Konoha’s Five-Element Ninja

Chapter Sixteen: The Land of Frost

The letter was sent from Konoha, its official postage stamp unmistakable. Yet the sender's name—Tsuchiryu Okata, a man long dead—startled Hayama. Then he reasoned that someone else must have written it in his place and set his worries aside.

Its contents were sparse: a single address and one brief sentence. But it haunted Hayama for days before he finally resolved to file a request to leave his post. His official reason, as stated in the request, was that Tsuchiryu Okata had been a mentor figure, someone to whom he owed a great deal, and he needed to repay that debt.

The leave request was approved quickly. The mission department head, who valued student-mentor relationships, even called Hayama in personally to urge him to be careful. Hayama felt both surprised and a little overwhelmed by the attention.

The Land of Frost was a small nation nestled between the Land of Fire and the Land of Lightning. Named for its frequent frosts and mists, it held little significance on its own. Like many small nations, its main purpose was serving as a battlefield for larger powers. In the early stages of the Second Shinobi World War, Konoha and the Hidden Cloud clashed there, devastating the land and its people. It was the harsh reality of the ninja world: survival of the fittest.

Hayama crossed the vast plains, now on the third day since leaving the border camp. The letter's cryptic message lingered in his mind, though it seemed to promise little more than a tangled personal history. From what Hayama could piece together, about a decade ago, a young and vibrant Tsuchiryu Okata had been stationed in the Land of Frost. While winning victories over the Hidden Cloud, he also captured the heart of a local girl. Though Okata intended to leave her behind after the war, he soon received word that she was pregnant. Torn between his new marriage back in Konoha and this unexpected complication, he chose to keep it a secret. Still, Okata had secretly supported her and the child from afar. Now that Okata was dead, Hayama, following the cryptic instructions of the letter, found himself on a long journey to retrieve the woman and her child.

"Behind every successful man is a capable woman," Hayama mused bitterly. "But behind a successful ninja, there seem to be several." He couldn't help feeling a twinge of jealousy at Okata's tangled web of relationships. It was the kind of emotional complexity Hayama usually avoided, but here he was, walking straight into it.

By evening, he reached a small town. After questioning a few locals and hearing that the woman and child indeed lived there, he secured a place to stay. Hayama decided not to act immediately, preferring to observe quietly for a couple of days.

Late on the second night, Hayama was awoken by the sound of heavy footsteps outside. Instinctively, he grabbed a kunai but remained still. The footsteps eventually faded into the distance.

The following day, after eating breakfast and tidying himself up, Hayama paid a visit to the town's headman. A brief display of ninjutsu had the headman practically bowing in gratitude, and Hayama readily accepted a request to deal with a group of local bandits. As for the woman and her child, Hayama arranged for them to leave town first, planning to catch up to them quickly once he was done.

So why take on the bandits? It wasn't heroism—Hayama found their behavior strange. Unlike the usual cutthroats who looted indiscriminately, these bandits refrained from killing and even distributed food to the poor. On the other hand, the town's headman was no saint. Furious that the bandits' generosity was interfering with his land-grab schemes, he sought their destruction. Hayama found this dark irony amusing, and the thought of squeezing some money out of the corrupt official and meeting these idealistic bandits before parting ways sounded like an excellent plan.

But Hayama's straightforward plan hit a snag when he encountered the bandits. Spotting the Konoha forehead protector, they didn't run or attack. Instead, they cheered and welcomed him, treating him like a guest of honor, even calling for a celebratory feast. Hayama was stunned.

While he didn't fully understand their motives, Hayama wasn't one to be cowed by a band of well-meaning thieves. In the ninja world, power mattered most, and these bandits posed no real threat to someone of his skill. Hayama decided to play along, entering their camp and observing quietly. There was no need to start a fight; maybe they'd reveal something interesting.

As he walked into the camp, he noted that these so-called bandits were surprisingly organized. He even saw farmers tending pomegranate trees within their territory. This was no ordinary group of outlaws.

Inside the main hall, one of the bandits gestured for him to wait. As soon as the man left, Hayama felt a chill run down his spine. Reacting instinctively, he rolled to the side and hurled a handful of shuriken toward the source of the threat.

The clash of metal on metal was followed by another sharp whoosh, and Hayama immediately unleashed a Fireball Jutsu. The sudden wall of flame caught his assailant off guard. Just as the fireball was about to hit, a wall of water rose up to block it.

The resulting steam cloud obscured his vision. Staying low, Hayama gripped his kunai, ready to strike if anyone drew near.

"Easy, young one," came an old voice from the shadows. "My granddaughter meant no harm—she was only curious about your skills."

As the steam dissipated, Hayama's eyes adjusted to the figures before him. One was a girl no older than fifteen, her singed hair curling at odd angles, glaring at him indignantly. The other was an elderly man, leaning on a cane, his hands trembling slightly. He appeared frail, but Hayama knew better after seeing that perfectly timed Water Release technique. "This old man's got tricks," Hayama thought to himself.

Still on guard, Hayama didn't relax his stance. He glanced from the girl to the old man. "Who are you people? Survivors from the Warring States Era?"

The old man chuckled and shook his head. "I'm just someone who's grown tired of war. Nothing more. But you… You're a young one with deadly precision. You've killed before, haven't you?"

Hayama's sharp eyes narrowed. "If you're not going to tell me something useful, I'll be leaving now." He gripped a smoke bomb, ready to vanish into the night.

"Tell me," the old man said softly. "Do you long for powerful ninjutsu?"

Hayama froze mid-motion, the smoke bomb in hand. His inner greed warred with his usual cautious nature. In the end, the promise of greater power won. He lowered the smoke bomb slightly and said, "Speak. But if this is a waste of my time, you'll regret it."

The old man smiled faintly. "What's your name, young one?"

Hayama hesitated, deciding it was best not to use his real name. "Yamashiro Tatsu," he replied.

"I am Inoue Kazuhiro," the old man said. "I once—"

"Spare me the life story," Hayama interrupted. "Just tell me what you want and what you're offering. No need for extra words."

Kazuhiro didn't seem offended. He simply smiled again and replied, "Very well. B-ranked jutsu cost seven million ryo. A-ranked are ten million. S-ranked, fifty million."

Hayama turned on his heel and began walking away without a word. The absurd sums made him roll his eyes. As a mid-ranking ninja, Hayama's monthly pay was only thirteen thousand ryo. Even saving every coin, it would take him decades to afford an A-rank jutsu. The thought was laughable.

The girl, who had been silent until now, panicked as Hayama walked off. "Wait! It doesn't have to be money! Other terms are fine!"

A sly grin crept across Hayama's face as he kept walking. The first to panic always loses. This was a negotiation he could win.

...

By noon, Hayama had caught up to the mother and daughter traveling by cart. And now, he wasn't alone—the girl with the curled hair had tagged along. Watching her wide-eyed reactions to the sights around them, Hayama began to regret his decision. Maybe it wasn't too late to turn back and demand a refund. But when he thought of the scrolls safely tucked into his ninja pouch, Hayama sighed. Maybe he'd just have to live with the consequences. After all, opening someone's eyes to the world was a responsibility, wasn't it? A duty he couldn't refuse.

At least, that's what he told himself.