Land of Wind

Outside the window, the setting sun gradually sank behind the mountains. The last ray of light vanished beyond the horizon, and night fell.

Lights came on one after another, and Cloudview City gleamed in the darkness like a brilliant pearl.

Sōji watched those lights for a moment, then slowly withdrew his gaze and took the Summoning Technique scroll from his robe.

Shikkotsu Forest, the Slug Sage, a contract with one of the three great sacred lands.

Tsunade giving him this meant something. He understood what it meant.

He opened the scroll and began to read.

Ugly Treasure lay on his shoulder, softly purring. The night breeze passed through the windowsill, carrying the mountain chill unique to this place.

A faint song drifted from afar, local people singing some folk ballad.

Sōji immersed himself in the scroll, studying it word by word.

Unlike ordinary ninjutsu, the Summoning Technique required one to establish a connection with a summoned beast, using one's own chakra as a bridge and mutual trust as its foundation.

He had already signed the contract. All he needed to do now was learn how to use it.

The lights outside the window went out one by one, and the night deepened.

Sōji remained seated by the window, studying the scroll sentence by sentence in the moonlight.

At some point, Ugly Treasure woke up. It lay on his shoulder, blinking its large eyes as it curiously watched the densely packed writing.

It could not understand it, but it liked keeping its master company.

The night breeze swept by, carrying whispers from the distant mountains.

The next morning.

Sōji woke to birdsong.

He opened his eyes to find Ugly Treasure sprawled over his face, its soft body covering most of it.

"Woo~ woo~"

It made cheerful sounds, as if saying, "Good morning."

With a helpless expression, Sōji reached up, lifted it off, and set it aside. Why was this little thing becoming more and more like a puppy?

After sighing, he slowly sat up and stretched his somewhat stiff shoulders.

He had read the scroll until midnight last night and fallen asleep without realizing it, but he had gained quite a lot.

He had already grasped the basic principles of the Summoning Technique. Next came practice: using his chakra to establish a connection with the Slug Sage and attempting his first summoning.

There was no need to rush. He could practice some more before trying it.

Sōji got to his feet and walked to the window.

Morning sunlight spilled over the mountains. The mist was gradually dispersing, revealing layered terraces and villages scattered along the mountainsides.

The air outside the window was so fresh it seemed washed clean. One deep breath left him completely invigorated.

He decided to stay in Cloudview City for a few more days.

First, to continue studying the Summoning Technique.

Second, to take a good look at this city, its people, and how this small country dependent on a great nation functioned.

Such experiences would be of great help in the future.

With that in mind, Sōji quickly got dressed, took Ugly Treasure, and headed out. Today, he planned to visit the villages outside the city.

He wanted to see the people who truly lived in the Land of Rivers, to see their lives, their hopes, and their worries.

Because one day, he would definitely become the Mizukage.

When that time came, he needed to know what kind of life he wanted to protect.

The border between the Land of Rivers and the Land of Wind was a gradually fading scar.

Traveling southwest from the high mountains in the northwest of the Land of Rivers, the endless mountain ranges gradually lowered, as though some invisible force had slowly shaved them flat.

The lush forests first became sparse, then gave way to low shrubs. After that, even the shrubs disappeared, leaving only scattered drought-resistant clumps of grass trembling in the dry wind.

Further ahead lay the border of the Land of Wind.

The ground beneath his feet began to crack, and earthy yellow replaced the pleasing green of the Land of Rivers.

The wind became dry and scorching, carrying tiny grains of sand that stung his face.

The sky remained vast, but its moist blue, infused with the crispness of the mountains, had vanished. In its place was a color so parched it was nearly pale.

This was the dividing line between the two nations.

On one side lay the Land of Rivers, which, protected by the Land of Fire, struggled but could still maintain a decent existence. On the other stood the Land of Wind, the largest of the Five Great Nations by territory.

It was said that the Land of Wind was nearly twice the size of the Land of Fire. Unfortunately, most of that vast territory was desert and wasteland.

Yamada Soji stood atop a weathered rock, his Six Eyes gazing west through the black cloth.

As far as he could see stretched an endless expanse of yellow earth. Rolling dunes resembled frozen ocean waves, extending all the way to the horizon.

Occasionally, he spotted jagged rocks eroded by wind and sand into bizarre shapes, like the only sculptures in this lifeless land.

There were no roads here. Or rather, everywhere was a road.

After comparing the map in his hand and roughly determining the direction, Yamada Soji leaped down from the rock, his clothes snapping in the dry wind.

Ugly Treasure raised its head from his shoulder, squinted at the glaring sunlight outside, then shrank back with a dissatisfied whimper.

Sōji's lips curved slightly. "You don't like the desert?"

"Woo—"

Ugly Treasure sounded even more aggrieved.

Sōji said nothing more. He merely rubbed its head, put on a dustproof hood, and continued onward.

Five days had passed.

He had remained within the Land of Rivers for five days.

These five days of travel gave him a deeper understanding of this small nation dependent on the Land of Fire.

Cloudview City was merely a microcosm of the Land of Rivers.

Those bustling streets, thriving businesses, and leisurely tourists all relied on support from the Land of Fire.

High-quality grain was transported from the Land of Fire, processed into Soldier Pills, then sold back to the Land of Fire.

Ore was mined from the mountains and transported to the Land of Fire in exchange for funds and technology. Even the sights that attracted tourists mostly depended on promotion and packaging by merchants from the Land of Fire.

Moreover, the Land of Rivers did not have a ninja village of its own.

More precisely, it did, but it was tiny. It was called River Ninja Village in name, but in reality, it was more like a security force stationed by the Land of Fire.

Its true defenses relied on hired samurai from the Land of Iron, as well as troops the Land of Fire stationed along the border.

This was the Land of Rivers' choice, and the fate of a small country.

As Sōji walked toward the Land of Wind, he recalled what he had seen and heard over the past few days.

He had seen miners with exhaustion written all over their faces, and he had seen them smile when they received their wages.

He had seen innkeepers' shrewd calculations, and he had seen the heartfelt warmth they showed regular customers.

He had seen children chasing and playing in alleyways, and he had seen their parents leaning in doorways, their eyes filled with worry.

They worried whether the Land of Wind would invade again, whether this year's harvest would be enough to pay taxes, and whether their children would be able to survive in these narrow cracks once they grew up.

This was what he wanted to protect—not some grand ideal, nor some slogan about changing the Shinobi World.

As the sun sank in the west, Yamada Soji stopped walking.

Ahead lay an open wasteland, with several massive rocks scattered across it, forming natural shelters from the wind.

Night was approaching. He chose a rock shielded from the wind, set down his pack, and began preparing camp for the night.

Ugly Treasure crawled down from his shoulder and curiously examined its surroundings. It rubbed its soft body against the ground, then quickly recoiled.

The sand was still too hot.

"Woo!"

It looked at Sōji pitifully, its large eyes full of accusation, but he ignored it.

He gathered some dead shrub branches from nearby and built a campfire in the shelter of the rock. As the flames began to dance, the sun sank beyond the horizon.

When the last trace of light vanished from the sky, night finally descended upon the desert.