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The streets of Yugakure were a lazy, meandering river of tourists and locals. Haku, his form shifted into that of an unremarkable, middle-aged shinobi with a nondescript face and plain grey robes, moved through the crowd silently. Steam rose in lazy plumes from the numerous onsen, carrying the faint, sulfuric scent of hot springs, a smell that did little to mask his growing frustration.
For hours, he had been a ghost in this village of pleasure. He had listened in teahouses, lingered in gambling dens, and observed the chatter in the public baths. But the information he gathered was useless.
He learned which hot spring had the best view of the mountains, where to find the sweetest dango, and which geisha played the shamisen with the most skill. But of the bandits and a rogue shinobi, he heard nothing. The local shinobi were more concerned with guiding tourists than guarding against threats.
He leaned against a wooden bridge, watching the colorful koi fish swim in lazy circles in the pond below. It was almost time to meet Alaric at the rendezvous point, and he had nothing to show for his efforts but a growing sense of failure. He clenched his fists at his sides, the smooth fabric of his disguised robes crinkling under the pressure.
'Damn my face,' he thought, a familiar bitterness rising. 'Even in a Henge, I feel like I stand out. This is troublesome.'
Just as he was about to turn and head back towards the inn, a sound, faint but sharp, cut through the peaceful afternoon chatter.
"KYAAAHH!"
A scream. It was quickly muffled, a brief, desperate cry that most would have dismissed as a child's game or a lover's quarrel. But Haku's trained ears caught the raw terror in it.
His head snapped up, his gaze fixing on the source of the sound… a run-down, neglected district near the village's outer wall, a place of dilapidated houses and overgrown alleys that the tourists, and even most locals, avoided. Without a second's hesitation, he pushed himself off the bridge.
He moved, his earlier, sluggish pace replaced by the silent, fluid grace of a true shinobi. He leaped effortlessly onto the tiled roof of a nearby house, his feet making no sound. He ran across the rooftops, a grey shadow against the afternoon sky, his senses on high alert. He landed silently on the edge of a roof overlooking a small, trash-strewn courtyard behind a crumbling tenement.
Then… he saw them.
Two men, their clothes rough and stained with travel, had a woman pinned against the grimy wall. They didn't wear any village's hitai-ate, and their hands were rough, calloused, their eyes holding a cruel, predatory light. The woman struggled, her kimono was torn, her face was a mask of terror and shame.
"Shut up, bitch," one of the men snarled, his voice a low, vicious rasp as he tore at her clothes. "Just accept it. You should feel honored."
The woman kicked and clawed, but she was no match for their combined strength. The other man laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. "She's a fighter, this one. I like that."
Haku watched from the rooftop, a cold, sickening disgust rising in his gut. His hand instinctively went to the senbon hidden in his sleeve. He could end this. Two needles, swift and silent. They would be dead before they even knew what had happened. But then, Alaric's words echoed in his mind.
'Full autonomy... I want to see your full capability... not only in fighting but also in decision making.'
His mission was to gather information, to locate the bandit camp. To act now, to reveal himself for a single woman, however tragic her fate, could compromise the entire mission. He was a tool, a weapon. Zabuza had taught him that. Emotions were a liability. He clenched his jaw, his knuckles white where he gripped the roof tiles, and he stayed his hand.
The first man tore into her with a savage, depraved ferocity, ripping her kimono to shreds with slow, sadistic glee, his filthy hands clawing at her exposed skin as he forced himself on her. Her body shuddered in agony, her muffled screams stifled by his grip, her eyes bulging with raw, unfiltered horror as he violated her with a cruel, relentless brutality, his grunts of pleasure a vile mockery of her pain.
The second man stood close, his breath ragged, his hands greedily undoing his trousers, a grotesque leer twisting his face as he savored the sight. When the first stepped back, slick with sweat and a sick sense of triumph, the second lunged forward, seizing her wrists and slamming them against the wall with bone-crushing force. He ravaged her with a vicious, unrelenting pace, his laughter a guttural, demonic sound that drowned out her broken, gasping sobs, each thrust a deliberate act of degradation.
Haku felt a bile rise in his throat. He turned his head away, unable to watch, but unable to leave. He listened, his heart a cold, heavy stone in his chest, as the second man took his turn.
Finally, it was over. The men stood, adjusting their trousers, their faces flushed with exertion and a smug, proprietary satisfaction. The woman lay in a crumpled heap on the ground, her body trembling, her eyes vacant.
"Well," the first man said, spitting on the ground. "That was a good warm-up." He looked down at the woman, a cruel smirk on his face. He drew a short, brutish-looking sword from his belt.
Haku's eyes snapped back to the scene, a surge of pure, unadulterated killing intent finally breaking through his disciplined control. But he was too late.
The man plunged the sword into the woman's neck with a casual, almost bored, efficiency. Her body convulsed once, a final, silent scream trapped in her throat, and then she was still. The two men just laughed.
"What a waste," one of them said, wiping his blade on a piece of discarded cloth. "She was a good cum dumpster, though. She should've acted like one."
