We hadn't walked long before Kanna spoke up again.
"I was thinking that maybe I could help you… to, you know… repay you for everything you have done for us."
Her voice was so small it nearly vanished under the whisper of the wind.
I raised an eyebrow and glanced in her direction. I didn't have to — the Byakugan let me see her perfectly — but old habits clung stubbornly. Turning toward the person speaking was simply… human.
"There is no need for that," I said. "I do what I want because I want to. Nothing else."
Kanna bit her lip. "Your clothes," she whispered.
"My clothes?" I repeated.
She nodded quickly. "They got damaged, didn't they? When you fought."
I glanced down.
Indeed — thin, small tears where bones had erupted from my back and chest. Barely noticeable to others, but visible to someone observant… or someone terrified of disappointing me.
"Hm." I touched one of the holes with two fingers. "I was not paying attention. It happens."
Kanna swallowed, clutching Karin closer. "I could… fix them. If you let me."
I stopped walking.
"You?" I asked, not mockingly — simply curious.
She nodded again, eyes lowered. "Back home… I mean, in Kusagakure, I had to take care of many things on my own, and I wasn't allowed to do much. When I got pregnant, they left me mostly alone, and I started sewing clothes for Karin. Mostly. But it should be enough to mend your clothes."
There it was — the conditioning.
The belief that worth must be earned.
That survival must be repaid.
That kindness must be balanced with labor.
"You think you must repay me?" I asked.
Kanna hesitated, then nodded.
"Yes," she whispered. "I don't… I don't want to be a burden."
I exhaled softly.
"You are not a burden," I said. "To me, at least."
Her head snapped up in surprise.
I continued walking, forcing her to catch up.
"I am not so weak that one woman and a child can be a burden to me. But if repairing my clothes makes you feel calmer, then… fine."
Her eyes widened.
"You may try."
"T-try?" she echoed.
"My clothes are made from divine weave," I reminded her. "A material nobles seldom touch and seamstresses fear to handle. Repairing it won't be easy. Though should you fail, so be it — I did not expect it to be saved at all."
She paled, a hand clenching around her own clothes, made from an almost-as-expensive fabric, one used for the highest of noble garments.
Poor girl had almost fainted when she heard the price for her and Karin's clothes. And my clothes? They cost at least ten times as much per outfit. Ten times their entire new wardrobes.
Well. I wouldn't tell her that… she might faint again.
Kanna's throat bobbed as she swallowed, clearly dizzy at the thought of handling something so absurdly valuable. Her chakra flickered with a spike of anxiety — sharp, trembling, almost panicked.
She whispered, "I… I can at least try, Kaguya-hime. I just… I want to help. Even if it's only a little."
Help.
Such a small word.
Such a fragile desire.
And such an enormous step for someone who had been treated as livestock.
I slowed my pace just slightly — just enough for her to feel like she wasn't chasing my steps.
"How long," I asked, "have you felt this need to repay every kindness?"
She blinked, startled by the question. "I… I don't know. A long time. In Kusagakure, if someone gave you something, they always wanted something back. There was no such thing as goodwill. So I—"
"Learned to live in fear of debts," I finished.
She nodded.
"That is not how it works with me," I said simply.
"But I don't want to rely on you for everything," she said quickly, as though terrified I might misunderstand. "You saved us, you protect us, you feed us, you gave us a home, clothes — I want to do something. Anything. If I can fix your clothes, even a little, then… then I am not just taking."
Her voice cracked at the end.
I watched her a moment longer.
Her grip tightened around Karin — as if the child was the only anchor she had left.
And beneath her fear, beneath her anxiety, I saw it:
The beginnings of a spine.
Weak, fragile, but attempting to form.
"Fine," I said. "Tonight you may try your hand at it. I have plenty of other dresses to wear, so don't stress. Take your time and learn the silk's nature slowly."
She nodded in relief, happy that she could do something to try and repay me — and to have something to do at all. She was used to serving, not to having this much free time.
Because we either travelled or rested, and indeed it had been some time since my last job, not since the trap at Kusagakure. It was time for more work; I had spent almost all my money in the capital — enough for a normal family to live comfortably for a generation or two.
Yet I didn't worry, nor care. Money came easily to those with both skill and strength. A single head could fetch millions, and right now, right after the war, there were plenty of rogue shinobi with bounties on their heads.
…
"Are you sure it is here, Kaguya-hime?"
Kanna's voice wavered as I led us toward what could only be described as a decrepit butcher's shop — rotting wood, broken shutters, and a smell so offensively sour even Karin wrinkled her tiny nose.
I couldn't blame Kanna for doubting me.
It looked like a place where meat went to die for a second time.
And yet—
"Yes," I said simply.
Because appearances meant nothing.
Especially in the underworld.
I stepped up to the warped door, which sagged on rusted hinges. The sign above was faded to illegibility — something vaguely animal-like, though it was hard to tell if it had originally been meant to be a boar, a cow, or something that only barely resembled food.
Kanna hesitated behind me, clutching Karin closer.
"This hardly looks like a place where one could… earn money," she whispered.
"It is not," I agreed.
She blinked in confusion.
"This," I continued, "is merely the entrance."
I pushed the door open.
The hinges shrieked like dying metal, and inside, the stench doubled.
