Chapter 26
??? POV.
As long as she could remember, she had been alone in this cruel world.
She had parents, but they died when she was four years old. Now she could hardly remember their faces, except for their hazy smiles.
She still remembered the day they left to find food for them. She waited days for them at the door, but they never returned.
From then on, she had to fend for herself. It was not easy; for the first few days, she lived off the scraps she found in her house. But when those ran out, she had to go outside.
The area she lived in was the slums, the lowest of the low, and the continuous rain did not help either. Crime was common there; robbery and death were things that others got used to and learned to live with. It was a place where everyone had to fight just to live one more day.
No one was there to help her. Those first few days on the streets were hell; unable to find anything to fill her stomach, she was on the verge of collapse. That was, until her dull, amber eyes spotted a bakery.
The owner was tossing spoiled bread into an alleyway bin. She hesitated for only a second before her starving body moved on its own.
That day she tasted rock-hard, foul bread, but to her empty stomach, it was a lifeline. From then on, she frequented that shop and the surrounding district, scavenging whatever she could find.
Along the way, she learned many things: the village, how it operated, who the local gang ruling these areas was, and how to stay away from them. And the most important thing she learned was scavenging, both inside the village and outside in the forest.
That was how she survived for three long years—alone in a crumbling house, inside a village that did not care about its people.
She knew this place was called Amegakure; her parents had told her that much. But they never talked about its condition or that there were many more villages out there, especially the Great Five Villages.
From the snippets she heard from people, this village was in this condition because of the conflicts going on in its lands—not their conflicts, but the conflicts of other villages, such as Konoha, the supposedly strongest village, Suna, and Iwa.
They were fighting with each other in Amegakure. And the village couldn't do much about it because it was weak.
So, her survival continued, another four years passed. As she began to grow—even if malnourished—her body began to demand more. Previously, she had needed one loaf of bread to last two to three days, but now it couldn't even last half that time.
Then came another problem: her body began to change. Before, she could blend into a crowd of other orphans, completely indistinguishable from the boys. But now, she had to take extra measures to hide the fact that she was a girl.
She knew what happened in the slums. People with dark motives would kidnap young girls and sell them off as slaves.
So, she began to hide her face, rubbing dirt and mud into her cheeks. She started wearing the baggiest, most tattered clothes she could scavenge to obscure her frame.
Life crawled forward, but the difficulty only multiplied. She even had to abandon her childhood house when a local gang claimed the territory. But the most devastating blow came when the conflict between Konoha and Suna suddenly escalated.
Outside the village was in chaos. The people who were surviving through the forest and the surrounding land began to be killed.
The already dire situation inside Amegakure snapped. Her outside food source was completely blocked, and the food within the village rapidly depleted. The meager crumbs she used to find were now gone, no matter how hard she scavenged.
At the end of a grueling, empty day, she returned to her only remaining sanctuary. She stood shivering in a dark alley, staring across the street at a small shop. It wasn't a food stall.
It was a small origami shop. From a very young age, she had loved playing with paper, folding it into beautiful shapes. She still remembered the happy voices of her parents when she gave them a deformed, crumpled crane. She might have forgotten their faces, but she remembered the warmth in their voices.
Through the relentless rain, she watched an old lady step out and pull the shop's doors shut from the inside, taking down every delicate paper decoration that had been on display.
As the shop went dark, the last embers of hope in her amber eyes extinguished.
With heavy steps, she walked back to her makeshift base—a collapsed house with just enough space beneath the rubble to protect her from the harsh rain.
After a minute of rummaging, she sat in front of her meager supplies. They would last three or four days, but only if she ate the bare minimum.
Her eyes shifted toward her origami, folded from scraps of scavenged paper. They weren't the most beautiful creations, but she still cherished them.
Just like that, another week passed. She sat in the exact same place, but now, there was no food left. Her stomach felt like a hollow pit, the constant, gnawing ache a relentless reminder of her worsening condition.
Her only remaining option was to steal. She had never stolen before—not out of any sense of morality, but because the consequences were simply too high. She had seen desperate children steal from vendors before. When they were caught, being beaten until their hands broke was considered one of the merciful outcomes.
But now, it seemed she had no other choice. Suddenly, her eyes landed on her origami again. Ever since that day in the alley, the small origami shop had never reopened.
She gathered her paper creations into a makeshift bundle. They were far too fragile for this cruel world. Slowly standing up, she began walking toward a trash bin, the bundle clutched in her hands. This would be just another piece of herself she had to sacrifice for survival.
