After the treatment, Miki turned and left, with Naori following.
Hitomi hesitated, glanced at the children and women, then followed Miki's footsteps.
On the bustling street, the three walked forward, no one speaking a word.
After a while, Hitomi asked, "Aren't we going to save them?"
"And then what?" Miki replied, "Smash this place to bits, and then what?"
"Hmm?" Hitomi didn't quite understand.
"What will they live on? Where will they live?" Miki said, "How many people do you think there are? A few?"
"Bring them back to the Village?"
"The Village cannot afford to support them."
"No!" Hitomi said, "Whatever they do, it's better than how they are now!"
"Not so," Miki said, "Their current life is relatively stable; even if it's hard, few dare to step into an uncertain future. Therefore, it's better to maintain the status quo."
"That's just your wishful thinking."
"It's not their thought."
"No one has said it to you, right?"
"Words like'save me.'"
Hitomi remained silent.
"Don't overthink it. You are powerless to change everything right now," Miki said, "Besides, no matter how times change, such things will always emerge endlessly."
"So, nothing changes?" Hitomi whispered, "Just let it be?"
Miki stopped, turning to look at Hitomi.
"Though I personally think it's a waste of effort."
"How could it be a waste of effort?" Hitomi said, "As long as you take action, you will be rewarded for your efforts; I've always believed that."
"Exactly," Miki said, "Generally speaking, that's true, but if you put effort in the wrong direction, the more effort you put in, the more useless it becomes."
"Why?" Hitomi was confused.
"What do you think this place is, and how did it form?"
"Hey, hey, hey, three Shinobi adults."
At this moment, a frivolous male voice sounded, and a group of black-clad security guards surrounded them.
Miki stopped her conversation with Hitomi and looked at these ruffians.
They were down-and-out wandering samurai.
Dozens of black-clad men, a large and imposing group, their faces arrogant and disdainful, each carrying a katana casually slung over their shoulder, and several also held firearms.
Miki's gaze fell on their handguns.
She became somewhat interested.
"Someone told me you three were meddling," a yellow-haired man stepped forward, looking at Miki with extreme arrogance and saying, "I advise you to mind your own business and not cause trouble for everyone."
These guys weren't afraid of Shinobi.
Clearly, they weren't relying on their own combat prowess.
But something else.
"Hey, I'm talking to you!!" Saying this, the yellow-haired man leaned forward and reached for Miki's collar.
Miki did not stop him.
A flash of a blade appeared; Naori, beside her, raised her sword and flicked it, drops of blood hitting the ground in a line.
At this moment, the yellow-haired man belatedly looked at his hand.
His arm, from wrist to elbow, smoothly separated and fell due to gravity.
Only then did the intense pain slowly reach his brain.
"Ah ah ah ah!!! My hand!!!"
The man clutched his severed arm, wailing and retreating, rolling on the ground in pain.
The ruffian samurai behind him recoiled in horror.
They hesitated for a moment, not making a move.
They had only been instructed to warn these foreign Shinobi, but they hadn't expected these Shinobi to not follow the script at all.
Seeing the conflict erupt, the women on the street screamed and ran away, and the men also quickly left, hiding in nearby shops.
Suddenly, the street nearby fell silent, the bustling crowd gone, the shop doors on both sides tightly shut, but curious gazes could be seen peeking from windows on various floors.
Miki turned and glanced at Naori, who had caused the trouble.
Naori's expression was hidden by her mask.
But even without smelling it, Miki knew what her expression was.
This guy, she made a decision on her own again.
"Excuse me, what 'meddling' are we not to do?" Miki asked softly.
At this moment, the man on the ground glared with resentment and growled, "Go! Kill them!"
Instantly, the group of ruffian samurai looked at the three of them with fierce, ferocious expressions.
They howled and raised their swords.
Subsequently, instead of swarming forward like mere thugs, they slowly spread out, surrounding the three of them, forming an airtight formation.
These samurai hadn't abandoned their livelihood, after all.
It was a simple encircling tactic.
As Miki turned to observe the ruffian samurai's movements, a gunshot rang out.
Immediately followed by sparks exploding in the air, Naori, with her sword, stood beside Miki, blocking the attack.
Due to their positions, Miki subtly acted as the leader, and this was revealed and noticed by these ruffian samurai.
The black-clad man who fired the gun's expression changed.
A Shinobi who could deflect bullets with a sword!
Not an ordinary Genin or mid-level Shinobi!
By the time he realized this, it was already too late.
"Leave one alive."
Then, Miki silently raised her hand and made a bloody throat-slitting gesture.
Naori's figure transformed into a fluttering Butterfly in place.
The numerous ruffian samurai watched this scene, a commotion breaking out.
The next second, a blue sword light exploded and flashed.
Hitomi silently lowered her head, drew her sword, and struck; in an instant, everyone in the fan-shaped area behind Miki was cut in half at the waist.
A terrifying and cruel scene was etched into everyone's eyes, and screams rose and fell all around.
On the street, the waist-severed samurai crawled on the ground, wailing miserably with their half-bodies, leaving trails of blood.
With just one sword strike, the ruffian samurai's morale immediately collapsed; the remaining samurai screamed, threw down their weapons, and intelligently scattered, fleeing for their lives.
Holding her long sword, Hitomi stood in the middle of the street, watching these samurai who had turned and were rapidly fleeing, as if watching turtles crawl.
With a step, her sword followed her, and she quickly caught up like a ghost.
"Open the door! Please!" A man, his face covered in snot and tears, his eyes filled with shattered terror, pounded on the shop door.
The people inside the shop watched with terrified trembling as the man's silhouette appeared on the translucent paper door.
Suddenly, a blood-stained sharp blade pierced through the door, a large patch of blood staining the paper door black; as the blade was withdrawn, the man's figure on the door slowly slid down.
A man frantically climbed the street-side courtyard wall, but after several attempts, he couldn't get over it.
The sword-wielding figure walked slowly and silently down the street, behind him a trail of dismembered and headless corpses.
"Don't come any closer!!!"
Crying and screaming in collapse, the man sat down powerlessly against the corner of the wall, his body weak with fear, shuffling away.
In his eyes, the Shinigami quickened his pace, his sword emitting a azure sword glow; as he ran over, he struck with one sword, leaving a sword mark with crimson flowers carved into the wall.
However, a few minutes later, the hundred-meter-long street was littered with corpses lying haphazardly.
The sword-wielding figure returned down the street, stopping when he passed the samurai on the ground clutching his severed hand.
He looked down.
Looking at the white, bird-shaped, pointed beak mask.
The yellow-haired samurai whimpered in terror, his entire body trembling, his pants wet.
He raised his sword, then brought it down without hesitation.
The head tumbled up, then fell to the ground, rolling like a ball.
The long street was utterly silent.
The people inside the shops either held their breath or covered their mouths, not daring to make a sound.
After flicking the blood from her sword and sheathing it, Hitomi walked to Miki.
"I'm going to smash this place to bits," Hitomi said coldly.
"You may," Miki replied softly.
She reached out and ruffled Hitomi's head.
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