Kuroichi crouched low, still at the edge of the forest, eyes narrowing as he was studying the town below. There was no shinobi level chakra at in the town, just a few scattered flickering sparks of life.
Wooden homes with thatched or tiled roofs lined a winding dirt path that passed for a street. It was nothing impressive, but it was still the first sign of other humans he had seen in a really long time, well except those bandits.
He stood up and made a single hand seal. A puff of smoke enveloped him, and when it cleared, his form had shifted. Now, instead of a pale, scarred child in worn clothes, he looked like a forgettable young adult that was in his mid-twenties, average height, with a plain face and brown work clothes similar to those worn by the villagers. Nothing about him stood out, just how he wanted it.
With Kurai hidden in the trees behind him, Kuroichi walked down the slope and stepped onto the dirt path. The villager's heads turned as he walked past. He felt their suspicious eyes on him, they were clearly guarded and not used to visitors. In a place this small, strangers weren't welcome by default. He walked slowly, hands in view, showing that he wasn't a danger.
At the side of the path, an old woman was sweeping leaves off her porch. Her back was bent with age, and her face wrinkled with time. Kuroichi approached her politely dipping his head.
"Excuse me, is there any place around here where I might stay the night?" he asked, his voice neutral but soft enough to sound non-threatening.
The woman looked him up and down for a long second, then gave a small smile. "No inns here," she said. "But I've got an empty room. If you don't mind simple meals and an old woman's company."
"Not at all, I'd be grateful," Kuroichi replied.
She told him to call her Obaa-san and didn't offer more. He didn't ask either as she led him to a modest house tucked between two others, with a small garden of daikon and green onions out front. Inside, the home smelled of wood smoke, herbs, and something cooking. She gave him a futon in a narrow guest room and told him to rest while she finished preparing dinner.
After putting down his bag and making sure Kurai was perched nearby in the trees, Kuroichi went back outside and wandered until he found what he was looking for.
A cloth vendor had a stand set up near a well. The woman behind it, middle-aged with rough hands and a skeptical look in her eyes, looked up as he approached.
"Something you're looking for?" she asked.
Kuroichi nodded, "Clothes for my younger brother. About this tall," and gestured with his hand the exact height.
She gave a noncommittal grunt and gestured to her modest selection: samue sets, haori, and a few belts and wraps. Kuroichi browsed in silence, choosing a plain brown samue and a thick, slightly faded haori in a charcoal tone. He didn't need much, just something that actually fit.
His current clothes, pieced together over a year of survival, were too tight in some parts and too loose in others, plus it was full of awkward stitching. These new ones were cheap but clean.
'Definitely better than the old ones.' He thought as he gave her the ryō and left with a nod.
Back at Obaa-san's home, the table had been set with steamed rice, pickled greens, and a small grilled fish. It was a humble fare, but for Kuroichi, who had been used to eating anything to get by, this was luxury deluxe.
They sat across from another, the only sound being heard Kuroichi wolfing down his food accompanied by the soft clinking of bowls and chopsticks.
It had been so long since he'd shared a meal with someone else that he almost forgot how to hold a conversation. Still, the old woman seemed content with his silence.
Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore and asked, "Are there any larger towns nearby?"
Obaa-san leaned back slightly and folded her hands. "Two, if you count those in the Land of Forests. One to the east, closer to the coast. The other's in the opposite direction, going west, near the border of the Land of Fire. Both are days, if not weeks away by foot."
Kuroichi thought for a moment. "The one to the west… how far, exactly is it?"
"At least seven days by foot. Maybe 10, if you don't know the way."
"I'll take that one." He said quietly.
The old woman raised an eyebrow but didn't ask why.
That night, he lay on the futon in the guest room, staring up at the ceiling. The roof above him felt both comforting and alien, as he hadn't slept indoors in so long that the lack of wind felt almost suffocating.
The next morning, he thanked Obaa-san for her kindness, bowed deeply, and left right at sunrise. As soon as he was out of sight of the village, he dropped the transformation and returned to his natural form. Kurai was already circling above, greeting him with a soft hoot.
"That was a strange stop," he murmured. "But useful."
The town had been peaceful, but too poor and too small to offer what he needed. He needed to find someone who could teach him calligraphy and the only place where he thought he had a good shot at that was in a bigger city.
And so, west it was.
For the next five days, Kuroichi traveled through thick woods and rolling mountains. The forest was less dense than the one he'd spent his past years in, there was more space between the trees, more patches of grass and wildflowers. He kept a steady pace, hunting only when necessary, and conserving his chakra for any unexpected situations.
On the sixth day, just before noon, he sensed people.
Five men blocked the trail ahead, scruffy and dirty. Each was holding some kind of club or rusted blade, however they had no chakra presence to speak of, still, the gleam in their eyes was unmistakable. They were clearly bandits.
They laughed as they saw him, already assuming victory.
"Look at this little stray," one sneered. "Barely outta the crib."
Kuroichi didn't answer, instead, he drew his new short sword from behind his back and assumed a low, centered stance. He wanted to test his swordsmanship.
The bandits lunged first. He ducked the first swing and slashed in a clean upward motion. The man dropped. Another came from the side, and Kuroichi pivoted, deflecting the blow and landing a quick thrust to the gut.
It wasn't graceful. Not like how he imagined the moves in his mind, but it still worked.
His strikes were driven by speed and muscle memory carved from months of practice. Without chakra enhancement, he was only slightly stronger than them, but still far faster, and it seemed, more ruthless too.
One by one, they fell. And as the last of them hit the dirt, Kuroichi stood over them, breathing hard, his blade stained red.
He wasn't exaclty proud of the killings, but he also felt it was deserved and necessary. Plus it had been… informative.
His swordsmanship needed refinement. He could practically feel the wasted movements, the slow recovery on certain swings.
"Well, well."
A voice came from the shadows beneath a tree. Kuroichi turned his head sharply in the direction the voice came from. Three figures emerged from the forest, cloaked and masked. Their chakra signatures were undeniable, strong, and focused, just like his own.
"What do we have here?" one said, voice amused. "A little prodigy playing samurai in the woods?"
"Better to kill it now," said the second, voice low and sharp. "Before it grows into a threat."
"Or," the third added, "we take him. Someone would pay good money for a kid like this."
Kuroichi dropped into a defensive stance, this wasn't training anymore. This was a life or death battle!
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Want to read ahead?
Advanced chapters on pa*treon/WavyWriter