The Never Ending Market.

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[W5, HOTD]

 [Gas station, 10:00 PM]

The steady rhythm of sandals striking the cracked pavement, echoing in the desolate gas station. Moonlight cast an eerie glow over the abandoned lot, highlighting a figure that stepped out with an air of curiosity and poise.

A man emerged as he assessed the situation. Wide eyed at what he saw. "Amazing..." he muttered, almost to himself. "So, I've really crossed into another world."

The legendary ninja Jiraiya flexed his hands experimentally, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tested his body's functionality. He stopped to channel chakra into his fingertip, producing a faint, glowing torch of energy. The subtle blue light reflected off his determined face.

"Still works," he murmured with satisfaction. "I thought crossing dimensions would nullify it, but it's still within me. Good to know."

Turning his attention back to the desolate environment, Jiraiya let out a low hum as his gaze lingered on the dilapidated gas pumps and scattered debris. A few cars sat abandoned nearby, its windows shattered, and a faint stench of decay lingered in the air (AN: don't know about you guys, but in the land of waves, as they were building the bridge, I caught a glimpse of the workers using an excavator, so machinery and maybe vechiles are canon in the naruto world, so my point is, i don't know if the cars and engines could be suprising to them.). His expression darkened slightly, remembering the intel he had gathered from the locals in the market before arriving.

"A world plagued by the dead, rising to infect the living..." He exhaled deeply, shaking his head. " How horrifying it must be for them to survive such an existence."

'It's best that I move and return before the set deadline. Based on the information given, this world moves slower than back in the market, and from what Minato told me about ours, it moves a few hours faster than the market. Spending a day here might result in almost a week or two in ours.' With that thought, Jiraiya adjusted the weight of his pack and took off, using chakra to propel himself across the rooftops. The night air was crisp, carrying faint hints of decay and burning rubble, the remnants of a world torn apart by chaos.

Each leap offered him a new perspective. His sharp eyes caught the unique structures and inventions this world had to offer. He also took particular note of the lifeless figures wandering aimlessly below, dragging their feet in slow, mindless movements. Suppressing a grimace.

The gleam of road signs caught his attention mid-jump. He landed lightly atop a rusted water tower, scanning the area for threats. His lips moved soundlessly as he read with ease. What suprised him was that he could understand the writing of this world, "Sunrise park, Tokonosu East district, Kagetsu castle... " he muttered as he read the listed the locations. He noted the word 'Tokonosu' as it was told by the locals from the market, the name of one of this world's cities. He also took notice of a torn billboard depicting happy, smiling faces showing what seemed to be a product he couldn't quite make out—an ironic contrast to the desolation surrounding it.

Deciding to keep on moving, planning to explore as much as he can and starting with East district. After twenty minutes of steady movement at a fast pace, he finally slowed as the skyline shifted. The tightly packed buildings gave way to a sprawling district dotted with taller towers and commercial centers. The faint glow of neon signs blinked weakly in the distance, like dying stars. He crouched low, steadying himself as he landed on the rooftop of a mid-sized building.

From this vantage point, he could see more clearly. The cityscape was hauntingly silent, broken only by the occasional, distant groans of the undead and the faint hiss of the wind weaving through the empty streets. His fingers tapped rhythmically against his thigh as he scanned the horizon. 'How much of this place is left intact?'

Jiraiya pulled his notebook from his pouch, ready to jot down his observations about this strange world, but his hand froze mid-motion as a loud BANG echoed nearby. The sharp, close sound was distinct from the distant pops he'd heard while traversing earlier to which he ignored. His senses sharpened, his casual demeanor replaced by a calculating calm. He stood at the rooftop's edge, narrowing his eyes toward the source of the commotion.

Leaping across a series of rooftops, he landed silently above an alleyway. The scene below was a stark reminder of the chaos the locals had described. A tightly packed horde of the undead pushed relentlessly forward, their groans guttural and hollow, echoing against the narrow alley walls. At the other end, four men in suits fought desperately to hold them off.

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BANG BANG

The suited men moved with the precision of people used to violence but not prepared for this nightmare. Three of them fired pistols in controlled bursts, their aim focused but frantic. The fourth man, slumped against one of the others, blood seeping from his knee and thigh, aswell as his upper chest stianed his suit due to gun wounds. His face was pale, and his breathing labored.

