aircannonsinc Chapter 381 The Startled Butterfly
Chapter 381 The Startled Butterfly
Chapter 381 The Startled Butterfly
The man in the black robe pulled his hood up again, covering most of his face.
"So what do we do now?"
Kabuto walked back to the bookshelf, pulled out a notebook marked with an "X," and opened it. Inside was a map. The map was made of high-quality paper; it wasn't hand-drawn but printed, and it marked all the countries and major ninja villages on the entire continent. Kabuto's finger traced the map from east to west, then from north to south, finally stopping at a place in the southwestern part of the Land of Fire.
"Here," Kabuto said, "Iwami Village. It's on the southwestern border of the Land of Fire, near the Land of Wind. The village isn't big, only about three hundred people, mostly elderly and children; the able-bodied have all gone out to work. There are also roots of the Divine Tree beneath this village. I discovered them last year, but I haven't touched them. Now we can move them."
"How do I move?"
"Release three White Zetsu. They don't need to be too strong, just ordinary ones will do. Let them circle around the village a couple of times, so the villagers see them. The villagers will be scared and report it to the local patrol. The patrol will send someone to investigate. The person who comes won't be an Anbu, it's too far away, the Anbu can't reach that area. The person who comes will be at most a Chunin, with two or three Genin. Let them investigate. Let them find the White Zetsu. Let them fight. Let them win."
The man in black frowned.
"Let them win?"
"Yes. Konoha must win the first engagement," Kabuto said. "If they lose the first engagement and people die, Konoha will raise their alert level, send more people, and investigate more thoroughly. I don't want that. I want them to think that White Zetsu is manageable, troublesome but not scary. I want them to have the illusion that we can defeat these things and there's nothing to worry about."
"and then?"
"Then, once they relax, I unleash the second wave. The second wave is slightly stronger than the first, but I still let them win. The third wave is even stronger, and I still win. The fourth wave, the fifth wave, the sixth wave. Each time, they think they can win again," but each time the cost of their victory is greater than the last. A little more time, a little more chakra, a little more injury. They don't care about these small changes because they win every time. They get used to winning and stop calculating whether the cost of their wins is getting higher and higher."
I closed the notebook and put it back on the bookshelf.
"One day, they will suddenly realize that they cannot win. Because their chakra is almost exhausted, their wounded are too many for the medical system to handle, and their elite forces have been scattered in too many directions. That day will be the time to truly make their move."
The man in black robes stood at the doorway, which was already halfway open.
"When will the operation in Iwami Village begin?"
"Seven days later," Kabuto said. "First, let the White Zetsu appear five kilometers northwest of Iwami Village. Not too close, or it will look fake. Five kilometers is enough for the villagers to run home to report, and also enough for the White Zetsu to escape before the patrol arrives. The first time, don't engage them in battle; let them run. When they run, they must run as if they are really fleeing, not acting. White Zetsu can't act, but they can run for their lives. Make them show fear of humans. Make the patrol think that the White Zetsu are afraid of them, that they dare not approach the village, and that they can be driven away."
The man in black nodded, opened the door, and went out. After the door closed, the room fell silent again. Kabuto stood alone in front of the bookshelf, his hand still resting on the back of the "X" notebook. His gaze passed over the tree in the courtyard and landed on a small water stain on the opposite wall. The stain was shaped like a bird with outstretched wings, head to the left, tail to the right, standing out starkly against the gray-white wall.
Dou stared at the water stain for a long time, then turned and walked back to the table. He took out an unlabeled bottle from the drawer, unscrewed the cap, poured out a white pill, put it in his mouth, and swallowed it dry. He closed his eyes for a while, and when he opened them again, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes had faded a bit.
He walked to the bedside, sat down, and bent down to untie his shoelaces. He stopped halfway through. Looking down at his hunched back and drooping hands, he suddenly uttered a soft sentence.
"Lord Orochimaru, did you see that?"
No one answered him from inside the room. The wind blew again in the courtyard, and the branches creaked and groaned, as if someone were rocking that old chair far away.
Dou untied his shoelaces and placed the two shoes side by side on the edge of the bed, toes pointing outwards, neatly arranged. He lay down on the bed, pulled the blanket up to his chest, and wore his glasses without taking them off, staring at the pure, thick darkness on the ceiling.
