Chapter 34: Slumber and Warning
Onigarasu watched the scene unfold from its hidden vantage. Orochimaru, desperate and drained, consumed the adult Iburi one by one, sucking them dry in his frantic search for their mist-transforming power. The last child, Yukimi, arrived too late—not to save her clan, but to nearly deliver herself into the snake's maw. Though she tried to flee, the cursed seal Orochimaru had placed on her flared, crippling her ability. She was quickly recaptured.
Kakashi and Yamato, arriving just in time, intervened, initiating a desperate rescue.
Amidst the chaos, the ghost crow saw its moment. With the humans utterly preoccupied, it could finally descend to claim its grim reward—the corpses of the Iburi.
But a crow's beak and talons were inefficient tools for mass consumption. It summoned its clones, directing them to help tear and devour.
It had barely begun when the Iburi corpses began to… atomize. Not a conscious act, but a final, post-mortem release. The bodies dissolved into wisps of white mist that began to drift, coalescing and moving with purpose through the cavern maze, as if guiding some unseen soul.
The ghost crow pecked at the dissipating mist in frustration. I can't eat fog! It had to abandon the attempt. The feast was literally vanishing into thin air.
With a disgruntled mental click, it retreated to a deep, secluded crevice within the windless caverns—a place the humans were unlikely to find even if they returned—and settled down to wait for further instructions from its master.
Shuichi Mayumi had been observing the entire scene through the crow's eyes. He was curious about Kyōshun's progress as well, but the boy wasn't a demon; there was no shared vision. He could only hope the little thief wouldn't try anything foolish.
After the crow consumed what little solid matter remained of a few Iburi, Shuichi didn't immediately interrogate it. He watched, waiting for a reaction. The sample size was small—less than a full body's worth. His expectations were modest.
Half a day passed. Kakashi's group had long since departed. The caverns were silent.
In its hidden nook, the ghost crow began to feel… strange. A profound, unnatural drowsiness weighed upon it. Demons didn't tire, not like this. Yet its consciousness grew fuzzy, heavy. If not for the need to await the Ghost King's word, it would have succumbed to sleep already.
"Crow. Report. How do you feel?" Shuichi's voice finally came, tinged with disappointment at the lack of visible change.
"M… My Lord…" The crow's mental voice was thick, slurred. "So… sleepy…"
Drowsiness? That was unexpected. This had to be a reaction to the ingested Iburi bloodline. The crow's system was attempting to assimilate the foreign Kekkei Genkai, requiring a deep, transformative sleep.
What would happen during that sleep? Would it successfully integrate the power? Or would the unstable mist-nature cause it to dissipate permanently upon awakening? The risk was real.
"Find a fully enclosed space within the Iburi base. Rest there. Now."
No further discussion was needed. The windless, sheltered caverns provided the best protection for a vulnerable, sleeping demon. The crow, fighting the overwhelming pull of unconsciousness, shuffled deeper into a small, root-choked hollow and curled into a tight ball. Its crimson eyes dimmed, then closed.
Shuichi's attention returned fully to his own pursuits. With the enforced daytime idleness, he had focused on cultivating his own Ghost Qi. By attuning himself to the auras of Kagemi and Tenmu, he'd successfully generated his own Qi long ago—a basic requirement for a Demon King. But the next step—manifesting a unique trait—had stalled.
It wasn't that he couldn't awaken one. The problem was… he felt too many potential traits within him, all vying for expression. The path of a singular, focused trait seemed limiting. He envisioned a composite, an alloy of multiple traits forged into one perfect, multifaceted power. But that path was exponentially more difficult, requiring vast time and profound control to harmonize the conflicting energies without self-destruction.
As night finally fell, he checked on the crow once more. Still asleep, unchanged. He turned to practical matters, spreading a map of the world on the floor of the Layered Space.
His original plan was to head for the ruined Land of Whirlpools, then onward to the Land of Water. But the Iburi variable had changed things. The little girl, Yukimi, was a unique asset. He needed to return to the town near Konoha to oversee her acquisition. Fortunately, he hadn't traveled far. A few nights of focused travel would bring him back.
Leaving her fate to chance was unacceptable.
He looked up from the map at his two attending demons. "Kagemi. Tenmu. Report your Ghost Qi progress."
Kagemi visibly stiffened. Tenmu remained impassive, but a flicker in his pale eyes betrayed his unease. Momiji had awakened a trait in a single night. These two had been cultivating under his direct supervision for over ten days with negligible results.
After a tense silence, Kagemi spoke first. "My Lord… I can feel the threshold. I believe I will break through in a matter of days."
Shuichi gave a slight, acknowledging nod. His gaze shifted to Tenmu. "And you?"
"My Lord," Tenmu's voice was flat. "This one is… dull. The method of cultivation still eludes me. My progress will be… slower."
As I thought. Tenmu's sole value was the Byakugan. Without it, he'd have been culled long ago. Shuichi suspected that even if he reclaimed Tenmu's blood, he wouldn't gain the ocular power—it was a pre-existing Kekkei Genkai, not a mutation born of demonization. He needed Tenmu alive, for now. But patience did not mean leniency.
Dereliction of duty, even passive laziness, could not be tolerated. Especially when he needed every tool sharpened.
A thought, cold and precise.
Tenmu, kneeling, suddenly convulsed. Agony lanced through him, a sensation of his internal organs combusting. White steam hissed from his pores. His regenerative ability was forcibly suppressed, leaving him to endure the raw, unending pain without relief.
Kagemi watched, horrified, frozen in place, praying the Ghost King's wrath wouldn't turn on her. Note to self: stop gambling with Tenmu.
Several minutes passed, measured by Tenmu's silent, shuddering suffering. Finally, Shuichi released the pressure.
Tenmu slumped forward, gasping, his pale skin slick with phantom sweat.
"Tenmu," Shuichi's voice was a whisper of frozen steel. "Do you know why I did not kill you?"
He paused, letting the question hang in the artificially still air.
"Because I still have use for those eyes."
Another pause, heavier than the first.
"If there is a next time… I will grant you the mercy of a swift and final death."
The fear of death is a primal instinct, etched into all living things. Demons, for all their power, are no exception. In that prolonged moment of agony, confronted with the absolute finality in his master's aura, Tenmu's detached calm shattered. His heart hammered against his ribs, a dry, metallic taste of pure fear filling his mouth.
He understood, viscerally, the cost of failure.
"Y-yes, My Lord." His voice was a ragged scrape. "This… this will never happen again." The words carried the weight of genuine terror. The lesson, carved in pain, was learned.
(End of Chapter)
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