Reverse Hair Yura

Yura did not travel quickly. She spent three days trekking along the border of the Land of Fire, crossing the Land of Rice Fields and the Land of Frost. With only a day's journey left until the Land of Waterfalls, she stopped in a small town, intending to get some proper rest in a bed and, incidentally, change her clothes.

Due to recent bandit raids, the town was somewhat desolate, and most shops remained closed. Yura walked barefoot down the street, looking around leisurely. People brushed past her, yet not a single soul noticed her presence.

With such an ability, not to mention easily infiltrating Takigakure to seize the Earth Grudge Fear secret technique, even walking off with goods without paying would be a simple matter. However, Yura was not the type of low-class yokai to do such things.

Moreover, there was nothing in this small town that Yura particularly needed to steal. Before long, she found her target.

In an era like this, the town's only women's clothing store caught her eye. She examined the finished garments on the racks and nodded with satisfaction; being purely handmade, they were undoubtedly of higher quality than mass-produced ready-to-wear clothing.

When she walked up to the young shopkeeper, the woman did not notice Yura at all, remaining slumped over the counter in a drowsy state. It was only when Yura lightly tapped her fingers on the countertop that the shopkeeper jolted awake. Looking up at the suddenly appeared Yura, she let out a small, startled gasp.

"My apologies, customer, I didn't notice..." The shopkeeper stood up abruptly, bowing in a hurried apology.

"Shopkeeper, I would like to buy a few outfits. Do you have any in stock?" With a gentle, quiet smile on her delicate face, Yura inquired.

Hearing this, the shopkeeper sized Yura up. She was barely a head taller than the counter, exceptionally petite, and the first impression was that of a child. Then, her gaze fell upon Yura's face—a sweet, gentle, petite beauty. Her second glance landed on the tattered, blood-stained ninja combat uniform, and her heart tightened. Not daring to look further, she lowered her head and stammered nervously, "Ah, Ninja-sama, this shop doesn't make or sell ninja gear..."

"It is fine, I am only looking to buy some casual clothes." Still whispering with a gentle smile, Yura pointed and said, "Just these, give me three sets."

Seemingly soothed by the gentle tone, the shopkeeper's tension eased. Seeing that this was not some fierce, murderous ninja, she patted her small chest and smiled, "Please wait a moment, customer."

Not daring to be negligent, the shopkeeper hurried to the back room. Before long, she returned with the garments packed in a wooden box. Wiping the beads of sweat from her forehead, she placed it on the counter before Yura and looked at her expectantly.

"You have a great eye, customer. This is the best silk in the shop... it might be a little expensive..."

Yura curled the corner of her lips and smiled, "Aren't you going to measure my size?"

The shopkeeper was slightly stunned. This sale was secure; what a generous customer, not even haggling over the price. She then pointed to herself and said confidently, "My eyes are the measure!"

"Is that so?" Yura lifted her finger slightly, and an invisible black thread shot out, connecting to the wooden box. She smiled softly, "How impressive~"

After being complimented, the shopkeeper waved her hands shyly.

"No, no..."

Just then, Yura hooked her finger, and the wooden box, weighing at least several pounds, floated up from the counter.

"So amazing~" The shopkeeper's eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with both hands, a flicker of longing and envy deep within her gaze.

She did not see the black hair strands suspended in the air. Compared to Yura's own invisibility, these hair strands were truly invisible; even among other yokai, few could see them. At the very least, a half-yokai like Inuyasha would not be able to perceive them.

Black Secret Technique: Thread-Assault Blade

"By the way, shopkeeper..." Yura smiled faintly, "Could I borrow a place to wash up?"

"Ah, yes, of course, customer." The shopkeeper hurried out from behind the counter and led the way, "Follow me."

With the wooden box floating beside her, Yura followed her to the backyard and entered the washroom. Even while bathing, the small katana that served as her true body never left her side. This blade could not be moved too far away; otherwise, this body would collapse to the ground like a puppet with severed strings. Yura was not sure exactly how far the limit was, but she knew instinctively that it could not be too far.

Furthermore, although this immortal body was powerful, it was not without its fatal weaknesses.

