"What right do you have to say that?!"
"Exactly! Where were you when that monster Gaara was killing people in the village?!"
"Aren't you ninja? Didn't you say you'd protect the village?!"
"And what happened?!"
"You couldn't protect a single person!"
"You're all useless!"
Those words were like a spark landing in ruins piled high with dry kindling.
Another man started shouting:
"She's right!
When Gaara went berserk in the village, you ran away!
Now Sasori's back, and all you can do is hide in the rear and shout, 'Lord Kazekage, do something.'"
"What good are you?!"
"What can you do besides make other people risk their lives for you?!"
"Useless! A bunch of trash! Parasites!"
The ninjas' faces instantly flushed red.
Some had trembling lips, some lowered their heads, and some tried to argue but couldn't get a single word out.
Because they knew-the villagers were telling the truth.
A young chunin finally couldn't take it anymore and answered in a trembling voice:
"Do you think we don't want to protect the village? We're risking our lives too-"
"Risking your lives?"
An old man sneered.
"How, exactly?
By letting Sasori tie us up one by one as hostages? By leaving the whole village here to wait for death?"
"Now even the villagers have to be sacrificed, and you still say you've risked your lives."
"You're useless!"
"Trash!"
"Parasites!"
"Dog shit!"
"Scum!"
The insults surged like a tide, accompanied by a jumble of fruit, vegetables, and other things. Who knew where the villagers had gotten so much stuff?
The ninjas went deathly pale under the barrage of abuse. Some clenched their fists, others had reddened eyes, but none dared speak again.
Yet the villagers' malice didn't stop.
It was like poison that had been bottled up for too long and