Seeing the attack fail, the tall rogue ninja's eyes bulged. "What!?"
"My shuriken… how…?" The short ninja rubbed his eyes, unable to believe the impossible.
"So impatient." Mamoru lowered two fingers, smirk calm.
As Infinity released its hold, the weapons clattered musically to the dust.
Before the echo faded, a fresh volley hissed. More cunningly angled flashes burst from the roadside thicket, shrieking toward the carriage.
Kurenai's Kunai was already up, body coiled for combat.
Mamoru merely flicked his wrist, as if swatting flies. Invisible force seized the incoming ninja tools and flung them aside to sprawl harmlessly in the dirt.
"Impossible!" A stunned voice hissed from the bushes.
"Rats in the gutter." Mamoru sneered. "Only cheap tricks."
Kurenai seized the frozen Komatsu and shoved him into the carriage. "Shino, Hinata! Guard the client!"
"Yes, Kurenai-sensei!" They answered in unison.
"You dare mock us!"
Two enraged shadows burst from the thicket like scorched beasts, racing for Mamoru, Kunai glinting coldly.
"Die for your insults!"
Too slow.
Without even looking, Mamoru lifted a hand and closed his fingers in the empty air.
The two sprinting men were yanked toward each other by an irresistible force, crashing together with a heavy thud. Involuntary groans of pain tore from their throats.
Before they could draw breath or react, Mamoru straightened his arm toward the pair, fingers splayed. A twisting orb of blue energy shot out, struck them, and the blossoming vortex hurled them like a cannonball into the dense roadside woods.
BOOM—
Crack! Crack...
A chain of splintering trunks ripped the forest silence apart and flocks of birds screamed skyward. Broken limbs and swirling leaves rained down, leaving a jagged, mauled gap at the forest's edge where the two had vanished.
"W-what… what just happened?" The short rogue ninja Sagara stammered, staring at the woods now gouged as if by some beast, his voice shaking.
"Sagara, we're pulling out." The tall rogue ninja Seiichiro said, a tremor of fear threading his words.
His gaze stayed locked on the motionless figure ahead. The boy merely stood there, yet an inhuman pressure chilled the air, raising ice along Seiichiro's spine.
"First we report to Tosuke-sama." He whispered, easing half a step back. We go, now."
"R-right…" Sagara managed, shifting to retreat.
"Who said you could leave?" A voice cut in behind them.
The two froze, their pupils shrinking to pinpricks. The cold did not touch their skin, it erupted from the marrow and surged to their skulls. One thought alone pounded through the terror: When?
They had not seen him move. In the instant the words reached their ears, Mamoru stood at their backs like a ghost.
Worse, a crushing gravity pinned them. Their legs felt filled with lead, and merely staying upright demanded every ounce of strength.
"From now on, I ask, you answer." Mamoru murmured, hands resting lightly on each rogue ninja's shoulder, his touch gentle yet suffocating.
"Like hell I'll—"
Sagara's bravado ended as the ground cratered beneath a brutal pull, slamming him into the earth.
"I didn't give you permission to speak." Mamoru said flatly, blue eyes behind the lenses devoid of emotion.
Crunch… Crunch…
Bone splintered with a sickening sound. Sagara's body twisted inside the pit, voiceless.
Seiichiro watched his partner reduced to a broken mass, teeth chattering, cold sweat streaming unnoticed down his cheeks.
"That's what happens to the stubborn. Don't copy him." Mamoru said, the playful tone grotesque against the carnage.
Seiichiro's courage shattered and he nodded frantically. At that instant, the weight vanished and he nearly collapsed.
"Your name?"
The question snapped his nerves taut again.
"S-Seiichiro." He rasped.
"Seiichiro, why were you hunting Komatsu?"
"Tosuke-sama stationed us here to search. If we found Komatsu, we were to bring him back alive." He blurted, words tumbling in terror.
"Alive, huh?" Mamoru mused, chin in hand. "And who is Tosuke?"
"Our leader. A deserter Jonin from some hidden village, I'm told."
"Jonin?" Mamoru's brow lifted, interest piqued.
"I-I only overheard it when one of his retainers was drunk. Truth is, I can't be sure." Seiichiro added hastily, sweat pouring.
"A rogue Jonin from another village… this job just became a lot messier." Kurenai's voice, heavy with concern, sounded.
She had approached unnoticed, gave Seiichiro a wary glance, then fixed a complicated look on Mamoru.
Mamoru turned as she neared and asked, gaze still pinning Seiichiro, "Did Komatsu say anything? "
Kurenai answered, eyeing the trembling Seiichiro, "He's too shaken to speak."
"Lying to us…"
A killing chill rippled from Mamoru and the very air seemed to freeze.
Seiichiro quailed, nearly dropping to his knees.
"Back to you."
Mamoru asked, "What does Tosuke want with Komatsu?"
"I d-don't know. We're only foot-soldiers. Wait!"
Frantically searching his memory, Seiichiro snatched at a lifeline and shrieked, "The head of Nishimura Trading, Nishimura Okara, isn't sick, he was ambushed and crippled by Tosuke's men. The company's really run by his brother, Nishimura Hiroshi, who's in league with Tosuke. They grabbed Komatsu for Hiroshi, I swear it!"
"Nishimura Hiroshi…" Mamoru echoed, recalling that Komatsu had mentioned an uncle.
Pieces clicked into place: to seize the firm, Hiroshi had allied with rogue ninja and crippled his brother. Yet with the company already his, why the desperate need to take Komatsu alive?
The answer was obvious: the boy possessed something Hiroshi still required.
And the quickest way to learn what that was was to ask Komatsu himself.
Decision made, Mamoru returned to the present. Seiichiro had told everything he knew and was expendable.
"You're no longer useful."
Mamoru set a hand atop Seiichiro's head, blue hue glinting in his eyes, utterly calm.
"No! PLEASE—"
Seiichiro's scream died as life drained from his gaze. He slumped, features frozen in ultimate terror.
"Mamoru—stop!" Kurenai stepped forward, hand outstretched.
Too late.
The body lay still, the reek of urine mingling with blood.
"You…"
Her hand hovered, helpless. She sighed, words failing, eyes a storm of conflict.
Mamoru withdrew his hand, gave her a level look, offered no explanation, and walked toward the carriage.
Kurenai followed, brow furrowed, crimson lips pressed thin, mind in turmoil.
The distant blasts and that final roar had drawn onlookers—travellers, merchants—who stood far off, whispering, none daring to approach the cursed, blood-scented stretch of road where the wind now lifted dust and carried the metallic tang of death into the distance.