Chương 2: Chapter 1
Captain of the ANBU, Kirie Suzaru, had been ordered by the Hokage to scout the area north of Konoha. Reports indicated that bandits had grown bolder and started attacking weak, isolated caravans, but due to the limited information and the number of attackers, their hideout remained unknown. Kirie, a chunin and far from a weak shinobi, was confident in his ability to successfully complete the mission.
"Captain, smoke has been spotted three hundred meters from us," his partner, nicknamed "Dog," who had been on countless missions with him, reported. "What are the orders?"
"We'll head there and assess the situation. Act according to what we find. If bandits are spotted, engage them immediately."
"Understood," his teammates responded in unison, following him as they sprinted ahead.
Throughout his ANBU career, Kirie had to admit he had never seen anything like this. A destroyed caravan and bloodstains were not unusual, but it was, to say the least, strange to see a teenager sitting by a small pile of charred corpses. The captain silently ordered his team to approach from the flanks and remain vigilant. He was still plagued by a sense of abnormality and suspicion that this could be a trap. The teenager wore a plain white t-shirt and dark, short pants. His spiky black hair with a long fringe fell to his shoulders. Upon closer inspection, Kirie noticed that the boy's left arm and torso were bandaged.
"And what should I do now?" The voice was indifferent and empty, with his gaze fixed on the sky. It seemed he was so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed the observers behind him.
"You'd better tell me who you are and what you're doing here, and then we'll decide what to do with you," the boy flinched slightly, standing up tensely and assessing Kirie. The captain felt slightly unnerved by the look he was giving. Emotionless, vacant, and cold. It was like looking at a doll that had lost its emotions. He had only seen such eyes once before, when he had to cooperate with ANBU from Root. They were turned into real living weapons, stripped of their emotions.
"I have no name."
Sighing heavily, Kirie gave a short signal to his teammates to relax.
"Then tell me, kid, what happened here?"
"An attack. No one survived. I decided to strike them while they were preoccupied with my mother. I took my revenge, buried my parents, and burned the trash."
All of this sounded incredibly implausible and vague. Although the captain had to admit that he had noticed some fresh graves nearby. He had heard long ago that people with nothing to lose are the most dangerous. Could this boy really have done something like this all on his own?
"How did you kill them?"
"One by one. I lured each of them out and exploited their mistakes. If they had acted more cohesively, I probably wouldn't have stood a chance against them. I just got lucky," the last phrase had a hint of irony. "And you're shinobi, right?"
"Yes, shinobi of Konoha. Special ANBU squad. My name is Karasu."
"Sorry, I don't know what that means. So what do you intend to do with me?"
"Usually, we send orphaned victims to Konoha, to the orphanage, but..."
"I see, I don't exactly look like a child, do I?"
The ANBU captain had to admit that the boy was quite perceptive and quickly understood the situation.
"Did you use chakra in the fight?"
"I have no idea what that is. I'm the son of an ordinary merchant. I used only my wits to survive..."
The Ashen kept silent about the fact that without battle experience, he wouldn't have been able to win. "So, are you some sort of 'genius'?"
"Who knows..."
"Alright, I still can't leave you unattended. If you have any belongings you want to take before heading to the village, I'll give you half an hour."
"Thank you, ANBU-san. I'll gather my things." The respectful suffix "san" was added out of respect for the senior, as suggested by the memories of the absorbed soul.
The nameless one moved towards the cart. Exactly thirty minutes later, he returned with a small bag of belongings slung over his shoulder.
"And yes, I apologize for earlier. After everything that happened, I stopped valuing my name. You can call me Takeshi."
He had just come up with the name, which, based on memories, meant "Cruel, Warrior." He didn't want to take the name of the boy whose body he occupied, as he felt it would be wrong.
"Dog, take him with you."
Takeshi was slightly surprised by how they decided to escort him to the village. He was placed on the back of one of the shinobi, and they quickly moved through the trees at a good speed. From the fragments of the absorbed souls' memories, he realized that this was only a small part of what shinobi were capable of.
