Ise * Cruise Ship

Tamaro looked up at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Izuna didn't answer immediately, but just glanced at him.

The next second, Tamaro seemed to lose power; his shoulders slumped, and his arms hung limply at his sides, like a puppet whose strings had been pulled out.

Upon seeing this, Hiroyama suddenly stood up, took two steps back, and placed his hand on the hilt of the knife at his waist.

Tamamo-no-Mae also frowned.

Worry appeared in her eyes as she took a step forward, but Tamaro's strange appearance made her stop.

She gripped her sleeve tightly and didn't go over.

Izuna stood at the doorway, his expression disdainful. "I've never seen anyone so eager to put on an act. Did you really think I didn't notice because I didn't make a move?"

Hiroyama stared at Tamaro's stiff body, his voice tense. "So, this is a fake?"

"The body is real," Izuna said, "But the spirit has been altered."

Tamamo-no-Mae looked up, her eyes filled with surprise and doubt. "Is this even possible?"

"I don't quite know how they did it either," Izuna said calmly, "But it really happened."

Looking at her brother's bowed head, Tamamo-no-Mae's voice trembled as she asked, "Then... is my brother... maybe never wake up again...?"

Izuna glanced at her. "No, he'll wake up soon."

Izuna stroked his chin and realized that he seemed to be able to do two things at the same time: in reality, he was talking to others, and in his mind, he was fighting.

However, he didn't feel any sense of separation. But he didn't believe in multitasking. If one could multitask, it must be because one of the tasks was so familiar that one could act on it subconsciously.

Dialogue clearly requires thought, which means he was already used to Mindscape battles.

The room fell silent. All eyes were on Tamaro.

His body was slightly hunched, like an insect whose shell had been pressed down; his fingers twitched occasionally, and his Adam's apple bobbed up and down, as if he were struggling in a dream.

A moment later.

Tamaro suddenly opened his eyes.

His first action was to brace himself against the wall and try to stand up, as if he were trying to escape from under something.

But he forgot about his injuries. He had just managed to prop himself up halfway when his knees buckled and he fell back down.

Izuna withdrew his gaze. "Alright."

Tamamo-no-Mae forward, hugged her brother who had fallen to the ground, and buried her face in his shoulder.

Tamaro was jolted by the bump, but after recognizing who was in his arms, his tense shoulders slowly relaxed, and he raised his hand to pat his sister's back.

"It's alright," he said in a hoarse voice.

Hiroyama stood a few steps away, his face grim. "Tamaro, what exactly happened?"

Tamaro released his sister and looked up. "I was attacked by the Ise Family Clan."

Hiroyama frowned. "Ise? Why?"

"Because I stumbled upon something they were preparing," Tamaro said, emphasizing each word, "Before they even started building a huge ship."

Hiroyama raised his hand and stroked his chin. "I've heard about that. Is there something wrong with the ship?"

"I didn't hear anything," Tamaro shook his head, "But they seem to think I know something, so they sent people to hunt me down."

Tamamo-no-Mae lifted her head from his embrace, her face full of confusion. "But brother, those two people were so slow-moving, you should have been able to easily subdue them."

Tamaro's expression darkened. "I was being hunted down after they drugged me."

He paused for a moment and said, "I had just returned to the Meeting Room after using the restroom when a waiter came over to refill my drink. Without thinking much, I drank it, unaware that it contained muscle relaxant."

"After I escaped from that place, they didn't stop searching. I thought you might be in danger, so I came here." His voice lowered, "But it was exactly what they wanted."

Hiroyama crossed his arms, his brows furrowing even more deeply.

"Those three names you just mentioned..."

Tamaro looked up at him, her face blank. "What?"

Izuna chimed in from the side, "It's obvious they want to use you to get rid of them."

Tamamo-no-Mae's face darkened. "What a vicious plan..."

Tamaro looked at her, then at Hiroyama, and asked anxiously, "What happened?"

Hiroyama sighed and briefly recounted what had just happened, "The person who possessed your body just now told us that Rokurō, Kenji, Guran are members of the Jashin Cult."

Tamaro suddenly looked up, his eyes wide. "What?! How could they possibly be?!"

"That's what I thought too," Hiroyama said, his voice weary, "But I can't help but doubt you. I was just thinking about how to get them out of the Land of Hot Water."

Tamaro gritted her teeth. "Thank goodness you didn't listen to him!"

