It had been around an hour since those in the Evacuation Unit capable of chakra masking had descended into the pit to evacuate the dormitories. His training sessions were always longer than an hour—but he hadn't felt more exhausted than he was at the current moment. Even the assassination attempt on his life was more overwhelming than exhausting.

Takuma felt his concentration was slipping and all his brain wanted to do was listlessly stare at the ground and stop processing the excessive input his senses took in from the chaos around him. He wanted to stop moving and just drop flat, but that wasn't an option.

The cave-in that had eliminated the enemy's iryo-nin had only happened around ten minutes ago and while it didn't end the battle it pushed Camp Banana up to a clear advantage. Ten minutes was a significant time in a shinobi battle where people dropped faster than flies.

He had to return to the battle at the bottom of the pit after bombing the mine. The feeling of frustration that the enemy didn't opt to cut their losses and retreat gnawed at his mind. He wanted it to end and the lack of enemy, even if it meant through them escaping, was the end condition. But simultaneously, as he looked around the pit, he could understand why they couldn't. Their escape route was blocked by the ongoing battle between the jonin duking it out against each other. Anko had told him that Jonin Shirakumo was fighting two jonin in that part of the pit—and that he had successfully killed one of them, making escape an unattractive choice.

Takuma felt a strange relief as he stared at the battlefield.

Through the lingering smoke and bright fires, he could see more Hidden Steam gear than he did Hidden Frost. So long as Toridasu and Shirakumo didn't die, Camp Banana had won the battle over the Gojiro Gold Mines. They had the win in their grasp, and they needed to do was stand their proverbial flag and declare their victory.

So many corpses littered the ground that he had to look out for them not to trip and inadvertently get killed by an enemy. In that sense, the dead were still fighting in the battle. The thought made him want to vomit. Takuma didn't have the mental capacity to contemplate the sheer loss of life from the battle—he was sure it would linger in his thoughts and disturb his nights when he had the chance to rest.

A group of Camp Banana shinobi surrounded two enemy shinobi, poised and ready to kill the pair. Takuma lifted his heavy feet to join them, weapons drawn; they didn't have any orders to accept surrender.

A horn blared across the battlefield and brought a short burst of energy to the Hidden Leaf troops and despair to the last few remaining enemy forces across the pit. It was the signal that they had won and successfully occupied the Gojiro Gold Mines. Evidently the enemy was still alive, but the horn meant that the jonin had defeated their counterparts—which for all intents and purposes was victory.

Takuma let his shoulders relax as he approached the group. cornering the two enemies glued to each other's backs for protection.

"Surrender," Takuma straightened himself as he spoke. Everyone— ally or enemy— turned towards him as he continued to talk. "You either die here where you've already lost, or live another day to potentially be traded back to your nation in exchange for our own imprisoned in yours. If you cooperate, your stay will be as comfortable as possible given the situation.

"Choose or I will choose for you," he said authoritatively.

The Camp Banana shared confused looks but held their tongues. Takuma kept his eyes on the two enemies, who didn't bother to hide their suspicion, which was to be expected. The gathered ground could kill them, but they were suddenly asking for surrender—but Takuma knew they were exhausted enough not to notice the confusion around them.

Takuma sighed. He turned to the kunoichi beside him. "Will you lend me your dagger? I misplaced mine in the battle."

The kunoichi was surprised but unsheathed the dagger strapped to her lower back and handed it to Takuma.

"Alright, let's get this over with," said Takuma as he stepped towards the two.

"Wait!" shouted one of the two enemies. "We will surrender!"

The second one wasn't as thrilled. "What are you doing!?" he hissed.

"Shut up!" The first one turned to Takuma. "We surrender. Please, spare us. We will surrender. W-We will, so…" he licked his cracked lips and looked at Takuma with damp hope and desperation in his eyes.

Takuma silently played with the dagger in his hand as he stared at the two shinobi. With each silent second, the desperation and despair grew thicker in his eyes.

"Drop your weapons and lay down on your stomach with your hands on your head. We will apply chakra seals and then take you in," said Takuma, dropping his hand with the dagger limp down by his side.

The second, unwilling shinobi looked suspicious but was quickly persuaded to surrender when his comrade did as instructed. He followed and threw his weapons and pouches away before lying on the ground with his hands clasped behind his head.

Takuma pointed at the weapons and weapon pouches and a couple people collected them before he alone approached the two and crouched down beside them to whisper: "You made the right choice."

