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[NNSS] Chapter : 31
🕑 Added 2025-09-29 19:51:26 +0000 UTC“Lady Tsunade, you were too rude!” Shizune finally burst out after Roshi left. “To speak like that—and even strike him!”
“Tch. That brat wasn’t exactly polite either, was he?” The Senju Princess waved her hand dismissively. “Besides, he didn’t seem to care, so stop fussing.”
Return to the village… what would that accomplish? Tsunade’s gaze drifted toward the courtyard, where green bamboo swayed gently in the wind. All that waited there were heavy stares—silent, burning expectations. And she… she was someone who couldn’t even face blood. What use was she now? She couldn’t shoulder anything, couldn’t endure anything.
That was why she wanted to see Roshi. To confirm with her own eyes whether that boy truly carried that power.
The brief clash in the courtyard caused no ripples outside. When Roshi stepped out, Jirocho was already waiting by the corridor, standing respectfully with a perfectly measured humility, as though the muffled crack of shattered stone just moments ago had been nothing more than the wind knocking loose a tile. He led Roshi through winding halls to an elegantly furnished reception room at the front of the estate.
“Regarding the Chayama Gang,” Roshi began as soon as they sat, his tone direct, deliberately sidestepping the matter of Tsunade. “Do you have more precise intelligence?”
Jirocho straightened, his expression grave. “Nochapo has always been a den of ronin and fugitives. In the past, their numbers were small. Both my family and the Hejies would send men regularly to clear them out, barely keeping the trade routes safe.” He paused, brows furrowing. “But about four months ago, everything changed. A wandering samurai appeared. With sheer force and ruthless methods, he united the scattered bands in Nochapo, forged them into a single force, and even built a stronghold on the hillside.”
“At that time, both our houses realized the matter was far beyond our ability to handle. We petitioned Konoha for a mission, but no response ever came.” A hint of bitterness entered his voice. “In the meantime, we could only strengthen patrols along the trade roads, doing our best to hold on.”
His tone dropped lower. “The turning point came half a month ago. The Hejies family suddenly declared that they had completely eradicated the Nochapo bandits. At the same time, they announced they had recruited a new unit of elite guards to guarantee the safety of Deai Port. Almost immediately afterward, an envoy from the Daimyo’s Palace arrived. My family was reprimanded for ‘ineffective governance, allowing bandits to flourish,’ while the Hejies were praised for ‘eliminating evil and restoring peace, a great service to the region.’ The Daimyo then transferred management of the port to the Hejies—for the next four years.”
“After securing the Daimyo’s favor, the Hejies appointed a man named Jubei as the city’s defense chief.”
Jirocho’s expression hardened. “And you understand, Roshi-kun, those so-called new guards are none other than the former Chayama Gang—and Jubei is the wandering samurai who forged them into one.”
Roshi listened in silence, his fingertips rhythmically tapping the polished edge of the low table. The situation was far messier than he’d expected.
“How strong is this Jubei?” he finally asked.
Jirocho’s face grew grim, his words measured. “He is a dangerous, ruthless man. As for his true ability… forgive me, we found only scattered rumors. They say that during the suppression, he displayed strength and speed far beyond an ordinary warrior. Some even whisper he wields techniques akin to Ninjutsu.” Jirocho bowed his head slightly, his tone apologetic. “But we have no concrete proof.”
“Hm…” Roshi pondered briefly before shifting the topic. “Then, what about the Black Snake Group? Have you ever heard that name?”
A flicker of hesitation crossed Jirocho’s face, as though weighing whether to speak. After several seconds, he finally began:
“…Indeed, I’ve heard of them. About two months ago, the sea route from Deai Port to Naqi Island was plagued by vicious pirates, causing severe losses. The Daimyo’s Palace was furious. Not long after, word spread that a band of wandering Ninja—the Black Snake Group—accepted a commission from the Daimyo himself and wiped the pirates out.”
He paused, watching Roshi’s expression before continuing. “But after that incident, the Black Snake Group seemed to vanish completely. No further sightings in Deai Port or its surrounding waters. Perhaps they simply collected their reward and left.”
The Daimyo again…
“I understand.” Roshi gave a small nod. “Your information is valuable. Thank you, Wasabi-san.”
“I’m glad I could be of use.” Jirocho bowed slightly, then cautiously asked, “May I know what Roshi-kun intends to do next? If the Wasabi family can assist in any way, please give the word.”
“If possible, continue to gather intel on the Chayama Gang.” Roshi rose to his feet. “I’ll return to the inn to make arrangements.”
He had initially come concerned for Jirocho’s safety. But with Tsunade—one of the Sannin—residing here, and Shizune near Jonin level, even if Tsunade chose not to act, Jirocho was in no real danger from assassins.
“If anything urgent arises, send word to me at Haifi Pavilion.”
“Understood,” Jirocho said respectfully, personally escorting Roshi from the reception room.
At the pier, Anko leaned casually against a wall, the hem of her new purple trench coat lifted slightly by the sea breeze. A blade of grass hung loosely from her mouth as her sharp eyes swept over the busy port: porters shouting as they hauled crates, guards in worn leather armor patrolling with lazy steps, their gazes lingering too long on piles of valuables.
A caravan of fully loaded wagons clattered toward the docks, guarded by several men. The owner spoke in hushed tones with a port official, who quickly waved laborers over to prioritize this shipment.
Beside them, Tanzai muttered indignantly, his face twisted with frustration.
Anko’s ears caught a few of his words:
“Damn it… straight onto the ship as soon as they arrive…”
“My goods left behind again…”
“If only I’d bought weapons too…”
Weapons?
Anko’s expression sharpened. She pushed off the wall and walked over. “Tanzai-san, who are those people?”
“They’re weapon merchants,” Hongshan spat bitterly. “I don’t know why, but someone’s buying up weapons in bulk. Their shipments get priority, while my cloth has to wait days before loading. Anko-sama, I must rely on you…” He continued, pleading for her protection.
Now that Roshi had gone, the merchant’s sense of security rested entirely on Anko and Itachi. The boy was still too young, so Tanzai clung to Anko like a lifeline.
But Anko only gave a distracted reply. Her hand slipped behind her back, fingers flicking lightly. From the shadowed sleeve of her trench coat, a thin gray serpent—no thicker than a finger—slid out soundlessly. It hugged the ground, darting swiftly into the shadows between crates and wagons, vanishing without a trace.
