"I have a fair idea of why you're here."
Hiroki continued. "You've seen the state of the city on your way, I needn't explain. One thing I must make clear. I will shelter you only until this hour tomorrow. Beyond that, I will involve myself in nothing."
The condition didn't surprise them. Komatsu had already warned them Hiroki had no dealings with Tosuke, and the one-day refuge was purely out of respect for Komatsu's father.
"Komatsu…"
Hiroki turned to Komatsu with an elder's concern. "As your father's friend, let me advise you. Leave this place and find somewhere safe. You escaped with your life, don't throw it away. Moreover…"
His gaze swept over Mamoru, Hinata, and Shino. "...the chance of your mission succeeding is minuscule. Tosuke's power now is not something the few of you can handle."
He didn't spell it out, but the meaning was clear—they might as well throw eggs at a boulder.
Mamoru caught the flicker of doubt in Hiroki's eyes when he looked at the three Genin, the same doubt Komatsu had shown when they first met.
This time, however, he merely shrugged indifferently and said nothing.
"But… my father is still in their hands." Komatsu clenched his hem, voice trembling with grief and rage. "Hiroshi murdered his own brother. Nishimura Trading must not fall into the hands of such a shameless wretch."
"Since your mind is made up, further words are useless, each of us must bear the consequences of our choices." Hiroki sighed softly, fingers tightening inside his sleeves. "Then… take care of yourself."
Hiroki rose slowly, standing on the tatami as the gray sleeves of his kimono fluttered in the breeze. "I'll have the maids prepare rooms for everyone in a moment. Please rest well. I'll take my leave now."
"Fujiwara-san, thank you so much." Komatsu immediately prostrated himself, forehead touching the tatami in utmost humility.
Hiroki gave a slight nod and walked out of the room with measured steps. He paused on the veranda, and glanced back at Komatsu, a complicated look flashing in his eyes. He sighed softly, shook his head, then turned away, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Moments later, several maids in pale kimono filed in carrying delicate lacquered boxes, laying out a lavish dinner on the low tables.
After the silent meal, Mamoru sat alone on the veranda, left knee bent on the edge, right leg dangling outside, hands braced behind him as he gazed up at the star-filled sky. The warm lamplight spilling from the tatami room outlined him in a soft halo.
Hinata stepped quietly onto the veranda, sat beside him hugging her knees, and looked out at the night-shrouded garden.
The two sat in silence, only the evening wind rustling the ornamental bamboo.
After a long while, Hinata softly broke the hush, "Mamoru-kun, are you and Kurenai-sensei going after Tosuke tonight?"
"Yep." Mamoru turned, giving her an easy grin. "Don't worry, this Tosuke's nothing. Might not even last one hand from me. I just hope he can take a beating, or it'll be boring."
"Mm. Please be careful."
Everything she'd seen on the road told Hinata that Tosuke was far from the pushover Mamoru described.
Worried as she was, she knew her strength wasn't enough. She'd only be baggage, and the thought frustrated her.
Reading her mind, Mamoru added, "This is an assassination, not a head-on fight. If we fail, Kurenai and I can still get out. But you guys…"
He paused, looked straight into her eyes, deadly serious. "If anything goes wrong, every decision you make has to be about how to evacuate. The instant there's danger, don't hesitate. I'll leave a Shadow Clone as insurance. Remember: apart from Shino, no one else's life matters, not even Komatsu. Got it?"
Seeing Mamoru so grave for the first time, Hinata blinked, swallowed her shyness, and nodded firmly.
They were in Nagakawa City—Tosuke's turf. Even Mamoru, for all his bravado, didn't dare let his guard down.
No matter how much Komatsu trusted Hiroki, Mamoru never had.
If he were alone, he could act on impulse, but now he had to protect Hinata and Shino, forcing him to rein himself in and tread carefully.
When Hinata nodded, Mamoru stood, instinctively reaching to ruffle her hair, then stopped halfway, shrugged, and walked back inside, leaving Hinata sitting there, puzzled.
Inside, the maids had already cleared the dishes and thoughtfully left a pot of tea. Before leaving, they'd also mentioned that the guestrooms next door were ready whenever anyone wished to sleep.
After Kurenai thanked them, they bowed and quietly withdrew.
Mamoru walked over to Komatsu and stood silently watching.
Komatsu knelt upright, brush in hand, and bent over a spread of white paper, drawing. The sheet showed the layout of his mansion, every corner where Tosuke's men were stationed.
The drawing revealed a sprawling estate, even the schematic spoke of the Nishimura family's vast wealth.
From the front court to the reception hall, guest rooms, rear garden, main bedroom, side storehouses—every route was marked, even the gathering spots of the Fierce Tiger Gang's higher-ups, all in exhaustive detail.
When Komatsu set down his brush, he presented the sheet to Kurenai with both hands. "This is my home's layout."
Kurenai took it and studied it in silence. Mamoru stood behind her, also memorizing the still-damp ink.
After they finished, Komatsu handed over two more sheets. Mamoru unrolled them and revised his opinion of this rich heir—the man could draw.
Each sheet bore a portrait, names neatly written in the blank space: Tosuke and Hiroshi.
Tosuke looked brutish and unforgettable.
Mamoru flipped to Hiroshi's portrait, studied it carefully, and after several long looks asked, "Hiroshi is your real uncle?"
"Yes." Komatsu nodded, his voice dry.
Certain of the answer, Mamoru stared at Komatsu's refined face and couldn't help suspecting, "You didn't just scribble him like this on purpose, did you?"
Komatsu wasn't bad-looking, his father couldn't have been that bad.
As for Hiroshi… words failed.
"I didn't. That's exactly how he looks, you'll recognize him the instant you see him." Komatsu shook his head, utterly sure.
Mamoru's gaze returned to the portrait. He flicked the paper and clicked his tongue. "He could pass for a Special Grade Cursed Spirit."
Not understanding, Komatsu didn't know how to respond.
Mamoru glanced at Kurenai sipping tea at her leisure, walked over, and spread all the sketches on the floor beside her.
"How about we just storm the front gate?" He suggested, lying on his side and propping his cheek on one hand.
Kurenai kept her eyes closed, took a sip, and said flatly, "If you really do that, Tosuke will laugh in his sleep."