After a while, they arrived at a high stone wall. It reached almost fifty meters in height, and they stopped before equally tall gates at the meeting point. Standing by the entrance were two shinobi, distinguished by their headbands, village insignias, and special green jackets. The guards, apparently recognizing something about them, calmly let them pass with a serious nod. Throughout the journey to the orphanage, Takeshi seemed... lost? Yes, that was the most fitting word. Where he came from, everything was in black and white. The atmosphere of death and despair was oppressive and kept him constantly on edge. Only in the Fire Temple could he feel safe for a while. But this place was too... alive. As if his colorless world had gained hues. It was an indescribable feeling. A feeling of being among the living.
"Ah..." A solitary tear rolled down his right cheek. He didn't understand the cause of this strange emotion. It was as if he was simply glad to see that people here could just... live. It was beautiful and at the same time alien to him.
They stopped in front of an unremarkable two-story house with a small metal mesh fence nearby.
"As I mentioned earlier, the orphanage will be your temporary refuge. Ultimately, what you choose to become is up to you."
Takeshi pondered. His gaze fell to the ground, and his hands clenched into fists. What did he want to become? It was laughable. No family, no home, no friends. He had absolutely nothing. Besides being a successful and experienced killer, he was also a pyromancer, a mage of both dark and light arts. He could master any magic without losing his sanity from the acquired knowledge, because he was "The Chosen One." He remembered how Irina from Karima went mad from a single volume of dark wonders and begged her "savior" for the desired death. Who was he to deny that?
In the past, Takeshi had avoided such an outcome by passing the dark tomes of Karima's arts to Karla, a merchant and, in addition, a dark mage, a woman in dark robes whose body had touched corruption. But now his thoughts were not on her. He wanted to understand whether it was worth hoping for a response from his "Gods." Every spell or "Enhancement" that could be applied to weapons or oneself was akin to a short "prayer" or "song." If your faith is strong enough and your spirit unshakable, the Higher Being grants a tiny portion of its power to its servant. Why don't the Gods intervene in a world where death and destruction are around every corner? He didn't know. He could only guess that they took pleasure in watching people writhe and suffer. They longed to end what cannot be completed. Now, in broad daylight, he didn't want to pray or ask the Light God for healing. It would seem too strange, so he decided to leave it for now.
As one option for his future, he considered becoming a shinobi or a mercenary, but to become a shinobi, one needed to go through a course, which, apparently, started from a very young age. It was probably too late for him to join the academy. Then there was the option with ANBU Kirie Suzaru. For some reason, he knew that he would return. He was an unaccounted-for factor who might at least interest the Hokage. He stood out too much from the overall picture.
The orphanage was quiet but dull. Takeshi found it difficult to adjust to the peaceful and silent sleep. The undead did not need sleep. And even if he managed to sleep, his dreams were always nightmares and horrors from his travels. Even in his new life, paranoia lingered. He never left his back open and avoided open spaces. These habits were too ingrained in him to be easily shed in just a few days.
However, he wasn't idle at the orphanage. The first step he decided to take in regaining his former power was to recreate, from the "Memory of the Soul," legendary rings that could transform an ordinary person into a true monster. What is the Memory of the Soul? Originally, the main component in his world was his cursed soul. A true tool that could store within itself the memory of all things he had absorbed, including the memory of legendary weapons created from the souls of the Lords of Ash or Spells. The problem lay in the complexity of reproduction. It required literally tearing a part of his soul to recreate something similar. He wasn't afraid of pain or suffering. These feelings were an inseparable part of his life. Every night, he secretly went to the orphanage's backyard and practiced. He hissed and ground his teeth, silently enduring as he pressed his palms together. Within his closed palms, a faint orange light and the crackle of sparks could be seen.
On the seventh day, he created two rings. Two rings that could enhance his vitality, endurance, and create an invisible aura that made objects lighter upon contact.
