The voice behind her struck like thunder. For a moment, Hiyori's mind went utterly blank.
She trembled, then slowly turned to face the man who stood with his arms folded, a smile that was almost a sneer on his lips.
"You…all of that was an act?" she managed bitterly.
"When did I ever give myself away?" Luo Xing countered calmly.
Hiyori's confusion only deepened. She was sure she'd shown no hint of weakness—she had perfected this mask for more than a decade, learning performance and deception from childhood. Still, Luo Xing shrugged as if to say the answer was obvious. Then his next words chilled her to the bone.
"Before you even stepped into this room, I already knew there was something off, Miss Hiyori."
Her knees went weak. Her immaculate, practiced face drained of color.
"You…you know who I am? Orochi…Kaido…do they know too?" she asked, voice barely a whisper.
"Not yet," Luo Xing replied. "For now, only I know your true identity."
He walked deliberately to her, extended a finger, and hooked it under the delicate point of her chin. Hiyori felt like a lone, trembling animal trapped under a hunter's gaze.
Something in her snapped; she managed to wrench her chin away and pull herself upright. There was courage in the motion, but it was thin.
"Brave," Luo Xing murmured with faint surprise. "Not many can sneak in and out of an enemy stronghold for years and still keep their nerve."
Hiyori spoke slowly, each syllable heavy. "Because I am a daughter of the Kozuki."
Luo Xing's eyes registered a flicker of respect, then slid into mockery. "Fine words. But without power to back them, courage is wasteful."
She felt all strength leak out of her—deception, daring, seduction, none of it mattered before him.
"Before you kill me," she whispered after a silence that widened like a gulf, "may I ask you one question?"
"Ask," he said, utterly indifferent.
"You said you didn't bring any Mutant Cells. Am I to understand you were lying to Orochi?"
"Smart question." Luo Xing snapped his fingers, a small smile widening. "I'm increasingly impressed. You can still think of other things in a moment like this."
Hiyori pressed on. "Why—why do this? You and Orochi are…weren't you supposed to be in alliance?"
"No," Luo Xing said lightly. "Orochi is nothing but a dog under my father-in-law. A dog that won't obey gets put down."
The words hit her like a physical blow. He planned to kill Orochi.
A thousand other questions crowded her mind: if his intention was assassination, why stage a grand ceremony? Why invite Wano's dignitaries and broadcast the spectacle everywhere? She hadn't time to speak — the room exploded inward as the door shattered.
"Hiyori! Run!" came a sudden cry.
The shape that threw itself into the room was Denjiro. He drew his blade and slashed at Luo Xing.
"Hurry—get away!" Denjiro shouted as he lunged.
Hiyori spun to flee—she could not abandon Denjiro's sacrifice—but frozen shock pinned her in place. Then she saw it: Luo Xing's hand had gone black as night. With one lazy motion he batted Denjiro's sword aside. He closed the distance and delivered a single, brutal palm strike across Denjiro's shoulder.
A torn scream—Denjiro's right arm, the one gripping the blade, was sheared away in a spray of blood.
The horrific hand moved next, like the grasp of some demon, and clamped around Denjiro's throat. The man could not cry out. Only the red of his blood painted the floor as he fought to breathe.
"So," Luo Xing said, voice flat, "I suppose I never showed my strength properly. Now everyone thinks they can attack me—cats, dogs, whatever."
Silence fell—absolute, suffocating. Hiyori forgot how to breathe. Denjiro thrashed and clawed, but his lips made no sound. Only blood and the rasp of his lungs broke the stillness.
When hope finally dwindled to a thread, Hiyori could only whisper, broken: "Please… spare Denjiro. I'll do anything. Anything you ask."
Luo Xing's tone turned cold, edged with scorn. "Do you have the right to bargain with me?"
He tightened his grip—once, twice—and Denjiro's neck snapped. The body slumped to the floor as if a dog had fallen. Hiyori's tears fell in hot streams but did nothing to change what had happened. She collapsed, hollow and spent.
"Kill me," she begged, voice a ruined thing.
Luo Xing produced a cloth and methodically wiped the blood from his palm. He moved toward her with the slow serenity of a ruler dispelling the last of his enemies. Bent over her, he hooked her chin again with one finger, but this time his voice softened into an almost gentle cadence.
"Do you know what a canary is?" he asked. "A beautiful bird. Because it's beautiful, people keep it in a cage—look at it, stroke it, admire it. Pretty, but it's still trapped."
Hiyori shut her eyes. Tears streamed unchecked. She tried to end it herself, to bite her tongue and die, but even that tiny motion felt impossible—the terror had leeched all strength from her.
And now, more than ever, she had no power left to break free from Luo Xing's finger on her chin. She was, in every sense, the canary in his cage.
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