harleyscars Chapter 5 Uncle and Nephew
Chapter 5 Uncle and Nephew
Hot soup.
It was a bowl of miso soup with bits of dried meat added.
It's very salty.
But in Sosuke's mouth, it was the most delicious thing in the world.
He sat on a wooden box next to the carriage.
Holding a bowl in her hands.
The guards around him looked at him with complicated expressions.
There is reverence, doubt, and a hint of alienation towards those who are different.
The team doctor came over.
His name is Tsuchi.
He was a thin, middle-aged man, holding a clean white cloth in his hand.
"That tube..." Dr. Doi pointed to the carriage, "is still stuck in the boss's throat."
Sosuke finished the last sip of soup.
My body has warmed up.
Blood flow to the brain begins to increase, and thinking becomes clearer.
"Don't pull it out." Sosuke wiped his mouth. "Don't pull it out for at least three days."
Why?
"His throat is swollen. If we remove it, his airway will collapse, and he will still suffocate."
Dr. Doi frowned.
He had never heard of such a theory before.
But he dared not refute it.
Because the boss is still alive, and his complexion has become much rosier.
"That pipe... is it silver?" Doi asked, getting to the crucial point.
Sosuke nodded.
"Silver can detect poison and also prevent decay." Sosuke lied, but based on scientific logic, "using a silver tube makes it less likely for the wound to fester."
In this world, bacterial infections are referred to as "the invasion of evil winds."
The bactericidal effect of silver ions is one of Sosuke's trump cards.
"Such exquisite silversmithing..." Doi looked Sousuke up and down. "You carry it with you at all times?"
"It's an heirloom."
Sosuke answered very decisively.
"I used it to save people."
Doi fell silent.
It's not surprising that there are many hidden talents among the refugees.
What's surprising is how calm this young man was.
He doesn't look like a homeless person at all.
At that moment, a knocking sound came from inside the carriage.
"The boss is awake," the head guard whispered. "He wants to see you."
Sosuke stood up.
He patted his new clothes.
This is a gray, coarse cloth robe. Although it doesn't fit well, it's a hundred times better than the previous tattered clothes.
He lifted the curtain and climbed into the carriage.
The carriage was spacious.
It was covered with a thick fur carpet.
There was a faint smoky scent that masked the smell of blood.
Takaya Jiro lay on the soft cushion.
His neck was wrapped in gauze, and a section of the silver tube was sticking out, trembling slightly with his breathing.
He cannot speak.
But he has a pair of shrewd eyes.
Those eyes were squeezed into slits by the fat, yet they shone with a cold light.
He pointed to the small table next to him.
There are paper and pens on it.
Sosuke sat down without showing any humility.
Takaya Jiro picked up the pen, his hand trembling slightly, but he wrote with great force.
【Who are you? 】
There are only three words.
Sosuke looked at those three words.
This is also a negotiation.
If he doesn't answer well, he might be dealt with by this suspicious businessman.
After all, cutting someone's throat can be a way to save a life or kill someone silently.
Sosuke picked up the pen.
He wrote two words on the paper:
【Sosuke. 】
Then, he paused for a moment and continued writing:
[A person who wants to go to Konoha to make a living.]
Takaya Jiro looked at the note.
He stared into Sosuke's eyes for a long time.
Then he wrote another line:
How much do you want?
very direct.
According to a businessman's logic, everything can be priced.
Sosuke shook his head.
"I don't want money."
Sosuke spoke up.
"I want an identity."
Takaya Jiro's pen stopped.
In this chaotic world, money is easy to earn, but identity is hard to come by.
When refugees enter Konoha, they can only live in refugee camps, do the hardest work, and are always at risk of being expelled.
With a guarantee from the Chamber of Commerce, one can obtain a "temporary residence permit" and even move freely within the village.
"I saved your life." Sosuke pointed to the silver tube. "If you were to have a blacksmith make this silver tube, it would take at least half a day. By then, you'd already be hard."
