Chapter 57: The Man Whose Name Bears the Word "Huang"

Onoki watched as Shiraki transformed into a being of thunder, his expression grave. Due to the elemental disadvantage, he had always disliked lightning-style shinobi; it was the classic relationship of mouse and cat, natural enemies. He even secretly considered that if, after defeating the Leaf, there were still surplus troops, he would make a surprise attack on Cloud as well.

“Father… isn't it time to call a halt?” Kitsuchi looked at his junior, his face twisted in pain, and felt a wave of sympathy.

“Hmph... Why stop now? Akatsuchi hasn't even gone all out yet.” Onoki snorted coldly. The older one gets, the more face matters; to have his personally taught disciple beaten by an unknown upstart—how could he show his face after that?

This fight would go on, even if he had to grit his teeth.

Shiraki, meanwhile, was also having a headache. Akatsuchi was truly a tough one; even though the Stone Giant’s Armor had shattered, his thick skin still absorbed much of Shiraki’s blows—each punch left only a faint white mark.

Akatsuchi seemed to be gradually adapting to the electricity coursing through his body, the numbing effect wearing off, and his counterattack was imminent.

Shiraki, however, knew when to quit. After all, he was here to join Iwagakure—beating up the host right at the start was hardly a wise move. He voluntarily withdrew the thunderstorm, leapt off Akatsuchi, and bowed slightly. “Brother Akatsuchi, you truly live up to your title as Shield of the Tsuchikage. I can’t break through your defense. Let’s call this match a draw.”

“Uh…” Akatsuchi glanced at Onoki’s sour expression, scratched his head in embarrassment. “Your lightning style is impressive too. I could hardly move…”

“You’re still the stronger one, Akatsuchi…”

“You’re no slouch yourself…” Akatsuchi wasn’t one for polite flattery.

“Enough! That’ll do. The mercenary contract will proceed as you said,” Onoki said, his face dark. Declaring a draw while holding the advantage was no better than losing.

Akatsuchi, the honest man, didn’t understand the difference, but did the old fox not know? Why not wait until Akatsuchi was pinned to the ground before conceding?

A ragtag group of ruffians hooted and hollered nearby. Was there anything more important than eating and drinking one’s fill?

The old gambler running the betting pool also breathed a sigh of relief. He’d almost thought Shiraki would win, but luckily it ended in a draw. Since there’d been no odds set for a draw, all bets were refunded—no winners, no losers.

...

A band of mercenary shinobi, as fierce and unruly as bandits, strode openly into the capital of the Land of Grass under the resentful stares of its citizens, casting an even denser gloom over the already hopeless, gray sky.

“Let me be clear: your people can enter, but any disturbance to the populace and I won’t hesitate to throw you all out,” Onoki threatened harshly. He knew exactly what kind of discipline wandering shinobi possessed.

He was already planning: once the Leaf was defeated, the Land of Fire would surely be carved up by the other four nations, and the Land of Grass, as a buffer, would become unnecessary. Sooner or later, this city would be annexed, so there was no need to stir up public outrage prematurely.

“Don’t worry, our people are as docile as newborn kittens—we won’t cause any trouble,” Shiraki replied, just as one of his men whistled at a passing girl.

Onoki shot him a look that said he didn’t believe a word.

Shiraki followed Onoki back to his command center for a detailed discussion about the employment contract.

Shiraki had no special requests: one hundred million ryo per month, the right to keep any spoils, and food and lodging provided.

Onoki, not one to waste money, decided: for one hundred million ryo a month, they would be worked to the bone, not used as mere raiders. They would have to be thrown into real battles. Though Iwagakure claimed to have twenty thousand shinobi, as Tsuchikage, he knew most were just fodder who could barely throw a shuriken. Fewer than seven thousand had real combat power. Even spread across the whole front, they weren’t much better off than the Leaf. If these two hundred mercenaries were used well, they could be a trump card!

But Onoki also knew what mercenary shinobi were like. They’d do as little as possible, whining about hardship and poverty. He had to send someone reliable to supervise them.

Since it would be a supervisory role, the candidate had to be strong enough to keep these unruly mercenaries in check.

Akatsuchi… that blockhead could be sweet-talked into counting someone else’s money for them.

The Four-Tails’ jinchuriki, Roshi… had a foul and stubborn temper, was at odds with him, and wouldn’t follow orders.

Han, the Five-Tails’ jinchuriki, was a good option, but he had more important tasks.

His son, Kitsuchi… was strong, but lacked experience. Still, as the future Tsuchikage, it was time he learned to stand on his own.

“If there’s no problem with the terms, I have one more request: I want to assign a supervisor to your group to oversee your operations—Jounin Kitsuchi,” Onoki said forcefully. No organization likes having someone foisted on them to divide their authority.

Without prior discussion, even Kitsuchi looked stunned.

“Kitsuchi? Wonderful! Most welcome! A supervisor isn’t enough—he should be deputy commander! At least! If not, I’ll gladly step down as commander and let Brother Kitsuchi take over!” Shiraki grasped Kitsuchi’s hand tightly, full of emotion and enthusiasm.

“???” Onoki was baffled. Wasn’t the script supposed to be strong resistance, then severe reprimand, and finally reluctant acceptance? Why wasn’t Shiraki playing by the rules?

The flurry of unexpected blows left the old master bewildered.

But, being a seasoned player, he quickly came up with a compromise, smiling kindly: “Hehehe… Commander isn’t necessary; I’m afraid the men wouldn’t accept it. Kitsuchi, you’ll be deputy commander. Help Commander Shiraki keep those unruly mercenaries in line.”

Shiraki laughed inwardly. Onoki really was shameless. Since you’re giving me such an earnest and honest deputy, it’s only fair if he’s a little changed when I return him. After all, his very name means ‘yellow earth.’

“...Understood, Lord Tsuchikage!” Kitsuchi was a bit reluctant, but he knew his father’s stubbornness—once Onoki decided something, nobody could change it.

Onoki waved him over and whispered, “This band of mercenaries has gathered under suspicious circumstances. Their motives seem impure. Find out their true intentions and report back.”

Rogue ninja usually preferred to wander alone. Hunted and wanted, they trusted nobody but money. For all these criminals to suddenly unite as a bandit gang—it was suspicious no matter how one looked at it.

“Yes!” Kitsuchi nodded solemnly.

“Deputy Commander Kitsuchi, let’s go. We shouldn’t keep everyone waiting,” Shiraki said, amused at their secretive whispering.

“Yes, Commander Shiraki.” Kitsuchi, despite being taken advantage of by Shiraki, felt no discomfort—perhaps his honest nature was simply too pure.