Chaoter 13 – The King's Summons
Twenty million! He's a walking vault!!
Kill—!!
Under the rich reward, more than twenty Amegakure Ninja were utterly blinded by greed, their howls tearing through the rain.
Kunai, senbon, and exploding-tagged shuriken instantly wove a seamless net of death, sealing every inch of space around Yahiko.
Yet Yahiko, standing at the heart of the storm, didn't pause for even a millisecond.
He simply walked forward, calm, as if strolling through his own garden.
Closer!
The instant the Ninja tools were about to turn that black robe with red clouds into a pincushion—
Hum!
All the charging Ninja felt an eerie blankness flash through their minds.
Like an old film reel with a frame violently cut out.
That fleeting haze ended; they snapped back to their senses.
What?!
The sight before them made their scalps explode!
Yahiko, who had been thirty meters away, had somehow crossed more than ten meters in the blink of an eye!
And every one of their thrown tools had bizarrely missed, clanging onto the bridge behind him in a ridiculous dumb show.
Did I see that wrong?
Body Flicker Technique? No—no hand seals!
Fear of the unknown began to spread, but momentum carried the three front-most Ninja right up to Yahiko.
Whatever Demonic Technique—just die!!
The three lunged, faces twisted, poisoned blades stabbing for Yahiko's throat.
Yahiko didn't even lift an eyelid.
Whooosh—!
Without warning or seals, he merely exhaled, and the air erupted with the tearing roar of a high-pressure water jet.
Water Release: Water Severing Wave!
A hair-thin waterline slashed out, fast as the scythe of the Shinigami.
Schluck!
No time for a scream.
Still airborne, the three Ninja were severed at the waist by the crushing water pressure; entrails and bone shards burst outward, their remains slamming ten meters away.
Instant kill!
No seals, instant cast!
The following charge froze like ducks throttled by the neck.
In that single instant of hesitation,
red light flashed in Yahiko's eyes.
King Crimson!
A crimson-and-white grid only he could see grinned into existence behind him.
In this world, only results are real.
The process… is meaningless.
Time—erase!
The world sank into ashen stillness.
During those stolen seconds Yahiko leisurely drew a Kunai and, like placing chess pieces, had his Stand hover the blade before each enemy's throat.
Time, resume.
The real world.
To the Amegakure Ninja it was only the blink of an eye.
They were horrified to find the black-robed man had advanced again.
Then—
Pfft! Pfft! Pfft! Pfft!
A string of blades sinking into flesh crackled like firecrackers!
A dozen charging Ninja froze mid-lunge.
The next instant, blood spurted from necks, hearts, brows, blooming into gorgeous flowers of death.
Ugh… ah…
When… how…
Thud, thud.
Bodies toppled into the muddy water, dyeing the whole bridge crimson in moments.
This wasn't battle.
It was slaughter—dimensional annihilation!
M-monster…
The survivors broke completely.
The sense that time itself had been stolen, that they couldn't even see him strike, shattered every nerve.
Attack! All of you—he's alone!!
Kawakura Izumi shrieked, voice cracking with terror, shoving his men while stumbling backward.
Anyone retreats, I kill him!
No one moved.
All stood nailed in place, teeth chattering audibly in the rain.
Tap… tap… tap…
Yahiko walked through the blood to Kawakura Izumi.
His amber eyes were calm as stagnant water, reflecting Kawura's twisted face.
Wh-what do you want? I'm Lord Hanzou's—
Kawakura's words died as his pupils flared.
That feeling again!
The world skipped a frame!
An afterimage of Yahiko lingered in his retina, but the next instant—no one stood there.
A cool breeze brushed the back of his neck.
In your next life, pick a better family.
The devil's whisper sounded behind him.
Kawakura tried to turn; his vision spun and plummeted instead.
The last thing he saw was a headless body gushing a column of blood as it slowly toppled.
Oh... so that was my body... thud.
The head rolled across the ground, eyes wide in death.
Aaaaah! A ghost!!
Run for it!!
The surviving thugs screamed in terror, flung their weapons aside, and scrambled into the rain, cursing their parents for not giving them two more legs.
Yahiko flicked the blood from his fingers, never glancing at the corpses, and kept walking into the village.
Behind him, rivers of blood... night fell.
The day's "Bridge of Severed Heads" incident swept the village like a plague. Hidden Rain Village sank into a deathly hush; every door and window was barred, even the patrol's footsteps sounded panicked and hurried.
Hidden Rain Village's largest underground den—"Night Rain Gambling House."
Usually by now the lights would be glaring and the place roaring with voices, yet the doors were sealed and the signboard lamps dark, as lifeless as a tomb.
Only the drumming of rain on sheet-metal.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
A dull knocking rang out.
No one answered, but breath was being held behind the door.
Who is it? We're closed tonight—scram!" came a blustering voice, trembling.
The caped figure outside lifted his straw hat slightly, revealing cold eyes.
Akatsuki—Yahiko.
Here to see Maeda.
Seven words, no more.
Instant silence inside, then a crash of overturned tables and chairs.
Open the door! Open it now, if you don't want to die!!
In less than three seconds the heavy iron gate was yanked wide.
A shifty-eyed steward stuck his head out, took one look at the signature black robe with red clouds, and nearly collapsed: "G-great lord, please come in! The boss is upstairs waiting!"
Top floor, luxury private room.
Maeda, the obese emperor of Hidden Rain's underworld, famed for cunning.
But now the 150-kilo man slumped in his chair, sweat soaking his priceless black-gold silk robe.
Ten minutes earlier he'd learned that Kawakura Izumi, that mad dog, had taken twenty-odd fighters to the gate and been slaughtered like chickens.
The killer—the very "plague god" now coming to see him.
Creak—
The private-room door opened.
A dank metallic stench of blood slipped in first.
Yahiko shrugged off his cape and tossed it to a flunky; the black robe with red clouds looked eerie in the dim light. Konan stood silent in the shadows, a dripping square box in her hand.
"L-lord..."
Maeda tried instinctively to rise, forcing a smile uglier than tears, "What brings you? A word and I would—"
Yahiko said nothing.
He didn't even glance at Maeda, walking straight to the tiger-skin chair that belonged to the man in charge.
Maeda half rose to yield the seat, but Yahiko was already sitting.
As naturally as if the place had always been his.
Yahiko crossed his legs, long fingers lifting Maeda's personal purple-clay flask, and poured himself a cup of sake.
The clear gurgle of liquor sounded deafening in the hush.
Maeda froze, neither standing nor sitting, beads of sweat dripping off his fat cheeks.
This wordless pressure was worse than a blade at his throat.
\"Good sake.\
Yahiko took a sip, finally lifting his gaze to give Maeda a cool once-over.
\"I don't like wasted words.\
"From today, the rules of Hidden Rain's underworld change."
He swirled the cup, tone as casual as talking about the weather: "I want every channel, every intelligence net you have—and absolute loyalty."
\"This is notice, not negotiation.\
Maeda's bulk quivered.
No Ninja himself, he still knew this meant betraying Hanzou!
"M-my lord, you jest," he stammered, mopping sweat, "I'm just a small trader, I don't involve myself in Ninja affairs... and Lord Hanzou—"
"So you're afraid of Hanzou and not of me?"
Yahiko cut in, a mocking curve at his lips.
Maeda went chalk-white: "No-no! I didn't mean that! Only my miserable life..."
"Since you can't decide, take a look at the gift I brought."
Yahiko set the cup down and beckoned toward the shadow by the door.
\"Konan, bring it in.\