when compared to the approaching war. I was even starting to wonder if the revenge was even possible. Especially when considering how easily he managed to flip our plans and route. He did that from his bedroom while throwing a minuscule part of his wealth. Hence, I started doubting the thought of revenge.
According to Kirito-nii, this war would be the one to change our fate. Making revenge, safety and happiness possible if all of his plans succeeded in the war. Plans which he refused to elaborate and wanted us to dissect, so as to develop our shinobi thinking.
Sometime, Kirito-nii frustrated me a lot.
The kids didn't say anything for a while. Just sat with those quiet, pensive expressions kids shouldn't have to wear as turmoil raged in me.
But then Chiaki tugged on my sleeve.
"Will we be like you guys someday?"
I met her eyes and smiled—not the tight kind I wore in front of nobles or on missions, but something a little softer, genuine and gentle.
"You already are. Just try to grow up with your heart still whole, alright?"
She nodded shyly.
"Now," I clapped my hands, voice sharp again. "Fifteen more minutes, and then back to drills."
Groans followed, of course. Jiren flopped backward. Tsubasa muttered under his breath. Chiaki quietly adjusted her shoes. Continuously training was easy. But training after brief rest was hell. Especially when one's body grew heavy from pain and exhaustion in the period of rest.
Unfortunately for them, the second kind of training yielded better results for shinobi. The capacity to fight with 100% despite pain and exhaustion was the basic requirement for shinobi.
Once the training and health checks for the kids were done, I made my way to the biggest headache of the Kyudo clan.
Kirito-nii's guest room.
Even before I stepped inside, I could already feel it. That familiar, suffocating chaos. Sure enough, as I pushed the door open, the full disaster hit me like a gust of ink-scented wind. Maps layered over more maps. Handwritten terrain breakdowns of the Land of Rice. Laws and clan records scattered across every surface like wind-blown leaves. Notebooks teetering on the edge of the window sill, half-rolled scrolls wedged between teacups. All of it layered with the kind of frantic energy only Kirito-nii could radiate without saying a word.
I sometimes wonder if his brain keeps working even if he fell asleep.
I sighed, rolling my sleeves up past the elbow. This had become routine.
Lord Koza, maybe drunk off his own ambition or maybe just emboldened by Kirito-nii's track record, had clearly decided to squeeze every last drop of talent out of him. From minor things like weeding out shinobi hires, to major political shifts like analyzing the military response of the Land of Rice.
Meanwhile, the court gossip said the ambassadors from all three clans had arrived. The Aburame representative came first, within the day of the capture, even before Momosuke left. He was followed quietly by the other two within days. Rumors said the letters had reached the Rice Daimyo. Peace talks would start but so would war preparation.
But Lord Koza? He was already moving. With Kirito-nii quietly laying the logistical groundwork thanks to his years of keeping stock of war materials, the vanguard of Lord Koza's army could move within two months. And with the Rice army still mustering, they wouldn't even know what hit them.
Still mopping up spilled ink and adjusting scroll piles, I watched Kirito-nii scribble furiously in his journal, his feet gracefully hopping over the mop I was swinging. As if avoiding obstacles while mapping the downfall of nations was completely normal.
Finally, he let out a soft exhale. "It might actually work. Koza's insane wish might actually work. Turning all three clans… Tch. Bastard. I underestimated him."
My hand froze mid-wipe. "Please don't trash-talk the man whose roof we're under. Especially not the future Daimyo."
Hopefully, he would become one if all goes well.
He grinned without turning. "Can't help it."
Then, more softly, he turned toward me, his tone lighter. "So. How is everyone?"
There it was—the side most people never saw.
People thought Kirito-nii was cold. Calculating. Distant. But I knew better. Ever since I was a little girl, the one who took care of Momosuke and the younger kids, he never missed a night. Every single evening, without fail, he would ask me to come this his room.
Without fail, he would ask how they were. Their moods. Their meals. Who was smiling and who wasn't. Even small things, like who liked pickled radish and who got stomach aches from lotus root. Apparently to him, it wasn't trivial. It was data. It was important.
He called it "building their profile."
Scientific. That was the word he kept using, and every time I heard it, it annoyed me. What kind of kid grows up knowing words like "emotional quotient" and "predictive behavior modeling"?
But… that was Kirito-nii. Genius wrapped in eccentricity. A mess in form, but never in thought.
Still, something in me snapped.
Maybe it was the worry I carried around like a backpack—about my brothers, about Momosuke, about these war-touched children we were raising. Or maybe it was just years of watching him give everything except his heart.
I stopped mopping and looked him straight in the eye.
"Why do you keep doing this?" I asked, louder than I meant to. "Watching from a distance was fine when we were younger—when we needed to harden up. But they've grown now. They don't need you to be this… this distant wall. They won't break just because you show them a little warmth. Just go back. Be how you were before."
I didn't need to explain what "before" meant. Judging from his expression, he remembered.
Kirito-nii looked genuinely surprised. That didn't happen often.
He stared at me for a moment, then said, "Do you remember IQ and EQ?"
The question caught me off guard. My answer came out by habit, like muscle memory. "Intelligence Quotient and Emotional Quotient. One is about intelligence, the other empathy."
He nodded. "Most people think planning, creating jutsu, designing fuinjutsu—that's the hard work. But building connections? Building trust? That's just as hard, if not harder. Maybe 'hard work' isn't the right word. Argh! How do I explain this?"
He tugged at his hair to relieve his stress—a tiny habit he never seemed aware of. Then he continued, almost thinking aloud.