He first approached the unwilling enemy and planted a knee in the center of his back. Takuma pulled the man's hands down from his head, raised his head by the hair, and quickly slit his throat. He gurgled wetly, alerting his more willing comrade. Takuma knew he didn't have time, so he skipped to the next. Before the panicking enemy could rise, Takuma booted him across the face and mounted him.

"W-What. Y-You said—!"He thrashed desperately beneath him. "No, please! I b-beg…"

Takuma grabbed the man's arm with his free hand and plunged the bloody dagger deep into the man's heart and twisted it violently. The man flailed for a moment a few moments before the resistance faded. Takuma gazed into the dying man's betrayed brown eyes until the light faded completely—never breaking eye contact. Takuma kept the man company in his last moments before wiping the blood on the dagger from the dead man's pants and returning the dagger to its owner.

"Thank you," Takuma said to her before tiredly walking away.

The kunoichi reclaimed her weapon and kept it at arm's length, glancing furtively between it, Takuma, and two men he'd killed in cold blood.

Everyone in the small group looked at him with a mix of shock, admiration, and a strong dose of fear. They turned to look at him as he walked away. None of his previous sharpness was present as he swayed from side to side.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

———

.

After the battle ended, everyone was called to gather in the middle of the pit. Takuma slowly wandered around the crowd, looking for his team. Camp Banana had come with fourteen teams—two jonin, fourteen chunin, and seventy genin—but the group was thinner now after the battle. While they had wiped out the enemy, they had paid a steep price in lives.

Takuma stopped in his tracks when he saw three of the four people who he called his teammates. His heart beat faster as he approached the group.

"Where… Where is Iori?" he asked.

Kameko, Rikku, and Daiki turned to face Takuma and gave him a fierce one-armed hug. Takuma patted the big guy on his back.

"I'm glad you're safe," said Daiki.

"Iori?" Takuma asked again.

"She's with the iryo-nin," said Daiki, his expression unpleasant.

Takuma felt flustered. "How bad is it? Will she make it?"

Daiki was taken aback and for a moment looked like he didn't know how to answer the question. "Her life is not in danger" — Takuma breathed a sigh of relief — "but she lost two fingers from her writing hand. …They're trying to reattach them right now but the iryo-nin aren't sure if it will work."

Takuma gasped with wide eyes. As a fuin-nin, Iori's hands were extremely important to her. Accurate calligraphy was an essential part of fuinjutsu and losing her fingers would put a huge handicap on her progress—if not outright destroy her future prospects as a fuinjutsu expert. It was imperative that they fixed her hand.

"…She could switch to her other hand, but that doesn't sound good, does it," Daiki said.

Takuma nodded, but knew that was the last thing Iori would want to hear. He didn't know how much time and effort switching to the other hand would take—let alone returning to her previous level of skill.

He gave the other three a look over. Kameko looked ragged but mostly uninjured. Rikku had a bandage around her head and right leg, and her left arm in a sling. Daiki had a limp that he tried to hide, and had only hugged Takuma with one arm—it seemed there was something wrong with his shoulder. But seeing them alive put Takuma's heart at ease which brought more fatigue. His legs were begging him to amputate them so they could be put out of the misery.

"Anko is up front with the jonin," said Kameko.

Takuma nodded. "Does anyone have some water?".

Rikku threw her canteen to him with a small gulp of water that Takuma downed.

"Thank you."

He looked around the pit and at the bodies of those who had died fighting for both sides. Takuma opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but nothing emerged. He couldn't think of anything that would suit the current situation.

"It's always numbered, isn't it?" They looked at him. "The dead. When I was in the Hidden Leaf, they only ever mentioned the number of casualties. 'Fourteen perished, three found dead, ten killed in action, one missing.' They rarely mention names—not unless it's a jonin or someone important. Newspapers don't have enough space, radios not enough time.

"Even if they do mention names, do we remember them? I don't. And with these numbers, the names won't show up except the official documents and reports." He turned towards his teammates. "That's why we should make sure they get the most honorable shinobi funeral for them in the hopes that when—if this happens to us… we'll be fortunate enough to get the same treatment."

The three of them nodded somberly.

Anko met with them a few minutes later after her brief discussion with the jonin. She looked better than all of them and seemed completely uninjured—but there was a burden that weighed down her usual carefree expression.

Considering the overwhelming presence of death around them, and their proximity to it, Takuma didn't blame her.

