Yura of the Demon Hair

Yura wasn't walking very fast. After three days following the Land of Fire's border, she had crossed the Land of Rice Fields and the Land of Frost and was now only a day's journey from the Land of Waterfalls. She had stopped in the town because she wanted a proper rest in a bed and a change of clothes.

The bandits' attack had left the town somewhat desolate. Most of the shops weren't open. Yura strolled barefoot down the street, leisurely taking in her surroundings. Not one of the people she passed even noticed her.

With an ability like this, sneaking into Hidden Waterfall to steal the Earth Grudge Fear technique would be a breeze. She could even take things without paying and simply walk away. But Yura wasn't that kind of lowlife demon.

Besides, there was nothing in town that she wanted to steal. Before long, she found what she was looking for.

In this era, the town had only one shop selling women's clothing. Yura looked over the finished garments on the racks and nodded in satisfaction. They were handmade, undoubtedly much finer than mass-produced clothes.

When she approached the young shopkeeper, the woman still didn't notice her. She was dozing against the counter until Yura gently tapped its surface. The shopkeeper jolted awake, looked up at the suddenly appeared Yura, and let out a small gasp.

"Sorry, customer, I didn't notice you..." The shopkeeper sprang to her feet and hurriedly bowed in apology.

"Miss, I'd like to buy a few outfits. Do you have any ready-made?" Yura asked, a gentle smile on her exquisite face.

The shopkeeper looked her over. Yura was so short that her head barely rose above the counter. Her first impression was that she was a child. Then she looked at her face: a petite beauty with a sweet, gentle appearance. Her gaze fell to the bloodstained, torn combat clothes she wore, and the shopkeeper's heart tightened. She lowered her eyes and stammered nervously, "Ah, a ninja... My shop doesn't make or sell ninja clothes..."

"That's fine. I only want a few everyday outfits." Still smiling gently, Yura pointed. "Those ones. Three sets."

The gentle tone eased the shopkeeper's nerves. Seeing that Yura wasn't some bloodthirsty monster of a ninja, she patted her chest and smiled. "Please wait a moment."

The shopkeeper hurried into the back room and soon returned carrying a wooden box of ready-made clothes. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, set the box on the counter in front of Yura, and looked at her expectantly.

"You have a wonderful eye, customer. This is the finest silk in the shop... It may be a little expensive..."

Yura's lips curved into a smile. "Aren't you going to take my measurements?"

The shopkeeper paused. This sale was in the bag. What a generous customer—not even haggling over the price. She pointed to her own eyes and said with confidence, "My eyes are my measuring tape!"

"Is that so?" Yura raised a finger. An invisible black strand shot out and attached itself to the wooden box. Smiling faintly, she said, "How impressive."

The shopkeeper blushed and waved her hands at the compliment.

"N-no, not at all..."

Just then, Yura crooked a finger, and the wooden box, which weighed at least several pounds, floated up from the counter.

"How amazing!" The shopkeeper's eyes widened. She covered her mouth with both hands, a look of longing and envy in their depths.

She hadn't seen the black hair suspended in the air. Unlike Yura's invisibility, those strands were truly invisible. Few could see them, even among demons. Inuyasha, a half-demon, couldn't see them either.

Black Secret Technique: Manipulating Attack Blades

"By the way, miss..." Yura smiled gently. "Could I use a place to wash up?"

"Of course, customer." The shopkeeper hurried out from behind the counter and led the way. "Come with me."

With the wooden box floating beside her, Yura followed the shopkeeper into the back courtyard and went into the bath to wash. Even while bathing, she kept her short sword—the core of her being—close at hand. The blade couldn't be taken too far from her. Otherwise, her body would crumple to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. Yura didn't know exactly how far was too far; she only knew instinctively that it couldn't be far.

And though this immortal body was powerful, it wasn't without fatal weaknesses.

She soaked in the bath, thoroughly enjoying it. Though her true body was currently a sword, this body could feel everything except pain. She could enjoy all the same delicious food as an ordinary person. And though it was a woman's body, she could change into another one if she wanted. But this was her original body, and the one that suited her best. Unless she had no other choice, Yura didn't want to give it up.

After cleaning herself thoroughly, she prepared to change into her new clothes and seal the remaining two outfits in a scroll.

Waiting outside, the shopkeeper heard her getting dressed and called, "Would you like me to help, customer? These clothes can be a little tricky to put on..."

"No, thank you," Yura replied. The hair on her back split into bundles and danced like nimble tentacles. It grabbed the kimono, and without any visible movements from Yura, the garment was soon on her. She tied the elegant floral sash at her waist into a proper drum knot behind her back, her long hair retracted into a short bob, and she lifted the curtain and stepped out of the bath.

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up when she saw Yura. After looking her over, she praised her sincerely. "You look beautiful, customer."

"Do you have a mirror?" Yura asked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

She had never properly looked at herself. The pressures of survival had left her appearance a little blurry in her memories.

Besides, children grew quickly. Even without enough nutrition, even if she was flat-chested, she changed a little every day.

"Yes, customer." The shopkeeper led her a few steps, then stopped. Her gaze fell on Yura's bare, delicate white feet. "Would you like a pair of shoes?"

