Yoru tossed his cigarette butt onto the ground and ground it viciously beneath his shoe twice.
The ember hissed out in the gray-white muck, releasing a sharp, acrid smell of tar.
In this wasteland outside the Land of Fire Daimyo's Court, the wind slapped like a wicked stepmother, carrying scraps of cloth from who knew where and the stench of dead rats straight into people's nostrils.
"Burp—!"
Naruto clutched his stomach and let out an earth-shaking belch.
A grain of white rice shot straight out of his right nostril, landing with a plop on the top of his shoe.
"Damn, that's sour."
Naruto frantically wiped his nose with his filthy sleeve, tears streaming from the sourness.
"Was that rice ball spoiled? Kurama's cursing up a storm in my stomach, saying I'm trying to poison him."
Sasuke jumped two big steps back in disgust, as though avoiding the plague.
The blunt steel blade in his hand clattered against its sheath.
"Dead last, can you quit being so disgusting? Your snot's almost dripping onto my shoes."
Sasuke frowned. The purple light in his eyes flickered twice, somewhat unstable.
"Enough. Stop yapping."
Yoru dug at his ear and flicked away a yellow bit of earwax.
"You're full, so stand up straight. We've got company."
Ōnoki leaned against half a charred wall, his old back bent as he wheezed heavily.
He had shouted too much earlier, and his throat felt like it was on fire.
"Kid Yoru, are you sure that dead man can find this place?"
The old man wiped greasy sweat from his bald head, his palm black with soot.
"It's been half the day, and we haven't even seen a ghost. I threw out my back just now, and it's still twitching."
In the pile of weeds east of the wasteland.