There was nothing on the ceiling.
But Dou is watching.
He stared into the darkness, his eyes reflecting the blurry blue-white light cast by the ceiling lamp. A slight upturn to his lips, like a smile, yet not quite, remained. His hand lay outside the covers, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the bed, as if counting something.
Seven days later.
Iwami Village, located on the southwestern border of the Land of Fire.
The village was smaller than Dou had marked on the map. It had about 260 or 270 people, not 300. Most were elderly; few were under 40, but there was a small group of seven or eight children under 15, their faces dirty as they played with pebbles in the muddy ground at the village entrance. The village buildings were old, a mix of wood and adobe, with large patches of whitewash peeling off the walls, revealing the yellow mud and straw underneath. At the village entrance stood a large persimmon tree, all its leaves gone, leaving only a tree full of bright red persimmons, like a tree full of little lanterns. But no one picked them. The persimmons were ripe; some had already fallen to the ground and splattered, attracting a swarm of flies and bees.
To the northwest of the village lies a mixed forest. The trees are not thick, but they are very dense, with intertwined branches. From the outside, it is pitch black, and you can't see anything inside. Beyond the forest is a wasteland covered with waist-high withered grass, the tips of which are covered with a layer of white frost that flashes briefly in the sunlight before disappearing.
The Hyuga clan's patrol passes through Iwami Village every three days. They don't come specifically for it; it's just a stop along the way. The southwest patrol route is quite long, starting from the southwest gate of Konoha and passing through six villages. Iwami Village is the second to last; beyond that lies the border of the Land of Wind. The patrol usually consists of four people: a Jonin leading the group, three Chunin or Special Jonin, and sometimes a Genin as an assistant. This time, the leader is a Hyuga branch family ninja named Hyuga Hikaru, in his early thirties. He wears a Konoha headband on his forehead, and beneath it, a bulging vein can be faintly seen—a mark left by the branch family's cursed seal.
Guang stood under the persimmon tree at the village entrance, unfolded the map, placed it on his knees, and drew a small circle on it with a pen.
"Iwami Village, confirmed. Next, Hamada Village, twenty li southeast." He folded the map and stuffed it into his vest's inner pocket, looked up at the sky, and said, "We can get there before dark. Let's go."
"Captain!" A Chunin ran over from the northwest of the village, breathing heavily but speaking softly, "There's something in the woods over there."
Light paused for a moment.
"What is it?"
"I didn't see it clearly. It was white, crouching in the withered grass as tall as a person. It ran away as soon as I approached. It ran very fast, unlike a wild animal. Wild animals make a sound when they run, but this one didn't make a sound, like—like a piece of paper being blown away by the wind."
He stared at the Chunin for two seconds.
"White?"
"Grayish-white. It looks white when it's crouching in the grass, but when it runs and shines in the sunlight, it takes on a slightly greenish tint."
Guang pushed his headband up, revealing the whites of his eyes. Veins bulged, blood vessels in his eyes dilated, and the color of his pupils changed from dark brown to an almost transparent grayish-white. He stared northwest for a minute.
"There's one in the woods. There's another one underground." Guang stopped rolling his eyes and pulled down his headband. "The one underground is deeper, about forty meters, and it's not moving. The one above ground is to the east of the woods, about two kilometers from here. It's moving, not fast, and heading north-northwest."
The Chunin exchanged glances.
"White Zetsu?" someone asked.
Hikaru didn't answer. He pulled a kunai from behind his waist, twirled it in his hand, and then put it back.
"You two," Hikaru pointed to the two Chunin, "go around from the south to the east side of the forest and block its retreat. You two come with me into the forest from the front. Don't stray too far apart, and maintain eye contact. If you encounter anything unfamiliar, don't engage in combat; retreat to an open area before fighting."
The four people split up; two went south, and two followed Guang in the northwest. Guang walked in front, taking large strides but treading lightly. The sound of the dry grass he trampled over was loud in the silent field, like the sound of tearing cloth.
After walking for fifteen minutes, he reached the edge of the woods. Guang stopped and listened intently for a while. There was no sound at all—no birdsong, no insect chirping, not even the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves. It was unnaturally quiet.