That was it. The last straw. Haku's control shattered. A chilling, visible aura of cold chakra began to emanate from him, frost spider-webbing across the roof tiles around his hands. He was about to leap, to unleash a storm of ice and death upon the two monsters below, when a hand, large and warm, settled gently on his shoulder.
He flinched, his body instantly coiling to attack, but then he recognized the touch, the calm, unshakeable presence. He knew, without even looking, who it was. The killing intent receded, replaced by a profound, almost dizzying sense of relief.
Alaric stood behind him, his crimson coat a silent, comforting presence. He looked down at the gruesome scene in the courtyard, his own blue eyes turning as cold as the ice Haku commanded. He then looked at his student, at the trembling in his shoulders, at the tears of rage and shame glistening in his eyes.
"Good job," Alaric said, his voice a low, steady murmur that cut through Haku's turmoil. "It seems you found a lead."
The two men below, finished with their monstrous act, shared one last, callous laugh before turning and disappearing into the labyrinth of alleyways, leaving the woman's body behind in the dirt.
Haku watched them go, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were bloodless. The cold chakra aura around him dissipated, leaving only a deep, bone-chilling ache in his chest.
He gritted his teeth, his voice a raw, self-loathing whisper. "I should've saved her. I should've captured them... there should've been another way to find a lead..."
'With how long he's been under Zabuza, I thought he'd be calm about this,' Alaric observed silently, a flicker of something almost like pity in his eyes. He stayed quiet for a moment, letting Haku's guilt and anger wash over him before he finally let out a soft sigh.
"Yes," he agreed, his voice calm and measured. "Saving her and capturing them for information would've been the best outcome. But do you know why you couldn't do it?"
"..." Haku knew the reason. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the still, lifeless form in the courtyard below. The silence stretched before he finally found his voice. "From all the missions I did with Zabuza-sama, all of them were assassinations. We never accepted missions regarding saving a person since we were only specialized in killing." He took a shaky breath, his own words a bitter confession. "But despite that, I shouldn't have left that woman alone in the hands of those sick predators..."
"Hm," Alaric hummed, a low, thoughtful sound. He gestured for Haku to stand. "It's good that you have learned a lesson from this." He walked to the edge of the roof, his gaze distant as he looked out over the peaceful, oblivious village.
"There are many beliefs when it comes to a shinobi's duty," Alaric began, his voice taking on the tone of a sensei. "Some believe the mission is absolute. Accomplish the objective, no matter the cost. Even if everyone around you, even your own comrades, must be sacrificed." He paused. "Others believe in the opposite. They would abandon the mission in a heartbeat to save a teammate or someone, believing that those who abandon their friends are worse than trash."
He turned, his blue eyes locking onto Haku's. "There are a thousand shades of grey in between, Haku. In the end, the path you walk, the choices you make… they are your own. The most important thing is to never forget your humanity. Save a person if you can, or don't. That choice, that burden, is yours alone."
Haku listened intently, Alaric's words a clarifying light in the darkness of his own guilt. He looked at his sensei, at the calm, unshakeable confidence in his eyes. "And you, Sensei?" he asked, his voice quiet but firm. "What do you believe in?"
Alaric smiled, a faint, almost dangerous smirk. "Beliefs don't matter to me," he replied, his voice a low, steady rumble of absolute conviction. "When I'm given a mission, consider it done. When I'm around, no teammate of mine, no innocent civilian, will die without my permission."
Haku stared, the sheer, unadulterated arrogance of the statement was breathtaking. "That's… naive," he finally said, shaking his head. "To believe you can control everything, save everyone… it's impossible."
Alaric's smirk widened. He shook his head. "It's only naive and impossible if one is weak, Haku. If you're as strong as me, it's only natural."
Haku fell silent, a profound, almost dizzying sense of awe washing over him. He stood up, turning to look one last time at the courtyard, at the tragic scene that had sparked this heavy conversation, steeling himself for the sight of the dead woman.
His eyes widened. He blinked, then blinked again. The woman was gone. The bloodstain on the dirt was gone. There was nothing. Not a single trace that anything had ever happened there.
"What..."
"Genjutsu," Alaric replied, his voice laced with a familiar, almost lazy amusement. Haku's head snapped around, his face a mask of utter confusion. "I arrived here at the same time as you. You just didn't notice me," Alaric explained. "When I saw those two about to attack the woman, I placed an AoE Genjutsu. They thought they did it. The woman ran away the moment they started… wrestling with the air."
"A... oE?" Haku stammered, the unfamiliar term adding to his confusion. "What..."
"The genjutsu affected you too," Alaric chuckled, placing a heavy, reassuring hand on Haku's shoulder. "It seems you lack training in that area." He let the lesson sink in for a moment. "However, my statements earlier were still valid. Think about it."
He gave Haku's shoulder a final, firm squeeze, then turned, his gaze fixing on the direction the two men had disappeared. "Now, let's tail those two."
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