"How could they be like this!" Karin clenched her fists. Though she rarely interacted with civilians, she never looked down on them—let alone considered bullying them just because she was a ninja.
She never imagined the reality of how shinobi and ordinary people coexisted could be so cold.
"Karin, don't be impulsive," Kimimaro said, gently taking her hand. "This is someone else's territory."
A jonin standing atop a departing transport carriage turned his head, sensing the sudden change in killing intent.
"Hmph... just a bunch of kids," the jonin sneered. "They dare glare at me like that? I'll teach them some respect."
He swiftly formed hand seals, inhaled deeply, then exhaled sharply toward the marketplace.
"Wind Release: Vacuum Sphere."
Compressed blades of wind shot forth like invisible bullets. In an instant, several vendor stalls exploded into shrapnel. Dust and debris clouded the area. The carriage continued on without slowing, its passengers indifferent.
As the smoke cleared, Kimimaro's bone shield crumbled back into his arm. Sanpo, the shopkeeper, collapsed to his knees in shock.
"Th-thank you, Lord Ninja..." he stammered, his voice trembling.
Kimimaro didn't reply. His gaze swept across the ruined street, and his fists tightened.
Blood stained the cobblestones. One shop had been blown open—inside, a woman and child lay motionless, a man cradling their bodies, crying.
"Hina… Jiro… Wake up… Please…" the man sobbed hoarsely. "It's over… it's all over…"
Around them, townsfolk began sweeping up the debris in silence, as if this were nothing new. Not a single person dared to speak out or look toward the direction the jonin had gone.
They also avoided the small restaurant where Kimimaro, Karin, and Jugo stood. The few glances they dared cast toward the trio were filled with silent fear.
Karin whispered, "Why is it like this? I've been to other towns before… the ninja there seemed so disciplined."
"You might've seen the exception, not the rule," said Sanbao, who had finally regained his composure. Of all the civilians, he was the only one willing to speak.
"I've met many who travel for business between countries," he continued. "Some say there are kind shinobi—like you three—but most don't care about our lives. To them, we're just entertainment, or income."
He gave a bitter chuckle. "Honestly, ninja usually don't kill us unless we get in their way. The real monsters… are the ones in power."
Karin blinked. "The ones in power?"
Kimimaro's voice turned cold. "He means the daimyo, the wealthy merchants, and local lords. They exploit civilians openly. Shinobi like the one just now are just a symptom. When powerful men treat lives like tools, even some ninja follow suit."
He looked out toward the road the jonin had taken. "Ninjas don't often oppress civilians without reason. There's little gain in it. But those with political power… they use their wealth to hire ninja and enforce cruelty. Over time, they shape the kind of shinobi who work under them."
He scoffed. "To be honest, the ninja villages and the daimyo only coexist because of mutual benefit. The villages provide military strength; the daimyo offer money and legitimacy. It's a transaction, not justice."
"Please, Lord Ninja," Sanbao interrupted, visibly pale. "Don't speak so freely… Words like that are dangerous."
Kimimaro ignored him. He hadn't thought deeply about the world structure until now, but it all seemed twisted.
In this era, chakra gave some individuals god-like strength—yet society remained medieval in mindset. The world had basic electricity, basic networks, but the people still bowed to feudal lords.
"Daimyo…" Kimimaro muttered. "They're no different from the Celestial Dragons in that manga I used to read. Living in luxury while others fight and die for them. And the shinobi villages—they're nothing but their personal armies."
Karin was silent.
Jugo looked at the distant smoke and said softly, "Is this what peace looks like in the ninja world?"
Kimimaro didn't answer. He was beginning to understand—true peace wasn't just about ending wars. It was about changing the system that allowed things like this to happen in the first place.
Could ninjas kill a daimyo?
Of course they could. In terms of raw power, a jonin or even a well-trained chunin could assassinate a daimyo without too much trouble. But such a move would be politically disastrous. The daimyo weren't without protection—they had their own elite guards and loyal ninja retainers, especially in larger nations like the Land of Fire. More importantly, each hidden village ultimately operated under the nominal authority of their country's daimyo.
Yet even with that power imbalance, killing a daimyo wouldn't change much.
The world was vast, and shinobi were only one part of it. During the Fourth Great Ninja War, the Allied Shinobi Forces numbered approximately 80,000—a massive coalition, the strongest force the Five Great Nations could muster. But even that number was minuscule when compared to the world's total population.
Even assuming the Naruto world had a far smaller population than Earth—say, one hundred million—eighty thousand elite fighters still represented only a fraction of a percent. Most of them specialized in combat, espionage, and assassination, not governance. Ninja villages weren't built to rule nations—they were militarized enclaves. Their leaders, the Kage, held influence, yes, but that power was balanced by the political and economic authority of the daimyo.
There was another issue: legitimacy.
In this world, bloodlines held weight. The daimyo's power wasn't built on combat ability, but lineage and heritage. They were symbols of tradition and continuity. Even the Kage didn't challenge this structure. Like the shoguns of old, they might have wielded the sword, but they still bowed to the Emperor.
The same pattern repeated: power without legitimacy deferred to legitimacy without power.
"The people of this world… they don't question it," Kimimaro murmured under his breath. "They accept that rulers must be born with noble blood—as if that makes them more fit to govern."
Karin turned to him. "What are you mumbling about now?"
"Nothing. Just thinking this world shouldn't be like this."
"Oh yeah? And what should it be like then?"
"Let's talk as we walk," Kimimaro said, glancing at Sanpo, who looked like he might pass out if the conversation got any heavier.
When they reached a quiet grove, Kimimaro finally voiced his thoughts.
"Look. Ninjas have power—strength. The daimyo and their courts have authority—structure. That's the way things are. It's normal for society to have privileged classes as it develops, but power without responsibility leads to decay. It's fine to have privilege… but not to the point where ordinary people are treated like livestock."
"So what, we kill the bad ones?" Karin asked half-jokingly.
"Killing is a tool, not a solution," Kimimaro replied calmly. "You could kill the daimyo, sure. But would that fix the system?"
"Of course not! We'd just be criminals then!" Karin protested. "We'd be hunted by every nation!"
Kimimaro chuckled. "You see? You've already accepted the idea that the daimyo can't be touched. But ask yourself—why not?"
"You... don't seriously want to assassinate one, do you?" Karin looked alarmed.
Jugo blinked slowly. He didn't quite follow, but he felt a strange unease in Kimimaro's words.
"It's not the daimyo I want to kill," Kimimaro said. "It's the idea that they're untouchable. The daimyo are symbols—just like ninja headbands, or clan crests. What needs to be destroyed is the system that elevates bloodlines and pedigree above merit and responsibility."
Karin tilted her head. "You mean... the way the world works now?"
"Exactly. The way clans dominate the villages. The way only those born into the right families or taught by the right masters get to rise. Do you think the Kage are chosen solely for their ability? No. They're almost always from prominent clans—Senju, Uchiha, Kazekage lineages. Even Minato, who came from outside the traditional power structures, was Jiraiya's student and groomed by Hiruzen himself. His rise was exceptional, not the norm."
"But didn't the founding of the ninja villages change that?" Karin asked.
"It tried. Hashirama wanted peace. Madara wanted strength. Together they created the system—but even they couldn't shake the weight of bloodline. Look at the Uchiha. Look at the Hyuga. They're born to lead—or so people say."
Kimimaro looked up at the sky. "Orochimaru did terrible things. I don't excuse that. But there's one part of his dream I understand. He wanted to use science, technology, and knowledge to allow anyone to gain power—not just the chosen few."