Chapter Ten: The Secret of Ebisu

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch...” Ebisu struggled to touch the source of the searing pain on his face, only to realize he had been stripped completely naked and bound with rope. And not just any rope—he was tied up in the tortoise shell bondage style he’d seen countless times in adult magazines, but never had a chance to try himself.

“Sorry, sorry... I don’t know any other rope techniques!” Shiraki, his cheeks flushed behind the swirling mask, shrugged helplessly.

Don’t misunderstand—he had genuinely admired the unique art of ropework from the islands in his previous life, learning the craft purely out of critical curiosity, never using it on anyone.

“You’re such a pervert... Ah, no, I mean, what are you trying to do? I warn you, I’ve been having diarrhea lately... Don’t do this...” Ebisu pleaded, tears streaming down his face, wriggling backward like an earthworm, desperately trying to retreat.

In the desolate wilderness stood a cross-dressing madman wielding a bloody butcher’s knife, who had stripped him naked and bound him in tortoise shell bondage.

With Ebisu’s filthy soul, he could already imagine what depraved acts might follow.

“Hehehehe... You’ll never guess what’s about to happen next...” Shiraki’s voice was sinister as he swung the knife and moved slowly closer.

“Don’t come any closer! Please... Could you use a whip or candle instead... I really can’t handle this...” Ebisu sobbed, continuing to squirm away in terror.

Shiraki paused for a moment, surprised by Ebisu’s shamelessness, deciding to amuse himself further. His smile widened. “Hahaha... Go ahead, list all your requests—I’ll consider them.”

“Could you... put on the women’s clothing?” Ebisu meekly offered his last condition.

Shiraki sneered. He had stripped Ebisu specifically to switch out the women’s attire for his own clothes, but this guy still dared to make demands.

“Answer my questions, or... I’ll carve letters into your face, one cut at a time. Can you guess which word?” Shiraki pressed the butcher’s knife against Ebisu’s cheek, scraping his stubble.

“I don’t know...” Ebisu nearly gagged from the bloody stench of the knife.

“It’s ‘closet pervert.’” Shiraki chuckled, then asked his first question. “Name?”

“Ebisu...”

“Good. Second question... Why are you wearing overalls? Are you out here to play basketball?” Shiraki tugged at the straps, clearly dissatisfied with his own outfit.

“Is that important...? My mom bought them for me...” Ebisu replied weakly.

“Next time, wear fishnet stockings. I prefer something more breathable. Next question: Where are your teammates?” Shiraki remembered clearly—Ebisu’s teammates were the future King Guy and another not-so-weak supporting character, Genma Shiranui.

And King Guy had a father who was an absolute powerhouse.

The three had once met the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist in the Third Shinobi War, and thanks to Guy’s father—Might Duy—they had survived, reducing the enemy to the Three Swordsmen.

“I don’t have teammates... I act alone...” Ebisu shook his head frantically.

“Your eyes are darting about—looks like the Ninja Academy didn’t teach you how to lie. Let me remind you: Where are Guy and Genma Shiranui?” Shiraki’s voice grew colder and more oppressive, like a true interrogator.

“You know so much? If you’re going to do something, just do it to me... I will never betray my companions.” Ebisu clenched his lips with resolve, ready to face death.

Tua~

“Virus Butcher’s Knife” activated!

The knife slashed into the ground right next to Ebisu’s thigh.

“Ahhhhhh, we’re resting at the camp! I came out alone to patrol! Guy... Genma... I’m sorry! It’s really terrifying...” Ebisu had no idea what this cross-dressing madman wanted, but leaking this bit of intel didn’t matter. He knew there was no way Shiraki would dare to make trouble at the Konoha frontline camp, guarded by Lord Minato Namikaze.

“Patrolling alone on the frontlines? Do you think I’m stupid?” Shiraki pulled the butcher’s knife from the earth, tapping Ebisu’s face with the back of the blade. “What sneaky business are you up to here?”

Ebisu hesitated.

Hesitation meant he was thinking of a lie.

With another swift slash, Shiraki drove the knife into the ground between Ebisu’s legs.

“Ahhhhhh! Smuggling! It’s smuggling! Too scary, scare me if you must, but please don’t frighten my little brother!” Ebisu wailed, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Smuggling?” Shiraki frowned, glancing toward the riverbank where Ebisu had been. Sure enough, a man disguised as a farmer with a bamboo hat was stealthily rowing a boat along the river.

No time to ask further—the man was about to pass this stretch of river. Shiraki stuffed a sock into Ebisu’s mouth, hurried off, removed his mask, put on Ebisu’s sunglasses, and pulled up his collar as a makeshift mask.

“Biubiu...” Shiraki whistled stealthily at the man on the boat.

The man in the bamboo hat quickly rowed ashore.

“Where’s my stuff...” Shiraki mimicked Ebisu’s voice in a low tone.

“Where’s the money?” The man pressed down his hat, voice raspy.

Shiraki opened Ebisu’s ninja pouch, which was stuffed with a thick wad of cash, handing it all over.

The man didn’t even count it, clearly trusting Ebisu’s reputation. He took two packages wrapped in oil paper from the boat and whispered, “Sorry, this is the last time. I don’t want to come here again...”

“Hmph, like you have a choice...” Shiraki sneered.

“If I had a choice, I’d never do business with you.” The man fell silent, rowing away.

Shiraki quickly sliced open the oil paper packages with his knife...

His expression stiffened.

Returning to Ebisu, he smacked him repeatedly with the back of the butcher’s knife. “You act like some undercover agent, but all this trouble is just for smuggling dirty magazines!”

“Stop hitting me... stop... it hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts...” Ebisu rolled on the ground in agony.

The Third Shinobi War had begun with small skirmishes and escalated into a full-blown conflict, now raging for eight years. The dull routine at the frontlines wasn’t a daily battle, leaving the ninjas with almost no entertainment.

Ebisu, spotting an opportunity, used his little hobby to carve out a business. He smuggled dirty magazines from nearby towns into the frontline camp, selling them at a high price to the ninjas and making a tidy profit each time.

The ninjas found solace in these magazines, often hiding them carefully. Even if their captain discovered them, he would usually just give them a knowing smile and not pursue the matter further.

“Hidden mission completed: Acquired ‘Make-out Paradise’”
“Reward: 100 gold coins”
“Side mission: Thoroughly read ‘Make-out Paradise’”
“Reward: 100 gold coins”
“Side mission: Lead an original character to become obsessed with ‘Make-out Paradise’”
“Reward: 100 gold coins per person, no limit”

Shiraki gazed at the fifty copies of ‘Make-out Paradise’ before him, lost in thought.

Then, a sly and wicked smile began to curl at the corners of his mouth.

………………

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