Yura shook her head slightly. "No need."

The shopkeeper found it strange but didn't dare ask. She assumed it was a ninja's peculiar habit—that Yura liked going barefoot.

As they walked, Yura couldn't help recalling her shoes.

At first, she had worn some—not the standard ninja sandals. Hidden Waterfall was poor, and the village had only recently been established. Its standard ninja gear couldn't match the quality of the Five Great Nations, especially Konoha's. Most ninjas had to supply their own equipment, so they wore all kinds of things. At a glance, they looked like a ragtag army.

Then she had run into Senju Hashirama. In a single exchange, Wood Release had impaled her on a tree in midair as she charged forward. As a standard Chunin cannon fodder, she hadn't even had time to form a hand seal. That was the best she could manage. The impact had been so powerful that Yura suspected she'd been run over by a train.

It had only looked like a branch about as thick as a fist, but this was Senju Hashirama's Wood Release. It was just a casual attack—not even worth calling a basic move. Yet to Yura at the time, it had been unbearable pain.

Yura suspected it had even been enhanced with the Strength Enhancement Technique. If she hadn't been impaled while still in midair, she might have ended up with a few broken bones, like Jiraiya.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

The phantom pain of dying still lingered in her mind, even three days later. Yura bared her teeth in a vicious grimace.

One of her shoes had flown off at the time. She'd died on the spot, and after she revived and woke up, she hadn't bothered searching for it. As she traveled and grew more familiar with her powers, the one remaining shoe had been sliced apart by her hair blades.

Without chakra to protect it, an ordinary shoe couldn't withstand her hair, which was as sharp as a blade as it ran along the strands beneath her feet.

This was...

Black Secret Technique: Hair-Thread Blade Technique

It was far more comfortable to go barefoot. Her hair blades were as tough as iron and could even cut through chakra. Only Yura's own demonic body had such strong resistance to her hair that the strands couldn't pierce her skin.

Still, she was going to get even for this grudge.

There was no way she could beat Hashirama right now. It was best to avoid him and keep as far away as possible.

So...

"Senju Hashirama..." Yura clenched her little fist and muttered under her breath. "Tsunade, just you wait."

Unfortunately, Tsunade hadn't been born yet.

But going barefoot wasn't exactly ideal, either. After thinking it over, Yura sent a mass of black hair sprouting from the soles of her feet. The strands clung to her skin and rapidly wove themselves into black ninja foot guards, leaving only her small, clear toes and heels exposed. As the pigment faded, the guards turned white.

Black Secret Technique: Hair-Weaving Armor Technique

But to anyone else, her feet still looked bare. So Yura still had to wear normal clothes. Otherwise, she'd be like the emperor in his new clothes.

"Um..." As they walked, the shopkeeper started to speak. She had seen the brief flash of murderous fury on Yura's face and heard her muttering, but she closed her mouth, unable to bring herself to continue.

"If you have something to say, just say it, miss. You've been sneaking glances at me for a while." Yura stopped in front of a full-length mirror and turned to the shopkeeper with a gentle smile. Her crimson eyes gazed calmly at her.

"Um... You're very beautiful..." After an opening compliment, the shopkeeper stared at Yura's delicate, doll-like reflection. She hesitated.

Compared with the revealing ninja clothes she'd worn before, which had made her look both sweet and alluring, as if she held some lethal mystery, Yura now seemed like an entirely different person. Her pure white kimono covered her from head to toe. She looked elegant and serene, with an inexplicable aura that was somehow unsettling.

The shopkeeper's gaze fell on Yura's collar, and her eyelid twitched violently. At last, she took a deep breath and said hesitantly, "Customer, you've put your clothes on wrong..."

At that, Yura's lips curled into a faint, eerie smile.

The shopkeeper saw the smile reflected in the mirror and felt a chill run down her spine. Her breath caught.

She looked even more like one now!

Her delicate, pale face was expressionless as a corpse. Her crimson eyes were calm and deep, and an eerie smile curved her lips. It was like one of the dolls in her house—one that had none of a living person's expressions or mannerisms—suddenly smiling at her in a sinister way. Her heart nearly stopped.

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

It had been hard to notice when Yura wore her ninja clothes. But now, in a pure white kimono, just looking at her filled the shopkeeper with instinctive fear.

If she put on a tsunokakushi as well, she'd look just like a dead person dressed for burial.

She was clearly moving. How could she be dead? Maybe the shopkeeper had just read too many stories about demons. She forced a smile and continued, "The outfit suits you very well, but the way you're wearing it is how a dead person wears it..."

Even if the customer was a corpse, the shopkeeper still had to take her money!

She took a deep breath and secretly studied the woman in the mirror.

"I haven't put it on wrong," Yura said with a light laugh.

The shopkeeper's professional smile froze. She stood stiffly, her heart pounding like a drum. Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't dare move a muscle.

Yura gently closed her eyes and breathed in the delicious scent of the shopkeeper's fear. Then she opened them and carefully studied her reflection.

The reflection had a chin-length hime cut, commonly called a princess cut. Yura had deliberately cut her hair short while she was still a ninja. Long hair was too much trouble to maintain, and she hadn't had time for it in the Warring States period, when death could come at any moment.

