Crowd * Casino
It was already evening when Tobirama returned to the Land of Hot Water. He put the documents he had brought back from Konoha on the low table and found that there was no one in the Inn.
Hashirama and Madara have probably gone to scout out the surrounding area, while Izuna is likely still wandering the streets.
He changed into a dark blue casual kimono and decided to give himself a break and stroll around the Hot Spring Street.
The streets were brightly lit, and the shops on both sides of the stone-paved road were still open. The smell of Sulfur mixed with the aroma of roasted dumplings wafted in the night breeze.
Tobirama walked along the main street for a while, and was about to turn into a small alley to check out the Izakaya that the captain recommended, which supposedly had a 30-year-old vintage, when a series of noisy footsteps suddenly approached from afar.
He stopped and stepped aside under a lantern by the roadside, where he saw a group of people rushing out of the alley ahead.
The one leading the pack was a young man I'd never seen before; he ran incredibly fast, using the Ninja Footwork.
Among the people chasing behind were panting merchants, servants holding up their robes, and a member of the Uzumaki Clan.
And... Uchiha Izuna?! What's he doing here?!
This guy was mixed in with the group chasing them, his expression strange, like he was excited but also found it odd, shouting, "What the hell is all this?!"
Then, hopping and skipping, they followed the others, swaying and chasing after them.
Tobirama watched the inexplicable group run past him, his expression twisted in pain.
Why is it that this guy is causing trouble again the moment he went out?!
He immediately followed.
But before he could take a few steps, another group of people suddenly emerged from the other side of the alley.
They were all wearing black short jackets, with the sleeves rolled up to their elbows, revealing their thick forearms and faint tattoos. The leader of the group had a shaved head and was shouting something menacingly.
These guys were clearly thugs from a local gang. They were chasing someone, and it seemed like someone had offended them; they were so angry they could set the whole street on fire.
The two groups collided at the intersection, and the scene immediately descended into chaos.
Before Tobirama could figure out what was going on, a group of burly men dressed in boatmen's shirts rushed out from the third street, carrying oars and ropes and shouting work chants.
Three streams of people converged on the main street of the Hot Spring Street, each unwilling to give way to the other. Curses, footsteps, and the crisp sound of Geta hitting the stone slabs blended together, eventually surging headlong towards the sea.
Tobirama followed this group of strange people for a while, and the more he ran, the more uneasy he felt.
He had a vague sense of foreboding, so he quickened his pace and leaped onto the roof of a two-story tavern, intending to get a better view of the chaotic situation from above.
The moment he climbed onto the roof, the sea breeze rushed towards him, and his view suddenly opened up.
A large crowd had gathered on the beach near the sea at some point. The light from torches and lanterns illuminated the entire beach. In the center of the crowd stood two figures: one was Hashirama, and the other was Madara.
Standing on the rooftop, Tobirama gazed at the dense mass of people on the distant beach, then looked back at the ever-flowing crowd behind him, and slowly uttered a single word. "... Ha."
What on earth happened?
Rewind to this afternoon. After Izuna took Enma away, Mokushō left alone.
He decided to find some fun on his own.
The Land of Hot Water has no ruler, but it has Seven Lucky Gods.
The seven individuals resided in seven different locations within the Land of Hot Water, each responsible for maintaining order in a specific region.
Some places hired Ninjas to protect their homes, some relied on natural defenses to isolate themselves from the outside world, some relied on the protection of high-ranking officials from other countries, and some formed gangs, recruiting "ambitious individuals" from all over the world.
The place where this strategy was adopted was precisely the most extravagant and decadent region of the Land of Hot Water.
Yuhara Pleasure Quarter.
"Indeed, the world is only interesting when you see it here." Mokushō tucked his hands into his sleeves and sighed contentedly.
Various shops lined up in a row, and the men's henchmen and bodyguards moved about on the stone-paved road, carrying money bags they had just exchanged from pawnshops.
A group of attractive women greeted customers at the shop entrance, and the air was filled with the scents of cosmetics and liquor.
There were also people fighting on the street corner, with punches landing hard, and a crowd of onlookers gathered around, while some people even placed bets.
A gambler who had lost all his money was thrown out of the house, rolled twice on the stone pavement, cursed as he got up, covered his bleeding nose, and rushed back into the gambling den.
Mokushō watched the gambler's staggering figure, chuckled, and formed a hand seal.
A burst of green smoke erupted, and the short figure stretched and grew taller in the smoke and dust. The Kariginu transformed into a dark green robe, Talisman Paper disappeared, replaced by a handsome young man with smiling eyes and long hair that reached his waist.
