Capítulo 179: Sightseeing
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Koushin drew a deep breath, then, as if plucking the strings of an instrument, he roared out a powerful, resonating Shout, "MID VUR SHAAN!" The Shout of Battle Fury.
The effect was like a visible shockwave of energy, surging out from Koushin to wash over the entire assembled shinobi force. Each syllable struck their hearts like a drum, invigorating their bodies and emboldening their spirits. It was as though they had been infused with an untapped well of energy, their strength and courage swelling beyond their usual bounds.
"Let's go!" Koushin's voice echoed across the field, the command simple and irrefutable.
The shinobi surged forward, their spirits ignited by the Battle Fury shout. They were a tidal wave of determination, ready to crash upon their enemies with the full force of their unity and resolve. The ground seemed to quake beneath their combined momentum, the air electrified by their zealous charge.
The formation of shinobi, once a singular sea, broke into rivulets, each shinobi scurrying to their designated areas with renewed fervor. The sight was like a kaleidoscope of humanity, awash with a multicolored chaos of armor, weapons, and the vibrant flashes of each clan's insignia.
In the midst of this organized chaos, Shikamaru, the Proxy Captain of the Fourth Division, made his way towards Koushin. His lanky figure appeared out of place, a still silhouette against the frantic movement of the other shinobi.
"Captain," he started, his usually languid voice laced with urgency, "The Intel Division reports that the Daimyo will be under attack. Should we send help?"
Koushin turned to him, his face twisting into a grotesque grimace that bore a striking resemblance to a scoff. For a moment, Shikamaru was taken aback, as if his words had somehow twisted themselves into an offensive statement. "I will not lift a finger for those human scums," Koushin retorted, his words as harsh as his expression. "They can die, I couldn't care less."
Shikamaru blinked in surprise. The blunt cruelty of Koushin's words was a stark contrast to his earlier rousing speech. "But we have to protect them," Shikamaru attempted to argue, his brow furrowing in confusion. "They are—"
"What?" Koushin interjected, his voice as sharp as a shuriken, cutting off Shikamaru's words in mid-sentence. "They are what, exactly? They are just people who claimed the lands eons ago and still pass it down in each generation. They are not stronger, they don't hold power over us. They just give us missions and money, which we don't need."
Shikamaru could only stare at Koushin, his words hanging in the air like an uncomfortable shroud. As far as he knew, the Daimyo was the supreme ruler of the country. Their word was law and their authority unchallenged. But here was Koushin, treating them with a dismissive indifference that was both astounding and horrifying.
"You're a smart guy, Shikamaru," Koushin continued, his gaze boring into Shikamaru's. His voice was softer now, less abrasive, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes that told Shikamaru that his words were not up for debate. "Think. Do we need them?"
Shikamaru opened his mouth to argue, to remind Koushin of their duty to the land, to the people they were sworn to protect. But his words died in his throat, strangled by the sudden uncertainty that choked him. He looked into Koushin's eyes and saw not the capricious jokester but a resolute commander.
Swallowing down his retort, Shikamaru nodded slowly, a resigned sigh escaping him. He had his orders, and he would follow them, no matter how distasteful they felt. "Yes, Captain," he said, managing to keep his voice steady.
"Did you tell everyone that we'll be fighting against resurrected corpses? Their kin, loved ones?" Koushin asked, his tone lighter now, bordering on conversational.
Shikamaru's face tightened, his dark eyes taking on a grimmer shade. He nodded in confirmation. "I did, Captain."
Koushin studied him for a moment, his expression thoughtful. "You're looking quite gloomy, Shikamaru. A bit too sullen, don't you think?"
Taken aback, Shikamaru blinked at him, his lips parting slightly. He hadn't expected Koushin to make light of the situation, not after their previous discussion. "Captain..."
Koushin waved his hand dismissively, cutting him off. "Look at it this way, you haven't lost anyone, so don't look so down. Count your blessings, Proxy Captain."
There was a pause as Shikamaru absorbed his words, his gaze dropping to the ground. Koushin's words held truth, but they also struck a chord of guilt within him. He hadn't lost anyone, true, but many of his comrades had. The upcoming battle was going to be a psychological test as much as a physical one.
"Imagine fighting against Shukaku, Asuma..." Koushin continued, his voice thoughtful. He turned his gaze to the sea of shinobi, his eyes distant. "Not an easy task, is it? To face the ones you once loved, the ones you once fought side by side with."
Shikamaru looked up at him, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. Koushin's voice held a quiet intensity that unsettled him, it was so different from his usual light-hearted banter.
"But," Koushin added, his tone shifting back to its usual easygoing lilt, "you are fortunate. You have no bonds holding you back in this war. No lost comrades to distract you, no loved ones to hinder your judgment."
Shikamaru frowned, caught between relief and indignation. "That's... not something to be happy about, Captain."
Koushin's lips curved into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Why not? It's a boon, Shikamaru. You can focus solely on the battle, without the burden of past ghosts clouding your mind."
Before Shikamaru could argue further, Koushin moved on. "So, as the Proxy Captain, you should be the one who helps everyone out when they need you. Lift their spirits, keep them focused. After all, they'll be dealing with their own ghosts. Quite literally, in fact."
What are you going to do, Smart Ass?" Shikamaru asked, using the nickname he and Choji used for Koushin back in their academy days. Despite the gravity of their discussion, a smirk played at the corners of his mouth.
Koushin's chuckle echoed against the ensuing chaos, his lips pulling into a wide grin at the use of the old moniker. "Heh, Lazy Ass," he retorted, the playful insult bouncing off him with an ease that betrayed years of familiarity.
"I will go around and sightsee."
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