Arthorain
patreon
Chapter 174: The Curse of the Yamcha Pose
🕑 Added 2025-12-13 09:14:52 +0000 UTCNight fell heavy over the cursed settlement. After a hasty, silent meal taken in shifts, Asuma and Kurenai called the teams together behind shuttered doors and whispered out their plan:
If there really was someone spreading this so-called “curse,” then the only hope was to catch them in the act.
So, while the town slept or pretended to sleep, eight shinobi and one dog scattered through the shadows. Some perched on rooftops.
Airi hid near the empty market, watching every alley and lantern-lit corner with careful eyes.
Shino released his kikaichū to patrol the darkness, Kiba and Akamaru tracked for unfamiliar scents, and Ino used her Mind Body technique to quietly check for hidden thoughts or movement inside the houses.
It was a long, tense night. Every sound...a creaking board, a cough, a distant footstep—set them on edge.
They worked in silence, searching for the smallest clue, circling the strange little town like silent sentinels.
Twice, they took short breaks, regrouping behind an abandoned stall to share water and muted frustration.
Even Shikamaru, who’d spent most of the time complaining in whispers, stayed sharp-eyed and alert, scanning for anything...anyone...out of place.
But as the hours crawled past, the truth settled in, cold and unsparing.
They found nothing.
No shadowy figure slipping through the night. No signs of tampering at the wells or food stalls.
No hidden chakra signatures lingering in the dark. No suspicious drifter carrying poison in his sleeve.
There was nothing...only the sound of their own breathing, and the oppressive, lifeless silence of a town already steeped in mourning.
By dawn, exhaustion hung over the group like a shroud.
And then, as the first pale light crept over the rooftops, the news spread...
Nazuka was dead.
The team gathered outside Rinzō’s house, watching in bleak silence as the old man cradled his wife’s frail hand, head bowed. There was nothing to say. All their skill, all their searching, and still they’d failed to save even a single life.
Airi stood with tears stinging her eyes, biting her lip as she tried not to cry. Ino gripped her shoulder, silent. Chōji stared at the ground, his bag of snacks forgotten. Even Kiba and Akamaru had no jokes left.
Shikamaru closed his eyes, dark circles etched beneath them, his shoulders slumping under the weight of quiet defeat.
Asuma and Kurenai shared a brief look, heavy with frustration and unspoken regret. There was no one to blame but fate, or perhaps themselves for not being enough.
In the pale hush of morning, as Rinzō’s whispered thanks faded into the air, the Leaf teams felt smaller than they ever had before.
They had worked all night. And still, the “curse” took another life.
--
By daylight, the town was a different place... not livelier, just changed. The same wooden houses clustered around the single dirt street, but now the doors were cracked open, curtains twitching as villagers stepped outside, gathering in small groups.
For a moment, it seemed almost normal—neighbors chatting, market stalls creaking back to life.
But the conversation was strange. The air was thick with gossip, half-whispered, half-shouted, as people struggled to make sense of their fear.
“—So the old woman died after all, huh?”
“Yeah, heard she coughed right through the night. Poor Rinzō…”
“Don’t get too close to that house, I say.”
The Shinobi passed by quietly, heads low, trying not to draw attention. But suddenly, a sharp, anxious voice broke through the morning murmur.
“Hey, did you guys hear? Shenzo had it too—he was coughing, fever and all, but…he survived! It’s his fourth day and nothing happened.”
A small group gathered around the speaker, skepticism thick on their faces.
“Nani? You’re kidding. My wife got sick last week and—” The man’s voice cracked, anger rising. “She didn’t even make it three days…”
Another, older villager let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his unkempt hair.
“Wife? I lost my whole family!” he declared, grinning wide in a way that set the others on edge. “Guess I’m just lucky, huh? God must be watching over me!”
The first man glared, disgust curling his lips. “Are you nuts? That’s not something to smile about, you psycho.”
A third woman, wringing her hands nervously, shook her head.