She had a comfortable soak. Although her true form was a blade, this body—aside from lacking a sense of pain—was not devoid of other sensations. She could enjoy various delicacies just like a normal person. Even though it was a female body, it wasn't impossible to switch to another, but as her original body, it was the one most compatible with her. Unless absolutely necessary, Yura did not want to discard it.

After cleaning herself thoroughly, she prepared to put on the new clothes and sealed the remaining two sets into a scroll.

The shopkeeper, waiting outside, heard the rustling of clothes and couldn't help but ask, "Do you need any help, customer? These kinds of clothes can be quite difficult to put on..."

"No need, thank you," Yura replied. The hair strands behind her formed bundles like tentacles, dancing flexibly as they grabbed the kimono. Without any visible movement of her putting them on, she was fully dressed. The elegant, patterned sash at her waist was tied into a dignified drum knot at her back. Her long hair retracted into a short style, and she lifted the door curtain to step out of the bathroom.

Seeing Yura, the shopkeeper's eyes lit up. After looking her over, she offered a sincere and earnest compliment, "You look beautiful, customer."

"Is there a mirror, shopkeeper?" Yura asked, smoothing the hair by her ears.

For a long time, due to the pressures of survival, Yura had never properly looked at herself, to the point where her own appearance had become somewhat blurred in her memory.

Besides, children grew quickly. Even if her nutrition hadn't kept up and she was as flat as a board, she changed every single day.

"Yes, there is, customer." The shopkeeper led the way for a few steps, then stopped, her gaze falling on Yura's bare, delicate, and fair little feet. She couldn't help but ask, "Customer, do you need a pair of shoes?"

Yura shook her head slightly and said, "There is no need."

The shopkeeper found it strange, but she didn't dare to ask or comment, assuming it was just a quirk of this Ninja-sama—a preference for going barefoot.

As they walked, Yura couldn't help but recall the issue of shoes.

At the very beginning, she had worn them. They weren't the standard ninja sandals; Takigakure was somewhat poor, and as a newly established village, their standard-issue ninja equipment couldn't keep up with the Five Great Nations, especially Konoha. Basically, ninjas provided their own gear, and looking at them, it was a motley crew wearing whatever they could find.

Later, she encountered Senju Hashirama. In a single exchange, Yura was pinned to a tree by Wood Release while still in mid-air. As a standard cannon-fodder Chunin, she hadn't even had time to form a hand seal; that was the extent of her ability. The force of that impact was so immense that Yura suspected she had been run over by a train.

It had clearly looked like nothing more than a branch the thickness of a fist, but that was the Wood Release of Senju Hashirama—a casual, basic attack. No, it didn't even count as a basic attack. To the Yura of that time, it was an unbearable agony.

Yura suspected that it had been imbued with Super Strength. If it hadn't been a piercing wound while she was still in mid-air, she would have at least shattered a few bones, much like Jiraiya.

Pain. It was too painful.

The phantom pain of her death still lingered in her mind even after three days, and Yura couldn't help but grit her teeth viciously.

At the time, one of her shoes had flown off, and she had died on the spot. By the time she was resurrected and regained consciousness, Yura couldn't be bothered to look for the shoe. During her journey, while familiarizing herself with and developing her own power, the remaining shoe had also been sliced apart by her hair blades.

Without the protection of chakra, ordinary shoes were fragile and useless against the razor-sharp hair strands Yura wielded.

This was...

Black Secret Technique: Hair-Blade Technique

It was far less comfortable than being barefoot. Before the tough, iron-like hair blades, even chakra could be sliced through. Only Yura's own yokai body had a high resistance to her own hair, making it difficult for the strands to break her skin.

However, she would definitely settle this grudge.

At present, Senju Hashirama is absolutely unbeatable; it is best not to cross paths with him, and one should stay as far away as possible.

So...

"Senju Hashirama..." Yura clenched her small fists and whispered to herself, "Tsunade, you just wait for me."

Regrettably, Tsunade has not even been born yet.

However, going barefoot is not a viable option. After a moment of thought, a large amount of black hair emerged from the soles of Yura's feet, rapidly weaving against her skin to form a pair of black ninja foot-guards that left her toes and heels exposed. As the pigment faded, the entire covering turned white.

