Chapter 25: Going Astray
Soon enough, Gekko Naoki's team had gathered all the bodies from the outpost and laid them out before me like some extravagant buffet. The sight made everyone in the room shift uncomfortably—there's something deeply unsettling about seeing your colleagues reduced to corpses, even when you're supposedly prepared for it.
Ten bodies total. Each one told a story of violence that I really didn't want to read. Some were so mangled they looked more like abstract art than people, which was probably a mercy for whoever had to identify them later.
Gekko Naoki approached Orochimaru with the kind of expression you'd wear to a funeral. "Orochimaru-sama, the numbers don't add up."
Elementary math was apparently still a thing even in the ninja world. Three teams meant twelve people, not ten. Simple subtraction told us we were missing two bodies, which was either very good news or very, very bad news.
Orochimaru's eyes gleamed with that predatory light. He licked his lips—a habit that never failed to make my skin crawl. "Iwa-nin."
With Hyūga Tokuzhu's Byakugan having swept the entire area, we knew those missing bodies weren't just hiding under a rock somewhere. Either two lucky souls had escaped and were currently bleeding out in a ditch somewhere, or the Iwa-nin had taken them alive for interrogation purposes.
Given our luck so far, I was betting on the latter. Live prisoners meant extracted intelligence, which meant compromised operations, which meant we were all potentially screwed.
At Orochimaru's silent signal, I stepped forward to begin my grisly work. Looking at the broken remains of fellow Konoha ninja, I felt that familiar weight settle in my chest—the kind that reminds you that this job has a very high mortality rate and terrible benefits.
This is what ninja really means, I thought grimly. This is war.
And the actual war hasn't even started yet. If this was just the opening act, I shuddered to think what the main event would look like. The world was already cruel enough; I couldn't imagine how much worse it could get.
A sense of existential dread washed over me. Sure, being a corpse collector meant I was theoretically safer than the front-line fighters, but when avalanches start, even the snowflakes on the sidelines get buried. The only question was whether you'd be crushed in the first wave or the second.
Under the watchful eyes of the team, I got to work, using my "professional" skills to restore each body as much as possible. It was delicate work—part medical knowledge, part artistic reconstruction, part trying not to vomit.
As the corpses gradually began to look human again, I noticed the team's expressions soften slightly. There was something approaching respect in their eyes when they looked at me now, which was a nice change from the usual mixture of pity and disgust.
Nobody wants to die far from home looking like hamburger meat. As ninja, we all know we're living on borrowed time—heads held on by hope and stubbornness. But when that time runs out, how we're remembered, whether we make it home, whether our families get closure... that all depends on people like me.
Corpse collectors might be the most unpopular profession in Konoha during peacetime, but when war comes knocking, suddenly everyone wants to be your best friend. Nobody knows when their number's up, and everyone wants to ensure they'll be buried with some semblance of dignity.
While I worked on putting Humpty Dumpty back together again, both scouting teams returned. Nakamura Kenta and Mitsui Hiyori delivered their reports with the efficiency of people who'd rather be anywhere else.
After hearing their intel, Orochimaru studied the map thoughtfully. "Nagano Mountain, northwest?"
He located the spot—a small, rocky hill that looked about as threatening as a pile of laundry. Which, knowing our luck, probably meant it was crawling with enemy ninja.
His fingers drummed against the table in a rhythm that suggested wheels turning in that serpentine brain of his. "Fifteen-minute rest, then we move out!"
"Yes, sir!"
Waiting around for the enemy to come to us wasn't Orochimaru's style, apparently. I could respect that—sitting ducks tended to get cooked.
I opened my mouth and pointed at myself with what I hoped was an expression that clearly communicated, "Hey, remember me? The squishy non-combatant?"
Orochimaru paused, seeming to remember that not everyone on the team was built for assault missions. "Leave two chunin here to guard Maruyama Qifeng. If things go bad, don't play hero—just run."
I wanted to say, "Boss, what if you come back empty-handed? You're going to need me more than ever." But Orochimaru had already moved on to tactical planning, leaving me with my mouth hanging open like a fish.
Despite his many personality flaws, Orochimaru was still one of the legendary Sannin. He'd earned his reputation during the Second War, had more combat experience than the rest of us combined, and possessed enough charisma to make people follow him into almost certain death. Nobody questioned his battle plans.
And so I was left behind with two chūnin who looked about as thrilled with babysitting duty as I felt about being babysat.