“Shenzo really survived?” she asked in a whisper. “No one else lasted that long.”
“Well, well—look at you all, completely clueless,” another man said as he stepped forward, clearly eager to draw attention to himself. “That’s what happens when you don’t keep up with the times.”
No one noticed the slight narrowing of his eyes—or the faintly playful glint hidden within them.
“What’s that supposed to mean, ya jerk?” someone snapped.
“Relax,” the man replied calmly. “I’m saying it’s not just Shenzo who survived. Plenty of others did too.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd as he let the words sink in.
“The curse,” he added, sweeping his gaze across them, “can actually be broken.”
“Is it really possible… that the curse can be broken?” An old man said with a hopeful look, eager to get a positive response.
“This guy’s talking nonsense—he’s crazy. If the curse could be broken, why hasn’t it been already?”
“Yeah, he’s just looking for attention.”
The man didn’t seem bothered by the remarks. He tilted his head back, gazing up at the sky as he spoke—his voice soft, almost thoughtful at first.
“You could be right…”
Then...
“You are so right!!!”
He roared the words as he threw his arms wide, his face twisting into something manic, unhinged.
“Told you—he’s a crazy shithead…”
The curses continued in low murmurs as the crowd gradually dispersed, people shaking their heads as they went their separate ways.
But Asuma, Kurenai, and the others only exchanged brief glances before quietly picking up their pace, slipping away from the group as they followed after the so-called madman who had said those things.
--
Kiba narrowed his eyes as he sniffed the air, gaze locked on the maniac villager who had just roared at the sky.
“There’s more to this than just a disease,” he muttered under his breath.
Shikamaru was already frowning, hands buried deep in his pockets as his mind worked through the numbers.
“Four days… no symptoms now?” he murmured. “Doesn’t add up.”
Asuma exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his eyes never leaving the figure at the far end of the street.
“Then maybe it’s time we asked him a few questions.”
Kurenai nodded, her eyes narrowing.
“Agreed. Let’s move—quietly.”
Without another word, the Leaf shinobi slipped away from the crowd, their movements natural and unremarkable as they followed after the man who claimed—against all odds—that someone had survived the so-called “curse.”
--
The group tracked the “madman” down a narrow alley, where he had ducked between two houses and now stood with his back pressed dramatically against a fence, arms crossed, eyes darting as if he expected the world’s troubles to come for him personally.
He spotted the Leaf shinobi approaching and immediately puffed up, dropping into an exaggerated fighting stance, legs wide, fists shaking in front of his face.
“Stay back!” he barked, voice cracking slightly. “You think I’m scared of you? I’ve survived worse curses than anything you could throw! I’ll win! I’m not losing to some random weirdos in headbands, ya hear me?!”
Kiba stared, clearly unimpressed. “Man, I really want to hit this guy. He’s pissing me off.”
Shino adjusted his glasses, expression unreadable. “No immediate threat detected.”
Ino pinched the bridge of her nose. “Why does every town have at least one of these guys…”
Without warning, Chōji sidestepped him and offered a rice ball. The man blinked, hesitated, then looked deeply offended—before lunging forward in mock attack… only to trip over his own feet and crash face-first into the dirt, limbs splayed out in a pose that would have made Yamcha himself proud.
There was a beat of silence.
Airi coughed loudly to hide her laugh. Even Shikamaru looked mildly amused.
The man didn’t move for several seconds, then slowly rolled onto his side, eyes squeezed shut. “Just do what you want. I’ve already lost,” he muttered, full defeat mode engaged.
Asuma squatted down beside him, unfazed. “We just have a few questions,” he said, flicking ash from his cigarette.
Kurenai knelt as well, her voice softening.
“Why did you say the curse could be broken?” she asked gently. “You mentioned Shenzo—do you know him? And… did he really survive?”
The man sighed dramatically, waving his arm as if shooing away a bad smell. “That bastard. We’re not friends anymore. He wouldn’t tell me anything! Not why he survived, not what happened—nothing.”