"DAMN IT! They're not letting up!" one of the men shouted, firing another shot that dropped a zombie inches from his feet. His voice cracked slightly, betraying his rising panic.

Another man, younger but just as bloodied, kicked a zombie's knee, sending it stumbling to the ground before delivering a clean headshot. "We're sitting ducks in here! If I ever see those bastards who sent us this way—" he fired two more rounds, each one hitting its mark—"I'll have their fucking balls get torn by these things!"

"Yasuke's not feeling that well by the way!" the third man yelled, adjusting his grip on the injured man's arm as he fired one-handed at the horde. His shots were less accurate, but his determination kept them alive. "We're too far from base! If we don't figure something out, we're dead meat."

Click click. 

The sound of an empty chamber hit harder than the gunshots. "SHIT! I'm out!" The man with the empty pistol swung it wildly at an approaching zombie, cracking its skull with a sickening crunch. The creature staggered but didn't fall, forcing him to bash it again.

 Another precise shot took out the staggering zombie, but the horde's sheer numbers were overwhelming. More undead shuffled in from the adjacent streets, drawn by the noise and the scent of blood.

"Damn it..." one of the men muttered under his breath, his grip on the injured man tightening as he staggered backward, trying to create some distance between them and the relentless horde. His breathing was ragged, his mind racing as he processed their slim chances of survival. They had cornered themselves in this dead-end alley, and now the only way out seemed to be through the swarm of undead closing in on them.

But then, something shifted.

A noise erupted from behind the horde—a series of sharp, wet slashes followed by guttural groans as zombies at the rear began to collapse. The sounds were distinct: calculated, deliberate, and far too precise to be random. The groans of the dying undead rippled through the mass, causing a ripple of confusion as many at the front began to turn, their rotten heads jerking toward the commotion.

"The hell is going on?" one of the men hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped his pistol.

The apparent distraction was a godsend. The four men exchanged brief glances, each understanding what needed to be done without a word. The majority of the horde was now focused on whatever force was tearing through their ranks from behind, leaving only a handful of stragglers still lurching toward the group.

The men seeing this as an opportunity, didn't hesitate to fight those that weren't drawn by it and relented by attacking the zombies, they made sure to use knives and close combat weapons to initiate as to not draw attention back to them.

One of the men lunged forward, ducking under the grasping arms of an approaching zombie before plunging a knife into its temple.

They continued to fight, stealing glances when they could at the shadowy figure tearing through the horde. From their position, they could only catch fragments—blurs of white and the gleam of something sharp flashing under the dim light. Whoever it was moved with inhuman speed and precision, cutting through the undead as if they were nothing more than practice dummies.

By the time they had taken down the last of their immediate threats, only a dozen zombies remained between them and the figure at the center of the carnage. The stranger's movements were fluid and relentless—a spin here, a slash there, and more bodies hit the ground. The men stood frozen for a moment, catching their breath as the last of the undead fell to the alley floor in lifeless heaps.

Then, for the first time, they got a clear look at their savior.

Standing amidst the scattered corpses was a man with a head of wild, white hair tied into a ponytail. His attire consisted of a simple dark gray robe with yellow trim with a fishnet worn on the inside, paired with dark pants and black sandals (I based it off of his younger version, late twenties early thirties look, after refreshing my naruto knowledge), held a kunai dripping with dark coagulated blood.

"Hmm? Something on my face?" the white-haired man asked casually, his tone carrying a lighthearted arrogance as he noticed the men staring at him. He slid the kunai back into place with a smooth motion.

One of the men, clearly struggling to process what he'd just witnessed, blurted out, "He looks off, don't you guys think?"

Jiraiya's expression twisted with exaggerated offense. "Off? Are you saying that I look weird?! Just to let you know, I saved you four! AND this is the thanks I get?!" He exaggeratedly pointed his finger on each of them 

"Even though, the hell is with that hair of his." One whispered.

"I don't know, think he's one of those die hard cartoon lovers." Whispered one back

man with slightly shaggy black hair, stepped forward taking command. "Cut it out, We don't have time for this. Yasuke's not looking great." He turned to Jiraiya with a slight bow of his head. "Thanks for the save. If you're looking for some kind of repayment, head to a place near the red district. Look for a sign with this logo on it." He pulled a small card from his pocket, handing it to Jiraiya.