Black Secret Technique: Hair-Weaving Armor

But in the eyes of others, her feet would appear bare, so Yura still had to wear proper clothing, otherwise, she would be like the Emperor in his new clothes.

"Um..." While walking, the shopkeeper spoke up, but seeing the fleeting ferocity and the whisper on Yura's face, she closed her mouth, leaving her words unsaid.

"If you have something to say, just say it, Shopkeeper. You've been peeking at me for a long time." Standing still in front of a full-length mirror, Yura tilted her head and smiled gently at the shopkeeper, her scarlet eyes gazing quietly.

"Well... you are very beautiful..." After brewing a bit of flattery, the shopkeeper looked at Yura, who was as delicate and petite as a doll in the mirror, and hesitated.

Compared to her previous appearance—wearing revealing ninja gear, looking sweet yet bewitching, and possessing a mysterious, deadly danger—Yura, now dressed in a dignified and plain white kimono, wrapped up tightly, seemed like a different person. There was a strange sense of dissonance permeating her elegant, quiet, and mysterious aura.

The shopkeeper's gaze fell on Yura's collar, her eyelids twitched violently, and finally, she took a deep breath and said hesitantly, "Customer, you are wearing your clothes incorrectly..."

Upon hearing this, a faint smile curled at the corners of Yura's mouth—a bewitching smile.

The shopkeeper looked at the reflection in the mirror and felt her scalp go numb and her breath hitch.

She looked like one, even more like one!

The pale, delicate, and pretty face that was as expressionless as a corpse, the scarlet, calm, and deep eyes, and the bewitching smile at the corners of her mouth were just like those dolls at home that lacked the texture of a living person and didn't move, suddenly smiling at you in a creepy way, making one's heart stop.

There was a faint sense of death and madness about her.

It was hard to notice when she was wearing ninja gear, but now, dressed in a pure white kimono, just by looking at her, one felt an instinctive, heart-pounding terror.

If she were to put on a Tsunokakushi, she would look exactly like a corpse dressed for burial.

She was clearly still moving, so how could she be a corpse? It must be that she had read too many yokai novels. Forcing a smile, the shopkeeper continued, "This dress suits you very well, but customer, the way you are wearing it is for the dead..."

Even if it is money from the dead, it must be earned!

The shopkeeper took a deep breath and secretly observed the expression of the person in the mirror.

"I am not wearing it wrong~" Yura chuckled softly.

As the words fell, the shopkeeper's professional fake smile froze on her face. Her whole body stood rigid, her heart drumming and pounding wildly, and crystal-clear tears began to well up in her eyes; she didn't dare to move a muscle.

Yura closed her eyes gently, savoring the delicious scent of panic radiating from the other woman. Opening them again, she carefully examined her own reflection in the mirror.

The person in the mirror had a bob cut, commonly known as a "hime-cut." She had deliberately cut it short while she was still a living ninja; long hair was too troublesome to manage, and in the precarious Warring States period, she didn't have the luxury of time for that.

Born in the Warring States era, her former self was picked up from a pile of corpses by a ninja clan and raised as cannon fodder. She began fighting on the battlefield at the age of four. She had no friends and no family, only day after day of brutal training and slaughter. Coupled with a lack of food and poor nutrition, she struggled on the line of starvation, which led to her developing a numb, hollow, dead-faced expression, and she was exceptionally petite compared to her peers. She had always lived and struggled in a state of numbness until she awakened her memories after death, which allowed her to regain a bit of what it felt like to be human.

"This dress really suits me..." Yura chuckled.

Don't let Yura's appearance fool you; she looks about 12 years old and stands at a mere 1.47 meters, 0.3 centimeters shorter than 12-year-old Naruto, but Yura is actually 16.

At this age, Naruto had already saved the ninja world, which is a bit of a pity.

There were benefits, though. Because of her height, the ninjas around her, while perverted, weren't perverted enough to have special thoughts about a little kid; everyone preferred to seek solace for their scarred ninja hearts from older sisters.

In terms of appearance, although her face was sweet, her overall figure, height, and temperament were closer to Hiiro from Noragami, and with the similar clothing, it was like a cosplay.