“We argued about it half the night. I told him, ‘People will start suspecting you if you don’t explain yourself!’ And he just told me to mind my own damn business. So, yeah—we broke up. Friendship over.”
He stared at the ground, kicking at a stray pebble.
“I only told everyone to draw attention to him. Figured if the whole town started pestering him, he’d finally crack and say something. Or at least have to deal with the same headache he gave me.”
Airi raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You ratted out your best friend just because you lost an argument?”
He shrugged, not meeting anyone’s gaze. “I mean, wouldn’t you?”
Ino snorted, crossing her arms. “Absolutely not.”
Chōji was still trying to offer snacks, undeterred. “So you don’t actually know why Shenzo survived?”
“No clue. All I know is, he was coughing and burning up, same as everyone else, but then he got better. That’s it. Maybe he really is just lucky.”
Shikamaru let out a long sigh, hand over his eyes. “Troublesome…”
Kurenai exchanged a look with Asuma—both thinking the same thing: whatever had saved Shenzo, it wasn’t information they’d get out of this guy.
“Well,” Asuma said, standing, “thanks for your time.”
The man gave them a half-hearted wave from the ground, still sprawled in Yamcha’s finest pose. “Yeah, yeah. Go bug Shenzo. Maybe he’ll talk to you…”
As they walked away, Ino muttered under her breath, “I’ve never seen someone lose so hard at life just from talking.”
Kiba grinned. “At least he’s not cursed. Just… cursed with a bad brain.”
With that, the team turned their attention to their next lead: Shenzo himself—the only known survivor.
Atleast the one they knew the name of.
Whatever the truth was, it lay with him.
What they didn’t know was that the man lying on the ground suddenly grinned—wide and wild.
The smile stretched far too wide, baring nearly all of his teeth, twisted and unsettling enough to send a chill down the spine.
His gaze locked onto Asuma—
No… not Asuma himself.
Something behind him.
--
It didn’t take long for the team to find Shenzo’s house—a small, slanted structure tucked at the end of a narrow lane, its door marked by faint scratch marks and the paint flaking with age.
Asuma rapped on the door with two knuckles, firm but not aggressive. The team waited, trading expectant looks.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder. Still nothing.
Ino gave Kiba a questioning look. Kiba just shrugged. Chōji was already looking longingly at his forgotten snack bag.
After a third round of knocking, Asuma called out, “Shenzo-san, we’re Konoha shinobi. We’d like to talk to you about something important.”
A long pause.
Then, through the thin wood, a muffled, irritated voice: “I don’t want to talk. Please leave.”
Asuma tried to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “What if it’s related to your life?”
A beat of silence. Then the same voice again—flat, but oddly strained, with an undercurrent the team couldn’t quite place. “I don’t care. Leave, please.”
Kurenai’s brow furrowed as she met Asuma’s eyes. He sighed, resigned.
Airi, who’d been fidgeting anxiously behind the group, suddenly straightened. She took a determined step forward, patting her chest as if to steady her nerves.
She raised her voice, careful but clear: “We just talked to Mr. Nayarit-san! He told us a lot about you and your condition.”
There was a long, heavy silence from within.
Then...sudden movement. Hurried footsteps stumbling across creaky floorboards, something clattering over, a loud thud, then a muffled, exasperated curse.
“...Ugh, fuck, it’s leaking again...”
The team glanced at each other, sharing the universal look of people who’d seen way too much weird shit in the past twenty-four hours.
“Leaking...?” Ino mouthed.
After a solid hour of waiting outside (and more than a few more thuds, groans, and the occasional “Just one second!” from inside), the latch finally clicked.
The door creaked open.
Shenzo stood there—disheveled, half-dressed, hair askew and a bandage wrapped haphazardly around his waist, stained with something that looked suspicious.
His eyes were red-rimmed, and a suspicious trail of what might’ve been tears—or maybe allergies—ran down one cheek.
