Chapter 28: Name and Blade
This place was nothing more than a bloody mill, grinding down ninja into raw materials using the crudest methods imaginable.
From the casual remarks of the man called Tushi, Hajime could already piece together the extent of his "research."
Transplanting a ninja's heart into a wild beast was a shortcut to grant it chakra-generating abilities. Replacing its brain with a human's? That was to give it the intelligence to understand commands.
Of course, that brain was undoubtedly kept under genjutsu or curse seal control.
This kind of crude, "rip-and-stuff" science—like a twisted patchwork of flesh and chakra—was as brutal as it was inefficient. Hajime concluded that most of Tushi's "products" were likely shoddy, short-lived, and unstable.
Still, Tushi himself was no slouch in combat.
He had a two-pronged strategy—use genjutsu to strip away your senses, then drain your chakra with specialized techniques. A deadly combo against unprepared opponents. Not invincible, but enough to down most ninja who came without intel.
Unfortunately for him, he met Hajime.
After knocking Tushi unconscious, Hajime waited for the underground chamber to flood enough to half-drown both man and beast. Only then did he "release" the water.
With a few quick hand signs, he cast Water Style: Water Formation Wall.
Water gathered tightly around him, first gently swirling and then rapidly spinning into a column-shaped vortex. It rose around him like a coiled serpent, spiraling upward and blasting away the dirt, leaves, and surface structures above.
It punched through the ceiling of the underground hideout like an awakening beast breaking through its shell—clearing out rubble and opening the passage to the world above.
The water gushed upward, flooding into the quiet town above.
Not because Hajime had any vendetta against the locals—this was a warning. Anyone with half a brain, upon seeing that kind of jutsu, would know to evacuate immediately.
No one wanted to linger on a battlefield between ninja.
And how many smart people were in that town?
In the face of death, everyone becomes a genius.
Back in the underground space, choked gasps and coughing echoed throughout. The prisoners had barely clung to life.
Hajime dragged the unconscious Tushi through the water, letting most of his body slump and soak. As he walked, he scanned the cages.
Because the caster was unconscious, the genjutsu binding these captives had already faded. The freezing water had done the rest, shocking many of them back to consciousness.
There were about thirty ninja here. Hajime moved quickly.
It only took a glance through a few cages before he found a familiar face—Yugami Chihori.
He'd found her. His clanswoman.
But she appeared to be the only one.
Whether that meant she was the only one kidnapped or that the others had already been used up in gruesome experiments, Hajime didn't know.
Chihori was around seventeen or eighteen, pale and dazed. She sat slumped in the cage, her eyes glassy.
Hajime stood before the bars.
When his shadow blocked the faint light streaming in, she instinctively looked up.
Recognition flickered in her eyes.
She opened her mouth to speak—
—but Hajime shook his head ever so slightly.
Too many people were still alive around them. For the sake of caution, he couldn't reveal why he was really here.
Better to pretend he was here to free everyone, not just her.
To be honest, a typical ninja would've slaughtered the rest after rescuing their target. No value, no resistance—better to eliminate them to avoid loose ends.
But Hajime didn't want to do that.
It wasn't about kindness, nor some hidden streak of virtue. He just... didn't feel like it.
These prisoners were meaningless to him. Killing them or letting them go—either was fine.
He just didn't want to sully himself by mirroring Tushi's savagery. That was all.
In a time where "kill or be killed" was the rule, Hajime had no qualms being a killer. But there were some paths—even in this broken world—he refused to take.
That little bit of moral cleanliness—his mental hygiene—was his line. His boundary.
Had anyone heard his reasoning, they would've scoffed and snapped:
> "What makes you think you're any different from us?"
Still, to preserve the illusion of neutrality, he had to be careful how he freed people.
He rummaged through Tushi's clothes and found a ring of keys. He unlocked Chihori's cage and carefully removed her shackles. With a glance, he motioned for her to leave.
"You're free," he said quietly.
Chihori understood and left swiftly, disappearing into the shadows.
Only then did Hajime begin opening the other cages.
One by one, they emerged—first staring at Hajime with wary eyes, then scrambling away from him like he was death incarnate.
Not that he expected gratitude.
By freeing everyone, Hajime made Chihori's rescue less conspicuous—no one would suspect she was his real target.
But just as he approached the next cage, a man inside suddenly started screaming.
"Haha! I knew it! My clan would never abandon me! They must've sent you to rescue me!"
Hajime's expression tightened.
The rest of the prisoners froze. Even Tushi, barely conscious, stirred awake at the commotion.
And then his rage returned.
Despite his twisted neck and mangled body, Tushi managed to clasp his hands together and form hand signs.
With a rumble, stone spikes erupted from the walls—ten, maybe more—piercing the loud ninja clean through.
Hajime: "…"
Well, that was unexpected.
"I should've known better than to mess with someone from a major ninja clan," Tushi growled.
"You're awfully chatty for someone clinging to life," Hajime muttered, eyes narrowing.
He should've asked Tushi if he was working alone or part of some larger organization… but it didn't matter.
Those answers wouldn't affect his mission.
So Hajime didn't ask.
And Tushi didn't get the chance to answer.
Hajime simply snapped both his arms like twigs.
He'd been ready for a sneak attack—but he hadn't expected Tushi to strike the other prisoner instead.
Even though Hajime had destroyed his life's "research," Tushi hated the one who brought Hajime here even more.
In his eyes, Hajime was just a hired blade. The true enemy was whoever sent him.
And now, someone had just stepped forward and volunteered for that role.
Hajime glanced at the dead man. Apparently, he was from some major clan—perhaps arrogant by nature.
The insignia on his headband was unfamiliar to Hajime: three curved lines cradling a circular core. He didn't recognize the symbol.
Still, his death gave Hajime an excuse to distance himself.
"Major clan? Please. None of you have a bigger name than me—Uchiha Izuna."
He wasn't here on anyone's orders.
He just couldn't stand the way things were done here—and so he ended it.
Simple as that.
A ninja lives by his name, after all—and never hides it when walking the line between justice and blood.