In summary, she was a "three-no" beauty in the traditional sense—referring to girls who are silent, lack facial expressions, and are difficult to read—heartless, speechless, and expressionless.

However, that was the Yura of the past. Nowadays, Yura only really fits the "lack of rich and intense facial expressions" part; her inner life is actually quite rich and joyful, and she isn't short on words—at least, she wouldn't let a conversation fall flat.

She was actually quite good at chatting.

"Shopkeeper, there is a saying in the countryside that ghosts cannot be reflected in mirrors." With a faint, gentle smile on her face, Yura said, "Do I look like a human or a ghost to you?"

Gulp.

Swallowing hard, the shopkeeper decided not to dwell on the way the clothes were worn anymore and laughed dryly, "Of course you look like a human, like a great beauty. Customer, would you like to check out?"

Yura nodded slightly, turned, and walked toward the counter, saying indifferently, "How much?"

The shopkeeper went to the counter, discarded the thought of offering a discount, and said, "Customer, three sets come to 45,760 Ryo."

Yura's movement to pay froze. Who carries a massive fortune of 70,000 yuan on them!

Seeing this, the shopkeeper became nervous and quickly said, "If it's not enough, you can just buy one set, customer."

To be honest, not counting her past life, Yura hadn't seen this much money in this life. Even though she had picked up quite a bit before, her companions on assassination missions wouldn't carry large sums of money—not counting that guy Kakuzu who ran off.

But fortunately, in order to assassinate the God of Shinobi, the village hadn't just sent three-tenths of its Jonin; they had also made full preparations, such as...

Yura narrowed her eyes and, under the shopkeeper's nervous gaze, unsealed a thick stack of papers from the scroll in her sleeve.

This technique is the Lightning Blade Summoning; one only needs to touch the seal to instantly summon ninja tools. It is a more advanced and expensive item than a standard storage scroll.

Looking at the dense, engraved incantations on the paper, the shopkeeper asked suspiciously, "Customer, what is this?" She reached out, intending to take it.

"Explosive Tags," Yura smiled faintly.

The shopkeeper's movement to take them froze abruptly. Her pupils shrank to the size of needlepoints, and cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She had heard of these—ninja gear—but she didn't dare touch them at all.

"Don't worry, ordinary people can't trigger them; they are very safe," Yura said. "The market price is 3,000 to 4,000 each. I'll count them at the lowest, 3,000. There are at least a hundred sheets in this stack."

Even at a minimum valuation of 3,000 ryo, a single Explosive Tag is worth nearly 5,000, enough to cover a month's wages for an ordinary person.

Though wholesale and self-manufactured costs are nowhere near that price.

"Eh?!" The shopkeeper's hands trembled as she caught the Explosive Tag, looking at Yura and asking hesitantly, "All... all for me?"

Yura nodded.

Seeing this, the shopkeeper gripped them tightly, then spoke with the resolve of someone heading to their own execution: "Deal!"

The village had prepared a massive quantity of Explosive Tags; being a ninja village, they possessed the capability to manufacture them. The original battle plan was to ambush the God of Shinobi along his route and hit him with a massive barrage, so everyone had been full of confidence, believing their odds of victory were high.

But they hadn't expected a Wood Clone to be the one scouting ahead. The three Jonin hadn't intended to waste Explosive Tags initially, charging in with full confidence—after all, it was just a clone, surely it could be cut down easily—but instead, they were the ones who got blown away.

Truly a sad and speechless tale.

Looking back, Yura could only wonder how they had dared.

Did they not understand the sheer weight of the God of Shinobi's reputation?

And so, Yura now possessed many Explosive Tags—many, many Explosive Tags—all of them worth their weight in gold.

Yura couldn't even tell if she was rich or poor anymore.

Explosive Tags weren't exactly currency; selling them individually was a hassle, and offloading them in small, scattered batches was difficult. With ninjas as the only clientele, there was almost no market for them in ordinary towns. A clever shopkeeper would likely refuse them, but if a not-so-clever one refused, things would get complicated. Yura would have no choice but to dine and dash, so giving a little extra was a matter of conscience.

Leaving behind the shopkeeper, who was trembling as she counted the tags—a woman who seemed not-so-clever yet somehow very clever—Yura turned and walked out into the street.