Tamamo-no-Mae fell into deep thought, "But my brother spoke perfectly normally just now, and we didn't notice anything amiss... Lord Izuna, do you know what's going on?"

No one answered.

Tamamo-no-Mae turned her head and saw Izuna squatting on the ground.

The young man wore a cat mask on his head, turned to the side, one hand on his knee, the other slightly raised near his ear, as if listening to something.

He nodded his head every now and then, his lips moving slightly, as if he were muttering something to himself.

His eccentric demeanor, coupled with the way he squatted in the corner with his ears perked up, made one wonder if he had gone mad.

Tamamo-no-Mae's lips twitched slightly. "Uh, Lord Izuna."

Izuna turned her head, her eyes clear. "Hmm? Oh, right."

He stood up. "I think I have a clue about this matter."

"That means your Spirit Base has been corrupted."

The Jurōjin leaned against the stone wall and slowly began to speak.

"The Evil God needs human sacrifices to appease his anger."

"Of those who were Sacrifice, some went directly to the Yomi, while others returned to the world of the living."

Tobirama raised an eyebrow. "Back to the human world?"

"They didn't actually have so many symptoms at first," the Jurōjin said. "When they first came back, they were no different from normal people. They ate, worked, and talked to people—everything was normal. But as time went on, their behavior gradually became strange."

His voice lowered, as if he were recalling something he didn't want to remember.

"It tries to recruit others into its cult. They don't care about anything or anyone, and later they even stopped eating and drinking, focusing solely on bringing people into the Jashin Cult."

Tobirama frowned.

"If that doesn't work," the Jurōjin continued, "They will start to go mad for all sorts of reasons, harming themselves and others. In the end, they will either Sacrifice themselves again, or become sane, bloodthirsty madmen."

Tobirama listening, Tobirama frowned and said, "It sounds like just a scary ghost story."

The Jurōjin shook his head. "If it were really a ghost story, that would be fine, but it isn't."

Tobirama sighed and stood up.

"If it's true, then I have to leave now." He glanced down at the Jurōjin, "Sir, I'm afraid I'll have to leave you here for a while."

The Jurōjin, leaning against the wall, sat up a little straighter and looked up at him. "What does Bishamonten want to do?"

"He said he collected the blood of everyone at the Summer Festival, intending to Sacrifice them in a way that would cause immense damage to both sides." Tobirama paused, "I don't know if you can understand what I'm saying."

The Jurōjin frowned, his fingers slowly gathering on his knees. He pondered for a moment, then shook his head.

"That's impossible," the old man said. "No matter how powerful he is, he couldn't possibly do that. Three thousand lives, three thousand blood, all Sacrifice in an instant—that's beyond human capability. There must be other means to achieve this... Bah! Sorcery!"

Tobirama frowned. "Old sir, have you been affected as well?"

The Jurōjin spat. "It's all because that brat led us astray! I have no objection if you want to kill him!"

"Does the old gentleman have any clues?"

The Jurōjin lowered his eyes and began to recall.

After a long while, the old man slowly spoke.

"If it's some kind of unusual situation... it can only be that."

Tobirama looked at him. "What?"

The Jurōjin looked up. "That big ship."

Hashirama arrived at the large ship.

Before even boarding the ship, a premonition beyond his senses convinced him that something was amiss here.

He couldn't quite describe the feeling; it was like an invisible mist permeating the air, clinging to his skin and causing a slight tingling sensation.

His hair stood on end the moment he stepped onto the diving board, and the back of his neck tensed, as if something was watching him from the shadows.

But when he actually got closer and saw it, he realized that the ship was only about twice the size of an ordinary sailboat.

The deck was spacious, the masts were towering, and the cabins smelled of new wood inside and out.

The workers were still busy, loading cargo into the hold and hanging sails on the mooring lines; no one noticed him.

Hashirama stood in the shadows, his gaze sweeping over everyone from top to bottom.

He had seen Tailed Beasts before, not just the one that had injured him when he was young.

In order to carry out the plan to capture the Tailed Beasts, he actually asked Tobirama to take him to see their location in the early days of the village's founding.

The sheer size of those behemoths is unforgettable.

The Nine-Tails Fox can flatten half a mountain with a single flick of its tail, Shukaku's belly is so big it could hold an entire village.

Such a vast amount of Chakra, such a solid entity, could not possibly be hidden inside this ship.

But what about that aura?

He could feel it, heavy, pressing down somewhere inside the ship.