"Effort. Right, that's the right word." He said with a snap of his finger, "There are two types of effort. One uses the mind. The other, the heart. With intelligence, I can take shortcuts. Cheat, almost. But for the emotional side—there's no shortcut. I could go to Ryu right now and bond over how we both love spicy food. I could tell Ichi I agree about curry and rice being the best. I want to comfort the new kids, hold their hands, tell them it's going to be okay. But I just don't have the time."
I said nothing.
He went on.
"Rather than spend hours every day doing that, I get better results making plans, building systems, inventing jutsu that can protect them better than I ever could with just words. And you—you're the one who grounds them emotionally. You are the literal example that things needed by heart need not be only done by me. However, the things I carry... can only be carried by me. Even doing everything I can for the past six years, we're just now reaching a place where we can finally see the dreams have a chance of success. You know, till a few days back, I was afraid because my so-called dreams that I promised to everyone, were just that dreams. But, not now. As much as you hate war, Karui… even you can see how it gives us a shot."
He looked out the window, eyes tracing the falling dusk.
"I kept my distance before because I had to. And now, I have to do it even more. Rather than spend half of a day on building relations, I could plan for their missions so that they can live and grow strong. Just like I said now, it need not be me who gives warmth and real familial relations."
That's the reason none of us call him out anymore.
Because he doesn't act out of apathy. He acts out of overwhelming responsibility, intelligence and a hint of paranoid nature.
Even my little outburst—he turned it into a lecture. Unlike the medical lecture, ninjutsu lectures, this seemed to be about life. I was sure that the old Kirito-nii would call it corny. But, this Kirito-nii gave such a life lesson.
I swallowed hard and nodded.
He held my gaze for a long moment.
Then he dropped the final blow, like he always did.
"I'm leaving on an S-rank mission."
"What?"
I was already prepared for another migraine.
So, naturally, he decided it was the perfect time to explain why he was about to vanish on an S-rank mission. Again.
Koza needed a scout. Not just someone fast or quiet, but someone who could collect battlefield-changing intel—accurate, high-value, immediate. According to Kirito-nii, that scout needed to be smart, combat-capable, and equipped with ways to transmit data securely from deep behind enemy lines.
"Who better than me?" he said, holding up a tiny blood vial and a newly inked fuin formula with pride. "You know I'm the best at info gathering and analysis. And with the chameleon summons, I can send updates instantly. I can also infiltrate, disable targets, sabotage. If it gets to that point, it becomes another S-rank mission stacked on top of this one."
I didn't even try to hide the scowl forming on my face.
"Why you? You could contribute just as much from here—planning, organizing, coordinating."
He grunted in response and looked up from the blood seal he was finishing. "Because Koza's insane plan requires it. The plan to turn the Aburame, Fuuma, and Shiin clans to our side? That one."
I raised a brow. "That one?"
He held up his hands, as if warding off the suspicion I was radiating. "Don't look at me. This time, the madness is all Koza's. I only told him it was theoretically possible. He ran with it. And right now, I'm the only shinobi strong enough and familiar enough with all three clans to pull it off before war begins."
"And you think walking into enemy territory where three shinobi clans are licking their wounds is safe?" I asked, arms crossed tight.
"In diplomacy," he replied with a faint smirk. "I'm not going there to fight. But… if they do get stupid, I'll make sure they regret it. Trust me—I won't be alone. And even if they gang up on me, I've prepared for this."
That's when he pointed to a very familiar map.
A village. Nestled at the foot of a wide mountain range, near a fortress. It that had shown up in his notebooks countless times over the years. It was only now after looking over the maps of land of rice over the last few days that I recognised the identity of the fortress- Heibi Fort.
The same map had popped up over the years whenever he muttered to himself about snakes, natural energy, and "monster people."
"You've been preparing this for years," I muttered, realization sinking in. "You were prepared to enter the Land of Rice… this was the real reason you supported Koza's war?"
Kirito-nii nodded, his face unreadable.
"Yes, I collected much information about land of rice for this village and its surrounding mountain range."
Even the high-grade maps in the room didn't list a name for that village. Not the mountains, either. Just blank ink where even the best cartographers gave up. It made sense now— his calculations, his strangely specific predictions about the rice country's troop movements, in fact it told of his confidence in helping Koza win the war against the land of rice. For any unsuspecting person, it might as well be known that he was preparing for this war for years. Though, I knew it wasn't true. From the day we discovered Aburame's tracking till the gamble of a fight, it was spontaneous for him. But, it told me all the more curious regarding why he had such an obsession with this nameless village and mountain range and most importantly, why did it need this much intelligence gathering?
"According to my original plan for hidden village, I just wanted to recruit the villagers. But now? I want the entire region. As payment for completing Koza's mission. And Koza agreed."
Just what was this hidden village? It seems most of his plans run around this.
He closed the map abruptly, stood, and turned to me with a kind of finality.
"It's time," he said, "you knew the full extent of my plans."
Before I could even ask, he formed a few signs, and poof—a thick, leather-bound book appeared in his hands.
He handed it to me.
"This can only be opened by your blood," he said. "It's readable once. After that, it burns. Read it in private."
The title read: "How to build your Hidden Village."
I barely had time to process the words before Kirito-nii casually tossed another bomb at me, like he was offering tea.
"Oh, and you're going to lead Ryu, Kyu, and Kenta on a mission to the Uzumaki clan."
"What?"
I consider myself gentle. Patient. Someone who tries to avoid violence whenever possible.
But Kirito-nii… he really knows how to test that limit.