Watching the strike team disappear into the distance, I could only hope that Orochimaru's tactical genius was as impressive as advertised and that he'd wipe out every last Iwa-nin without breaking a sweat.
The two chunin assigned to guard me—one a sensor type, the other a trap specialist—clearly didn't know what to make of me. After some awkward small talk and basic instructions, they wandered off to do their respective jobs, leaving me alone with my collection of corpses.
Just me and the dead guys. Living the dream.
Looking at the bodies with their eerie yellow and green glows (visible only to me, thankfully), I felt that familiar mixture of morbid curiosity and professional duty.
The jonin's body was in the worst shape—arms and legs completely severed, face so damaged it looked like it had been used as a speed bump. I managed to restore most of him, but some damage was beyond even my abilities.
Three jonin should have been stationed here originally, so the two missing were likely of the same rank. The other nine were all chūnin. Such a force should have been able to handle most threats in peacetime, but war changed all the rules.
Every jōnin death was a massive loss for any village. These weren't just numbers—they were experienced warriors, teachers, leaders. Each corpse represented years of training and accumulated knowledge, now gone forever.
With Orochimaru gone, I finally had some privacy to engage in my more... 'unusual' professional practices. I approached the bodies with the appropriate mix of respect and pragmatism.
"Don't take this personally," I murmured to the assembled dead. "We're all on the same side here, and I'm sure you'd want to contribute one last time to the village's cause, right?"
I'd found that a few polite words before looting corpses helped ease my conscience. Whether it actually mattered to the deceased was debatable, but it made me feel slightly less like a grave robber.
Starting with the jonin's glowing remains, I activated my peculiar ability.
[Yellow corpse, success rate 30%, would you like to loot? (3/3 remaining today, 9/9 total)]
With Iwa-nin potentially breathing down our necks, any boost to my survival chances was welcome. If I could score a jōnin experience card, escaping whatever was coming would be much more manageable.
"Come on, give me something good," I whispered, selecting yes.
[Failed!]
[Failed!]
[Success! Obtained random +3 single attribute improvement card!]
Not what I was hoping for, but better than nothing. The remaining attempts on other bodies yielded mixed results:
[Success! Obtained Water Style - Water Formation Wall jutsu card!]
[Failed!]
[Success! Obtained random +2 single attribute improvement card!]
[Failed!]
[Failed!]
[Success! Obtained Wind Style - Great Breakthrough jutsu card!]
The loot was definitely better than what I usually got from the village morgue—fresher corpses, higher-ranked ninja, better rewards. The downside was the significantly higher chance of violent death in the process of acquisition.
I used the cards immediately, feeling new knowledge flow into my brain as the jutsu integrated with my muscle memory. The attribute cards triggered their random selection process, and I watched the virtual roulette spin.
[Taijutsu +3!]
[Taijustu +2!]
Both landed on the same stat. My physical attributes, already boosted by my bone manipulation bloodline, jumped even higher. The system cheerfully informed me of my new status:
[Overall evaluation improved—Senior Chunin!]
Looking at my updated stats, I felt a mixture of pride and existential confusion. My Taijutsu had skyrocketed to 45, completely out of proportion with my other attributes. I was becoming some kind of taijutsu specialist, like a junior version of Might Guy.
This was completely opposite to my carefully planned development as a back-line ninjutsu user. I'd wanted to be the guy throwing fireballs from a safe distance, not the guy punching people with reinforced bone gauntlets.
Well, I thought, looks like I'm going astray from my 'master plan'.
The irony wasn't lost on me. Here I was, surrounded by corpses in an abandoned outpost, waiting for enemy ninja to potentially murder me, and my biggest concern was that my character build wasn't optimized for my preferred playstyle.
Sometimes I wondered if I was taking this whole "second life as a ninja" thing a bit too seriously. But then again, when your survival depends on your combat effectiveness, min-maxing becomes a matter of life and death.
At least I was getting stronger. Whether that strength would be enough to keep me alive remained to be seen, but it was better than being a sitting duck. Even if I was apparently becoming a very muscular, bone-manipulating sitting duck instead of the glass cannon I'd originally envisioned.
The sound of distant explosions echoed through the mountains, and I realized Orochimaru's strike team had found their targets. Now all I could do was hope they were the ones doing the exploding, not being exploded.
Just another peaceful day in the ninja world, I mused, settling in to wait and try not to think about all the ways this could go horribly wrong.
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