The ninja inspected the card curiously. The design was unfamiliar, a mix of bold lines and colors that meant nothing to him. He squinted, committing the details to memory, before glancing back up at the man.

"Mention the name—Reiji, they'll understand." the man added, his tone hurried but sincere.

"will keep that in mind." Jiraiya tucked the card into his pouch after carefully inspecting it.

"Right, let's move!" The man barked, motioning his people to follow him.

The other men nodded, quickly supporting their injured companion as they began to retreat, the sound of their hurried footsteps fading into the distance.

Jiraiya watched them go, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "It seemed they didnt suspect anything otherworldy about me other than my hair... Good thing I used simple Taijutsu to combat these things, otherwise I wouldnt be able to explain it. One thing to note aswell, they were suprisingly weak. Didnt need to use any of my chakra reserves at all." he muttered to himself, his gaze drifting to the heaps of motionless undead scattered around the alley. "A place near the red district, huh, wonder where that is? Guess it's worth a look."

With a quick glance at the moonlit skyline, Jiraiya adjusted his scroll tugged behind him and prepared to move. There was more to learn about this world, and he wasn't about to waste the opportunity.

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[Outside the boundaries of Kagetsu castle]

 [12:00 AM]

The midnight air was thick with the scent of damp leaves and faint traces of wood smoke as Kazuhiro stood motionless in the dense forest. A faint breeze rustled the branches overhead, but the faceless entity seemed entirely unaffected by the surroundings. Beside him, Toru stood eerily still, his body resembling that of a mannequin rather than a human. His blank gaze and unresponsive posture hinted at his mind being elsewhere, deep in a reconnaissance trance.

Kazuhiro held his device in one elongated, clawed hand, the faint glow of its screen the only source of light in the pitch-black forest. He toggled through live feeds from hidden cameras trained on his workers. The images flickered across the screen, showing Akemi, Asahi, and Denji in separate, dimly lit rooms, their bodies limp and unconscious.

'Each held in isolation,' Kazuhiro mused, his mind working through the possibilities. 'They appear unharmed for now, undergoing what seem to be basic medical tests—blood samples, physical inspections, and some unknown procedures. Yet, the metal collars fastened around their necks…' He studied the collars through the grainy footage. 'No data on what those devices do. Likely a control mechanism, perhaps a tracker or suppressant.'

He shut off the screen and tucked the device back into his pocket. His featureless face turned briefly toward Toru. The boy's unnaturally stiff body had remained inert for nearly two hours. 'Still scanning their base, I assume. It must be extensive for him to take this long. Either that, or he's meticulously checking every corridor for details.'

The stillness of the forest allowed Kazuhiro's thoughts to wander. He glanced toward the horizon, where the faint silhouette of a colossal tree stood against the night sky. Its enormous, twisted branches loomed in the distance like a shadowy monument. 'Ms. Sato… No doubt that tree is her doing.' He turned his head slightly. 'If she remains in this world, then no one is tending to the market.'

The faceless figure recalled Toru's earlier question: What would happen if no one were present in the market? It had been a logical query but one Kazuhiro could not answer. Would it eject the patrons and temporarily close? Suspend time within its walls? The possibilities were numerous, and the uncertainty gnawed faintly at the edges of his programmed logic.

His musings were interrupted when Toru's rigid form suddenly jerked to life. The boy's blank expression shifted, his mechanical movements giving way to something more human as he turned toward Kazuhiro.

"I know where they are," Toru grumbled, his voice monotone but laced with a faint undertone of annoyance. "Things might get difficult on our end."

"What are the odds?" Kazuhiro's calm, emotionless tone betrayed no urgency, but his body leaned slightly forward as if to focus.

"Slim," Toru admitted, folding his arms. "They're underground. The only entrance is through a personnel access point, and the whole area is heavily surveilled. If we cause any commotion topside, it'll alert the guards below."

Kazuhiro processed the information. "Do you have a plan?"

Toru hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I can think of onlu one, though it is very high-risk. Depending on how we execute it, either the captives, you, or both could end up dead."

Kazuhiro straightened, his imposing figure seeming even taller under the dim light filtering through the treetops. "My only task is to ensure their recovery. Let's hear it."

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