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[NUT] Chapter : 09
🕑 Added 2025-05-27 16:55:25 +0000 UTCItachi glanced at him from beneath the brim.
"It blocks the sun and hides my face. For a missing-nin, it’s just being cautious."
Jūzō gave a small grunt of approval.
"Smart kid. Caution saves lives."
"No point inviting trouble," Itachi replied simply.
"Let’s take a break," Jūzō said after a while. "At our pace, it'll take two days to reach the target."
He still refused to wear a hat in the wild—he found them ugly and unnecessary.
He’d only bother pulling one out from a sealing scroll when they passed through crowded places.
Not that it helped much. The giant Kubikiribocho strapped to his back gave away his identity instantly.
The hat was, at best, a gesture of effort.
"This trip’s so dull..."
Itachi murmured, his voice thoughtful.
"It’d be nice to have a summoned beast. Could’ve ridden it all the way."
Jūzō didn’t reply. He had no interest in summoning creatures.
All his strength was in his sword—and he trusted only that.
"Can you cook?"
Itachi asked suddenly, after using a water-style jutsu to summon a small stream for a drink.
He took a few sips, then rubbed his stomach.
"We’ve been walking for hours. I’m starving."
"Cook? Too much hassle."
Jūzō scoffed.
"Lighting a fire out here is risky. Better to stick to soldier pills—plenty of nutrients."
Itachi remembered the taste of those chalky, bitter pills... and grimaced.
"You eat that junk. I’ll go catch some game."
He turned away in mild disgust. Soldier pills were fine in emergencies, but eating them regularly? Torture.
Just as he was about to disappear into the trees, Jūzō called out.
"Wait. Here."
He tossed Itachi a small scroll.
Itachi caught it, a little surprised, and unsealed it on the spot. Inside were kunai, exploding tags, and other basic supplies.
"You just defected. Probably broke, right? I bought these for you. Just make sure you pay me back."
Itachi’s hand paused over the tools. He was about to say something—but then Jūzō’s words hit him.
He felt a quiet warmth in his chest.
"Thanks," he said softly, a small smile curving at the corner of his mouth.
"Don’t get the wrong idea," Jūzō said casually. "I’m just making sure your combat skills aren’t dragging me down."
Itachi didn’t reply.
He simply picked up one of the kunai, gave it a quick spin in his hand, and disappeared into the woods with silent steps.
Jūzō watched him go.
"Tch... still just a brat."
He muttered, shaking his head.
Then he remembered what Itachi had said about food—and looked down at the soldier pill in his hand.
Somehow, it didn’t look so appetizing anymore.
"...Wait for me. I’ll go catch some game too."
With that, Jūzō stood up and dashed after Itachi.
—
"Not bad, Itachi. You’ve got a talent for cooking."
Jūzō wiped the crumbs from the corner of his mouth, his tone uncharacteristically appreciative.
"It’s alright," Itachi replied, finishing the last bite of roasted meat and leaning back against a tree with a contented sigh.
"Might just be that I was starving. Everything tastes better when you're hungry."
After resting for a short while, the two resumed their journey.
By the time evening fell, they had stopped again—something in the air had changed.
Jūzō narrowed his eyes. "Someone’s coming. And they’re not here for a friendly chat."
"Expected as much," Itachi said calmly, glancing at the massive Kubikiribocho strapped to Jūzō’s back.
That thing practically shouted, come fight me.
Still, there was no getting Jūzō to part with it. That blade was more than a weapon—it was a part of him.
"Any idea who?"
They stood in the middle of the deserted road, not even bothering to hide.
"No clue who it is," Itachi replied, eyes scanning the shadows. "But whoever it is… they’re definitely gunning for you."
His gaze flicked briefly to Jūzō’s fingers, painted with dark polish.
Itachi had the same set, but had never used it. The whole thing felt a bit... much.
"Yeah… makes sense," Jūzō muttered, not bothering to argue.
He'd dealt with bounty hunters before. He knew how this worked.
But the sword stayed. No matter what.
From the surrounding forest, a soft voice emerged.
"They’re exposed. Get ready."
Three ninja emerged from the shadows, forehead protectors strapped to various limbs—none from the same village.
A patchwork team, cobbled together for one reason.
"Can we help you with something?"
Jūzō asked coolly, his tone edged with contempt.
As one of the Seven Ninja Swordsmen of the Mist, he had every right to be confident.
"Biwa Jūzō. You’ve racked up quite the bounty. Didn’t expect to find you traveling with a kid, though..."
The leader's tone was smug, but the caution in his eyes betrayed his words.
This wouldn't be an easy fight.
