The Fallen Ninja Village (1)
“Wazabyot!”
I poured my ninja soul into the swing of the dagger. The wooden barrel split clean in a single stroke.
“You little shit. I told you not to yell that goddamn battle cry!”
An iron fist slammed into my skull out of nowhere.
“Gah!”
My body screamed—no, my raw throat just screamed, pure and simple.
“If you’d failed, your skull would’ve split open just like that barrel. You get me?”
Every time the bald instructor spoke, the furious muscles in his arms bulged and rippled.
“Screw up even once and I’ll pulverize you. Got it?”
“Nin-nin.”
Inefficiently pumped muscles. You’re disqualified as a ninja, you bastard.
This guy had clearly bulked up for the sole purpose of personally caving in the heads of any ninja candidates he didn’t like.
“Still, his technical precision and comprehension are the best we’ve ever seen. Think of it as a side effect of rapid growth—we can correct it gradually.”
The female instructor, who had been watching in silence, gently ran a gloved hand over the clean cut surface of the barrel.
Narrow eyes—the mark of a powerhouse—polite speech, gloves, crisp posture and attire. She had the whole package.
This was what a real ninja should look like.
“Nin-nin!”
In this fallen ninja village, she was the only one I could still bring myself to think of as a teacher.
Not quite Kakashi, maybe, but at least Kakkashi-tier.
“There’s something unnatural about it, though. It was a clean cut, but it felt like you deliberately held back the speed. Am I right?”
Kakkashi carefully set the barrel down and asked me directly.
True to a genuine, seasoned killing machine, her every movement was quiet and composed.
Small eyes, sharp instincts—a real headache.
“I was thinking mid-swing about how I could cut even faster. In a real fight, one mistake can be fatal.”
But I was a high-level liar. I’d spent over a decade pretending to be a normal person just to become a ninja.
All those years of improvising lies on the spot whenever the apes caught me using ninja body-flicker techniques or other ninjutsu—that practice paid off here.
My little sister still thought I was a manga-obsessed psychopath otaku who’d completely lost it.
Obviously a cover identity.
“Hmm. I suppose that could be. If I may offer some advice: in your current state, it’s better to recover the blade faster than you strike. Unlike a barrel, a moving target won’t go down in one hit—keep that in mind. For now, prioritize the follow-up. Speed comes after that.”
“Nin-nin.”
I appreciated the long, careful feedback, but I didn’t take advice from people weaker than me. By now I was completely stronger than Kakkashi.
“You crazy nin-nin bastard—567, I’m watching you. What are you standing around for? Meal prep!”
At the bald instructor’s shout, today’s search team—the kitchen duty kids—scrambled to butcher the beasts they’d dragged in from outside the mine.
“Meal police, for real?”
The sigh hit me the second I looked. Don’t picture rabbits, deer, or boars when you hear “beasts.” This was another world ruled by savagery and madness.
Today’s lunch was the king caterpillar series—creatures so ugly even their mother, the Insect Queen, had naturally selected them out of existence.
The ninja candidates spread a cloth over a rock for a table and sat on whatever stones looked decent.
Today’s side dish: a mashed meat soup in green and blue. Five months in this world and I still hadn’t gotten used to it.
Get used to this crap and you turn into a yokai.
“Enjoy your meal.”
The candidates picked up their food without a word of reply. Kids who’d lost their parents and their social skills along with them—none of them answered my lunch greeting.
Not a shred of ninja love showed in their dull eyes.
This was the reality of a completely fallen ninja village that had abandoned the ninja path.
“Hey, Gloomy Girl.”
“...What.”
I spoke to 568, the one stuck as my sparring partner and therefore forced to answer me.
Her pale skin and massive dark circles always made me think of a kid who’d lost her parents to the yakuza in the middle of a good night’s sleep and never slept easy again.
“How’s the Floating Shadow practice coming?”
This world had an unknown energy called mana. Some people could manifest it innately; most had to learn it the hard way.
Floating Shadow was the camouflage technique this fallen ninja village prized above all else and spent the longest time teaching. Basically a ninja secret art.
It let you melt into your surroundings like an invisibility power and walk without a sound in the dark of night.
Sadly, status windows didn’t exist in this world. I’d tried shouting for one with everything I had, just in case—and all I got was the bald instructor’s iron fist.
The main method of mana awakening at the Snake’s Tail was beating and torture: awaken within a set period or die. Extreme either-or.
By some twist of fate, 567 had barely manifested mana before his body got stolen by me.
“I’m still not used to it.”
568 spoke after a moment’s thought. For all her words, she was the second-best student after me.
I, with my super-ninja talent, had mastered Floating Shadow long before the other candidates even started getting worked to the bone. The rest of them were still stuck on silencing their breathing.
568 couldn’t walk with it yet, but she’d succeeded at blending with objects.
“Truly meager talent.”