Hikaru raised his right hand, clenched his fist, and stopped. The Jonin behind him stopped and crouched in the grass.
Hikaru pointed with his left hand to the east of the forest, then to the ground. The meaning was: the things on the ground are to the east, and the things underground are forty meters below. The Jonin nodded, drew his kunai from behind his waist, and held it in a reverse grip, blade facing outwards.
Guang crouched low and slipped into the woods. The light inside was much dimmer; the branches overhead sliced the sunlight into countless tiny spots, which fell on the withered leaves on the ground like shattered golden glass. Guang tried to walk silently on the dry leaves, but they were so dry that even the softest step made a sound. Each sound made him frown.
After walking about fifty meters, the light stopped again.
He smelled something.
It wasn't the smell of decay, but a stranger, cold smell. It was like the disinfectant used to soak instruments in hospitals, but not quite. Disinfectant is pungent, but this smell wasn't. It was faint and even, like the air itself had suddenly changed. You couldn't quite put your finger on what was different, but it just was different.
Hikaru's Byakugan activated again. He glanced eastward; the grayish-white chakra reaction was still moving, slightly faster than before, as if it were running. Hikaru crouched down, placed his hands on the ground, and used his Byakugan to look at the thing on the ground.
The one underground is still there. Forty meters deep, completely still. The chakra reaction is much smaller than the one above ground, so small that it's almost invisible, but it's definitely there. I stared at it for over ten seconds, confirming that it wasn't a misjudgment of rock or underground water veins; it was something with chakra, shaped like a person, curled up, like a fetus in the womb.
Hikaru removed his hand from the ground, stood up, and gestured to the Jonin behind him—keep walking.
After walking another twenty meters, the smell became stronger. So strong that it made his throat feel tight, as if something was stuck to the wall of his trachea. He swallowed, and the taste of his saliva changed, carrying a faint sweet and fishy smell, reminding him of the taste of blood he licked from a scraped knee when he was a child.
There was a small clearing on the east side of the woods, about the size of two houses. There were no trees, only withered grass and a few stones protruding from the ground. Guang crouched behind the bushes at the edge of the clearing and looked out through the gaps in the branches and leaves.
At the other end of the open space, under a crooked pine tree, something was crouching.
It was grayish-white. The outline of the chakra reaction that Guang had just seen through his Byakugan perfectly matched. It crouched there, its hands wrapped around its knees, its chin resting on them, its posture resembling a kidney-shaped bean. Its skin, in the light filtering through the forest, had an unnatural grayish-green hue, not the green of plants, but the color of a corpse that had been soaking for too long.
A sickly green emanating from within.
Hold your breath.
The thing suddenly raised its head and looked in his direction.
It had no eyes. Where the eyes were, there were only two shallow pits, and inside those pits was nothing but grayish-white, wrinkled skin. But it looked at the light. The light could feel that feeling of being "looked at," as if two hands were reaching out from afar and placing them on his shoulders—light, but very real.
Light's fingers tightened around the kunai.
The creature lifted its chin from its knees, its neck making a faint sound, like dry wood snapping. Its mouth opened a crack, and a sound squeezed out from within.
It's not "啵". It's a single character. A human language.
"pain."
Guang was stunned.
That thing repeated itself.
"pain."
The sound wasn't loud, but it traveled far in the quiet forest, like a pebble thrown into a deep pool, making a splash, and then ripples spreading outwards, reaching beyond the forest, across the fields, to the persimmon tree in Iwami Village, and to the persimmon that had been smashed on the ground.
The Jonin next to Hikaru stood up and rushed out. It wasn't impulsive; he'd seen something writhing deep inside the thing's mouth the instant it opened—not grayish-white flesh, but something deeper, darker.
Something like a black nematode was writhing deep in its throat.
That's not White Zetsu.
What is that parasitic thing living inside White Zetsu?
The Jonin rushed forward three steps, his kunai already raised above his head, the blade flashing in the dappled sunlight. But before his fourth step landed, the grayish-white thing sprang up from under the pine tree, like a startled cat, landing on all fours and darting into the depths of the forest at an abnormally fast pace. Dead leaves were whipped up by it, swirling and fluttering in the air like a flock of frightened butterflies.