Chapter 40: The Night No One Came
Shirugiri Village
Night descended upon the village
like ink slowly spreading through water.
A damp wind moved through the narrow paths, carrying with it the smell of wet soil, rotting wood, and smoke from low-burning hearths. The huts, built from uneven timber and patched straw, leaned slightly into each other as if trying to endure another night together.
The villagers carried on as always.
Some finished their late meals—thin porridge stretched with water. Others patched tools for the next morning. A few simply sat in silence, staring at nothing, conserving what little energy they had left.
In one of the filthier alleys, where wastewater trickled along shallow grooves in the ground, a child—thin, with sunken cheeks, messy dark hair, and torn clothes hanging loosely from his frail body—was playing.
In his hand was a small carved piece of wood, roughly shaped like a soldier. The edges were uneven, the carving crude, but to him, it was enough.
He moved it across the dirt, making quiet sounds under his breath as if it were marching into battle.
Around him, other children played similar games—stones became food, sticks became swords, broken bowls became treasure.
Despite the hunger and their condition, faint laughter still slipped through.
Humans were adaptive creatures.
After all.
Then suddenly—
A shout cut through the air
like a blade slicing through silence.
It came from deeper within the village.
Sharp. Familiar.
Every child froze.
Even the wind seemed to pause.
"Looks like the demoness is here…"
One of them whispered, his voice barely holding steady.
Another nodded quickly, already stepping back.
The child being called looked at them, helpless. His fingers tightened around the wooden toy. His eyes searched theirs, silently asking for help.
They looked away.
One scratched the ground with his foot. Another pretended to adjust his sleeve.
As if nothing had happened.
As if he wasn't there.
His eyes widened—
like something inside him quietly breaking.
Before he could even understand it—
"So there you are!"
She appeared from the dim path between the huts.
Her steps were quick, practiced.
Rough hands grabbed his collar and lifted him into the air
like a helpless stray.
His feet dangled.
The wooden toy slipped from his hand and fell into the dirt.
His face went blank.
Still dazed.
He slowly turned his head toward her.
His mother.
A gentle smile rested on her lips.
But her eyes didn't match.
They were tired. Sharp. Empty in a way he couldn't understand.
A shiver ran down his spine.
"Tonight, you will learn your lesson."
Around them, doors quietly shut.
Windows covered.
No one interfered.
No one ever did.
All strength left his body.
His eyes turned hollow—
like someone who already knew what was coming.
And just like that, he was taken away.
That night—
Inside their small hut, under the dim glow of a flickering oil lamp, shadows stretched long across the cracked walls.
The flame wavered with every small draft that slipped through the gaps in the wood.
The parents spoke in hushed voices.
A quiet tension sat between them.
Outside, the village had grown still.
The child slowly woke up, needing to use the restroom.
His body ached.
He rubbed his arm slightly, wincing at the soreness left behind.
Then he heard them.
Their voices.
Low.
Serious.
He moved closer to the door, careful not to make a sound.
"The harvest this year is worse than the last…"
"How are we going to get through this season?"
His mother.
Her voice carried more than worry—it carried exhaustion.
He leaned closer.
"Don't worry… haven't you seen the new boy at the chief's house?"
Her husband spoke, trying to sound calm.
But there was something underneath.
Something uneasy.
She stiffened.
"Are you sure? He doesn't look ordinary…"
Fear slipped through her voice.
"He's too clean… too well-fed…"
Her eyes were slightly red now.
The man sighed quietly and reached for her hand.
"We don't have the luxury to think like that."
He spoke softly.
But firmly.
This time was different.
Anyone could tell.
The boy wasn't from here.
Before, the ones taken were travelers—people who wouldn't be missed.
Or children who had already been lost to the world.
But this time…
Even they could feel it.
This could bring trouble.
Their secret had been kept within the village for generations.
When the harvest failed, something else replaced it.
No one spoke of it openly.
No one needed to.
"We really shouldn't be doing this anymore…"
Her voice cracked.
A quiet tear slipped down her cheek.
"I know… but just this once. We don't have a choice."
He squeezed her hand gently.
Trying to steady both of them.
Meanwhile—
The child stood outside.
Barefoot on the cold ground.
Confused.
Innocent.
He couldn't understand their words.
But he understood the feeling.
Something was wrong.
Why was his mother crying?
As he slowly pushed the door open—
A hand suddenly covered his mouth.
His body froze.
Completely stiff.
His heart pounded
like it was trying to escape his chest.
Fear spread instantly.
Cold. Sharp.
His breath caught.
His eyes darted wildly.
Sweat formed across his skin.
Warm liquid ran down his legs.
"Hey now… don't do that."
The voice was casual.
Almost gentle.
Like this was nothing.
In one smooth motion—
Crack.
His head twisted.
Clean.
Fast.
His body dropped.
A dull thud followed.
The sound, though small, stood out in the quiet night.
Both parents turned at once.
The mother moved, but the husband stopped her and went first.
Slowly—
He opened the door.
Darkness greeted him.
The lamp barely reached past the doorway.
He stepped inside.
Step.
Step.
Thud.
His foot hit something soft.
He frowned and lowered the lamp.
Then he saw it.
A face.
His son's face.
Turned upward.
Staring.
Empty.
All color drained from him.
A scream tore out of his throat.
The mother rushed in.
She didn't need to see clearly.
She knew.
Her child.
Broken.
Twisted.
Wrong.
Her legs gave out and she collapsed.
Outside, rain began to fall.
Soft at first.
Then steady.
No one came.
No one asked.
The village remained silent.
As it always did.
Then—
A voice came from the dark corner.
"Is that all? I expected more of a reaction."
Calm.
Almost disappointed.
They turned toward it—
Their minds struggling to catch up
like people waking into a nightmare they couldn't escape.
A figure stood in the shadows.
Still.
Watching.
Red eyes faintly visible in the dark.
In a blink—
He was in front of them.
No sound.
No warning.
Just there.
His face became clear in the dim light.
Uchiha Kenzo.