Bringing Him Home

"I'm completely stuffed, Mr. Genma. I'm heading out for a bit."

After bidding the others goodbye, Senba waddled toward the back, belly bulging and looking thoroughly overfull.

Uchiha Yue, who had been sitting in place, also got Iruka to stand up. She told the leisurely Genma Shiranui that they needed to go replenish their supplies. Then, after asking a server bringing over sake where the busiest shopping district was, she left with Iruka.

Genma Shiranui stayed behind, drinking by himself. He made no comment on the three's actions, but a hint of ease showed in his slightly tipsy eyes. Ninjas still needed to use their heads most of the time.

After relieving himself in the back courtyard, Senba wandered around with a relaxed expression. In the distance, he spotted someone handling knives: Murakami, the chef who had shown off his knife skills in the front hall.

Murakami held a bone-cleaver in his left hand, its blade gleaming coldly, while he carefully wiped it with a piece of fine silk in his right. He was so focused that he didn't notice Senba approaching.

Senba didn't rudely interrupt him. Instead, he looked over the neatly arranged knives on the table. Judging by the wear on their handles, they had all seen plenty of use, yet they were still so well-maintained. That could only mean Murakami was a true knife enthusiast.

"Have you lost your way back, Ninja?" Murakami asked bluntly, without a hint of tact. He wasn't someone who was good at socializing.

"These knives are excellent." Senba picked one up and lightly flicked a finger against the blade. Its clear, lingering ring had no trace of discord, making him raise an eyebrow. "The design, craftsmanship, and even the way they've been sharpened and maintained are all exceptional, Mr. Murakami. You're very skilled."

"That's not the case, Ninja." Murakami's expression remained stiff as he explained that he hadn't made the knives. They had been crafted using ancient methods by the oldest and most experienced blacksmith in Asakusa Town.

A blacksmith who used ancient methods to make knives? That was certainly an unusual profession. Blacksmithing still existed, of course, but the work had long since become assembly-line production. After all, this world had developed technology in a rather twisted way—otherwise, how could the vast quantities of Ninja Tools consumed by Ninjas be replenished so quickly?

After chatting with Murakami for a while and getting the general picture, Senba stopped bothering him and left on his own.

Once Senba was out of sight, Murakami resumed what he'd been doing, picking up the knives and carefully arranging them. Just then, someone coughed.

"Uncle."

"Murakami, a customer recently complained that the lamb you cut wasn't sliced evenly. Are your knives getting badly worn? After we close tonight, go have Master Tetzou service them."

With that, Murakami's uncle turned and left, not giving him a chance to reply.

"Badly worn?" Murakami picked up a small knife and lightly pressed his thumb against the edge. A thin red line appeared. "It seems fine. Could the customer have been mistaken?"

He shook his head. Since his uncle had said so, there wasn't much he could say. Besides, he had a few knife techniques he wanted to ask the master about.

While Senba was back with Mr. Genma, chatting, at the Senju Ancestral Home in Konoha, Senju Yunhua stood with a grave expression before his older sister. A cold killing intent had appeared on her aged face.

"Yunhua, Slug-sama brought news of little Senba. Take some people and bring the child home. Take my guards with you. Don't worry about me. If I meet an unnatural death in Konoha, Hiruzen will have to kill himself to atone."

Looking at the intelligence in his hands, Senju Yunhua—usually so steady in his work—felt his eyes redden. The seventy-year-old man was so enraged that both his hands trembled.

"Sister, should we wipe these bastards out completely?"

"No." Senju Momoka, still clearheaded, stroked the little Slug and rejected her younger brother's suggestion. "The Grass Ninja serve to ease the tensions between Konoha and the Iwa Ninja to some extent, so we only need to deal them a heavy blow."

"Hiruzen Sarutobi, if you fail to seize this opportunity, then you truly aren't fit to remain Hokage."

By now, the old woman seemed to have exhausted her strength. She lay down on the couch and said wearily, "When the Uzumaki Clan was wiped out, we already failed your older sister Mito. We can't turn a blind eye to the Uzumaki Clan members still left in this world."

"Remember to bring people skilled in Water Release."

After leaving him with that instruction, Senju Momoka waved Yunhua away. She herself drifted into a light doze, and seemed to see Mito Uzumaki, her red hair shining, smiling at her.

I really am getting old. In recent years, I've been seeing so many old friends, drifting in and out of sleep. How will I face them in the Pure Land?

A weary sigh echoed through the silent room. Sensing the melancholy in her companion's voice, the little Slug crawled onto her cheek and gently rubbed against it to comfort her.

That afternoon, Senju Yunhua claimed that he needed to pay a customary visit to the Land of Fire's daimyo and led his team out of Konoha. Since the visit was an annual obligation, Hiruzen Sarutobi didn't think much of it and approved the request immediately.

Senba had no idea that his news had enraged two elderly women so much. He was now on the outskirts of Asakusa Town, handing a canteen to Iruka, who was dry-heaving, to help settle his stomach.

"Yue, based on what you've said, were seventy percent of the people killed in the caravan taken down with a single slash?"

After examining the dead with Iruka, Uchiha Yue nodded slightly and recalled what she had just seen.

"Although the bodies have already begun to decompose, the weather is cold, so we can still clearly see the direction of the cuts. The person wielding the knife was skilled, but it's impossible that every single blow landed in a lethal spot—unless the victims were caught in an Illusion Technique and couldn't move."

"But the leader of the group was killed only after a fight, so they couldn't have been under an Illusion Technique. Unless..."

"Unless there was a traitor among them—and more than one, at that. As for the method, they probably used poison." Senba picked up a dead branch and began drawing in the dirt as he continued.

"So, to pull off a successful robbery, you have to consider three things. First, you need a reliable source of information."

Senba drew a circle in the dirt, then a horizontal line extending to the right from it and another circle. "Next, you need enough people to get the job done. They might not be elite, but they should at least know how to use a blade. They can't just be a rabble."

"There has to be a link between the two, to make sure the information doesn't get distorted." Senba drew another circle above the line, then added two branches connecting it to the circles below.

A triangle now lay before them. While Iruka pondered it, Senba wrote the name of the place where they'd eaten lunch inside the middle circle.

He wrote a name beside the source of information. Uchiha Yue and Iruka looked at him, puzzled. Could this person be involved too?

"The thief crying 'Stop, thief!'—it happens all the time." Senba recalled that fat face and spoke meaningfully.

Genma Shiranui yawned beside them, idly gazing at the desolate countryside. It looked like he'd be back in Konoha soon.