The Ring of Favor appeared as a gold ring with a beautiful floral pattern, while the Ring of the Bound Chain, in contrast, looked dreadful and barely resembled a ring. It was more like a rusty piece of steel chain. Wearing the Ring of Favor on his left hand, he felt as if his body became lighter and was enveloped in a gentle warmth. Upon wearing the second ring, it felt as though the ring pierced him with a momentary pain, and then his body was filled with a similar sensation as with the Ring of Favor, but much stronger. The Bound Chain had a slightly malevolent side effect in that the ring seemed to secretly, or perhaps not so secretly, desire its wearer's death. Any injury would be slightly intensified. Such was the price for power.
The feeling of power was intoxicating and exhilarating. A joyful smile appeared on his face, and his hands slightly lifted, but in the next moment, he regained his composure. He could not let anyone find out about them. No one in this village, especially the shinobi and the "Hokage," should learn about his abilities. He didn't trust them yet. He couldn't predict their reaction. He was a complete paranoid and would never boast about such things to anyone. Takeshi knew what he could show and what he could not. Until he was confident in his ability to protect himself or, at least, ready to trust this village, he would not reveal himself. Takeshi didn't create them without preparation. His hands were completely wrapped in white bandages. If asked about it, he could calmly say it was for "style" or something similar. He noticed that everyone here had their own quirks. Only his were much bigger than the rest…
As expected, the ANBU captain visited him. He asked about his future plans.
"I want to become a shinobi."
"Impressive. With your abilities, you'd definitely make a talented genin, but unfortunately, you don't fit the age category. However, there is another path available to you..."
"Here we go…" the brunette thought to himself, covering his eyes with his bangs. A barely noticeable smile appeared on his face. They were recruiting him.
"They want to bind me to the village and see if I'm worth something or just a lucky loser?" Despite these grim thoughts, there was no malice in them. Many might have done the same in their place. Talents cannot be ignored.
"Really? What's this path?" He tried to inject a hint of curiosity into his voice.
"Nothing special. Just a few tests, standard training, and if you're lucky, you might be assigned to an ANBU training squad that reports only to the Hokage."
"Alright," There was no hesitation or doubt. It was a straightforward answer. There was no other way. Although... there might have been, but circumstances suggested that agreeing to this offer was the better option. A negative response could only complicate things. Without support or help from the local authorities, surviving here alone would be nearly impossible.
Kirie Suzaru led him to an open training field. The field itself seemed to be covered by some sort of barrier because, as soon as the brunette stepped onto it, his body was pierced by a brief shock.
"It's simple. First, touch this sphere," The captain pulled out a crystal sphere from behind his back. Takeshi followed the instruction. The sphere glowed faintly, and soon after, a weak blue flame appeared in its center.
"…" He clearly heard a disappointed sigh from the captain. "Chakra is below average. I won't lie to you, Takeshi, but you'll never become stronger than a chuunin, no matter how hard you try."
"And a chuunin is…?"
"Ah, I forgot you're not familiar with all this. Let me explain…"
In the villages, there was a ranking system. Everyone was classified into classes and subclasses. Academy student — genin — chuunin — tokubetsu jounin — jounin, and finally, Kage. The instructor also briefly explained what chakra was.
"A mixture of spiritual and physical energy? I think I'm beginning to understand why I have so little of it and why it's inaccessible to me…" He could guess that due to the enormous imbalance in spiritual energy, chakra could not properly transform in his body, and his power simply utilized, almost automatically, the strength of his spirit (i.e., "soul"). The body was the least valued aspect for the undead because the soul was of utmost importance. For example, the "Chosen One" could give all his souls to the Fire Keeper to enhance his physical strength, but externally, he remained unchanged. He was neither a steel mountain of muscles nor a giant. This was how his world worked.
Next was a standard brief physical fitness test.
"Run as long as you can on the field. When you're exhausted, let me know."
Takeshi managed to run for ten hours straight at a moderate pace until his instructor told him to stop.
*"Hmm… endurance is above average. Very impressive."*
The rings were doing their job, but even with them, such a marathon clearly wore him out. Sweat streamed down his face.
"Here," the instructor tossed him a towel and a bottle of water. "Get yourself together and be ready for the next test."
Shrugging, the brunette poured the entire contents of the bottle over his head, wiped his face, and followed the instructor. The next test was simply throwing kunai. Takeshi fumbled with the kunai's handle, getting used to its shape and weight.
