Two days later, the trio finally arrived on the outskirts of Shiroizumi Village. The hot springs in the Land of Fire weren't quite as famous as those in the Land of Hot Water, and even within the borders of their own country, Shiroizumi wasn't particularly well-known.
Nevertheless, the village attracted a fair number of people from the surrounding settlements who came to soak in the springs—or, perhaps more likely, to sample the village's notorious "entertainment" industry.
The group came to a halt five miles outside the village. Just as Tatsuma and Minato were about to discuss their plan of attack, they realized Jiraiya had already vanished. Moments later, they spotted a middle-aged man strutting down the road toward Shiroizumi with a lewd, oily grin plastered on his face.
Though the man bore no physical resemblance to Jiraiya, two days of traveling together had made one thing clear to the boys: that man was undoubtedly their sensei.
After silently lamenting their misfortune in squad leaders, the two Genin focused on their own strategy. Their plan was simple and textbook: scout the perimeter, infiltrate to gather intelligence, and finally, strike. This being their first real mission, they both agreed that caution was the better part of valor.
They began a reconnaissance sweep as evening approached. Everything seemed normal until they reached a cemetery on the village outskirts. There, they froze.
Something was happening just a short distance away. Moving with practiced stealth, they concealed their presence and observed.
Behind a large headstone, several ronin with katanas slung at their waists were surrounding a boy of about thirteen or fourteen. The boy's hands and feet were bound, and a gag was shoved into his mouth. He was sobbing and whimpering, while the ronin around him erupted in mocking laughter.
"And here I thought it was some big-shot ninja trying to assassinate Boss Naka. It's just little Murata Raku. What's the matter, kid? Did your sister's milk give you too much courage lately? Gahahahaha!"
At the mention of his sister, the boy's whimpering turned into a muffled roar of fury. He began to thrash about, trying to lunge at the ronin.
Squelch—!
The ronin's answer was a blade driven straight into the boy's shoulder. Raku collapsed back onto the grass, curling into a ball as his body spasmed.
Watching from the shadows, Minato instinctively reached for his kunai, but Tatsuma's hand clamped down on his arm like a vice. Minato looked at him, his eyes wide with urgency and confusion, but Tatsuma only gritted his teeth, his voice a low, hard whisper.
"He's gone. Don't do anything unnecessary."
"What?!"
Minato looked back at the boy. Raku's spasms were growing weaker and slower. The ronin, seemingly unaware of the severity of the wound, continued to kick him, mocking him as he rolled over.
But the blood was pooling rapidly, soaking through the boy's shirt in a dark, blooming stain. Minato realized then what Tatsuma had seen instantly: the blade had severed an artery. Without medical ninjutsu, there was nothing they could have done for him, even if they had moved the second the blade was drawn.
"Dead? How'd he die so fast?"
One of the ronin finally noticed something was wrong. He knelt down to check the boy's pulse. After a moment, he looked up at the man who had delivered the blow, his voice trembling.
"Yu... Yusuke-aniki. The kid... he's dead."
The man named Yusuke blinked, but the shock quickly vanished, replaced by an even more twisted grin. "Dead is dead. But... as the 'killers,' I suppose we should offer some compensation, shouldn't we?"
"Compensation?"
"Yeah. He's dead, so where's his sister going to get the money to bury him? We'll go book her tonight and leave a massive tip. She can have a great time and go home with her pockets full before she finds out her brother is gone. We're practically doing a good deed! Hahaha!"
Yusuke's laughter echoed through the darkening graveyard, sounding profoundly ghoulish. Minato struggled against Tatsuma's grip, his hand twitching as he tried to pull away.
Tatsuma only applied more pressure, pinning Minato's arm down to ensure he didn't make a sound. Minato was forced to watch in silence as the ronin dragged Raku's body away toward the village.
"Tatsuma, why did you stop me?" Minato asked, his voice shaking with a cold, suppressed rage once the thugs were out of earshot.
Tatsuma finally let go of his arm. "Because you would have killed them."
"I will kill them."
"That's exactly why I couldn't let you go. Don't forget, our primary objective is to capture the rogue ninja, Naka. These thugs are secondary."
Tatsuma's own expression was grim. Minato stared at him, bewildered and slightly hurt. "Why? Does the success of a mission mean we let murderers walk away?"
"No. I want them dead as much as you do. But if we act now, we risk alerting Naka—the man actually responsible for this nightmare. If he escapes, he'll just do this again in another village. Capturing him is more important than killing these few right now. If we didn't know Naka was here, I'd be the first one to back you up in skinning them alive. But right now, we wait. Do you understand?"
Tatsuma was fighting to keep his own temper in check. Minato remained silent for a long time before he finally took a deep breath, his composure returning, albeit in a sharper, colder form.
"I understand. What's the next move?"
"We track them. We need intel on Naka first. These men aren't even ninjas; even if we let them run for three days, we could track them down and end them. But Naka is different."
Tatsuma exhaled slowly, offering one final piece of advice. "We are ninja, Minato. We are destined to kill. But killing is never the goal; it is only the means to an end. Never forget that."
"I understand."
Minato nodded. Seeing that his friend had regained control, Tatsuma signaled for them to move. They shadowed the ronin, staying perfectly concealed.
As top students of the Academy, basic tracking and stealth were second nature to them. While they weren't yet on the level of an elite like Orochimaru—who could stand inches from the Hokage without being detected—following a few clumsy thugs was child's play.
They watched as Yusuke and his men dumped Raku's body in a dilapidated shack—the boy's home. Inside, they found a suicide note the boy had written for his sister. The thugs didn't care; they tore it open, laughing as they struggled to read the words, before tossing it aside like trash.
They then moved to another room—evidently the sister's—and rummaged through her things. They found her undergarments and, in a final act of depravity, dressed Raku's corpse in them.
After that, they had the gall to wash the blood from their hands in the boy's own home, laughing and joking before they finally left.
Throughout it all, the boys watched from the shadows. Tatsuma noticed the fire in Minato's eyes had changed. It wasn't the hot, impulsive anger from before; it had transformed into the icy, merciless focus of a predator.
"Tatsuma," Minato whispered, "you handle the command. I'm afraid if I make the calls, I'll make the wrong ones."
"I've got you," Tatsuma replied. "You won't."
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