He leaped lightly from the rooftop and landed on the ground in the alley.
He straightened his cuffs, then strolled leisurely to the entrance of the gambling den and went inside.
On the other side, Luotai entered the gambling den through a side door.
The gambling den was bustling with noise; the clinking of Dice in the bowl, the wild laughter of winners, and the curses of losers mingled together.
Luotai walked through the crowded hall and headed straight for the side room. The guards at the door recognized him and stepped aside.
When he pushed open the door, the person inside was leaning against the window, holding a chess piece in his hand, slowly placing it on the chessboard. The shouts outside were deafening, but he didn't turn his head.
"How is it?"
"The surrounding area is all set up; we can begin at any time."
The man placed a chess piece down. "You went to see that person again today, didn't you?"
Luotai didn't answer. He knew there was no point in lying to this man.
"What would he think if he knew you were one of the accomplices?"
"It's my duty," Luotai said in a low voice, "But he's my friend. Please, sir, show him mercy and let him go."
"I can let him go." The man finally turned around; his face was young, and a half-smile played on his lips. "But what happens after that is none of my business."
"Thank you, sir."
"In this country recently, victory has had nothing to do with status or position; only the powerful have achieved it."
No sooner had the man finished speaking than a deafening wailing erupted from outside—his bet on a double loss had failed.
He clicked his tongue, somewhat annoyed at his intuition failing him, and waved for Luotai to leave. "Alright, go down. Before anything happens, send your little friend away."
Luotai bowed and left the side room.
After Luotai left, Masato slowly and deliberately put the chess pieces back into the chess box, one by one, as if he were enjoying the sound of the pieces clattering in his palm.
He beckoned towards the shadows.
A bodyguard landed silently beside him and knelt on one knee.
"Follow Luotai and take care of him."
The guard bowed his head in agreement and vanished into the shadows in a flash.
Masato stood up, straightened his clothes, and pushed open the door to the side room.
Outside, the gambling den was bustling with its usual noise; the crisp sound of Dice hitting the bowl mingled with the hoarse shouts of the gamblers.
He walked along the second-floor corridor to the railing and leaned down to look down. He had just lost his bet on both sides, so this time he would let the dealer draw a single bet to win back all the Chips he had lost in the previous round, plus a profit.
The dealer was a tall, thin middle-aged man with a meticulously trimmed mustache. His dice-rolling skills were among the best in Yuhara Pleasure Quarter.
He recognized the person on the second floor as a regular customer, and respectfully nodded and bowed, picking up the dice cup with both hands and shaking it skillfully.
The Dice clinked crisply and rhythmically in the cup, and the gamblers in the hall held their breath, dozens of eyes fixed on the dice cup that was flying up and down.
The dealer slammed the dice cup down on the table, shouted loudly, and then slowly lifted the lid.
Two Dice lay at the bottom of the cup, one with a three, the other with a five, and the other with an eight.
--pair.
The dealer stared at the two Dice, his expression shifting from confidence to terror.
He clearly rolled an odd number! How could it be even? He opened his mouth, then stammered out the number.
On the second-floor railing, Masato's expression suddenly turned stern.
He braced his hands on the railing, leaned slightly forward, and scanned the crowd below with eyes like a hawk, then he saw that person.
In the back of the gambling den, a young man dressed in a dark robe sat behind a mountain of Chips.
Her long hair cascaded down to her waist, with a few strands casually gathered in front of her shoulders. Her face was handsome, and a leisurely smile played on her lips as she slowly and deliberately stacked the Chips she had just won into a neat little tower.
The gamblers around him looked at him with a mixture of envy and hatred, but no one dared to come within three feet of him.
It was clearly his first time at this gambling den, but his composed demeanor made it seem as if he had been sitting there for twenty years.
Masato stared intently at the young man, the corners of his mouth slowly curving into a straight line.
Who was this person? He knew all the regulars at Yuhara Pleasure Quarter, but he had never seen this person's face before.
Unfortunately, this stranger happened to appear in the gambling den just as he was placing his bet, which caused him to lose the round.
The young man seemed to notice his gaze, raised his head, and, through the smoke and noise of the hall, met the gaze of the person on the second floor without fail.
Then he gave a gentle, almost compassionate smile.
It looks like the Maitreya Buddha in a Buddhist pagoda.
He nodded slightly to Masato, as if in greeting.
Then he lowered his head and continued stacking his Chips.
Masato's fingers, gripping the railing, tightened slightly, his knuckles turning bluish-white.