Shanks slept deeply through the day, the exhaustion from the previous night and the battle with the masked ninjas finally ebbing away. When he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the surge of energy in his body—his chakra was fully replenished, his mind sharp and clear.
He sat up and stretched, letting the warmth of the evening sun settle over him. After a brief moment to gather his thoughts, he greeted everyone with a quiet nod.
But there was no time to waste. His instincts never let him rest for long. He immediately activated his Observation Haki, pushing it to its fullest extent. He swept the area again, covering a five-kilometer radius around their camp, keen for any signs of danger or unwanted eyes.
For what felt like hours, he moved through the trees, scanning for any disturbances. But as he had hoped, there were no signs of pursuit, no shadowy figures lurking in the distance. The coast was clear.
He returned to the camp, his expression calm but satisfied. The group could rest easy—for now.
As the evening approached, Shanks gathered the children and led them around the area, aiming to teach them a bit about hunting. Their goal was simple: find some small animals, perhaps a bird or a rabbit, to practice with. After a while, they spotted a few birds perched high atop a tree, their colorful feathers glinting in the fading sunlight.
The children huddled together, their faces lit with excitement and curiosity. They debated among themselves on how best to catch the birds. After a few moments, they came up with a plan: they would scatter grains of rice on the ground as bait, hoping to lure the birds down.
With the bait set, they waited eagerly. One by one, the birds fluttered down, pecking at the grains. The children, with bated breath, took their chance. But just as they made their move, the birds sprang into the air, darting away with surprising speed. The children groaned in frustration, while others burst into laughter at their failed attempts.
Shanks, who had been standing by and watching their antics, chuckled along with them. The air was light with their shared laughter, a rare moment of carefree joy in the midst of their journey.
As the sun began to dip lower, casting long shadows across the land, Shanks decided it was time to end the lesson. With a subtle shift in his stance, he unleashed his Conqueror's Haki, the force of his will overwhelming the small birds in an instant. They dropped from the trees, unconscious, and Shanks collected them easily.
"Sometimes, you just have to make things simpler," he said with a grin, the children looking at him in awe. It had been a small lesson, but one filled with laughter and a reminder that even in the hardest times, there were moments of peace to be found.
Shanks couldn't help but smile to himself, amused by the thought, Who would ever think someone would use Conqueror's Haki to catch birds?
The women soon prepared a simple, hearty meal: rice paired with the roasted birds they had caught. The aroma of the food filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the forest as they ate together, the quiet evening broken only by the sound of crackling fire and the occasional laughter.
By the time they finished eating, the last traces of daylight had faded, and dusk settled over the land. It was time to move again. The horses were carefully tied to the carriages, and, just like the previous night, the carriages were linked together in a single, connected line. At the head, Shanks took his seat as the lead driver.
The group resumed their journey, the steady rhythm of the carriage wheels on the dirt road marking the hours. As night fell, they moved steadily through the darkness, and when morning light broke over the horizon, they would find a quiet spot in the forest to rest, leaving the road behind them for safety. This had become their routine—a pattern of travel and rest that allowed them to keep moving without drawing unwanted attention.
----
Five days had passed since Shanks had fought and eliminated the masked ninjas.
In Konoha, Hokage Sarutobi Hiruzen sat at his desk, sifting through piles of paperwork. The day had been quiet—too quiet. As he jotted down his thoughts, the door to his office suddenly swung open with force, cutting through the silence. A figure stepped in, his presence as cold and unsettling as always. It was Danzo, his single visible eye shadowed by the bandages that concealed the other.
Hiruzen looked up, irritation flickering in his gaze. "How many times must I tell you, Danzo? Knock before entering."
Danzo didn't acknowledge the reprimand. His expression remained as grim as ever. Without a word, he placed a scroll onto Hiruzen's desk, the sound of it sliding across the wood loud in the otherwise quiet room.
Hiruzen's brow furrowed as he glanced at the scroll, his curiosity piqued. "What is this?"
Danzo, with his usual lack of explanation, simply replied, "When you read it, you'll understand."
Hiruzen hesitated for a moment, then opened the scroll. His eyes scanned the contents quickly, and as he finished reading, a deep frown creased his forehead. The weight of the information hit him hard, his usual calm demeanor replaced by a rare solemnity.
He lifted his gaze to meet Danzo's, his voice low and measured. "Is this... true?"
Danzo nodded gravely, his tone as cold and methodical as ever. "It is the absolute truth. First, the father used a forbidden jutsu to amplify his strength, and with the unique abilities of the Uzumaki Clan, he killed 15 of our ninjas out of the original 30. Among those 15 were 4 Jonin-level warriors. He was so powerful and uncontrollable that one of the ninjas had to make a life-for-life trade just to take him down. It's fortunate that he was part of my ROOT division. Had they been from the regular Anbu, even that man would have survived. But even after the father's death, we couldn't capture the others. His son, who had lost his arm, seemed to have awakened some sort of Kekkei Genkai—a mental pressure that causes Chunin-level ninjas to faint instantly. Using this ability, he was able to eliminate the remaining 15 with ease."
Danzo paused, letting the gravity of his words settle in. "In the end, not only did we lose 30 valuable ninjas, but we also failed to achieve our objective. We didn't gain any of the resources from the Uzumaki Clan."
Hiruzen sat back in his chair, a deep sigh escaping his lips. He glanced down at the scroll in his hands, his eyes scanning over the detailed report once more. When he finished, he took a deep breath, his expression a mix of concern and contemplation.
He looked up at Danzo, his voice quieter now, heavy with the weight of what had transpired. "Can they identify the source of the ninjas that attacked them?"
----
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