Selfish Little Brat, Shamelessly Playing Innocent

Boom!!

The rain poured down in sheets as thunder exploded.

One, two, three, four...

Six or seven hunched figures staggered closer, like drenched carrion vultures, their gazes locking onto Yun Chuan's group of three, greedily eyeing their bundles.

"They must still have food."

"Look at that kid, so pale and tender..."

"My daughter is dying, I beg you, give me something to eat."

They muttered their desires under their breath, as if whispering secrets beneath the cover of the rain.

It sounded like the rustle of wind through leaves, but to Yahiko and Konan, it was more like the low murmur of demons biting their lips to suppress their cravings.

"Damn it!"

Yahiko gripped a rusty old kunai with a sharpened tip in both hands, veins bulging on the back of his hands as he snarled viciously, "What do you think you're doing? This is food we earned with our lives! I won't—I can't share it with you..."

His face was full of anger and sorrow, but the hand trembling wildly as it held the kunai, and his chest heaving like a bellows, betrayed his despair and pain.

Just as Yun Chuan had said, this was "reality."

A world of endless war, a country beyond saving...

They had thought the Lord of the Land of Rain and the leader of Amegakure could protect everyone, but now they realized there was no place for people like them at all!

Even if he could hold onto this food, would he just keep scraping by like this, living like a rat or a stray dog?

At that thought, the bone-deep chill and despair drained the strength from Yahiko's hand, turning it white as he gripped the kunai.

Just then, among the gathered refugees, someone finally lost patience.

"Give it to me!!"

In Yahiko's widening pupils, the figure lunging at him was reflected.

It was the man who had said his daughter was starving and begged for food.

In that instant, Yahiko, who had already tightened his grip on the kunai, froze.

The short, terrifying roar seemed to stretch into a long, drawn-out thread in his ears.

"How pathetic," someone said. "The unfortunate always create those more unfortunate than themselves."

In Yahiko's brown-yellow pupils, a hand with distinct knuckles burst into view.

Each finger was like a resilient bamboo joint, pressing lightly against that man's face.

"Don't!" Yahiko's pupils trembled, and he shouted instinctively.

But it was too late.

Or rather, Yun Chuan didn't care.

Who do you think you are? Who do you think I am?

Crack, crack, crack!!

The sound of bones breaking was buried in the rain, yet it reached their ears without any concealment.

The man didn't even have time to scream; the skull being crushed began to deform and crack.

Finally, exceeding its limit, it shattered with a crack in the rain, splattering red and white liquid onto Yahiko's stunned face.

In one exchange, the man in front of him became a corpse.

At that moment, the few who had gathered around, hearing the resounding crack of bones and witnessing the brutal, extreme scene, shuddered violently.

But this was only the beginning.

Swoosh!!

Before the others could react, Yun Chuan's right hand flipped gently, gripping the short knife in a reverse hold, and swung it toward the men in front of him.

In an instant, several heads shot into the air, their faces still frozen in greed.

After a brief silence, they fell like cut wheat, crimson blood spurting like fountains.

In the blink of an eye, only a small, thin figure remained, trembling with fear as he stared at Yun Chuan.

"...Why?"

A sickly flush crept onto Yahiko's pale face as he turned to look at Yun Chuan, whose expression was calm, and asked in a hoarse voice, "They just wanted to live. How could you..."

Hearing this, Yun Chuan lowered his eyelids slightly, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes as he looked at him.

Was this the original founder of Akatsuki?

What a naive brat.

Living in this hell on earth, a naive brat like this—even if he hadn't died at Hanzo's hands, he would have died sooner or later from his own naivety, unless he had met Nagato.

Because this was the ninja world. This was hell on earth.

This was the most profound realization he had gained from witnessing this world firsthand.

The core of the ninja world is "war," an entangled web of "hatred," not so-called "bonds."

In this world, killing people is the norm, as routine as eating. There are also rogue ninja, bandits, human experiments, factional struggles, the annihilation of countries and clans...

Peace?

That's a luxury only the great nations can afford.

They occupy the most fertile and vast lands in the ninja world. Even the poorest village, Sunagakure, possesses resources, jutsu, secret techniques, and heritage that small nations can never hope to match...

Bonds?

That's a topic only "protagonists" have the right to discuss.

They live in homelands protected by powerful sealing barriers, with a wealth of ninjutsu and secret arts where they can always find something suitable. Even when leaving the village on missions, they're under the protection of their teachers.

The great nations don't wage war on their own soil; they use small nations as a chessboard, shifting their own risks onto them.

Even so, Tsunade, the most skilled medical ninja, still lost her lover Dan Katō to war. Even with Orochimaru's close protection on the battlefield, Nawaki could still accidentally fall into a trap and be blown to pieces.

And they are still powerful ninja from a great nation, yet they experience all kinds of tragic separations and deaths. What about the powerless civilians of small nations?

In the face of war, civilians are too fragile.

Under the threat of starvation and the fear of death, killing and stealing food presupposes there's food to steal!

If there's no food, what will they do?

Thud!

"No, no, don't kill me! Don't kill me!"

Before Yahiko could press further, the last remaining man suddenly fell to his knees, prostrating himself and trembling as he screamed, "I didn't eat it! I didn't eat the meat! Only they did! Really, don't kill me!!"

Those words struck like a thunderbolt, slamming hard into Yahiko's head.

His face, which had regained a little color, turned pale again. He stared blankly at Tsukimiri Yun Chuan, whose expression remained calm.

The starving father and daughter, their eyes and faces no longer those of the living...

So, you saw it all along, didn't you?

"A selfish, childish brat, praying for everything to go your way, shamelessly playing innocent."

Yun Chuan narrowed his eyes slightly and sneered. "Maybe you think that after a heavy rain, everything becomes clean—whether good or bad, it can all start over. But let me tell you now."

"No matter how long this rain lasts, it's just a rain. The next day, things will be just as filthy."

Konan stood silently behind the two, gazing into the distant hell on earth. Something she had always held firm in her heart seemed to shatter quietly in that moment.

A flower of hope cannot bloom in a place soaked in blood like this.

Thinking this, Konan turned her gaze to the figure before her.

What kind of place was it where he stood?