"..."
Logan froze. At some point, the hallway light had been turned on, casting a sliver of illumination into the dimly lit workspace. In that moment, he saw the man's face clearly.
He is the Manga Author and the owner of this apartment.
Middle-parted hair, not old but visibly worn from years of intense work. Logan was certain he wouldn't mistake him. He had never met this man before, but he had long since memorized his face.
'Damn it... This kind of encounter wasn't part of the plan. Luckily, the other party wouldn't recognize me.' Pushing down his emotions, Logan forced himself to remain calm.
Masashi Kishimoto stared in shock at the disordered workspace, then focused his gaze on Logan and said, "Who are you?"
'Who do you think I am? It's the middle of the night, and I broke into your house without a sound… what else could I be here for?' Logan kept his face expressionless and didn't answer.
He glanced at the shattered cup on the floor and the water spreading across the tiles. Clearly, the man had woken up for a drink in the middle of the night, sensed something was wrong, and come to investigate. Meanwhile, Logan had been so engrossed in the drawing tablet that he had momentarily neglected his surroundings… hence, this unfortunate encounter.
'Midnight water breaks… what a terrible habit.' Logan couldn't help but complain in his heart. But now, the real question was: what should he do next?
The Author and one of his own characters had ended up in an unexpected, dramatic confrontation. Logan subtly lowered his hand, his mind racing through countless scenarios.
Snap.
Masashi Kishimoto cautiously took a step forward and switched on the workspace lights. Logan's figure was instantly exposed in full view.
Masashi Kishimoto stared at the man standing in the middle of the room with wary scrutiny. A black cap, a mask… There was no need to ask. Anyone sneaking around in that kind of attire was not here for anything good.
The silence stretched. The intruder's refusal to answer was an unsettling sign. Masashi Kishimoto forced his voice to remain steady, "May I ask… what are you doing in my home?"
While comforting the other party, he needed to keep the situation from escalating. At the same time, he couldn't afford to show fear, lest the intruder grow more brazen.
"Apologies. I came to look for something." Logan's voice was calmer and more composed than Masashi Kishimoto's, so unfazed that for a moment, the Author was stunned, 'What kind of burglar acts this casual?'
But he quickly recovered, maintaining his cautious stance.
"I don't recall bringing home anything that belongs to someone else." Masashi Kishimoto replied, subtly glancing around for anything he could use as a weapon.
Ignoring the tension and distrust written all over the man's face, Logan fell silent for a moment. Then, glancing at the drawing tablet on the desk, he made a decision.
"You are the Author of the Naruto, right?"
Logan reached out, plucked a volume from the neatly arranged manga collection, and lifted it slightly as he spoke. His tone was abrupt, almost as if he were suddenly curious.
"Yes, that's right." Masashi Kishimoto nodded slowly, 'Sure enough, he really came here for money. But how did the other party manage to reach my apartment, which is on the 17th floor, without any trace?'
Seeing Logan remain unnervingly composed, Kishimoto lost all patience for this strange game. He only wanted to end this disturbing situation safely.
"I don't have anything particularly valuable in my home." He stated, falling back on the rationality of a man in his forties, "I still have some cash in my wallet. You can take it and leave. I'll stay in your sight the entire time."
It is a clear proposition: I won't call the cops. You don't hurt anyone. Everyone walks away happy.
But Logan wasn't a burglar, so he shook his head, "I don't want the money."
Kishimoto was stunned for a moment, 'Not money? Then what do he wanted?
For the first time, genuine confusion crossed his face. As far as he could recall, he hadn't offended anyone.
'The intruder has no weapons. His voice sounds young. He doesn't look particularly strong… But I really don't want to fight...'
"Why did you create Naruto?"
Suddenly, Logan took a step forward and said coldly.
He fixed his gaze on the man's face, searching for any subtle reaction. Yet, all he saw was confusion.
"What? Why did I..." Kishimoto looked utterly baffled, his hands making vague gestures, 'What kind of question was this? It wasn't like I was in an interview about my creative journey. Why would he ask such thing in such situation?'
A trace of irritation rose within Logan, 'Everything should be connected to you. So why do you look so clueless?'
Kishimoto, on the other hand, was growing increasingly uneasy. He felt that this intruder was difficult to communicate with, as he doesn't seem normal.
He slowly shifted backward, edging toward the doorway, 'If I could just make a break for it, get to the entrance, and call for security...'
Whoosh… Thud!
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
Before Kishimoto Keishi could even react, a tremendous impact shook the wall beside him. Something had embedded itself deep into the plaster, mere inches from his head.
Kishimoto slowly turned his head. A black iron weapon was lodged at eye level, ten centimeters away from his head. He even saw that the tail end of the iron tool was still vibrating from the force of impact.
"..."
"Answer my question properly." The voice coming from the other side was still calm, but this time, it sent a chill down Kishimoto's spine. Kishimoto swallowed hard, "You'd better not try anything stupid."
'He actually threw a knife…' For the first time, Kishimoto truly looked at the masked man before him. As anxiety churned in his chest, an idea suddenly entered his mind.
He turned his head subconsciously, and the black 'dagger' was now dangerously close to his face.
'Wait…' Kishimoto felt something incredibly strange, 'The diamond-shaped blade surface, the hollow circle at the back of the grip... why does it look so familiar?'
Kishimoto's eyes widened in disbelief, 'How is that possible… A kunai?!'
The weapons used by Ninjas, what he drew... the same weapon he had drawn thousands of times on the manuscript paper. He couldn't possibly mistake it. And yet, here it was, right in front of him, in reality.
'Is there anyone using such a thing in reality?' Kishimoto's eyes were filled with confusion, and he looked back at the man who had thrown it in doubt.
Logan furrowed his brows as he watched Kishimoto's reaction to seeing the kunai. There was no sign of relief or fear, just ordinary surprise. A single thought formed in his mind: 'As the Author… he really doesn't know anything?'
"You… why…" Kishimoto's voice came in broken fragments.
Logan shut his eyes in frustration. The other person's voice became the background, and the originally important position of the Manga Author became insignificant in his mind.
His perception swept over the room again, and even searching the entire floor in a final attempt, but there's no expected abnormalities.
So far, it's just been the drawing tablet.
"What's going on with that drawing tablet?"
"Ah, what's this now..."
Logan's foot moved forward, and with a sudden burst of speed, he closed the distance between them. The force of his movement stirred Kishimoto's hair. Logan grabbed his collar and slammed him against the wall outside the door.
"What's going on with the drawing tablet you're using?"
Logan's voice was cold and deliberate, each word dripping with murderous feeling. His killing intent was palpable. He showed no restraint, and his presence bore down on Kishimoto overwhelmingly.
"You… who are you..." Kishimoto's eyes widened in fear. He was frozen, unable to move. His breathing became ragged and heavy. His expression changed, fear taking hold, and in that fear, it was as if something clicked in his memory. His face, once blank, finally showed some sign of recognition.
Logan's mind lit up, and then he sneered, "Who do you think I am?"
After tonight's accidental encounter with the manga author, Logan's thoughts had solidified into a clear course of action. He had to figure out what this inexplicable transmigration experience was all about.
Initially, he had gotten nothing, but now, there were signs of change. This was an opportunity. That girl would be betrothed the day after tomorrow, and in just a few days, Logan would leave Japan. Was that a long time? Perhaps. But in that time, he might unknowingly lose something irreparable.
Logan reached out and pulled down the mask.
"Who do you think I am?"