He looked at the Leaf shinobi, blinking in the morning light as if seeing real people for the first time in days.
Shenzo stared at them for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
Then, without a word, he stepped aside and jerked his head in invitation. “Come in, then. But don’t touch anything.”
Inside, the house was a chaotic mess of medicine bottles, half-eaten food, and hastily scribbled notes. The air smelled like old sweat and disinfectant.
As the team filed in, Chōji nudged Ino. “Should I have brought snacks for this, too?”
Ino elbowed him gently, but her lips twitched despite herself.
The door shut behind them with a final thud.
Shenzo exhaled, slumping into a battered chair.
“Alright. Ask your questions.”
He smiled faintly. “Just don’t stay here too long.”
And with that, the interrogation of one of the town’s few survivors of the so-called curse finally began.
--
Inside the cramped, cluttered house, the questioning began in earnest.
Asuma led with gentle persistence, voice calm but direct. “Shenzo-san, can you tell us what it was like when you first fell ill? Did you notice anything strange before the symptoms started?”
Shenzo shrugged, eyes drifting to the wall. “Felt like a cold. Or maybe allergies. Town’s dusty, you know?”
Kiba frowned, frustration written all over his face. “Okay, then what about the fever? The coughing?”
He scratched his head, barely meeting their eyes. “Guess I got lucky. Slept it off. Woke up better.”
Chōji piped up, “Did you eat anything different? Drink anything? Anyone come by to visit?”
“Nothing special.” Shenzo’s answers grew even vaguer, gaze darting around the room. “I mean, I eat whatever’s around. I keep to myself, mostly.”
The team traded uneasy glances. Each time they tried to press for details, Shenzo would change the subject, steer them toward some pointless story, or simply repeat himself with a blank expression.
Shikamaru’s brow twitched with annoyance. “He’s dodging every question.”
Airi’s hands balled into fists, frustration mounting as she listened to his slippery answers.
Even Asuma, usually patient, found himself staring in silent disbelief as Shenzo recounted yet another non-answer about “the weather that week.”
Kurenai finally caught Asuma’s eye and gave the faintest nod. He nodded back, resigned.
She moved closer, her eyes darkening, her chakra swirling with a subtle, silent threat. In a heartbeat, Shenzo’s gaze went glassy—caught in the web of Kurenai’s genjutsu.
Her voice came quiet and soft. “Shenzo. The truth. Why did you survive? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
Shenzo’s lips parted, words spilling out in a trembling monotone.
……
……
As the words continued to spill from Shenzo’s mouth, the expressions of everyone present slowly changed.
Horror crept into their eyes as the weight of what they were hearing sank in—so unbelievable it left them frozen in place.
Shenzo himself, still trapped within the genjutsu, broke down completely. Tears streamed down his face as he sobbed through the truth, his voice cracking as he relived it all.
“That’s… all.”
His final words echoed faintly in the room.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The shinobi could only look at one another, disbelief and dread hanging heavy in the air.
After a while, at Asuma’s subtle signal, the others filed out of the house, leaving him alone inside to check one last thing.
Some time later, Asuma stepped back out.
The team looked to him immediately.
He gave a single, silent nod.
No explanations were needed.
What Shenzo had said… was true.
No one spoke after his confirmation.
The shinobi moved off in stiff, uneasy steps, the weight of the truth hanging over them as they left the place behind.
Suddenly, Asuma coughed, the sound loud and harsh as it cut through the fragile silence.
Everyone turned in alarm, but Asuma forced a crooked grin, waving a hand dismissively.
“Haha… Don’t look at me like that. I just choked on my cigarette, that’s all.”
There was a long, collective sigh of relief. Even Kiba managed a weak smile.
But no one noticed the way Asuma’s fist clenched tight behind his back, knuckles white as bone.
Comments
Drunker King
The secret will be revealed in the next chapters XD
Trevor Standifer
Wait why did he survive and yay finally the mc going to get kurenai
