Evan flicked the last traces of blood from his fingers and murmured:
"Mm… still one left. I was planning to let a survivor crawl back, but if I don't leave a little something for that old snake to deal with, how is he going to explain himself to Danzo?"
He raised his hand.
A single kunai—still hovering obediently in mid-air—jerked like it had been hooked by an invisible thread.
Whoosh!
It shot out like a falling star.
A heartbeat later—
"AAAHHHH—!"
A wail shredded the quiet forest.
Evan stepped forward leisurely. In a blur, his figure vanished and reappeared beside the source of the scream.
A Root ninja—wearing the dog-mask of his unit—was on the ground, rolling and howling in agony. His arm… or what was left of it… twitched weakly, nearly blown apart by that "ordinary" kunai.
He stared up at Evan in terror.
"E-Evan—you can't kill me… We were only ordered to invite you. W-We weren't going to attack you. If the Hokage hears you killed Leaf shinobi, y-you'll—"
"Oh, right!" Evan clapped his hands lightly. "Good reminder. If the village finds out I've been carving up our own shinobi, that would be troublesome."
His tone said "troublesome."
His expression said he couldn't care less.
The Root operative froze.
That wasn't what I meant!
No—don't tell me he's…
Evan smiled kindly.
"Since you're so thoughtful… why don't you go keep your friends company?"
"Wait—don't—!"
Ding! Hatred value +5000.
Evan lifted his hand like a child pretending to make a finger-gun.
"Bang."
A thin, invisible blade of chakra snapped forth—six-pulse sword energy—piercing cleanly through the mask and skull beneath it.
The ninja collapsed.
Ding! Experience +2000.
Evan yawned.
"How many Root dogs have I killed now…? Ah well. Danzo never learns."
He stepped over the bodies, hands folded behind his back, thinking.
"Experience is easy. But I still need nearly a million hatred points for a divine-art breakthrough. Looks like I'll need something big… or maybe a few more interesting kunoichi to harvest from."
Just as he was considering which direction the world's karma might most profitably be pushed—
Whoosh!
Two masked figures leapt through the canopy toward him, landing near the four cooling corpses.
Evan stopped, eyes narrowing.
Long purple hair spilled from beneath one of their masks. He recognized the chakra immediately.
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
So it's them…
Far below, Moonlight Hayate—dead-pale and coughing as always—knelt beside a corpse.
"Haa… cough cough… what happened here?"
Uzuki Yugao crouched beside him, fingers ghosting over the wounds.
"These Root operatives… they didn't resist at all." Her voice, usually calm, trembled with disbelief. "Their throats were opened simultaneously. One strike each. No chance to counterattack."
Hayate stared at her.
"One person killed all four? At once?"
Yugao nodded reluctantly.
"Only someone on Hokage-level could do this. Someone with speed… like the Flying Thunder God."
Hayate swallowed.
"The Fourth would never do such a thing… but besides him, who—?"
They exchanged a glance.
A cold, crawling dread seeped in.
They had followed the Root squad here merely to "monitor." A routine assignment. Nothing was supposed to actually happen.
Yet in the short time it took them to catch up—
A massacre.
Rustle—
A shadow dropped from above, landing lightly on a tree branch.
Both ANBU snapped upright, hands on their hilts.
They turned—
And saw a young man in a black fitted outfit, smiling casually down at them.
Evan.
His eyes swept past Hayate's trembling frame… and settled on the tall, slender ANBU kunoichi with the violet hair.
Even with the mask on, her posture was graceful: slim waist, precise poise, the subtle confidence of a trained swordswoman.
Her figure alone was already stunning.
"You two are… Yugao and Hayate, right?" Evan tilted his head, feigning confusion. "What are you doing out here? Did something happen?"
"E-Evan?" Yugao's eyes widened behind her mask.
"Evan-sama!"
Hayate immediately bowed, voice respectful despite his coughing fit.
Since Evan had already guessed their identities, the two removed their masks as a sign of courtesy.
Evan resisted the urge to laugh.
Masks or not, Yugao's purple hair was a dead giveaway.
And Hayate… well, the coughing was practically a personal signature.
He let his gaze drift over Yugao's face now that it was bare—fair skin, sharp eyes, elegant features, hair flowing like inked violet silk.
No wonder Hayate was head-over-heels for her.
She was quite a sight.
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