"Eastern daggers…?" he muttered, voicing his thought aloud.
"Never seen kunai before?" his instructor asked, slightly suspicious.
"No. I just haven't had the chance to use them. I was the son of a merchant," Takeshi replied indifferently and threw the kunai at the target, hitting the small red circle ten meters away. "Is that all?"
"Hm… You know, that's quite… strange. Can you repeat that trick?"
His instructor clearly considered it either a fluke or wild luck. However, luck couldn't repeat itself five times in a row.
"How do you do it?"
Here he could slightly embellish the truth.
"It's hard to explain… It's like I just know on an instinctual level that I'll hit the target."
No matter how poor a warrior is at throwing sharp throwing knives, anyone, even the clumsiest fool, will learn to hit the target precisely after hundreds of thousands of throws. The body and mind memorize every millimeter of the movement needed for the throw.
"Talent...? Innate ability?" The ANBU captain voiced his thoughts aloud this time.
Takeshi decided to withhold his comment on this matter. They might suspect something if he engaged in a pointless argument.
After a few more minor tests and exercises, Kirie Suzaru decided to conclude his assessment of Takeshi's abilities.
"You can rest tomorrow. The day after tomorrow, I expect you at the Hokage's residence at ten in the morning. Better not be late."
Kirie Suzaru was kneeling in the Hokage's office, personally delivering his report on his observations.
"I've read your written report, but I want to hear what you think about him personally."
"He's like a sharpened kunai. Always on edge, as if he's waiting for an unexpected strike, and sometimes he deprives himself of emotions to hide his weakness. He doesn't ask unnecessary questions about the mission. I told him to run as far as he could, and he ran for ten hours in silence until I told him to stop."
"Did you notice anything strange about him that doesn't make sense to you?"
"Yes... There's one thing that bothers me a bit. I didn't include it in the report because I thought it was too insignificant."
"And what is it?"
"He looked at the kunai as if he had never seen one before."
"And what's so strange about that?"
"You might have misunderstood me, Hokage-sama. He seemed like he didn't know what it was at all. Even an ordinary person who isn't involved in the shinobi trade would have at least seen or heard of a kunai, but he referred to it as an 'eastern dagger.'"
"Hmm..."
Hiruzen Sarutobi leaned back in his chair and filled his pipe with tobacco.
"Hmm... alright, you're dismissed," he said with a nod. The shadowy figure of the Anbu vanished from the office. A thick cloud of smoke lingered in the room as the Hokage's chair creaked around to face the window. "And who are you...?"
The next day, on his designated "day off," Takeshi decided to stroll through Konoha. There was no particular hidden agenda, but even in his walk, he found a small adventure. A blond boy with a spiky haircut, around seven years old, burst out from around a corner. He was wearing a white T-shirt and blue shorts, and held a can of red paint and a large brush in his left hand. His clothes and face were splattered with paint.
"Stop, you little brat, or it'll get worse!"
The boy's frantic gaze darted around in search of a hiding place. Out of curiosity, Takeshi intervened. He approached the boy from behind so silently that he managed to cover his mouth with one hand and pull him into a dark alley with the other.
"Shh...!" The boy, clearly frightened, looked around anxiously but froze when he met the stranger's gaze and saw his gesture.
"Where did he go?! The paint and brush are here, but where did the little brat disappear to?!"
From the angry look, it was clear the boy didn't like being called a "brat" by the shinobi, but Takeshi stood quietly, waiting for luck to play in his favor.
"Fine, to hell with him. The Hokage will deal with it anyway..."
"Deal with it? Such an important figure?"—a fleeting thought crossed his mind.
Despite his growing curiosity, he had no desire to question the boy. His curiosity grew because, standing so close to him, he sensed a fleeting and barely perceptible presence of "Evil." It was as if something was holding him back. If the presence hadn't been so suppressed, he might have killed the boy on instinct alone, despite his innocent appearance.
"Th-thank you."
Takeshi silently, with a slight smile, tousled the boy's unruly hair and continued on his way. He had no need to ask the boy anything because...
"Hey! Wait up!"
...the object of his curiosity was also very interested in him.
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