But just as she was about to throw them away, a stupid idea flashed in her mind. Even to her numb, starving brain, it sounded absolutely absurd.
She didn't know why, but she listened to that foolish inner voice anyway. She dragged herself to a small local market that hardly had any customers or goods left to sell.
Finding a small spot beside the road that was relatively sheltered from the constant rain, she set down her bundle. Carefully, she began arranging her paper figurines, though they were already damp and crumbling at the edges.
A bitter smile grazed her lips. It was a stupid idea. Nobody would buy something so useless. It wasn't practical; it wasn't food, nor was it a weapon. Yet, she still sat there. One hour passed, then two, then three. People came and went, but not a single person spared a glance for the origami.
It really was a stupid idea.
That final spark of hope was snuffed out, just like everything else in her life. Her stomach was screaming in agony now, and she could barely see straight. Her vision was blurring at the edges, but she forced herself to stay upright.
Suddenly, a figure stopped in front of her.
"Girl, how much are they?" a feminine voice asked.
She looked up at the person, who was completely covered in a black robe, the hood concealing her identity.
When the word 'girl' fully registered in her mind, her first reaction wasn't relief, but intense wariness. The stranger had seen right through her disguise.
"How much?" the woman asked again.
She clenched her malnourished hands and replied in a weak, raspy voice.
"Two loaves of bread."
The woman in front of her hesitated slightly.
"One—just one loaf of bread, and you can take all of them," she corrected quickly, desperation bleeding into her tone.
As if sensing her desperation, the woman replied in a soft tone, "Child, I don't have bread with me."
Hearing this, the girl's gaze dropped to the muddy floor.
"But I do have money to buy you a warm meal."
Her street-honed instincts instantly flared in warning, but an even sharper, more painful ache cramped her stomach at the mere mention of a meal.
So today, she decided to follow not her survival instincts, but the foolish hope that had landed her in this situation to begin with. Whether this decision would be her worst mistake or buy her another day of life remained to be seen.
She nodded, carefully packing her damp origami, and handed the worn, torn bundle to the woman, who patiently waited for her.
A few minutes of walking later, they arrived outside a ramen shop. It had clearly seen better days, but compared to the surrounding slums, it was in immaculate condition.
When they entered the shop, she caught the rich, warm scent of broth. The owner greeted them, but his eyes immediately lingered on the girl—more specifically, on her state. She was soaked, covered in mud from head to toe, wearing nothing but filthy rags hanging off her malnourished frame.
She hesitated to step further inside, terrified her dirty feet would ruin this otherwise clean place.
Then, she felt a gentle hand on her back. The black-robed woman patted her softly, urging her forward. Gingerly, the girl took a step.
"Owner, give me your best meal," the woman said, placing her money on the counter.
The owner nodded sympathetically and began preparing the food.
The next few minutes were agonizing as she waited, her empty stomach protesting loudly. She looked to the side at the woman, whose motives she couldn't begin to decipher. The stranger was gently looking through the fragile paper figures she had just bought.
The woman looked back at her, her hood still raised.
"They are beautiful."
The girl looked at her own creations. They were damp from the rain, folded from dirty paper discarded by others, and crumpled at the edges.
"You think so?" With a heavy heart, she whispered, "I think they are filthy."
For the first time, she saw the woman pause. A soft, sad sigh escaped the stranger's lips.
"No. They are beautiful," the woman said firmly.
"Why? They are soaked, they don't look good, and they are not even folded properly." The girl didn't know why she was belittling her own work, or why she was arguing with this unknown woman. Most of all, she didn't understand why a sudden, foreign warmth bloomed in her chest upon hearing her say the origami was beautiful.
Slowly, the woman reached up and removed her hood, revealing a stunning face with long black hair and dark eyes that looked at the girl with profound sympathy. She reached out, taking the girl's small, calloused, freezing hands into her own warm, soft ones.
"No. They are beautiful," she said for the third time, her voice thick with reassurance. "And you will understand that… in the future. I hope you will."
Their quiet moment was interrupted by the heavy thud of a steaming bowl being placed on the counter in front of them.
"Sorry about the mess," the woman apologized to the shop owner, who merely smiled warmly and returned to his work.
The girl took her first bite and didn't stop. It was the first time in her life she had ever tasted such rich, flavorful food. Within minutes, the bowl was completely empty.
From the side, the woman silently slid her own untouched bowl over.
"Here, you can have mine. Owner, two more servings, please."
The girl didn't question it. She just ate, desperately satiating her hunger.
Three more bowls of ramen later, she finally slowed to a stop and looked at the woman, who had only eaten one bowl herself.
