"I'm going to kill that damn old geezer sooner or later! Let go of me, or I'll cut you down too!"
"And if you're not afraid of being chopped into pieces and thrown into the sea to feed the fish once we're out on the water, go ahead and try."
Hidan's voice faltered. It seemed he had finally remembered the unpleasant reality that he could no longer beat Shinji. Grinding his teeth, he said,
"Fine. You win. What do you want?"
"Behave yourself and stay here for the night. Tomorrow we leave."
"Alright. But that old man—I'll cut him down sooner or later!"
Smack!
"Cut, cut, cut—That's all you ever think about! Picking a fight with an old man who can barely walk—are you proud of that?"
Hidan instantly clutched his head and glared furiously.
"You bastard! You and that old geezer are both dead!"
"You? If you keep running your mouth, I'll slice out both your kidneys tonight and stir-fry them for dinner."
"You! You—"
"Hm?"
Hidan immediately shut his mouth. His hands instinctively covered his waist. Apparently, he wasn't particularly fond of the dish stir-fried kidneys—especially if they came from his own body.
Seeing that Hidan had finally calmed down a bit, Shinji let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Even though he had joined a terrifying organization like the Jashin Cult, he still had his own bottom line.
At the very least, he couldn't bring himself to slaughter innocent villagers for no reason.
Of course, if someone tried to harm him first, he wouldn't hesitate either. He had no intention of playing the saint.
The word "killing" had once felt incredibly distant to him.
But now, this world had forced him to prepare for it far earlier than he ever imagined.
After all, this was a world where the big fish devoured the small fish, and the small fish devoured shrimp.
Without enough strength to protect yourself, you might one day die in some random, unexplained AOE attack—and never even know who killed you.
And no one would ever seek justice on your behalf.
Before long, Shinji and Hidan followed the old man back to his home.
"Grandpa! Hug!"
The moment they stepped inside, a little boy came running over on his short legs. The old man swiftly and gently picked up his grandson, his face instantly lighting up with a wide smile.
"Up high!"
"Alright, alright—up you go!"
"Higher! Higher!"
"Wheee—flying!"
"Father, dinner is ready—Oh… who are these two?"
The old man had been enjoying the warm moment with his grandson so much that he had nearly forgotten about Shinji and Hidan standing by the doorway.
"Oh, right! I almost forgot."
"These two young men are travelers passing through our village. Prepare two extra sets of bowls and chopsticks. And clean up the spare room inside—they'll stay for one night and leave tomorrow."
"Okay, Father. I understand."
The daughter-in-law appeared to be a diligent and gentle woman. However, she seemed unaccustomed to speaking with strangers and quickly slipped back into the kitchen.
"Sit wherever you like. If you want water, there are cups over there—help yourselves."
The old man waved casually before continuing to play with his grandson, making the little boy laugh uncontrollably.
Watching this scene, Shinji couldn't help but recall what the old man had said earlier.
"You'd better keep an eye on your brother. There are many women and children in the village…"
Was he worried that Hidan might hurt his family?
If that was the case, it was unnecessary.
Hidan hadn't even glanced at the women in the house. At the moment, he was gulping down cup after cup of cold well water as if he had been wandering the desert.
Of course, it was also possible that his brain had simply dried out and needed refilling.
Soon, the woman from earlier returned with the freshly prepared meal.
The dishes were simple—only three.
Stir-fried eggs with green peppers, wild vegetable soup, and salted radish pickles.
Not a trace of meat could be seen anywhere.
In fact, even the egg dish had likely been prepared just now because guests had arrived.
There wasn't even enough rice for everyone; cooking more from scratch would have been too troublesome.
Fortunately, Shinji and Hidan still had some dry rations left. They could use those to make up the difference.
It was obvious that the family's living conditions were rather modest.
Not quite poor enough to be starving—but not much better than that either.
Shinji understood the situation immediately.
For this family, these dishes were already the best they could offer a guest. The proper response was gratitude, not criticism.
Unfortunately, Hidan clearly didn't share that understanding.
He poked around the dishes with his chopsticks for a moment before completely losing interest.
His expression immediately turned sour, as if silently saying:
This is it? This is what you expect Hidan-sama to eat? Pig slop?
"I want pork cutlets, not pig sh—mmph!"
Shinji reacted instantly and clamped a hand over Hidan's mouth once again.
Then he laughed awkwardly.
"Sorry about that. My idiot younger brother's brain condition is acting up again. He always says strange things."
"Mmph mmph mmph…"
(You're the one with brain damage! Say that again and I'll slaughter your whole family, bastard!)
"What did he say?"
"Oh, he said the food was so delicious he accidentally bit his tongue."
"Mmph mmph mmph!"
(Bullshit! Hidan-sama would never eat pig slop like this!)
The old man nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, your unlucky brother may not look very bright, but at least he has some taste."
"Ayako's cooking is famous throughout the village. Whenever there's a banquet, those so-called master chefs insist on having her assist them…"
"That's enough, Father… please don't say any more."
The woman—Ayako—looked embarrassed. Her face turned bright red as she hurriedly tried to stop him.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Shinji leaned close to Hidan and whispered,
"Don't cause trouble. When we reach the Land of Waves, I'll let you kill as much as you want."
"Hmph."
Hidan slapped Shinji's hand away and snorted, but he didn't cause any further trouble.
Perhaps this was what people meant when they said every person had their natural counter.
Changing the subject, Shinji asked curiously,
"Sir, where is your son?"
The moment he said this, both the old man and the woman paused.
Then the old man sighed heavily.
"He's gone."
"A few years ago, two groups of ninja came from who knows where and fought here in the village."
"A fireball as big as a house came crashing down…"
"My poor boy never even made it outside before…"
He couldn't finish the sentence.
The woman had already begun wiping away tears.
"It's my fault… If it weren't for me… if I had run faster… Shota wouldn't have…"
She sobbed quietly.
The old man shook his head.
"It's not your fault. You were pregnant at the time."
"The only thing to blame is this cruel world… and my son's misfortune."
After saying that, the old man's expression turned gloomy.
He put down his chopsticks and slowly returned to his room.
After all, disasters like this were simply a matter of terrible luck.
And there was nowhere to seek justice, nowhere to argue your case.
Those ninja who fought their life-and-death battle here probably never even spared a thought for the villagers caught in the middle.
In the end, they were nothing more than peasants beneath notice.
After all, it had only been a few short years since the last great ninja war ended.
Back then, human lives were truly as cheap as grass.
Compared to that time, the present was already an improvement.
At the very least, people were still alive.
And they still had food to eat.