"Yes, my lord."

Yagura looked at his three faceless subordinates and nodded. Looking at their 'faces' he couldn't help but curl his lips and ask away.

"When did you guys start wearing masks?"

There was an immediate response from the grey-haired woman.

"It was Masaru's idea. Shigashi agreed to it, so I had no choice."

Masaru on the back, slowly pulled away the mask, exposing his shark-like features as he crackled.

"Ke- Ke- Ke-, aren't we the rebels? Why not act like one and be a little secretive."

Shigashi too pulled out his mask but chose to stay silent maintaining his signature stoic face.

Looking at the trio, Yagura sighed lightly. Shaking his head, he spoke, this time in a serious tone, "Doesn't matter. We should get moving, the Seal Transfer will be starting soon."

This immediately silenced the trio, casting a heavy atmosphere in the room. This was the main reason why they didn't participate in the ongoing Shinobi War. Any misstep here could undermine the entire village, regardless of their satisfaction with the current Mizukage.

Breaking the silence, Ayame inquired, her rough voice laced with sorrow, "Is there any chance that Elder Matsori would survive this?"

"It's very improbable," Yagura responded coldly. "Even Uzumaki Mito didn't survive the Kyubbi's Seal Transfer. Elder Matsori's chakra and life force, both are lacking compared to the Uzumakis."

Sighing with disappointment, Ayame shook her head, "We will have one less member in the council. But, we won't have to worry about the new Jinchuriki at least."

Saying her piece, she flickered away leading the rest to move on as well. Within half a second the room fell into silence.

****

In a large room, as large as the auditorium, several beds and desks were neatly arranged in an alternating pattern. Every bed had an identical bluish-grey sheet, a blanket, and a pillow. The desk was made of red oak wood, commonly found in the Misty forest that spanned across the mainland of Land of Water. There was sufficient light coming through the window for the day while light bulbs were attached atop the ceiling for the night. This was dorm-5 of the barracks.

Few of the beds were occupied, all by the children who looked no more than seven. Some were covering their head inside the blanket, some had their eyes open, silently staring at the ceiling while only three of them had their eyes closed, as if sound asleep.

Ryota was one of three with his eyes closed, but he wasn't sleeping at all. It has been hours since he returned from the clean-up. He was sleepy and tired but he couldn't fall asleep despite finding a surprisingly comfortable bed and warm covering.

I slept better at the auditorium than here...

Although insomnia was common for him back on Earth the reason for his sleeplessness was different here.

I can't get rid of those faces.

Not just the face of the kid who committed suicide. But also the lifeless face of all those around him during and after the incident. Especially the faces of those four responsible for disposing of the corpse.

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I ran away after that.

After overseeing the four kids disposing of the corpse, Ryota simply ran away. Unable to comprehend the fact that those four-year-olds did it with such familiarity.

Too familiar in fact.

Ryota had finally understood the gravity of the situation he was placed in. For the first day, his mind was subconsciously ignoring the fact that this was his new reality. The changes were too sudden and drastic.

Staring blankly at the ceiling, Ryota currently had just one thought occupying his mind.

Should I... should I just end it all?

Having such thoughts, he slowly turned his head and looked at the open window. A cool evening breeze blew through it as if inviting him to embrace the wind and take the ultimate leap of fate—it was just too "easy".

Or should I... live?

Moving his head around he could see a lot of kids. They didn't have the innocence you would expect to see on the faces of such young children. Their faces were akin to the soldiers who had seen too much. He had seen a couple of such faces back home.

I don't want to be like them... so broken and vulnerable. So... why bother?

Contemplating his bleak future Ryota silently hid under the blanket. Closing his eyes, he took a sharp breath and opened it once more. But there was something different this time.

Ketsuryugan

His once-white sclera now radiated vivid red, deep crimson irises taking the place of his usual brown. Instead of the typical round black pupil, white pupils, shaped like horizontal rectangles emerged.

I could somehow control my eyes better this time... I wonder why.

Even with his eyes turned on, all he could see was darkness under the cover. But the darkness itself had a reddish hue. Slowly his head began to ache and within a minute it started getting unbearable prompting him to close off his doujutsu.

Probably when I saw those carnage at the graduation hall. But we had the vice-principle right behind us, didn't she notice it?

With the position she held, she should at least be a Jonin. So we have three possibilities, either nothing happened to my eyes in the hall, or the vice-principle didn't notice it or she noticed me but didn't kill me for some reason...

Unwilling to dig into something he couldn't control, Ryota tried remembering more about the history of this body's original owner. His mind steering him away from the thoughts of self-harm.

No, there is nothing special. The earliest memory is from the orphanage, where the treatment was pretty shitty but nothing too concerning. He just came here with his friends as a joke, but he was somehow selected, and despite not wanting to join he was forced into the academy. And then all the 40 selected kids were gathered and forced to brawl in a one-on-one battle in which he was one-shot killed Zabuza Momochi.

Sighing at the series of unlucky events, he silently uncovered his face and blankly looked at the empty ceiling.

From what I know Ketsuryugan was pretty broken doujutsu in the series. It had the genjutsu prowess even better than the normal three-tome Sharingan and the ability to control blood or any iron-containing liquid. So as long as I don't die too soon, I should be pretty powerful by the time the Fourth Shinobi War comes around.

But, it still does not counter the moral dilemma I will be facing.

Ryota's mind churned with conflicting thoughts, struggling with the weight of the decisions he was contemplating. He just realized that he wasn't helpless—no he wouldn't be helpless if he could just survive this academy. With the powers he could gain and the knowledge he had, there was a very real possibility that he could thoroughly alter the future of this world, the very world he loved as a child. The allure of strength clashed violently with the moral quandary he faced.

Suddenly, he took a sharp breath, his entire body trembling. His thoughts raced, searching for a resolution amid the chaos of emotions.

"If… If I could do greater good for this world, then what's the sacrifice of a single or even multiple kids?" He whispered the words as if trying to convince himself. The room felt stifling as he grappled with the magnitude of his choices. "Right… right, I know the future, so I can do much more than any kid on this block. I-I must be the c-chosen one. R-right there must be a r-reason why I was sent here. No… I k-know why I was sent here; I was sent to create P-PEACE. Y-YES!!! I-I MUST CREATE PEACE!"

"HA! HA! HA! HA!!"

His unsettling laughter echoed through the room, causing the already traumatized kids to huddle eve closer to their covers.

A Chunin instructor standing guard outside the room just sighed and thought.

Sigh... I guess another kid gone mad, huh? I hope he doesn't jump off the roof; it's really annoying cleaning up a mangled corpse.

====>Chapter 5: The Idea of PEACE.<====

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