Child Soldier

"You're saying... this child is a shinobi?"

The merchant's voice was thick with disbelief. He looked at Aizen, eyes wide, as if waiting for someone to shout, Just kidding!

Sure, he'd worked with shinobi before. He knew they started young. But this... this was pushing it. The boy standing in front of him couldn't be more than five or six. Barely up to his waist, with hands that hadn't even grown callouses yet.

Is the top brass losing their minds? he thought. Sending a child on a C-rank escort?

Aizen didn't respond. He didn't even flinch.

Instead, he turned to Kaito.

The black-haired jonin gave a small cough, one hand tucked behind his neck. "If he's been cleared to join this mission," Kaito said evenly, "then that means he's ready."

His tone left no room for argument.

The merchant blinked, looking between them—Aizen, then Kaito, then Nozomi and Miyuki. Nozomi glanced away awkwardly, clearly embarrassed by the tension. Miyuki, in contrast, remained unreadable. Her arms were crossed, her gaze unmoving.

Finally, the merchant exhaled and turned to his hired workers. "Get ready," he ordered. "We'll be moving out soon."

Kaito's eyes sharpened. "Nozomi. Miyuki. Take your positions. Aizen, stay with Miyuki."

Without another word, the jonin disappeared in a flicker of movement, vanishing into the treeline.

Nozomi offered Aizen a reassuring smile. "Don't worry," he said simply, before moving to the left flank of the caravan.

Miyuki turned without speaking. "Let's go," she said, her voice flat.

Aizen followed her without question.

Normally, Kaito would've placed each shinobi at a separate point around the caravan, one on each side to maximise coverage and response time. But this time was different.

Aizen was new.

Kaito couldn't afford to place him alone, not yet. And as a jonin, Kaito himself needed to remain mobile, able to cover the entire field if needed.

Nozomi was too excitable, too quick to act without thinking.

Miyuki, on the other hand, was calm and methodical. Serious. She wouldn't coddle the boy, but she wouldn't let him die either.

That was enough.

And so, the caravan began its slow roll down the winding dirt road, with guards on alert and tension in the air.

Unseen in the trees above, Kaito watched silently, eyes scanning the horizon.

As the caravan creaked forward along the dirt path, the faint rumble of wheels and the clopping of hooves filled the air.

Aizen walked beside Miyuki in silence for a while, his small footsteps falling in rhythm with hers.

Then, he glanced up at her.

"Miyuki-san…" he asked quietly, his tone curious but calm. "Have you ever killed someone before?"

There was no hesitation in her stride, no flicker of emotion on her face. But she didn't answer immediately either.

A long pause.

Then she replied.

"…Yes."

"How did it feel?" he asked.

Another pause.

Miyuki didn't answer right away. Her eyes stayed forward, scanning the treeline. Her voice, when it came, was quieter than before.

"It felt… necessary."

She glanced down at him, her gaze unreadable.

"There's no glory in it. No satisfaction. Just the knowledge that if you hadn't acted, someone else would've died."

Aizen nodded slowly. "…Did you hate it?"

Miyuki didn't answer right away.

Then she spoke.

"No," she said flatly. "Because I knew… if I hesitated, it would've been me who died."

Aizen's gaze drifted ahead, unfocused. Miyuki's words lingered in the air like a cold wind brushing against old memories.

Back then, someone her age would've been worrying about exam scores, chasing after crushes, or debating which anime was the best that season.

Aizen let out a quiet sigh, barely audible over the rumble of wagon wheels behind them.

And yet here, in this world, they carried kunai instead of notebooks. Talked about survival instead of dreams. Killed instead of confessing.

He couldn't say whether this world was better or worse.

Even his old one, without chakra or jutsu, had been scarred by war, politics, and quiet injustices. Peace had always come at a cost, whether visible or buried beneath smiling faces.

And here, even if the shinobi someday stopped fighting, that wouldn't mean the world was safe.

There were still threats lurking beyond the edges of understanding. Beings like the Ōtsutsuki, who treated life on this planet as nothing more than crops to harvest.

And who knew what else existed beyond them?

Aizen's fingers unconsciously curled into fists.

He looked up at the cloudy sky, its dull grey stretching endlessly overhead. It felt heavy. Oppressive.

He glanced at Miyuki again, walking silently beside him. Calm. Alert. Already prepared to kill or be killed.

No, it wasn't right or wrong, he thought.

It just is.

If I hesitate… I die.

"CLANG"

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