She had been born in the Warring States period. As a child, she'd been picked up from a pile of corpses by a ninja clan and raised as cannon fodder. She'd started going to battle at just four years old. She had no friends or family, only endless brutal training and killing. With never enough food or nutrition, she'd struggled to stay alive. She'd spent her life numb and struggling, until she died and her memories awakened, letting her feel a little more human again.

"This outfit really does suit me..." Yura chuckled.

Though Yura looked about twelve and stood only 147 centimeters tall, 0.3 centimeters shorter than twelve-year-old Naruto, she was actually sixteen.

Naruto had already saved the Shinobi World by that age. That was a little depressing.

There was one upside. Because of her height, the ninjas around her, though all rather eccentric, weren't so twisted that they had special interests in little kids. They all preferred seeking comfort from older women to soothe their battered ninja hearts.

In terms of appearance, her face was sweet, but her height and temperament were closer to Hiiro from Noragami. With similar clothes, she looked like she was cosplaying.

To sum it up, she was a traditional kuudere beauty: a taciturn girl who showed little emotion, kept her feelings hidden, and was hard to read—heartless, voiceless, and expressionless.

That was how Yura had been before she died. Now, she was merely lacking in dramatic facial expressions. Her inner life was still lively and cheerful, and she had plenty to say. At least, she wouldn't leave people struggling to find a response.

She was actually pretty good at conversation.

"Miss, there's a saying in the countryside that ghosts can't be reflected in mirrors." Yura smiled gently. "Looking at me, do you think I'm a person or a ghost?"

Gulp.

The shopkeeper swallowed hard and decided to stop worrying about how the clothes were worn. She gave a stiff smile. "Of course you look like a person. A great beauty, customer. Would you like to pay?"

Yura nodded faintly, turned, and walked toward the counter. "How much?"

The shopkeeper came to the counter. She briefly considered offering a discount, then abandoned the idea and said, "Customer, three outfits come to 45,760 ryo."

Yura froze as she reached for her money. Who carried 70,000 yuan in cash?

The shopkeeper grew nervous and hurriedly said, "If that's not enough, you can buy just one outfit, customer."

Honestly, if you didn't count her previous life, Yura had never seen so much money in this one. She'd picked up quite a bit before, but her companions on the assassination mission wouldn't have been carrying large sums. Kakuzu, the one who'd run off, didn't count.

Fortunately, to assassinate the God of Shinobi, the village had done more than simply send a tenth of its Jonin. It had made thorough preparations. For example...

Yura narrowed her eyes. Under the shopkeeper's tense gaze, she unsealed a thick stack of paper from a scroll inside her sleeve.

This was the Lightning Blade Summoning technique. All she had to do was touch the seal, and she could instantly summon ninja tools. It was more advanced—and more expensive—than a sealing scroll.

Looking at the dense seals inscribed on the paper, the shopkeeper asked curiously, "Customer, what is this?" She reached out to take it.

"Explosive Tags," Yura said with a smile.

The shopkeeper's hand abruptly froze. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints, and cold sweat broke out across her forehead. She'd heard of these things—ninja equipment—but didn't dare touch them.

"Don't worry. Ordinary people can't set them off, so they're safe," Yura said. "They sell for 3,000 to 4,000 each. I'll charge you the low price of 3,000. There are at least a hundred in this stack."

Even at the low price of 3,000 ryo each, one Explosive Tag was worth nearly 5,000 yuan—enough to cover an ordinary person's wages for a month.

Though wholesale and homemade ones didn't cost that much.

"Eek!" The shopkeeper tremblingly accepted the Explosive Tags and stammered at Yura, "Th-the whole stack is for me?"

Yura nodded.

The shopkeeper clutched them tightly, then made up her mind as if going to her death. "Deal!"

The village had prepared a large number of Explosive Tags. It was a ninja village, after all, and it could make its own. The original plan had been to ambush the God of Shinobi along his route and hit him with a massive barrage. Everyone had been brimming with confidence, convinced they had a good chance of winning.

But the one who arrived was a Wood Clone sent ahead to scout. The three Jonin hadn't wanted to waste their Explosive Tags, so they'd confidently charged in. It was only a clone, after all. They could take it down easily.

Instead, they'd been taken down.

What a sad and infuriating story.

Looking back on it, Yura couldn't help wondering how they'd dared.

Didn't they understand the sheer caliber of the God of Shinobi?

So Yura now had a lot of Explosive Tags. A whole lot. And they were worth quite a bit.

She couldn't tell whether she was rich or poor anymore.

Explosive Tags weren't money. Selling them herself would be a hassle, and they'd be hard to sell in small quantities. Her only customers would be ninjas, and ordinary towns barely had a market for them. A clever shopkeeper probably wouldn't take them, but if even an unwise shopkeeper refused, she'd be in trouble. Yura would have no choice but to dine and dash. Giving the shopkeeper extra was the least she could do.

Leaving the shopkeeper behind to tremble as she counted the Explosive Tags—a woman who seemed foolish, yet was rather clever—Yura turned and walked out into the street.