"Evil is evil. Lesser, greater, middling… it's all the same."
— Geralt of Rivia
--
Over seventy shinobi appeared behind the Grass forces, surrounding them from the outside.
Grass shinobi panicked instantly.
"W-What!?"
"Reinforcements—?!"
"Who are they?!"
One man stepped forward.
Taro.
But not the beaten, terrified version from earlier. This Taro stood tall alongside Otis without fear.
"You're late," Otis said without looking back.
Taro smirked.
From the Grass crowd, horrified whispers rose:
"Those… those are OUR ninja squads…"
"But why are they—"
"That's Taro—!? Right?!"
***
18 Hours Earlier…
After Yuki swatted Otis through the trees like an irritated parent disciplining a misbehaving child, Otis eventually dragged Taro's unconscious body toward the caravan. Taro's squad followed, too scared to run or even breathe loudly.
Originally, Otis planned to leave them tied up for the samurai to deal with.
But then…
Otis paused mid-step.
A thought hit him.
He turned around slowly, eyes sweeping over the seventy Grass-nin kneeling in the dirt.
"Wait… you said the Grass Daimyo hired you to attack the merchant, right?"
Taro nodded weakly, sitting in the mud.
"Yes. If I return alive after failing… he'll have me killed. And my men too."
"Ah," Otis said. "So basically you're unemployed."
Taro blinked.
"…Yes?"
Otis studied him. Grass — a land where the politics were worse than the soil: corruption, starvation, and leaders who treated shinobi like disposable tools.
Not that the other villages were any better, Otis thought.
"What if," he said quietly, "instead of returning to a Daimyo who'll slit your throat… you work for me instead?"
Taro's eyes widened.
"What?"
"You heard me," Otis said.
"I don't need perfect men. I need committed ones. People who can fight, follow orders, and stand for something. If you want a future… walk with me."
He leaned in.
"You want purpose? You want a life? Then work under someone who won't treat you like trash."
The Grass-nin murmured behind Taro, confused, unsure, starving for answers.
Taro stared at the ground… then at Otis… then at his own squad — beaten, hungry, exhausted, terrified of returning home.
He swallowed hard.
"And… what would we gain?"
Gotcha, bitch, Otis thought.
Otis reached into his cloak.
Hiruzen's payment for Otis becoming a jonin instructor, two months of salary. More ryo than Grass-nin could ever earn in half a year.
He tossed the entire pouch to Taro.
Taro caught it with shaking hands.
"This," Otis said, "is your first payment. You and your men can live for months on that. Long enough to rebuild your lives."
Taro stared at it like it was a forbidden treasure.
"This is… this is more money than the Daimyo pays a jonin in five months."
"Then your Daimyo is shit," Otis replied simply.
The seventy shinobi behind Taro exchanged stunned glances. Some even looked… hopeful.
Otis glanced at their faces and thought, Damn. They're poorer than I expected. Honestly, a regular shinobi makes more in Konoha than they ever will here.
Otis leaned in again.
"And there will be more. A lot more. You obey my orders. You don't betray me. You don't touch innocents. You don't run. In exchange… I keep you alive and fed."
He paused.
"And I won't force you to join me. It's your choice."
Taro's hands trembled.
"You… you're serious."
Otis raised a brow.
"Do I look like I joke?"
"…No."
Slowly — very slowly — Taro lowered his head.
Then he kneeled.
"From this moment, Otis-sama… my allegiance is yours."
One by one, his sixty-nine subordinates followed him, kneeling in the dirt.
Otis nodded.
"Get up. I need you soon."
***
The present…
Taro stood beside Otis, his seventy-man squad behind him and around the Grass-nin, forming a steel wall at Otis's back. The Grass Village shinobi stared at them in disbelief — betrayal, fear, and outrage clashing in their faces.
Inside the ring of Grass shinobi, Otis cracked his neck.
Taro lifted a hand.
"Team! Surround them! Protect the civilians inside the house!"
His squad moved with perfect precision, circling the Grass-nin like predators closing in.
One Grass jonin screamed, voice cracking:
"Taro! What the hell are you doing?! You're a Grass-nin! That man killed our brothers — men who didn't do ANYTHING wrong!"
Taro took a single step forward.
"Shut up," he said flatly.
The Grass jonin froze.
Taro's eyes didn't waver.
"Those men weren't innocent. I've seen innocent people. And I've seen monsters. Our 'brothers' were the latter."
"How can you side with him— a stranger?!"
Taro looked at Otis, then back at his former comrades.
"He showed me who the real enemy is."
More like the money, Otis thought dryly in the back of his mind. But he stayed silent, his axe and shield slung casually behind him.
The Grass commander stuttered, "Y-you fools! Do you have any idea what the Daimyo will—"
Otis finished the sentence for him.
"Cry himself to sleep?"
Then Otis stepped forward.
Slowly.
The killing intent hit the crowd like a furnace door being ripped open.
(Pic)
Pressure rolled out of him — visible, tangible, and suffocating. Several civilians staggered, a few Grass-nin in front dropped to one knee, gasping for breath.
Otis's voice cut through the air like a blade
"I'm only going to say this once."
Silence drowned the street.
His gaze swept across every face — shinobi and civilian alike.
"Those of you who have family waiting at home… who had no part in the things done to the children of this village… and who do NOT want to die today… "
His eyes narrowed behind the mask.
"—walk away."
He scanned them slowly.
"And I will leave you alone."
Panic rippled through the crowd in waves, civilians clutching farming tools like they were sacred relics. Rakes, pitchforks, sickles — the "country ninja starter pack."
Some shook so badly their tools clanked against each other.
Otis blinked.
…What, do I look like a witch?
He swept his gaze over them again.
No, seriously. Without actual shinobi here… this looks like they're about to tie me to a stake and light a fire, this is 100% a village witch-hunt scene. Fantastic.
A farmer holding a rake whispered to another,
"M-Maybe it's a demon…"
Otis heard it and tilted his head. "I prefer 'handsome' but sure."
Taro and the other ninjas behind him tried their hardest not to laugh.
Some civilians actually let out nervous giggles. But then their faces fell.
Because they couldn't run.
If they fled now, the Grass shinobi would punish them later — beatings, prison, or maybe worse. They were trapped between fear of Otis and fear of their own village.
They had to hope their own village won this fight.
--
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