Chapter 13: The Weight of Victory
The mist had fully dispersed now, revealing the aftermath. The lifeless bodies of their enemies lay sprawled across the ground, crimson pooling beneath them. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the fading smoke, thick in the cold night air.
Kiyoshi stared at his hands. His fingers trembled, streaked with red—his enemy's blood.
He had expected victory to feel… different.
They had trained for this. They had sparred, practiced, and prepared for missions. But nothing had prepared him for this moment.
The reality of it.
One moment, their enemies had been moving, breathing, fighting to survive. The next, they weren't. Their bodies lay still, their eyes glassy and vacant.
Dead.
Kiyoshi swallowed hard, his stomach twisting. His entire life, he had lived in a place where disputes were settled by law—where crimes were judged and justice was upheld by authority figures: police, courts, rules.
But here?
There were no judges. No trials. No second chances.
One moment, you existed. The next, you didn't.
That was the world of shinobi.
And he was part of it now.
Mikoto stood nearby, her kunai still clutched in her grip, eyes locked onto the corpse at her feet. Her usual sharp gaze was unreadable, her lips slightly parted as if she were about to say something—but no words came. She wiped her blade mechanically, but her movements lacked their usual confidence.
Ryota shifted uncomfortably, inhaling sharply as he looked away. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. There was no celebration. No victory cries. Just quiet acceptance—or the attempt at it.
Kenshiro said nothing.
He simply stood a few feet away, watching them. Studying them.
He had seen this before.
The first kill. The moment when the weight of what it meant to be a shinobi truly settled in. He could tell none of them had expected it to feel like this.
But he didn't interrupt.
They had to learn.
This wasn't the academy anymore, where teachers would step in to prevent fatal blows. This wasn't the village, where parents and the Hokage ensured their safety.
This was the battlefield.
Where hesitation meant death.
Where a single mistake could be fatal.
Where grief had no place—because if you wasted time mourning, you'd be the next body lying cold on the ground.
Kiyoshi exhaled slowly, trying to steady himself. His hands were still shaking. He clenched them into fists, trying to burn this moment into his mind.
Because this wouldn't be the last time.
If he wanted to survive—if they all wanted to survive—then they would have to do this again. And again.
Or one day, it would be their blood soaking the dirt.
No one spoke for a long moment.
Then, finally, Kenshiro broke the silence.
"Good work."
His voice was calm. Firm. As if this was just another part of the mission.
And maybe that was the lesson.
Mikoto took a deep breath and sheathed her kunai. Ryota exhaled, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the tension.
Kiyoshi did the same, his body still trembling from the weight of what they had just done. The battlefield was silent now, save for the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of nocturnal insects. The bodies of their fallen enemies lay still, blood seeping into the dirt.
He wiped his bloody hands on his cloak and looked down at them one last time.
He could still feel the weight of it.
But he forced himself to step forward.
"…So," he said, his voice quieter than usual, "does that mean the mission isn't a failure after all?"
Kenshiro smirked. "Yes. And we even have a prisoner to interrogate. We need to find out which faction or village they belong to… and what mission they were assigned."
Kiyoshi swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. They had won—but the mission wasn't over yet.
Mikoto and Ryota glanced at the unconscious shinobi lying a few feet away. His mask had been partially shattered from the fight, revealing a grim-set jaw and a few fresh cuts.
Kenshiro moved swiftly. He formed a single hand seal, and glowing blue chakra threads extended from his fingertips, wrapping around the unconscious shinobi like ropes. The bindings tightened, ensuring there was no chance of escape.
But he wasn't done. He formed another hand seal, and a faint glow of chakra flickered around his fingertips. In an instant, he pressed his palm against the shinobi's chest.
Click.
A set of intricate chakra locks formed across the man's body—glowing blue seals that pulsed before fading into his skin. These weren't ordinary restraints. They would suppress his chakra flow, preventing him from molding energy or attempting to escape.
Kenshiro straightened, satisfied. "That should hold him. Even if he wakes up, he won't be able to use jutsu or break free."
Kiyoshi and the others exchanged glances. With the chakra locks in place, their prisoner was completely neutralized.
With a sharp press of his fingers against a pressure point on the enemy's neck, Kenshiro jolted him awake.
The shinobi's eyes snapped open. He inhaled sharply but quickly composed himself. His gaze was sharp, calculating—already assessing the situation.
Kenshiro crouched beside him, his voice low and commanding. "Who sent you?"
Silence.
The man didn't even flinch.
Kenshiro narrowed his eyes. "What was your mission?"
Nothing.
Mikoto crossed her arms, her Sharingan still active, scanning for any microexpressions. "He's been trained to resist interrogation," she muttered.
Ryota clicked his tongue in frustration. "Tch. Of course, he has."
Kenshiro didn't look surprised. "One last chance." His voice was cold. Dangerous. "You can answer now… or you can answer later under far worse circumstances."
The shinobi exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable.
Then, slowly—
He closed his eyes.
A silent declaration. He wouldn't talk.
Kiyoshi felt a wave of frustration, but he knew there was no point in wasting time. "We won't get anything out of him here."
Kenshiro let out a short breath and stood up. "Agreed. We're taking him back to Konoha. The Intelligence Division can deal with him."
Ryota frowned. "You think he'll break under them?"
Kenshiro's smirk was grim. "Everyone does."
Mikoto nodded. "Then we should move fast. We don't know if more of them are nearby."
Kiyoshi took one last look at the captured shinobi. They had won the battle. But the war—the true reason behind this encounter—was still a mystery.
Well, they had completed their mission. Now, all that was left—
Was getting him back to Konoha.