---
"This is my stop."
The words, spoken so casually, landed with the force of another physical blow. A stunned, disbelieving silence fell over the small group.
They stood in a misty, blood-soaked clearing in the middle of a hostile, foreign land, having just survived an encounter with one of the most infamous missing-nin in the world, and their other, impossibly powerful client was simply… leaving.
"Huh?" Naruto was the first to break the silence, his voice a mixture of confusion and outrage. "What do you mean, 'this is your stop'!? We're in the middle of nowhere!"
Kakashi, who was still catching his breath, raised his single visible eye to look at Alaric, a deep, calculating frown creasing his brow. "...Here?"
"Yup," Alaric nodded, a faint, unreadable smile on his face. "Your mission was to guard me all the way to this country, not to Tazuna-san's house. We are, for all intents and purposes, in the Land of Waves. Mission complete."
Tazuna, who had been on the verge of a relieved collapse, straightened up, a new wave of panic washing over him. He had just seen this man knock out a monster like Zabuza with a wooden bat. He was the ultimate insurance policy.
"Um, you can also rest in my house, sir," he offered, his voice a little too eager. "It's no trouble at all! Plenty of room!"
"No, thank you," Alaric chuckled, retrieving a fresh cigar from his coat and lighting it with a snap of his fingers. He took a slow, leisurely drag, the smoke curling into the damp air. "As I said, this is my stop."
Kakashi reluctantly nodded, though his mind was racing. He had a thousand questions, a thousand suspicions about this man. But he was also a pragmatist. Alaric had just demonstrated a level of power that was, frankly, terrifying. He could clearly protect himself. "Okay," the jōnin finally conceded.
"Well, this is where we part ways," Alaric smiled at them, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "I already paid the Hokage, so you'll receive your payment from him when you return."
Kakashi nodded again, then turned to his team, his professional demeanor reasserting itself. "It was abrupt, but we've officially completed one C-Rank mission. We just have to finish Tazuna-san's, and you'll have two successful missions under your belts."
"Huh!?" Naruto spun to face Kakashi, his earlier frustration returning with a vengeance. "That's it!? He's just gonna walk off!? After all that!?"
'Naruto's really an oddball,' Alaric thought, a flicker of genuine amusement in his eyes. 'Is it because he was treated as the village pariah? Or is he just… Naruto? I guess I'll never know.'
"It was nice meeting you, Alaric-san," Sakura said, her voice quiet but sincere. She gave him a small, respectful bow.
Alaric's eyebrow rose in surprise. He turned his head, his gaze softening as he looked at the pink-haired girl. "Ah, you as well," he replied, a genuine warmth in his voice for the first time. "You've been very polite."
Sakura smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks from the compliment. With a final, weary sigh from Kakashi, Team 7 turned and, with Tazuna in their midst, continued their journey down the muddy path, leaving Alaric alone in the misty clearing.
He watched them go, the sounds of their footsteps fading into the oppressive quiet of the forest. When they were finally out of sight, the lazy, detached amusement on his face vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating focus.
"Well," he murmured to the empty clearing, taking one final, long drag from his cigar before dropping it to the ground and crushing it under his boot. "Playtime's over."
He looked around, his eyes scanning the dense, unfamiliar wilderness. "Let's make some huge amount of money."
GROWWWWWL.
A loud, aggressive growl echoed through the clearing. It was not from some hidden beast. It was from his own stomach.
"Ah," he said, his cold focus momentarily broken. He placed a hand on his belly, a look of profound, almost comical, annoyance on his face. "Before that," he sighed, "I should probably hunt for some food on the way."
Even without actively focusing, Alaric's senses were a vast, invisible net cast over the surrounding wilderness. The Mind's Eye of the Kagura, a passive extension of his being, painted a vivid, three-dimensional map in his mind: the rustle of a lizard under a fern, the slow, patient crawl of a beetle up a tree trunk, the panicked, fluttering heartbeat of a flock of wild chickens disturbed by a predator a quarter-mile away.
He turned his head in their direction, a faint smirk touching his lips. He didn't run. He didn't need to. He simply stepped, his movements a casual, almost lazy blur of motion that devoured the distance in seconds.
He moved through the dense undergrowth not as an intruder, but as a part of the forest itself, his feet barely disturbing the fallen leaves.
He found them in a small, sun-dappled clearing. With a flick of his wrist, a shower of senbon, conjured from nothing, shot through the air. They were not aimed to kill, but to herd. The chickens, squawking in alarm, were funneled into a single, predictable path. Alaric appeared in their midst, snatching the plumpest one out of the air with a casual, almost bored, grace.
With a swif motion, he ended its life, bleeding it quickly and efficiently. He plucked the feathers with a speed that would have made any butcher weep with envy, the white plumage scattering in the gentle breeze.
He focused his will, and a new object shimmered into existence in his hand: a long, perfectly balanced knife, its blade a flawless, gleaming black forged by Vulcan from the depths of his own power. He butchered the bird with a surgeon's precision, the cuts clean and economical.
Next, he turned to a patch of bare earth. He placed a hand on the ground, and with a soft, creaking groan, a pile of perfectly seasoned, bone-dry logs erupted from the soil, a gift of his Wood Release. He needed a fire, and nature, his nature, would provide. Another thought, another flicker of Vulcan's power, and a simple, sturdy cooking pan materialized in his other hand.
Within minutes, a small, controlled fire was crackling merrily, the rich, savory aroma of roasting chicken filling the quiet clearing. He cooked it to perfection, the skin crispy and golden, the meat tender and juicy. And then, he ate.
He devoured the entire bird, aside from the bones of course, with a hunger that was both physical and existential. It wasn't that he needed the sustenance… his chakra reserves were a humongous well of energy… but the simple, primal act of the hunt, the cook, and the meal, was a grounding experience. A reminder of a simpler life.
When he was finished, he sat for a moment, the warmth of the fire on his face, the satisfying weight of the meal in his stomach. The clearing was peaceful, the only sounds the crackle of the flames and the gentle whisper of the wind through the trees.
'Should I set up camp here?' he mused, leaning back against a tree trunk. The thought was tempting. A night under the stars, away from the complexities of shinobi politics and grand, world-altering schemes. But it was a fleeting temptation. He was not here for a vacation. 'Nah. I should try and see if I can get some puppet cash.'
His goal was clear. Gatō. The source of this land's misery, and, more importantly, a man of immense, and soon-to-be-liberated, wealth.
With that, he stood, the last vestiges of his leisurely meal vanishing, replaced by the cold, sharp focus of a predator. He closed his eyes. First, his Mangekyō Sharingan spun to life, the world shifting, warping as he activated Kamui, his body becoming an intangible, untouchable ghost.
Then, he reached out with his senses, searching for the unique, invisible marker he had placed on a certain missing-nin just a short while ago. He found it.
With a final, silent thought, he activated his Hiraishin.
With a flash of platinum-gold light that illuminated the forest clearing for a fraction of a second, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but the dying embers of a small fire and the faint, lingering scent of a well-cooked meal.
.
Consider buying me a coffee!
patreon.com/kulark
I'm uploading dozens of chapters ahead there!