Naruto: IHCS Ch. 127

The setting sun, as red as blood, dyed the vast square crimson. The air was filled with dust, sweat, and a faint smell of blood. The ragged refugees, men, women, the elderly, children… They were like wild grass battered down by storms, yet still stubbornly growing back, crowded densely together in the square. Their eyes were no longer clouded, no longer filled only with pain, but instead shone with hope and expectation.

They were still the same people. And yet, they had been reborn. At this moment, every refugee's gaze was fixed on the figure standing on the high platform. That figure was not tall, even a little thin.

But it radiated a sense of safety. Just standing there, like the sun, it gave warmth, hope, and strength.

Shiratori's eyes swept across the crowd.

Everyone stared at him, holding their breath, waiting for him to speak.

His gaze settled on Kojiro, Genraku, and Muramasa.

"Kojiro, Genraku, Muramasa."

The three stepped forward, waiting for his instructions.

"From this moment forward, we're not just allies or followers. We're equals fighting for the same cause. We're comrades."

He looked toward the sea of refugees before him: "All of us, we stand together as equals!"

His voice rang across the square.

The refugees listened intently, some nodding in understanding.

"No more masters and servants," someone called out from the crowd.

"We're all in this together!" another voice added.

Genraku grinned brightly. "I like the sound of that!"

Kojiro nodded thoughtfully. "Equals... yes, that feels right."

This new understanding instantly changed the atmosphere between them.

Kojiro looked at Shiratori standing at the highest point, a light flashing in his eyes.

What an extraordinary person!

He was certain that one day Shiratori would change the shinobi world.

"Kojiro, Genraku, Muramasa, move out!"

"Lead our comrades to tally and register every piece of property owned by the merchants of Aomine!"

"Grain, cloth, gold and silver, houses, land deeds… Every thread, every scrap, everything must be recorded."

Kojiro, Muramasa, and Genraku already knew his plan. Without a trace of doubt or hesitation, they answered in unison: "Yes, understood!"

It felt like coming home. And since this was home, he would build it into a true second home. He suddenly felt the heavy weight of responsibility pressing on his shoulders.

The refugees in the square held their breath, watching him. They didn't know exactly what he was going to do, but they trusted him.

Someone who wanted to lift them up and protect them could never be a bad person.

When Kojiro, Muramasa, and Genraku led the ninjas and samurai away, he looked down at the countless gaunt faces beneath the platform. He took a deep breath, and his clear, powerful voice rang out again.

"Today!"

"Here!"

"We will personally shatter this man-eating order!"

"The wealth of Aomine no longer belongs to the exploiters!"

"I declare, once our allies have tallied and registered everything, all houses and fields confiscated from the exploiters will be redistributed, by a fair and just allocation committee, to everyone who needs them!"

"We will ensure that those who farm the land shall have land! Those who need a home shall have a home! The fruits of labor shall return to the laborers themselves!"

A deathly silence lasted for several minutes.

The refugees stared at Shiratori, unable to believe what they had heard.

Distributed… to them…?

Was this real?

Then, after those long minutes, the square exploded.

"What? Given to us?"

"Houses? Fields? Really?"

"Never, not even in my dreams, did I think it possible!"

Unbelieving joy swept through them like a flood.

The refugees broke down where they stood, weeping and shouting, their cries and cheers shaking the skies.

"We're saved!"

"We're truly saved!"

"This is real?"

"He hasn't deceived us!"

"Thank you, Shiratori-sama! Thank you for your grace!"

The voices of gratitude rose higher and higher in waves.

They surged forward, wanting to get closer to the high platform, closer to Shiratori, the one who had brought them hope and a chance to live again.

And yet, standing on the platform, he felt no joy at their gratitude. He looked at them sternly.

"I told you!"

"In the new Aomine, there are no 'lords' or 'masters'! We are all equals, builders of a fair society, guardians of justice! If you are truly grateful to me, then treat me as an equal!"

The red light of the setting sun bathed the land.

Hearing murmurs of agreement and understanding echo in his ears, Shiratori's face finally broke into a satisfied smile.

His words were like a bolt of lightning, splitting apart the fog of old prejudices clouding the refugees' minds, like a spring breeze sweeping away the dust of humiliation that had long weighed on their hearts.

From his very presence, the refugees felt a deep, soul-shaking stirring and awakening.

Their eyes fixed unwaveringly on Shiratori, their backs gradually straightening, eyes brimming with tears, as they raised their rough, calloused fists.