Takaya Jiro touched the foreign object on his neck.
That was cold silver.
It is also a passage for life.
He's a discerning person.
The silver tube was crafted to an extremely high standard; its walls were incredibly thin and as smooth as a mirror.
This is definitely not an ordinary "family heirloom".
There's something wrong with this young man in front of me.
But he was useful.
very useful.
Takaya Jiro wrote down the third sentence on the paper:
When we arrive in Konoha, you will be my distant nephew.
That's a done deal.
Zongsuke bowed slightly.
"Thank you, Uncle."
He called me "uncle" very naturally.
Takaya Jiro's lips twitched, as if he wanted to laugh, but the movement aggravated his wound, causing him to wince in pain.
Sosuke picked up the kettle next to him.
Open your mouth.
He no longer spoke in a consultative tone, but rather gave a doctor's order.
He dipped a chopstick in water and dripped it near the mouth of the silver tube to keep it moist.
Then, in full view of everyone, he made a small gesture.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small piece of silver.
In front of Takaya Jiro.
He pinched the silver pieces between his fingers and rubbed them vigorously.
【generate】.
That small piece of silver, under his "magic trick," turned into a thin layer of silver powder.
He sprinkled silver powder around the gauze.
"What are you doing?"
Dr. Doi, who had been watching closely, couldn't help but ask.
"seal."
Sosuke was just making things up.
"Silver powder can block the smell of necrotic flesh and blood."
Actually, it's for fighting infection.
Takaya Jiro looked at the silver powder.
He was doing the accounting.
This little bit of silver powder is worth at least several hundred taels.
This "poor nephew" was even more generous than him.
But he didn't ask.
Everyone has secrets.
He was willing to pretend to be deaf and dumb as long as this secret could keep him alive.
Late at night.
The convoy fell silent again.
Sosuke did not return to the refugee camp.
He was assigned to a corner of the second carriage.
Although it was just a truck, squeezed between two wooden crates, it was already paradise.
No need to get wet in the rain.
You don't need to worry about having your throat slit.
Sosuke leaned against a sack full of salt blocks.
He closed his eyes.
I didn't sleep.
He is refining chakra.
Ever since he experienced the sensation of qi on the riverbank, he has become increasingly fascinated by this power.
That feeling of cellular exhilaration.
That kind of sensory amplification experience.
He could hear the footsteps of the guards patrolling outside the carriage.
Heavy and sluggish.
That's a sign of fatigue.
He could hear the chirping of insects in the distant grass.
He could even vaguely sense the faint flicker of life within Takaya Jiro's carriage.
Is this chakra?
It's not just energy, it's life itself.
Sosuke tried to control that wisp of chakra, letting it flow through his meridians.
It's hard.
Meridians are like blocked river channels, full of silt.
Each step forward requires a tremendous amount of mental energy.
But he enjoyed it immensely.
He took out a piece of dried meat—which he had secretly hidden during dinner.
Chew while you practice.
Energy conversion.
Conservation of matter.
He exchanges food for chakra, and then uses the chakra to perceive the world.
This kind of equivalent exchange made him feel at ease.
Sudden.
A short, painful scream came from outside the carriage.
It's very light.
It was as if his mouth had been covered.
Sosuke suddenly opened his eyes.
Although his chakra perception was weak, he heard sounds that shouldn't have been there.
That was the sound of a sharp blade cutting into flesh.
"Enemy attack."
Sosuke silently recited this in his heart.
But he didn't shout.
Because he didn't know who the enemy was, nor how many there were.
If someone rushes to speak out, the first person to die is often the one who raises the alarm.
He retreated into the shadows.
He now had a "dagger" in his hand.
It was a newly formed piece of pure silver with razor-sharp edges.
If they are robbers, the guards can handle them.
If it's a ninja...
Sosuke held his breath.
He hoped they were just robbers.