As dusk settled over the land, Shanks made the decision to stay in Yu Village for the night. He and Tomiko entered through the village gate, the air already heavy with tension. Just a few meters inside, a small group of men stood waiting, their posture stiff, their eyes tracking Shanks closely.
Though Shanks hadn't looked directly at them, he was well aware of their presence. His Observation Haki had alerted him to their watchful eyes long before he even crossed the threshold. These villagers had been observing the fierce battle outside—watching as Shanks single-handedly defeated the Kirigakure ninjas with a calm brutality that left little doubt of his power.
They knew they were no match for him. Every one of them had seen what he was capable of. Now, uncertain of his intentions, they stood nervously, unsure whether he had come as a protector or a threat.
After a moment of tense silence, the oldest among them—an elderly man likely in his early sixties—stepped forward. He bowed deeply before speaking, his voice respectful and slightly strained.
"Lord," he began, "may I ask what it is you seek from us? We have no wealth to offer, not even enough food in our homes. We possess nothing of value that might be worthy of you."
Shanks studied the villagers quietly. A single glance told him everything—these people were barely surviving. Their clothes were worn, their faces drawn with exhaustion. Some probably didn't even have enough food to last another day or two.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," Shanks said calmly. "It's getting dark, and I'll be leaving in the morning. That's all."
His voice carried assurance, but also a quiet authority that held their attention.
"I don't know how much you've suffered," he continued, "but the food and money the Kirigakure looted—it's yours. Take it back. I won't stop you. I don't want it."
One of the men took a step forward, disbelief shaking his voice. "Really?"
Shanks gave a simple nod. The moment he did, several of them dropped to their knees, overcome with gratitude.
Shanks exhaled quietly and turned to the elderly man who had spoken earlier. "I assume you're the village elder?"
The old man gave a respectful nod. "Yes. I serve as the head of Yu Village."
"Good," Shanks said. "Take me to the place where the Kirigakure were staying. The grain and coin must be there. I'll hand it over to you directly—you distribute it however you see fit. I don't know who among you was rich or poor before, and I don't care. What matters is that everyone eats. As for the rest, that's your burden to carry. Just don't let greed rot what little is left."
As he finished speaking, Shanks released a flicker of his Conqueror's Haki—just enough to make his point. The air thickened instantly. The villagers froze, struggling to breathe under the invisible pressure. A few collapsed on the spot, overwhelmed. And that was only four or five percent of his full strength.
Had he unleashed it fully, most of them wouldn't have lived to regret it.
The elderly man immediately understood the message behind the pulse of Shanks's Conqueror's Haki. It wasn't just power—it was a warning, clear and cold: If I could kill all those Kirigakure ninjas without hesitation, I can end you just as easily.
Shanks's voice cut through the silence again. "And if anyone complains about how the money or grain is divided, remind them of one thing: their wealth was stolen by the Kirigakure. After I dealt with them, those spoils became mine. I can distribute them however I choose."
The elder gave a solemn nod. "Understood."
With that, the two men began walking toward the Kirigakure stronghold at the edge of the village. Tomiko followed a few steps behind, her breathing shallow. Her chakra reserves were nearly depleted, and even the act of walking was beginning to take its toll.
Step by slow step, the three of them finally arrived at the house where the enemy had been stationed.
Without hesitation, Shanks formed a seal and summoned ten shadow clones. Each clone flickered into existence, their expressions identical, their purpose clear.
"Search every corner," Shanks ordered. "Find everything the Kirigakure left behind. Grains, valuables, anything of use. And if there are any of their people still hiding inside—kill them."
The clones nodded once, then vanished into the stronghold, moving like smoke through the shadows, ready to sweep the last traces of the enemy from the village.
Shanks's shadow clones moved swiftly into the Kirigakure stronghold, cutting down the remaining enemy ninjas without hesitation. The opposition consisted of only ten lower-ranked fighters—Chunin and Genin at best. Against Shanks's clones, they didn't stand a chance. Each was felled with a single, clean sword strike. Efficient. Unrelenting.
Once the threat was eliminated, the clones sealed the bodies into storage scrolls to get the bounty later. They then gathered the spoils the enemy had left behind. A large scroll—likely filled with grain—and several hefty bags of money were retrieved. It was clear this was the wealth the Kirigakure had stolen from Yu Village.
Shanks turned to the village elder. "You may not have many shinobi here," he said, "but someone should at least know the basics of unsealing techniques. You'll need that to access what's in the scroll."
The elder nodded quickly, both hands grasping the scroll with a reverence that bordered on disbelief. "Yes, yes, of course," he said, bowing several times in gratitude. "I'll send someone else to carry the money."
Shanks gave a faint nod. "And as for your thanks—just bring us some hot food. That'll be enough."
The elder let out a relieved laugh and smiled. "Of course. Right away."
With that, he turned and hurried off, clutching the scroll like a lifeline.
Shanks settled into a chair in the main hall, the weight of the day beginning to settle into his limbs. The room was quiet now, dimly lit by the fading light that filtered through the windows.
Tomiko stood nearby, her voice soft. "I'm going to rest. I'm exhausted."
Shanks opened his eyes briefly and gave her a nod. He didn't need to ask—her drained chakra and pale expression spoke volumes. She turned and walked slowly toward one of the inner rooms, her steps heavy with fatigue.
Left alone, Shanks leaned back slightly and closed his eyes. The silence around him was a welcome contrast to the chaos earlier. In his mind, he began replaying the battle from just minutes ago—every movement, every strike, every decision. Not out of pride, but precision. It was a habit—one he'd long since honed. Study the fight. Learn from it. Never leave a flaw untouched.
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