As far as he knew, the Tailed Beasts were not something that just any Tom, Dick, or Harry could seal away.

Even the Clan Head of the Uzumaki Clan could not seal and use the power of Tailed Beast without alerting others.

He hadn't heard anything about what had happened at sea in the past few days.

There were no rumors of Tailed Beasts appearing, no tsunamis, no storms; everything was perfectly calm.

However, the aura of this Tailed Beast is real.

Hashirama shook his head, trying to shake off those chaotic thoughts.

"Never mind, let's look for it first."

Perhaps once we find it, we'll know the reason.

Hashirama did not infiltrate.

He found an intersection, swaggered out from it, and headed towards the Shipyard entrance.

Two guards stood at the entrance, swords at their waists, their faces stern. As Hashirama walked past, they merely glanced at him, seemingly wondering who he was. However, when Hashirama wasn't being silly, he exuded quite an aura, so they didn't dare stop him and let him go straight in.

He took a few steps inside and ran into a middle-aged man carrying an account book who was coming out of a side corridor.

The man was walking briskly and almost bumped into him. He looked up and frowned, but knowing he couldn't offend anyone, he suppressed his temper and asked, "You are...?"

"Oh, I'm just looking around." Hashirama said frankly, glancing around as he asked, "Where is this place?"

The middle-aged man looked him up and down.

Hashirama had a dignified appearance, with thick eyebrows and large eyes. Hashirama was tall and had a steady posture. Most importantly, the exquisite kimono he was wearing today, prepared by Namikaze Sōichi, was made of very precious fabric.

Those who could afford to wear this kind of fabric were mostly high-ranking officials and nobles, and the middle-aged man, realizing this, immediately became more respectful.

"This is the Shipyard in Ise," he said, his tone brimming with undisguised pride. "We're building a huge ship, the largest ship in the Land of Hot Water. If you walk that way, you'll see the dock; it's almost finished."

"The Shipyard in Ise?" Hashirama tilted his head. "Can I go in and take a look?"

The middle-aged man did not refuse. He stepped aside to make way, pointed in a direction, and spoke with a hint of enthusiasm.

"Of course. You can go this way, just around that wall. Would you like me to show you the way?"

"No need, no need, I can wander around by myself." Hashirama waved his hand, nodded to him, and walked in the direction he pointed.

After walking around the Hashirama, the view suddenly opened up before me.

The dock was much larger than it appeared from the outside.

The massive ship was docked in the dry dock, and workers were busy working up and down the scaffolding.

The sounds of mallets striking wood, nails hammering into wood, and cables rubbing together created a lively cacophony.

He walked slowly along the edge of the dock, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the large ship several times.

I can't see anything wrong with it.

The manager seemed worried that something might happen to him, so he kept following him.

The manager followed half a step behind him. Seeing that he was walking slowly, he took the initiative to speak, his tone filled with barely suppressed pride.

"This is the colossal ship built by the Ise Family, bringing together the essence of all their shipwrights," he said, gesturing towards the hull. "It can not only brave the winds and waves, but also bear a weight of three thousand tons. We have prepared many entertainment facilities on board."

Hashirama tilted his head to look at him. "Entertainment facilities?"

"The restaurant goes without saying," the manager listed off one example after another, "There's also a theater, a football field, an indoor swimming pool, and much more. This ship has everything; guests can enjoy themselves for three days and three nights without even getting off."

Hashirama an "Oh," his gaze still fixed on the large ship, seemingly somewhat interested.

Seeing his reaction, the manager took another half step forward, lowered his voice, as if revealing a secret. "This is a project we haven't announced yet. But since you've come to us, sir, we can let you register in advance and buy your ticket to board this ship."

Hashirama withdrew his gaze and looked at him.

The manager wore a fawning smile, rubbed his hands together, and his eyes gleamed with the kind of light a businessman gives when he sees a distinguished guest.

"Register in advance?" Hashirama repeated.

"Yes, yes, yes." The manager nodded repeatedly. "Spots are limited, first come, first served. If you decide now, I can arrange a good seat for you. First class, with a window facing the sea, you'll be watching the sunrise as soon as you open your eyes."

Hashirama withdrew his gaze and smiled at the steward.

"Let me take another look," he said casually. "This ship is so big, I should at least take it for a spin first."

The manager wasn't disappointed, still smiling broadly, "That's right, that's right. Please take your time looking around, and call me anytime if you need anything."