Chapter 7: Killing a Jonin
Kuroshin and Chiba stared at each other, their thoughts racing with complex emotions.
For Chiba, the overwhelming hatred he felt toward Kuroshin was undeniable.
This man had used him as a human bomb, subjected him to excruciating pain, and spoke of turning him into a poisonous puppet—a fate too horrifying to imagine. If not for a stroke of luck, Chiba knew he'd have met a miserable end.
Kuroshin, on the other hand, was in no less turmoil. He had no strength left to act, and he knew full well that if this child realized the truth of his condition, his life would be in jeopardy.
To cover his vulnerability, Kuroshin's eyes flickered, and he barked sharply, "What are you standing there for, kid? Go fetch me the medicine, or I'll kill you where you stand!"
"Uh…"
Chiba hesitated for a moment, torn between fleeing and retaliating. The strength gap between them was undeniable; if Kuroshin regained even a shred of mobility, Chiba wouldn't stand a chance.
After weighing his options, Chiba decided it was safest to escape.
"Y-yes, Lord Kuroshin," he said, feigning fear as he turned to leave.
But before he could take more than a step, Kuroshin's voice snapped again, louder and more commanding.
"Hurry up! Stop dawdling! The medicine is in the blond one's pouch. If you keep wasting time, I'll end you right here!"
Chiba froze mid-step, his mind churning.
The pouch…
Lowering his head in thought, Chiba suddenly smiled—a cold, mocking grin.
"Shh—"
Turning slowly, Chiba's smile twisted into something sinister.
"Lord Kuroshin," he said in a calm yet chilling tone, "if I recall correctly, wasn't it Shadow who managed your supplies?"
Kuroshin's expression faltered for a split second, his brow furrowing ever so slightly.
"You… you're asking too many questions. Shadow managed most of the supplies, but the medicine I need was with the blond. Go get it now!"
"Really?"
Chiba's grin vanished, replaced by an icy glare.
"I've noticed that your pouches are more than just containers. They're deadly traps. And you're asking me to reach into a ninja's pouch that specializes in tools?"
Without warning, Chiba bent down, picked up a kunai, and dashed toward Kuroshin.
"Shh—"
The blade plunged into Kuroshin's chest, his expression twisting in shock and disbelief.
"You… how dare you…"
Kuroshin weakly raised his hand but let it drop, his strength fading.
"Heh."
Chiba couldn't help but laugh, a cruel and bitter sound.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice? That little slip-up just confirmed your weakness."
Kuroshin's eyes filled with confusion and disbelief. He couldn't understand where he'd gone wrong.
"You… you figured it out… How?"
"How did I know?" Chiba tilted his head, a dark smile on his face. "Sometimes, you only need to be fooled once to learn your lesson. I've been watching you all closely for days. Your pouches aren't just for storage—they're intricate traps."
Kuroshin's pupils dilated, realization dawning on him as his breathing grew labored.
"You… are sharper than I thought… Shadow was right. You have potential beyond most… I misjudged you…"
With those words, Kuroshin's body went still, his lifeless eyes staring upward.
For a moment, Chiba stood in silence, his chest rising and falling as he processed what he had done.
"Ninja potential…"
The phrase echoed in his mind, and he closed his eyes tightly. Memories of his parents' deaths resurfaced, vivid and raw.
How could he forget? How dare he forget?
Those days of pain and humiliation had been etched into his very soul. His careful observations of the group weren't just out of curiosity—they were fueled by those haunting memories.
Each time they meticulously handled their pouches, Chiba noticed the traps built into them. Steel wires, concealed scrolls, and mechanisms that triggered devastating effects if mishandled—these were not simple tools.
When Kuroshin had demanded he retrieve medicine from the blond ninja's pouch, it confirmed Chiba's suspicions. Kuroshin wasn't trying to help him—he was trying to kill him.
Looking down at Kuroshin's corpse, Chiba's emotions were a whirlwind of triumph and unease.
This was no ordinary death. This was the death of a Jonin.
Kuroshin had survived countless battles, honed his skills through blood and sacrifice, and reached the pinnacle of ninja prowess. Yet here he was, killed by a child who hadn't even learned basic ninjutsu.
It was almost poetic.
If Kuroshin hadn't been injured, he could have effortlessly killed a hundred Chibas.
If he hadn't spoken that one fatal line, Chiba would never have seen through his act.
If Chiba hadn't spent days analyzing their behaviors, he wouldn't have pieced together the truth about their pouches.
But there were no "ifs" in life. Kuroshin was dead, and Chiba was still standing.
A saying floated through Chiba's mind: Luck, too, is a kind of strength.
Placing the kunai down, Chiba felt a faint wave of discomfort wash over him.
It was his first kill. Though the unease lingered, it quickly faded, buried beneath the weight of his experiences. The harshness of this world had dulled his nerves.
Chiba knew this was only the beginning.
If he wanted to survive in such a cruel world, he would need to grow stronger—much stronger.
Rising to his feet, Chiba glanced around the dense forest, unsure of where to go.
The trees stretched endlessly in all directions, each path indistinguishable from the other.
Chiba understood that the direction he chose could mean the difference between life and death.
If he made it out of the forest and reached a human settlement, he might have a chance at survival. But if he wandered deeper into the wilderness, his fate would be sealed.
After a moment of contemplation, Chiba picked a direction and began walking.
"If I don't know what to do next… I'll leave it to fate," he murmured.
But just as he took a few steps, a low voice spoke from behind him.
"Well, well… what an interesting little boy. But tell me… where do you think you're going?"
!!!
Chiba's pupils widened in shock.
That voice…
It couldn't be…
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