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Red Nara

I've got more interesting stuff on patreon patreon.com/Chill76 The protagonist is an accidental time traveler - he didn't wait, didn't guess, only dreamed, but ended up in history, which he didn't pay much attention to. He was just lucky with his lineage. Ryo is a new member of the Nara clan, from the Uzumaki lineage on his father's side, and it so happened that he was born not at the beginning of the known plot, but more than three decades and two world wars later. Now he has to figure out how to get out of this situation however he can. I've got more interesting stuff on patreon patreon.com/Chill76

l_legolas · Cómic
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348 Chs

Chapter 146

However, there might be issues with my personality for quite obvious reasons. That's why I left my partner behind and decided to speak to the commander personally. After all, I've studied her character well enough and I know the likely response to a suggestion to leave me here and return to the village, even just for her father's funeral.

If it's a direct order from the higher-ups, the chances of my plan to send Tsume home will have a solid chance of success. In the state she was in when she came to me yesterday—she'd die in the first skirmish.

Despite the fairly fresh breeze and not-so-warm weather in this part of the Elemental Nations' territory, I was still not fully awake and was dozing off, so I didn't immediately notice the commotion in the far part of the camp, where a relatively large building served as both a dining hall and a meeting room.

Given the primary food, the first function was purely decorative, but the dining hall was where those who wanted to chat and exchange gossip without being outdoors or eat their rations among friends gathered. Considering the pervasive busyness, I didn't visit there often, unlike Chifuyu, who often filled me in on most circulating rumors, gossip, or fresh news.

"What happened?" I stopped a passing chunin, noting the Uchiha patch on his shoulder and the traditionally dark hair of the keen-eyed shinobi.

"Last night, they brought in the remnants of the Iwa team that had been cutting down our patrols and posts for the last two weeks, Nara-sama," the kid rattled off, clearly recognizing me, and after hearing a muffled female scream from that side, added, "Only two out of nine were captured alive, but one of the prisoners turned out to be a kunoichi, so everyone is currently having fun with her."

Nodding in thanks, I continued my slow walk towards the headquarters, paying no further attention to the commotion among the shinobi and the occasional screams of the assaulted woman.

After many months on the front, I had long grown accustomed to such occurrences and had stopped paying attention to such actions against the enemy. After all, while Konoha's policy on this matter is definitely negative in peacetime, even when extracting necessary information (especially since Yamanaka can handle it much faster and cleaner than mere interrogators), during wartime, all prohibitions are cast aside.

As a practicing iryo-nin and part-time self-taught psychoanalyst, I can attest that such practices have helped many fighters cope with the consequences of losing close friends and other horrors of war. Of course, this doesn't mean that I myself took part in such group activities. And to be honest, not out of any positive qualities or pity, no. Some of the prisoners I've seen would make even a complete impotent drool.

The reason is quite banal—disgust. Being the nth in line with one? Not for me. Moreover, a few times, barely alive bodies were brought to the infirmary, barely resembling women after a hundred men, and I had to treat them to a more or less sane state to pass them on for subsequent interrogation. So, I had no desire to add more work for myself. Although it's a professional risk for all kunoichi, to pity the enemy? Especially when I get half-dead bodies from their work every day?

That's for someone else. Also, unlike others, I'm not inclined to share my spoils with those around me, although the scroll already contains enough prisoners of both sexes for any taste. Even though most of them are seriously injured or on the brink of death, I'll only deal with them when I'm at home, in the basement behind a bunch of barriers and doors.

Yawning desperately and wincing at the particularly piercing screams—are they actually cutting her up?—I reached the headquarters and glanced questioningly at the guard leaning against the wall. The Senju jounin gave me a scrutinizing look and silently nodded—I had visited the commander often enough for the permanent headquarters guard to let me through without any questions.

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