I Want Them All
A sweltering summer night hung over the land, and a faint breeze rustled the treetops. A lone owl hooted in the distance.
In the small villages surrounding the Land of Fire's capital, most homes had already dimmed their lanterns, leaving only a few scattered lights flickering in the dark.
A few stray cats lounged lazily in a corner of the street.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed through the silence, startling the cats, who darted into the shadows.
A burly man emerged from a narrow alley, glancing around suspiciously. Once he confirmed the street was empty, he quickly crossed over and slipped into another alleyway, eventually reaching a rundown house at the village's edge.
Creak—
The basement door groaned as it swung open, revealing a dimly lit, foul-smelling underground chamber. The man loosened the straps of the large sack he carried, spilling its contents onto the cold, dirt floor.
Inside was a young boy—no more than three years old—his small body trembling as he struggled against the ropes binding him.
"Mmmph...!" The boy whimpered, his muffled cries filled with fear.
The man untied him, then picked up a worn leather whip from a nearby table.
The boy's eyes widened in terror as he instinctively curled up, trying to make himself as small as possible. But his captor sneered and swung the whip down hard.
CRACK!
A searing pain shot through the boy's body as he let out a piercing scream.
"Shut up!" the man snarled, bringing the whip down again.
The child convulsed, his sobs growing weaker. He bit his lower lip desperately, trying to suppress his cries.
Satisfied, the man sneered, casting a warning glance at the other children huddled in the corner—thin, pale, and hollow-eyed.
Without another word, he turned on his heel, climbed the stairs, and slammed the door shut.
Boom.
The basement was plunged into darkness once more.
The little boy whimpered softly, curling into himself, his tiny fingers clutching at his bruised arms.
"Mom…" he whispered, voice hoarse from crying.
BANG!
The basement door suddenly burst open, making all the children flinch.
The boy froze, too terrified to even breathe.
The burly man from before stood at the doorway, his cruel smile illuminated by the dim torchlight.
He took a step forward, raising his whip.
"Humph."
Boom!
The door slammed shut again, leaving the boy trembling in the dark.
---
Above the basement, a group of men sat around a round table, stacks of ryo scattered between them.
One man, wearing a shinobi vest and a kunai pouch at his waist, exuded an air of authority. He was clearly the leader.
He turned to the man who had just come up from the basement.
"Where'd you get that one?" he asked lazily.
The burly man grinned, rubbing his hands together. "Picked him up near the docks. Might have some Yuki Clan blood in him."
At this, the boss's eyes gleamed with interest. "Oh? If he awakens the Ice Release kekkei genkai, he'll be worth a fortune."
The burly man forced a laugh. He hadn't actually checked, but he wasn't about to correct his boss now.
"Well," the boss continued, "even if he doesn't awaken it, nobles love kids with shinobi blood. We can still sell him at a good price."
The burly man chuckled, plopping into a chair. "Well, I need a little fun first. Let me roll some dice."
He grabbed the dice cup and shook it vigorously.
"Alright, place your bets!"
The other men eagerly pushed forward their money.
"I'll go big!"
"Same here!"
"Hah, you guys always bet big. I'll go small."
The burly man smirked. "Alright then—open!"
The dice cup was lifted.
Three sixes.
"Leopard!" someone gasped.
The burly man scowled. "Damn, what's with my luck?"
The others laughed, jeering at his misfortune.
"Alright, double or nothing!"
The dice cup was shaken again.
Three sixes.
Again.
And again.
The burly man furrowed his brow, gripping the dice cup tightly.
"The hell's going on?" he muttered, glancing across the table at the man sitting opposite him.
That man was calmly stacking his winnings, his movements slow and deliberate.
"…Who are you?" the burly man finally asked.
The stranger smiled gently. "Me? Uchiha Tunan."
A deadly silence filled the room.
The men exchanged uneasy glances before instinctively reaching for their weapons.
Shing!
Blades were drawn. The air grew heavy with tension.
The boss narrowed his eyes. "The Captain of the North City Guard, huh? And what business do you have with us tonight… Tunan-sama?"
Uchiha Tunan leaned back in his chair, twirling a banknote between his fingers before flicking it onto the table. The slip of paper knocked the dice cup's lid aside, revealing three sixes yet again.
"Guess I'm just lucky," he mused.
The boss forced a chuckle, pushing a small box forward.
"My lord, this is just a small gift from us. A token of goodwill."
Uchiha Tunan glanced at the box—stuffed with ryo. His eyes lit up briefly before he sighed.
"What a waste," he murmured.
The boss's smile faltered. "What do you mean, my lord?"
Uchiha Tunan picked up a ryo note, rubbing it between his fingers.
"I'm a greedy man," he admitted with a smile. "I want the money. I want the children. And I want the political credit for shutting you down."
The room turned ice-cold.
The boss's fingers twitched toward his kunai.
"You tell me," Tunan said, his Sharingan suddenly flickering to life. "How should we settle this?"