They bent their arms high and shouted: "Long live equality!"

It was as if a spark had fallen onto dry wood.

The voices grew louder and louder, as though they would overturn the old world of the shinobi.

"Long live Shiratori!"

A surging wave of cries erupted.

Within that roar was a power vast and unprecedented.

They were no longer refugees begging for alms, they had found an organization, a clear path, and a shared identity: equals fighting for justice!

Countless pairs of eyes blazed as they looked up at Shiratori standing on the high platform.

In those eyes were trust, devotion, and the unshakable resolve to follow him through fire and blood.

A brand-new cohesion, born of equality and shared ideals, was surging into existence beneath the blood-red setting sun, unstoppable in its momentum.

He gazed at the fully awakened crowd. Where once their faces had been full of despair and gray lifelessness, now they shone with new radiance. He broke into a brilliant smile.

[Faith detected]
[Multiple sources: +3000 points each]
[Total accumulated: 180,000 points]
[Energy transferred to Suguru]
[Development progress: 69%]

The sun finally sank below the horizon.

But for Aomine, a new sun had only just begun to rise.

The allocation of houses, fields, and land took three full days to complete.

When the very last deed and the final key were solemnly handed by Kojiro into the trembling hands of an elderly woman overwhelmed with emotion, Shiratori's initial plan had at last succeeded.

Once again, the people gathered in the square. This time, they were no longer the displaced refugees of Aomine, but its new residents.

Shiratori swept his gaze across every face before him on the platform, many still bearing the traces of tears not yet dry.

He drew in a deep breath and spoke clearly, his voice carrying across the entire square:

"Comrades! Touch the deeds in your hands, touch the keys in your pockets!"

Countless eyes dropped toward their clothing.

The deeds and keys pressed close against their chests seemed to radiate warmth, spreading heat through their whole bodies.

"From this moment on, the land beneath your feet, the homes before your eyes, truly and completely belong to you!"

"No more landlords who can raise your rent at will! No more being driven from your homes!"

"This is what you won through struggle!"

He paused for a moment.

Suddenly, his gaze sharpened, sweeping over every person present.

"But to possess something does not mean the end, it means a new beginning!"

"We shattered the old, man-eating world, not to recreate another one just as cold and numb!"

"Now that we have land and houses, we must also manage them, defend them, and make them better!"

"We are not bandits seizing a mountain for ourselves, we are revolutionaries, striving for a new life and building a new world!"

"Therefore, we must ask ourselves clearly, what kind of collective are we?"

The crowd fell into dead silence.

They stared blankly at Shiratori.

They had never thought deeply about this question.

But his words struck their hearts, stirring profound reflection.

"We are a collective of fairness and justice!"

"We are a collective without oppression!"

"We are a collective of mutual aid!"

"Each of us is a comrade!"

"Our task is not to scramble for power and profit, but to work hard to make Aomine more beautiful!"

"To pass on our courage in resisting evil, and our firm will in defending peace!"

Shiratori looked around at them all.

At once, voices of agreement rang out from the crowd.

"That's right!"

"We will build Aomine better!"

He nodded in satisfaction.

No matter what thoughts they truly held in their hearts, at the very least, what they expressed was this.

Later, he would strengthen propaganda efforts and establish education, working to quietly ignite a spark deep within them.

"Now that distribution is complete, the first thing we must do next is a census."

He named Kojiro, Muramasa, and Genraku.

"The three of you will immediately lead all comrades who can read and write, divide into groups, bring paper and brushes, and go door to door, conducting registration!"

"The information to record is the household head's name, family members, location of their farmland, and residence!"

"Remember, your attitude must be gentle, and your records accurate!"

"This is not an interrogation, not a questioning. This is our first census of the new collective, the very first roster of comrades at Aomine."

He reminded them earnestly.

"Yes," the three replied with nods.

"At the same time, this census will also accompany the rollout of future tasks. I ask every comrade to cooperate!"

No sooner had he spoken than the crowd responded at once: "We will definitely cooperate with the work!"

What he needed wasn't their cooperation. It was the cooperation of the original inhabitants of Aomine.

The refugees' information had already been recorded, and double-checked during the distribution process. No issues there.

Still, he judged that the natives would also comply with the census work.

After all, having ninjas standing at their doors carried a certain deterrent.

Though threatening them wasn't his intention…

Well, fine. It was his intention.