I Couldn't Care Less

On their way, the group encountered several groups of shinobi, mostly survivors huddled in makeshift bunkers. These were not their main targets—just stragglers, unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Horyu didn't care enough to take them along. Instead, he and the others helped seal their bunkers, ensuring they would be safe until it was time to emerge.

They continued through the desert to rain-soaked terrain, from there to mountains and valleys, encountering more of the scattered shinobi who had taken refuge wherever they could. Each time, Horyu repeated the process—sealing the entrances, ensuring the specters wouldn't find them.

Finally, they arrived at a more significant location. Hidden within a dense cluster of trees was a large, well-fortified structure. The chakra signatures inside were strong, familiar, and unbroken by the oppressive atmosphere of the Hot Water Country. Horyu pushed the door open, revealing Tsunade, Shizune, and Uzumaki Kenji.

Upon seeing Horyu, Tsunade's expression was a volatile mix of relief and anger. The tension in the air was palpable as she took a step forward, her fists clenched tightly. Without a word, she charged at Horyu, her fist aimed directly at his face with the kind of force that could shatter stone. She wasn't holding back; the frustration of recent events fueled her anger.

But just as her fist was about to connect, Kurenai moved. With a swift motion, she stepped between them and blocked Tsunade's punch with a single palm. The impact echoed in the air, surprising everyone present. Tsunade, known for her monstrous strength, had been stopped—not by brute force, but by precision.

Tsunade's eyes widened in shock as she stared at Kurenai. She had expected resistance from Horyu, not from Kurenai, a genjutsu master. The fact that Kurenai had not only stopped her but did so effortlessly left Tsunade momentarily speechless. Her eyes flickered to Kurenai's stance, and she hesitated, recognizing the shift in the other woman's power. It wasn't just physical; something had changed within Kurenai.

Kurenai stood firm, her eyes locked on Tsunade, a silent warning in her gaze. The tension between them crackled in the air, but Kurenai's expression remained calm, her hand still pressed against Tsunade's fist. It was clear that whatever had happened in the Realm of Specters had changed Kurenai, and Tsunade couldn't help but take a step back, her anger momentarily overshadowed by caution.

But Tsunade's eyes quickly narrowed again as she turned her gaze back to Horyu. "Seems like you thrived in that place while we were dying," she spat, her voice dripping with venom. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and bitter.

Kurenai's expression hardened at Tsunade's words. A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes as she struggled to keep her chakra under control. The Specter Chakra within her pulsed with her emotions, threatening to spiral out of control. If she let it slip, the consequences would be deadly.

"I wish you were with me in there," Kurenai said, her voice low and laced with barely restrained fury. "Maybe then you'd lose that entitled bratty attitude of yours."

Tsunade's eyes blazed with anger at Kurenai's words, but she didn't move. The realization of what Kurenai had gone through—what she had become—kept her from retaliating. The two women stood locked in a silent standoff.

Horyu watched the exchange between Tsunade and Kurenai without a word, his face giving away nothing. His eyes, however, flickered briefly with something cold, something distant. He had expected this reaction from Tsunade, her anger predictable given the circumstances, but it didn't concern him. His focus shifted to Uzumaki Kenji, whose gaze held a mixture of accusation and exhaustion. Kenji seemed older than Horyu remembered, the weight of recent events having aged him visibly.

"Why did you do it?" Kenji's voice was heavy with disbelief, tinged with the bitterness of betrayal. "Why did you open the gate?"

When Horyu had first come across the Uzumaki Village, Kenji had been reluctant to accept him, wary of the outsider. But Mito, always stubborn, had insisted. Over time, Kenji had begrudgingly come to trust Horyu, acknowledging his skill with seals and other Uzumaki techniques. Yet now, that trust had shattered completely.

Horyu met Kenji's gaze, his expression unchanged, calm as ever. "To live," he said simply.

The response hung in the air, stark and unapologetic. Tsunade's fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles white with the force of her anger. "Even when it killed hundreds of thousands?" she demanded, her voice shaking with a mixture of rage and grief.

Horyu turned his head to look at her, his eyes as cold as the rain still falling outside. "Yes," he answered, his tone flat. "My life, Kurenai's life—worth more than any other. No matter the number."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence, cold and unfeeling. Kenji and Tsunade's faces twisted in disbelief and anger. To them, the sheer callousness of Horyu's statement was incomprehensible. How could anyone justify such a loss of life?

"You're saying that your life, Kurenai's life, was worth more than the countless others who died?" Kenji's voice trembled with a mix of disbelief and rage.

"Yes," Horyu repeated, his tone flat, unyielding. "Their lives were worth less."

Tsunade took a step forward, her eyes blazing with anger. "You're a monster," she hissed, her voice low and venomous. "You sacrificed thousands for your survival. That's not something that can be forgiven."

Horyu's eyes flicked over to her, cold and indifferent. "Forgiveness isn't something I seek, nor something I require," he replied. "I made a choice, and I stand by it. The weak perish, and the strong survive."

Kurenai stood between Tsunade and Horyu, her expression unreadable, but the weight of his words hung heavy in the air. She had been there with him in the Realm of Specters, had seen the horrors they faced together. She knew the truth behind his actions—he had opened the gate for her. Hearing him admit it so plainly, so coldly, still stirred something inside her. It sent a warm pulse through her heart.

Tsunade's fists clenched, her teeth grinding in frustration. "Grandma trusted you," she spat, venom dripping from every word. "She trusted you, and she died because of you!"

Horyu's gaze shifted to Tsunade, his expression devoid of any remorse. A smile—cold, calculating—crept across his face. "She was ready to sacrifice her life," he said calmly. "I offered mine, but she didn't accept it. She told me her time had come, and I respected her decision. But let's be clear, Tsunade, it wasn't just me. Your Granduncle played us all for fools."

Tsunade's eyes flared with anger, but Horyu continued, unfazed by her rage. "If it had only been me, maybe—just maybe—I would've considered going along with the ritual. But when you try to force the people I care about to die, and expect me to stand by and watch it happen?" His voice grew colder, the anger seeping through every word. "I will burn this world to ashes to protect even a single hair on their heads. So no, Tsunade, I don't give a damn if thousands, tens of thousands, or even millions die in the process."

Kurenai felt the tension like a physical force, pressing down on all of them. Tsunade's breath came in ragged bursts, her fury barely contained. The words Horyu spoke were sharp and brutal, leaving no room for argument. She could see the conflict in Tsunade's eyes—the mix of grief, anger, and helplessness as she tried to process the cold truth laid before her.

"You think that makes it right?" Tsunade snarled, her voice shaking with rage. "You think that justifies everything?"

"It's not about justification," Horyu replied, his tone flat and unyielding. "It's about survival. Mine. Theirs. I made my choice, and I'd make it again."