The woman hesitated, suddenly looking slightly embarrassed.
"What's your name again?"
"Pfft…" Konan couldn't help herself, breaking into a weak, genuine chuckle.
"It's Konan."
"So, Konan… would you like to be adopted by some good people?" the woman asked with a kind smile.
Konan's face drained of color, and the fragile warmth blossoming in her chest instantly turned to ice.
So, in the end, it was exactly what she had feared all along.
In the very next instant, Konan bolted from her seat. The woman's face froze in utter confusion.
Exactly one minute later, Konan was sitting in the exact same chair, the exact same woman sitting beside her. She had been unceremoniously dragged right back.
The woman stared at her, her expression completely deadpan. "Why did you run like that? You could have hurt yourself."
Konan glared right back into her eyes, gritting her teeth. "You people are the worst. Kidnapping people, selling them to others… treating them like animals!"
The woman blinked, genuine confusion crossing her features. "Who said I am a human trafficker? I am a proud merchant. You'd do well to remember that," she declared, tilting her chin up haughtily.
But the clarification only made the misunderstanding worse. A fierce fire ignited in Konan's amber eyes.
"A merchant who deals in slaves," she spat with venom.
"Wha—wait!" The woman gasped. She raised a hand to her chin, striking a thoughtful pose before speaking with genuine amazement. "Now that I think about it… you're actually right. Approaching a starving orphan in an alley while wearing a black cloak... I do look exactly like a human trafficker right now."
Konan stared at her like she had completely lost her mind.
The woman lowered her hand and looked at the girl again, this time offering a bright, radiant smile. "So, want to come with me? I promise Uzushio will take good care of you."
The moment she heard the name Uzushio, Konan's jaw dropped.
Uzushio was no small name. Rumors said it was a mighty village that had single-handedly fought off three of the Five Great Shinobi Nations and defeated the legendary Tailed Beasts. Even an isolated slum orphan deep in the Hidden Rain knew who they were. They were just that famous.
"You are from Uzushio? But why would you be here in the Land of Rain?" she asked skeptically.
The woman hesitated before replying.
"I was here to find members of the Uzumaki clan who were living outside the village," she said sadly. "But I didn't find anyone. Their house was already razed to the ground. I searched everywhere but found no trace of them. I was ready to leave with my caravan… until I saw a small girl trying to sell origami in the slums."
"Was that all?" Konan asked.
"Ahem… we may or may not have also been ordered to bring children suffering from the war back to Uzushio."
Konan gritted her teeth. 'Children suffering from the war? And whose war was this?' She wanted to scream the question, but she held her tongue. In this world, being weak was a sin.
The woman sitting in front of her had already given her enough face, explaining far more than she had to in good faith.
"Now, Konan, it's your call whether you want to come with me or be left in this rotting village." The woman spoke in a grave tone, her entire demeanor suddenly shifting into seriousness.
After a few minutes of heavy, suffocating silence, Konan finally spoke.
"I don't have any choice, do I?" she replied dejectedly. If she refused, she assumed she would either be killed, forcefully taken anyway, or simply left alone to slowly die of starvation.
"No. You always have a choice, Konan," the woman corrected seriously. "But it depends on whether you are strong enough to bear the consequences of your choices."
Throughout this entire exchange, the shop owner simply stood behind the counter in a glassy-eyed trance, staring blankly ahead and doing nothing.
And that was how she found herself traveling toward Uzushio in a caravan alongside five other children.
That day, she had foolishly listened to her heart. And now, glancing around the carriage at the other wary, traumatized orphans, she was already beginning to regret it.
At first, they traveled normally. But once they reached the border of the Land of Fire, she was forced to switch carriages. The black-robed woman handed her off to another caravan, and the silent shuffling continued a few more times over the next several days.
Now, she was sitting in a cramped carriage with the other orphans. There were six children in total: four girls and two boys.
Nobody had spoken a single word to anyone yet.
The two boys were twins, leaning heavily against each other in the corner.
Besides herself, the other three girls were a white-haired girl, a black-haired girl, and lastly, a cute, chubby girl with blonde hair that had a patch of white near the crown.
They were all relatively pretty—at least, as much as anyone could be given their grim situation.
At the very least, they were being given three meals a day.
But what struck Konan as odd was the black-haired girl. She was awfully tense and restless, constantly poised as if ready for fight or flight.
Konan suppressed her curiosity to ask about it.
They were about to reach the borders of Uzushiogakure, assuming she could believe what the coachman had announced a few minutes ago.
She sighed and closed her eyes.
.....