Since graduating at ten years old and becoming a Shinobi to join the Anbu.
Kiba had hunted down many Shinobi.
And had also been hunted down by many Shinobi.
Everyone walked this path.
Many friends and seniors Kiba knew had left him forever.
He had been on battlefields and witnessed the horror of war.
Mountains of corpses and seas of blood, fire and screams—these were his entire impressions after participating in war.
He didn't want the Village to become that miserable, familiar people turning into cold corpses, so he decided to fulfill his duties as a Shinobi.
But sometimes…
This was Flower Street, a place of dazzling lights and lavish entertainment, with an intoxicating scent of extravagance and depravity in the air.
As a Shinobi, he shouldn't be in such a place.
These sinful things would only erode his will.
But, he came anyway.
Because there was a debt of gratitude and a lingering concern here.
A pure and delicate woman, dressed in a vibrant, showy kimono, entered the room and lit the oil lamp, seeing the silent figure of a man sitting in the corner.
Not particularly surprised, the woman started removing her makeup at the dressing table and said, "Didn't I tell you not to come back?"
The man remained silently speechless.
"You've already repaid the debt of gratitude more than enough," the woman said.
It was merely a life-saving grace.
At that time, the young girl and boy first met.
One was a child raised on Flower Street, the other a Shinobi being desperately hunted, with nowhere to turn.
The kind girl secretly took in the boy, carefully caring for him for over a month until he recovered.
A bond was thus formed.
But a Shinobi, after all, had to return to the Village.
Kiba was a true Shinobi, never doing anything beyond his missions.
Silently, he took money from his Pregnant and laid it on the tatami, then, after a moment, he silently stood up, opened the window, and leaped out.
He still had a mission and couldn't stay here longer.
Listening to the sounds behind him and the rustling night wind, the woman couldn't hold back and began to sob softly, leaning over the desk.
No matter how many times she held onto hope, each time only brought disappointment.
"What a heartless and unfeeling Shinobi-sama…"
"Ultimately, I am not worthy of him."
The woman murmured to herself, gazing at her delicate, tear-streaked face in the mirror, smiling sorrowfully.
Miki and the two walked down the street, with the men buying pleasure and the Flower Prostitutes avoiding them.
Miki's objective was clear; she was just strolling the street, waiting for the Captain to finish his business.
Although it was Flower Street, it wasn't lacking in various Supporting facilities facilities.
There were many vendors on the street.
Flower sellers, snack vendors, fruit sellers, and so on, an endless variety.
So, they enjoyed themselves, Miki enjoyed herself; each did their own thing, without interfering with each other.
It was Hime who seemed a bit flustered, her eyes not knowing where to settle.
Naori, however, appeared very calm.
Looking like she had seen much of the world.
Though the air was filled with faint, soft moans.
Naori quietly clenched her fists.
"Is this what it's like outside the Ninja World?" Hime whispered at this moment.
"You have to eat, right?" Miki said, taking a bite of a candied hawthorn.
These snacks were generally exquisitely made and small, but outrageously expensive.
High consumption, low value.
The taste wasn't great either.
Truly a way to make money.
"What a hateful place," Hime said, gritting her teeth softly.
"Everywhere, there are fake smiles."
"It's disgusting."
"This way…" Miki said then, leading the way.
Turning into a small alley between the buildings.
This Flower Street was really quite large.
There were six long streets parallel to each other, with numerous shops, mostly of that kind, in three grades: large, medium, and small.
The small shops among them were the most conspicuous on the street.
The storefronts on the street were like prison cells with iron bars, and inside sat a woman, almost as if an animal were caged.
Passersby would occasionally critique, mock, and verbally abuse the caged woman.
And the woman in the cage could only offer fawning, obsequious smiles.
These were the lowest-grade Flower Prostitutes on the street.
Though still young, their looks weren't great, so they were cheap.
But business wasn't bad.
Once a customer chose one, the cage would be empty for a while, and soon after, the Flower Girl would return to the cage, waiting for the next chosen customer.
High volume, low margin.
So, what kind of terrible job is this…
As they exited the alley, they happened to see a child running away on the street, with a group of black-clad men, like security guards, chasing after him.
They shouted curses from time to time.
The boy seemed to be a habitual thief.
He didn't run far before he was caught, and a group of big men surrounded the child, beating him severely.
After getting the wallet back, one man humbly approached the noble man, bowing and apologizing repeatedly with a servile manner.
Miki and the two watched this scene.
Hime tightly gripped Miki's hand and whispered, "Miki, it's so scary outside the Village."
Miki turned her head to look at Naori.
Naori's lips were tightly pursed.
"It's a chaotic world…" Miki said, "It's the same everywhere. Although the miseries are different, they are equally miserable."
The security guards threw the half-dead child onto the street and dispersed.
A moment later, an old and sickly woman came out, crying and hugging the child.
Some nearby Flower Prostitutes looked on indifferently, while others, unable to bear it, stepped forward to help.
The street returned to its previous prosperity, with the lingering sounds of boisterous laughter.
Miki led Naori and Hime into the alley, looking at the badly beaten child on the ground.
He was eleven or twelve years old.
The woman, seemingly his mother, cried softly, gasping for breath.
But she was timid and didn't dare to cry loudly, so as not to disturb this prosperity.
A Flower Girl, with a worried expression, comforted the woman.
Looking at this woman, she couldn't help but think of her own future.
After growing old and losing her looks, or falling seriously ill, she would be cruelly abandoned, eventually dying in an unknown corner.
Sadness welled up, and she choked back sobs.
Words of comfort couldn't even be spoken.
Like an infectious plague, thinking of their own bitter lives, the other Flower Prostitutes also wiped away tears.
When Miki walked forward, the few Flower Prostitutes gathered together were startled, their crying suddenly stopped, and then one quick-witted Flower Girl said, "Shinobi-sama, is there something you need?"
Miki looked at Hime.
Hime stepped forward, squatted down, and began to treat the child.
The few Flower Prostitutes watched this scene, their eyes shining with hope.
As long as there's life, there's hope.
"Are there many children like this?" Miki asked.
Outside Konoha, it wasn't like having Miki's informants everywhere.
Even a swarm of insects would need time to gather information.
"To answer the Adult," the quick-witted Flower Girl said, "I don't know. These wild children might be from outside. It's just that we are kind-hearted and often give them some food, which is why they wander nearby. If they disturb the Adult, just hit or scold them."
The logic was clear and well-organized.
But she was lying.
Miki looked at this woman.
She had a meek and submissive appearance.
What wild children? Weren't they just the children of these Flower Prostitutes?
Interestingly, there were only boys on the street, no girls were seen.
What a developed industrial chain.
"Is that so?" Miki didn't expose her and looked at Hime's treatment.
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