"One of the enemy jonin, the one Toridasu was fighting, decided to escape. The two Shirakumo fought are both confirmed dead," she informed them of the larger picture of the battle. "There might be enemies hiding in the mines, so be careful—but with most of them dead, they aren't a priority problem. Everyone who can still move around will work on the funeral preparation—after which we'll proceed to the bombing of this hellhole."

""Yes, ma'am""

"All of you did good." Anko looked at Kameko and Takuma. "Especially you two. The jonin will want to talk to you after we return to camp, I'm sure." Her eyes lingered on Takuma as she gave out the praise. "Now, let's go meet Iori together."

""Yes, ma'am""

———

.

Takuma gazed at the dozens of burning funeral pyres burning before him. The deceased shinobi were recorded thrice to ensure everyone was included, and their belongings, if available, were carefully packaged to be returned to their families. They were cleaned and prepared for their funeral and then respectfully placed on the funeral pyres provided by the nearby forestry.

The Hidden Leaf shinobi went first. The enemy were also given funerals, but they weren't treated the same. They weren't cleaned and were pushed into larger group pyres, while the Hidden Leaf shinobi were all given their own individual pyres.

"Were you close to anyone?" Takuma asked Iori, standing beside him.

Her hand was heavily bandaged. While the iryo-nin had successfully attached her fingers back, the results would only show as they properly healed and if they worked for Iori when she completed physical rehabilitation.

"I could recognize all of them. I knew a few of them," Iori answered, fire reflecting in her eyes. "I… I haven't seen anything like this. T-This is too many…"

She was the most social member of their team, and was even well-liked despite being on Anko's team.

Takuma gave her a side hug to offer her some comfort. She'd been too occupied by her own uncertain future to truly process it all, and it was for the first time in the last few hours that she'd pulled herself together, only to have the reality of the deaths of her friends and peers shoved in her face.

As he comforted her, Takuma stared at the funeral pyres. He didn't feel much in the face of so much death. He had only attended a shinobi funeral once, and he was the only attendee and looking back on it, Takuma recognized the shift in his reaction to it all, even when the scale of the two events was on different levels.

He wondered what might have caused such a drastic shift. He thought that he wouldn't get an answer out of himself, but it came surprisingly easily when he personally set fires to the larger group pyres in the distance.

Takuma was sure he would've hurt like Iori and the others around him in grief if he was close to the deceased. He was confident that he had at least that much humanity still burning alive within him but was terrified of losing what made and kept him human, what kept as himself. He knew that he would be perfectly fine being that person—that version of him that stabbed the surrendered enemy in the back after promising them sanctuary—he was afraid if that part of him would bleed into every aspect of life—it utterly terrified him.

The cause of his current indifference was relatively recent. This wasn't the biggest concentration of death he had seen—the largest was the massacre of the innocent civilians who had been killed by the small group of shinobi. He was there, right in the middle of it; he heard the piercing screams and cries for help. That was much worse than what had happened in the pit.

The shinobi could at least fight back and would kill him in a heartbeat. That was why he didn't feel much.

He was sure that if any of the shinobi—deceased or alive; enemy or ally—were asked to kill him,, they would do it… and he knew that because so would he. It didn't matter if they liked it or not, or if they were just following orders, he was sure all of them would do it.

It was a norm in the shinobi world—killing. Some hated it and only killed when necessary; others learned to enjoy it but every single shinobi killed—it was a fact of life as true as the sky being blue..

Those "strangers" who could do that didn't deserve his empathy and compassion. He could kill hundreds or thousands of them and he wouldn't feel anything for them. They were in a profession where those ready to kill should be prepared to be killed. It didn't matter if it was his own compatriots or a foreign enemy—every single one of them was the same.

The same went for himself. Takuma knew that if one day he was killed, he absolutely deserved it.

In his pursuit of survival, he had made himself a man okay to kill in his own eyes. He blinked, the image of the begging enemy shinobi flitting across his vision for a moment. But it wasn't the time to contemplate on the implications of that. Right now, he had to provide comfort to his teammates and friends.

Takuma took a deep breath and gave Iori's arm a comforting rub. He said, "I know this doesn't change anything, but your memories of them will at least keep them alive in your thoughts. They will live in your heart so take some solace in that."

Iori leaned against him. "You're a good one, Takuma," she said.

That wasn't true and he knew it. Unlike him, she shed tears. Takuma thanked Iori in his heart for it anyway because at least someone liked him—because he didn't like himself very much right now.