I said it loud on purpose, looking down on her. 568, who’d been absently stirring her soup, furrowed her brow slightly.
But I hadn’t said it to make her angry. This girl had been through that hellish training and still had emotions left.
This was deliberate trolling to draw those emotions out.
“But what if I helped you?”
A ninja whose emotions had died was trash.
The other candidates had lost joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure under endless beatings and torture.
A ninja turned into an empathy-deficient machine couldn’t handle the unplanned variables created by ordinary, half-baked people.
The ninjas produced by the Snake’s Tail were third-rate scrap that couldn’t account for human stupidity.
A first-rate ninja kept their full range of emotions, read the flow of society and people’s behavior, and only became pure emptiness itself in the decisive moment.
So unlike the other candidates here, she still had a shot at becoming a super-ninja.
I’d fought the world alone for a long time. I would never overlook her potential.
“...Then I’d be grateful.”
As if she understood my heart, Gloomy Girl accepted right away.
“Follow me in two hours.”
I said it coolly and turned without lingering. Cool was cool, but I also didn’t want another bite of that horrific food.
I was zoning out, pretending to train, when Gloomy Girl shuffled over.
“The instructors all went into the tent.”
Those bastards only taught in person until lunch, then dumped the rest as “personal training time.”
Meanwhile they lounged in the cozy temporary quarters strung across the abandoned mine entrance.
Training was already meaningless for me, but ninja masters still had a duty to teach their candidates with everything they had.
A ninja society that had lost all sense of duty and responsibility.
On that point, even Kakkashi was no different from the bald instructor.
I snapped out of my ninja trance for a moment and scanned the area. The other candidates were all buried in their own training, too busy to notice.
“Watch closely.”
I crawled on all fours as coolly as possible into the gap between the rocks and activated Floating Shadow.
Places like this, full of easy shadows, were optimal for the technique.
“Ninja chameleon mode.”
With that, I went completely still.
“H-how?! You’re better than the instructors…”
Her heated surprise made life worth living. You needed someone beside you gasping in admiration for the fun of showing off to land properly.
While she tried to track my movements, I slipped quietly around behind her.
I almost poked her cheek with a finger, but the pattern felt too obvious, so I flicked her in the back of the head instead.
“Ow!”
I must have misjudged the force—she looked visibly hurt.
“Couldn’t see me, right? Performance guaranteed.”
I ignored her pain as best I could, struck a cool pose, and stepped in front of her.
“Alright. Your turn.”
I jumped straight into practice without giving her time to argue. Life got tiring if you nitpicked everything—I hoped she’d just roll with it.
“I’m supposed to copy that just from watching? Can’t you explain it in more detail?”
She grumbled, rubbing the back of her head.
More detail? Honestly, I’d never taught anyone anything before, so I had no idea how.
“Just watch one more time and feel it.”
This time I pressed against the wall, used Floating Shadow, crawled upward, and hung from the ceiling. Perfect ninja-bat posture.
“I’ve shown you as much as you need.”
For the showmanship, I revealed myself right above her head.
“You’re really good, but I still don’t get it even after watching again.”
“Slow. Even at realizing things.”
“...Don’t you think more explanation is needed?”
“Ah, this is so fucking frustrating. Just try it once like I said.”
Miss Frustration shot me a look, then went between the rocks and used Floating Shadow.
I could still see her position clearly, but for anyone who wasn’t an instructor, it would be hard to notice.
“Now move.”
After a hesitation, Gloomy Girl began to move carefully. The slightest footstep or sense of wrongness in the space meant instant failure.
I enhanced my sight and hearing with mana and tracked her.
She climbed smoothly between the rocks, onto a boulder, back against the wall, then to the right—clumsy, but definitely moving.
“Yeah. Good. It’s all about the feel.”
Her movement was still slow, so she wasn’t there yet, but it was huge progress. Maybe I had talent as a ninja master too?
“Hah.”
Gloomy Girl released Floating Shadow and sank to the ground. Looks like she was low on mana.
“Thanks.”
“That’s enough for now. We’re done.”
I said it sternly and turned right around. It was starting to get boring—time for a nap.
With my material running dry, even spending self-congratulatory time in Floating Shadow was getting old.
“Wait.”
“Waste of time. Inconvenient.”
Gloomy Girl rolled her eyes and quickly scanned the surroundings.
“I’ll give you one piece of advice too. I don’t know why you’re still here when you’ve gotten this strong, but if you can leave, you should leave soon. For the past few days, candidates have been disappearing one by one every night.”
“What? Is that lie for real?”
I’d stopped caring about these third-rate scrap candidates who wouldn’t even return a greeting a long time ago, so I hadn’t noticed.
There were roughly fifty or sixty trainees. If Gloomy Girl said so, maybe the numbers had dropped.
The instructors had said the training course wasn’t finished yet—so they were taking kids away?
Was it my turn to step in?