A silent spray of crimson arterial blood misted across the sunlit forest leaves, dropping to the soil in heavy, dark droplets.
In the center of the small clearing, Akira stood motionless over the twitching body of the last bandit leader. Without a flicker of emotion in his pale Byakugan eyes, Akira smoothly twisted his kunai, severing the man's vital artery before pulling the steel blade clear. Around him lay seven armed mercenaries—a rogue group that had been terrorizing the local trade roads—all dead within less than two minutes.
Watching from behind a thick oak trunk fifty yards away, Utatane Ren and Mitokado Kōta were trembling so violently their knees knocked together.
"We... we should never, ever provoke this devil again," Ren whispered, his face completely drained of color as he watched Akira step casually over a corpse.
Kōta swallowed hard, cold sweat running down his neck as he nodded frantically. "Yeah... the bloodline limit clans are all fucking psychopaths. If it weren't for monsters like him hogging all the resources and spotlight, ordinary shinobi like us would be shining brightly in the village!"
"Exactly!" Ren agreed in a hushed, panicked murmur. "It's all their fault!"
Standing high on a branch above them, Captain Shimura Toguro looked down at the bloody scene with a heavy, grim expression. He adjusted his tactical vest, his mind echoing Kōta's bitter sentiment.
'The Uchiha and the Hyūga... they produce terrifying geniuses like weeds,' Toguro thought, his knuckles tightening around his arm guard. 'If geniuses like this brat are allowed to grow unchecked, civilian ninjas and smaller families will never have a chance to climb the ladder. Lord Danzō and the council elders are right to keep these bloodline families suppressed.'
In the clearing below, Akira wiped his dripping kunai on a dead bandit's sleeve and turned toward the treeline with a bright, cheerful wave.
"Hey! Ren-senpai! Kōta-senpai!" Akira shouted out, his youthful voice echoing warmly through the quiet woods. "Come down here and clean up the bodies! Search them for map scrolls and hide the evidence!"
Ren's face flushed red with sudden outrage. Forgetting his fear for a second, he poked his head out from behind the tree and barked back, "Why the hell should we clean up your mess?! You're the one who ran off to hunt down this bandit camp on a whim!"
Akira stopped wiping his blade. He slowly tilted his head, his warm, innocent smile instantly vanishing. His pale eyes turned dead and ice-cold as he looked straight through Ren.
"Are you cleaning it..." Akira asked softly, his voice dropping an octave into a chilling, calm whisper, "...or not?"
A suffocating spike of murderous intent washed over the two boys. Ren and Kōta shivered uncontrollably, their heartbeats spiking in pure terror.
"Y-Yes! Absolutely!" Ren squeaked out, his voice cracking horribly. "It's our duty to clean up for you, Lord Akira!"
"Right away, Lord Akira! Leave it to us!" Kōta added frantically, practically tumbling out of the tree to grab a shovel and drag the corpses into a ditch.
Akira's cold expression instantly melted away, replaced once again by his sweet, harmless smile. "Thanks, senpai! You guys are the best!"
Flicking the last speck of blood off his steel blade, Akira slid the weapon back into his thigh holster.
'Taking a life really isn't that hard once you get past that first second of hesitation,' Akira mused internally, stretching his shoulders lightly. 'When it's your survival against theirs, it becomes as natural as breathing. Clearing out this little bandit group was great practical warm-up before hitting the real battlefield.'
A rustle of wind blew through the canopy as Captain Toguro dropped down into the clearing, landing a few feet away with a stern, rigid posture.
"Akira," Toguro said firmly, his eyes fixed on the young boy. "This is the second detour you've taken today. We are on a strict timetable for the Eastern Front. We will not be stopping again. Understood?"
Akira nodded enthusiastically, reaching into his pouch and pulling out a small paper bag wrapped with string.
"Understood, Captain!" Akira replied brightly. He held out the bag with a wide, childish grin. "Oh, by the way, do you want these sweet bean cakes? If you don't eat them soon, they're going to spoil in this warm weather!"
Toguro stared at the paper bag, his eye twitching violently.
For two straight days, Akira had been relentlessly pestering him with sweet pastries, dango, and dried fruit at every single rest stop. At first, Toguro thought it was just childish foolishness, but after watching the boy effortlessly slaughter a squad of grown men without blinking, a dark, paranoid suspicion had taken root in Toguro's mind.
'Is he trying to poison me?' Toguro thought, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his temple. 'Is there a slow-acting chakra poison laced in those pastries? Or is he mocking me?'
Unable to bear the unnerving contrast between the boy's casual lethality and his cheerful sweet-offering persona any longer, Toguro took a step back, refusing to touch the bag.
"I am not hungry," Toguro snapped, his voice tight. "Pack your gear. We are moving out immediately!"
Without waiting for Akira's reply, Toguro leaped back into the canopy, practically fleeing from the clearing to put distance between himself and the boy.
Akira pulled a sweet bean cake from the bag, popped it into his mouth, and dusted off his hands with a quiet, amused chuckle before leaping into the trees behind them.