Bright red slabs of meat hung from hooks — none fresh, none appetizing. A single dim lantern flickered overhead. Behind the counter stood an old man with clouded eyes, wiping a filthy cleaver on an even filthier apron.
Kanna gagged softly.
Karin made a distressed whine.
I bent slightly toward Kanna without looking back.
"Stay close to me," I murmured.
"I will," she whispered shakily.
"No matter who speaks to you, no matter what they offer you, you do not respond. Understand?"
"Yes."
"The people here are greedy," I said. "And greed makes people bold. Only at my side are you safe."
I walked forward.
The butcher didn't greet us.
Didn't blink.
Didn't acknowledge the sight of two women dressed in silks worth more than his entire shop.
He simply finished cleaning his cleaver, set it down, and said in a tone utterly devoid of life:
"You're late."
Kanna jolted.
I didn't.
"I am perfectly on time," I answered coolly.
The butcher exhaled once — a rasp that could have been a sigh or a growl.
Then he reached under the counter, and the faint click of a hidden switch could be heard.
Moments later the floor behind the counter trembled, shifting. A panel slid open, revealing a set of stairs descending into darkness.
Kanna gasped.
"A hidden room…" she whispered.
"More than just a room," I said. "Now come, and remember to stay quiet and close."
This wasn't a real butcher's shop, hadn't been in years. Once upon a time it likely was, but with time it had become too troublesome to deal with both normal civilians shopping and my kind.
Because this was a black market exchange point — a hub for smugglers, bounty brokers, and killers whose work required discretion more than skill.
The stairs creaked beneath our feet as we descended — not from age, but by design. Each step emitted a soft groan, tuned carefully to alert those below to every arrival.
Kanna clung to the railing with one hand and to Karin with the other, each breath shallow and uneasy.
She had never seen this side of the world.
Most civilians never did.
At the bottom of the stairs, the gloom opened into a long chamber lit by lines of paper lanterns. Their light cast everything in warm gold that did nothing to soften the atmosphere.
The room was full.
Full of killers, thieves, missing-nin, smugglers, and those who made a living handling the corpses left behind by others.
Scrolls passed from hand to hand.
Stacks of coins clinked.
Men in battered armor whispered details of high-paying targets.
A kunoichi counted ryō beside a pile of blood-stained tags.
Kanna froze completely.
Karin, in contrast, was fascinated — her little red eyes following every flicker of light.
Dozens of heads turned as we stepped off the last stair.
Well-trained shinobi didn't gasp.
But they noticed.
My blindfold.
My silk.
My posture.
My appearance wasn't something easily forgotten — looking like a high noble, with Kanna and Karin by my side. With how much my name had been thrown around lately, recognition was inevitable.
A ripple went through the chamber — subtle, but unmistakable.
Whispers.
Shifts of weight.
Fingers brushing weapon holsters.
Chakra tightening like drawn bowstrings.
They knew who I was.
Not from my name — few here would dare speak it — but from the descriptions whispered across the underworld:
The Bone Princess.
The Kaguya witch.
The blindfolded killer from Grass.
The rogue Hyūga who walks with two Uzumaki at her side.
A woman who single-handedly massacred a shinobi village was not forgotten.
Not by men and women whose entire world revolved around danger, money, and death.
Kanna felt the shift too.
Her spine locked rigid.
Her breath hitched.
She hugged Karin so tightly the child whimpered.
I didn't stop her.
Fear was still her instinctive armor — and she'd need it here.
A tall man with a jagged scar across his jaw muttered under his breath:
"…that's her — no mistake. The Grass butcher—"
Another hissed sharply, "Idiot, keep your mouth down unless you want to lose your tongue."
A woman with tanto blades tucked in her sleeves stared openly at Karin.
An Amegakure rogue narrowed his eyes at my blindfold.
A bounty broker in the corner cursed under his breath and shuffled papers as if hiding the listings that featured us.
The entire room weighed us — not as people — but as payouts.
A lesser woman might have felt threatened.
I felt bored.
I let my chakra bleed, just a little.
A ripple — soft, cold, and unmistakably predatory — spread from my body like frost across still water.
It took less than a heartbeat.
One moment the underworld hub was tense and buzzing.
The next it was silent.
Dead silent.
A shiver passed through the nearest mercenaries as their instincts screamed at them:
Predator.
Karin, utterly unaware, waved happily at a man who nearly flinched out of his chair.
Kanna looked like she might faint.
I stepped forward.
Every step I took, the crowd parted. Even the boldest killers moved out of my path, heads lowered, eyes averted, chakra suppressed.
Respect?
No.
Fear.
The correct and natural reaction.
I approached the main broker's desk — a heavy slab of dark wood guarded by two missing-nin with blank expressions.
The broker looked up from the scrolls he'd been pretending to read.
He didn't smile.
He didn't speak.
He didn't blink.
He simply bowed his head.
"Kaguya-hime," he said quietly. "Your reputation reaches even us."
"I know," I replied. "That is why I am here."
Kanna nearly stumbled, startled by how casually I responded — but the broker merely nodded.
"I assume," he said, hands steady, "you are looking for work?"
"Yes."
"And the Uzumaki?"
"Under my protection."
A ripple of chakra pressure left me with those words — a warning to the room, an unspoken promise of consequences.
"Acknowledged," the broker said quickly.
One of his guards swallowed loudly.
I placed one hand on the desk.
"Show me your highest-paying bounties," I said.
(End of chapter)
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