"So it was me you came for," Jūzō said, cracking his neck.
"Then tell me—eyes, throat, heart, or gut? Where do you want me to strike first?"
Before the enemy could reply, Jūzō formed a seal.
A cold wind blew, and thick fog began to roll in.
In moments, a dense mist enveloped the area. Visibility dropped to barely a meter.
Itachi blinked, momentarily caught off guard—then understood.
The fog wasn’t that strong. In fact, it was surprisingly weak.
'No nearby water... he’s using pure chakra to generate it.'
Watching Jūzō’s silhouette vanish into the haze, Itachi activated his Sharingan.
Through the red glow of his eyes, the mist thinned—but didn’t part.
So this was the weakness of the Sharingan in the mist...
He recalled how Kakashi had to rely on summoning ninja-dogs when fighting Zabuza.
Even with two fully awakened Sharingan, Itachi could only see so far.
Kakashi, with one eye, must have been completely blind.
As he stood quietly, surrounded by the shifting fog, Itachi’s thoughts wandered to a jutsu he’d read about—the Bringer of Darkness.
It was another ninjutsu that countered the Sharingan.
There was always balance in the shinobi world.
But even so, Itachi didn’t feel threatened. He wasn’t just a Sharingan wielder—he had the Mangekyō.
And with Susanoo, the world itself could burn around him… he wouldn’t flinch.
Suddenly, a scream pierced the silence.
"Agh!"
One down.
"Don’t panic!" barked one of the remaining three. "He’s alone—go for the kid!"
Jūzō had already vanished again after claiming his first victim.
The survivors, nerves fraying, turned their eyes on Itachi.
They were afraid, yes—but bounty hunters lived in fear every day.
Their lives were always on the edge of a blade.
Now, they shifted focus to what looked like the softer target.
The kid.
The moment Itachi heard the enemy mention him, he acted without hesitation.
Four kunai flashed into his hands and whistled through the fog—precise, unflinching, deadly. They struck before the enemy even saw them coming.
To Jūzō’s astonishment, the bounty hunter who had called out moments earlier dropped like a ragdoll—his body riddled with kunai, each embedded in a vital point. A perfect kill.
Itachi didn’t need to see.
The voice alone had told him everything—position, posture, vulnerability.
This wasn’t something just any shinobi could do.
The one who had spoken up first had also been the easiest to read. Itachi had cataloged his voice, gauged his size, and run a quick analysis in his mind. The rest was instinct, honed by merciless training and natural talent.
The remaining two bounty hunters froze, staring in disbelief at their fallen comrade—his orders cut short by death.
They broke. Panic overtook them.
But before they could beg, bolt, or even breathe properly, Jūzō struck.
Two swift, brutal movements—and both heads hit the ground.
The fog began to clear. Jūzō stood tall amidst the corpses, his sword resting calmly on his shoulder.
"Not bad, Itachi... you’ve got something special," he said, a note of genuine admiration in his voice.
But Itachi didn’t respond.
He walked over to the body of the man he’d killed, crouched beside it, and silently retrieved the kunai he’d thrown. He wiped them clean on the corpse’s clothes before tucking them neatly back into his pouch.
Then he started rifling through the man’s belongings.
Jūzō blinked. 'The hell...'
Cutting himself off mid-thought, he dropped to a crouch and joined in.
There were three bodies, after all—no way he was letting Itachi claim all the loot.
Under Jūzō’s cautious gaze, Itachi pulled a small pouch from the corpse, casually flipping it open.
A few hundred ryō, several kunai, and some shuriken—not bad.
He pocketed them without a hint of shame and stood up, apparently done.
Jūzō, watching closely, sighed in relief when Itachi didn’t try to compete for his share.
But then he paused.
He’d never used to do this—searching corpses for valuables.
It wasn't his style.
'Damn Itachi,' he muttered internally.
"You’re rubbing off on me. But... why does this feel kinda satisfying?"
A strange grin crept onto his face.
"You done yet? You're taking forever," Itachi muttered, clearly annoyed.
From beneath the brim of his bamboo hat, he watched Jūzō poke around like a raccoon digging for treasure—complete with a weird, contented smirk on his ugly mug.
Jūzō ignored him. He was focused. Methodical.
Itachi watched a moment longer, then spoke, half-joking, half-serious:
"You want some privacy while you're at it? I could step away, give you some fresh air..."
Jūzō blinked, looking up with genuine confusion.
Itachi instantly regretted the comment.
Realizing he might have taken that joke a step too far, he turned away, face slightly flushed under his hat.
"Forget it. Keep going..."
A moment later, his expression was back to stoic calm, as if nothing had happened.
