Chapter Eleven: The Gumo Heika (Part I)

The Stranger's POV:

I waved a dismissive hand. "Drag him to camp" I growled at the two idiots masquerading as my subordinates.

Surveying the chaos, a firestorm of rage and burning timber, I couldn't help but sneer. Time had slipped through my fingers again. The village was ablaze, a mess of fire and fear, and all for what? Nothing but a half-finished job.

Then, cutting through the chaos, a voice echoed, a weak plea in the midst of this storm. "Captain?" it called, the sound bouncing around like a lost child. "The second unit is back from they're mission, sir."

I glanced down at my glove, smeared with the day's work. Blood never did come off easy. "Here," I growled at the genin, my voice as welcoming as a winter's night.

"Sir, the message—", The lad sounded as lost as a lamb in a wolf's den.

"I heard you the first time," I snapped, cutting him short, my gaze fixed on a villager crumbling to his knees with a massive wound in his stomach. Messy. "Speak."

The villager raised his bow, not towards the idiot that half-killed him, but at me. Good choice. I watched him, trying to cock an arrow, curious if he'd muster the strength to let loose an arrow.

Also, where was the idiot that had engaged him? Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a raven-haired girl, fleeing westward, probably convinced she'd finished him off. Kids.

The genin's voice called out again, all urgency and no sense. I watched the villager draw his last breath, an unshot arrow in his trembling hand, unmoved. Not bothering to turn, not until I heard the clatter of boots at my side. Only then did I face him, my gaze heavy with the toll of years spent playing this grim game of war.

The genin, just a lad really, stumbled to a stop. "Uh, sir—"

He fumbled over his words, choking on his own nerves. I let the silence hang between us, thick and oppressive, a burden he wasn't ready to shoulder. "This is not a street market," I finally said, my voice calm as the sea but with an edge that could cut through bone. "This is an active mission. We do not holler like fishwives here. Do you understand?"

The kid swallowed hard. "Yes, sir."

I held his gaze, ensuring my words hit home, then nodded. "Now, what's your report?"

He cleared his throat. "Captain, Command says the second unit is back from Hokage Province."

"Trouble?" I asked, mind already racing ahead.

"A bit, captain. Locals didn't take kindly to us. There was a chase, but our boys lost them."

"I surely hope so," I muttered, feeling the weight of every decision, every command. The dark side of the Hokage Province was key, but rumors of the Root nosing around were like a bad taste in my mouth. If they were sniffing at our heels during this dance, it'd complicate things.

"Get the Captain's report in my tent as soon as possible," I told the kid. "And bump the danger color to yellow. Now go on, off with you."

"Yes, sir." The boy turned and marched off, doing a half-decent job at playing the soldier.

I watched him go, feeling that old ache in my chest. Back in the glory days of Inja no Ami, a green sprout like him wouldn't have come within a mile of a real operation. But times do change, don't they? And we change with them, whether we like it or not.

My gaze wandered to another idiot, corralling the defeated villagers Into a pen. The Inja No Mi, once a shadow lurking in the dark, was now diluted with these milk-breathed pups. The old guard, the ones who knew the true cost of power had faded away, lost to history – to nothing. Now we had these kids, to eager, unscarred, untried. And the same old dirty work to be done.

My gaze flicked to my watch. Three in the morning. The Gumo Heika would still be wake, I thought. But at this time, If you needed him, you couldn't just send a message. You had to drag your carcass over there in person. That was the rule.

Unfortunately.

I moved towards my second in command. There she was, standing like she'd been forged from the same steel as her sword. Her cape, dark as the night itself, clashed against the silver of her armor. Even in this half-light, she appeared as a warrior, sculpted right out of the shadows.

She was watching the idiots, some of them actually putting they're hands on the villager's while pushing them in to the pen. Idiot's. I watched the inevitable play out, one villager landing a solid punch right in a soldier's mouth.

She was about to give them a piece of her mind, but I got to her first. "Lieutenant Shirogane."

"What do you need from me, sir?" she asked, her voice low.

"I'm leaving for the night. Command is yours until dawn."

"Yes, sir."

"Spare no effort. Ransack the village. Every hidden corner, every secret place. Once our men reduce it to cinders, comb through what remains. Utilize all means at your disposal—hounds, magical summons, anything. Our objective must be unearthed."

"Yes, sir."

She gave a short nod and set off to do as told. A row of idiots faced the crowd, ready and waiting. "On my command!" she shouted, and their hands moved as one. The crowd reacted just as you'd expect. Some brave fools stepped up, others just crumpled, giving in to their doom amidst a mix of sobs, yells, and angry shouts. It didn't last long.

"Fire!"

For us, this was not a massacre but a necessary lesson, a just response to those who dared pilfer from us. The essence of our action was in its purpose, not its magnitude. The operation concluded in under a minute.

As the last remnants of all the jutsu's dissipated, leaving behind the hushed murmur of the genin and the haunting crackle of devastation, they dispersed to scour the bodies. It was imperative that no survivors were left behind.

Well, there was no reason to watch it anymore.

I closed my eyes, shutting out the mundane as I envisioned the headquarters, stark and formidable in my mind's eye. The biting cold of the night air nipped at my skin, a stark contrast to the burning focus within me. I recalled the ancient technique, whispered in hushed tones as 'Amenominaka' in scrolls yellowed by time. It was an art transcending mere space and time; a transmutation of one's essence into pure, raw energy. It bore risks, undeniably so, but the path of necessity is oft strewn with the shards of danger.

As I stood there, the world's song began to resonate around me, a symphony of energy that started as a mere hum. A sensation, electrifying and alien, yet familiar, crept from the tips of my toes, spiraling upwards. Reality unraveled into a maelstrom of light and raw power, the jutsu working its profound alchemy, deconstructing me to my core, and propelling me across the vastness of space.

In that ephemeral threshold, caught between the realms of 'here' and 'elsewhere,' I was suspended in a state of neither being nor non-being. Each journey through this cosmic torrent left an indelible mark on my soul, instilling a mix of awe and deep-seated dread. What if, in this mystical traversal, the essence that reformed on the other side lost a fragment of its true self?

Abruptly, as if snapping from a deep reverie, the tumultuous journey halted. The process of reconstitution began, piecing back together the essence that was unmistakably me, yet always left wondering – what if?

Materializing within the headquarters, the heavy, metallic tang of the place instantly filling my nostrils. The corridors were dimly lit, the silence of the night shift palpable.

I walked, moving with a purpose, going through corridor's, stairs, elevators, yet my steps were always cautious, mindful of the hour. Mindful of the place.

As I approached the quarters, I paused, taking a deep breath. The weight of my rank, the insignia on my chest, felt heavier than usual. I had faced battles, negotiated peace with worst scum, but the possibility of waking the Gumo Heika… this was a different kind of challenge.

With a steady hand, I pressed the chime.