Tejima Shinichi stared in the direction the enemy had vanished, fists clenched so tightly they trembled, murderous intent and fury blazing in his eyes, ready to burst forth.
So close… he had almost died!
Yamato's heart sank at the sight. He stepped forward, voice heavy with concern and gravity, trying to calm him.
"Shinichi, you—"
"Enough, Yamato-sensei!"
Tejima Shinichi cut him off with a sharp wave, forcing down the turmoil inside. He turned; amber eyes met Yamato's, no longer indifferent but filled with barely suppressed violence.
"I'm not a child. I know exactly what's going on here."
Yamato fell silent.
Meeting his student's icy gaze, every prepared word of comfort stuck in his throat.
How could he not understand?
After all… that had been the Mind Transfer Jutsu!
Seeing Yamato at a loss, Tejima Shinichi said no more.
He turned; his cold eyes fixed on the gravely wounded Tanuki Jonin lying on the ground, a ghastly hole in his chest.
The man's eyes, still able to move behind the mask, glared at Tejima Shinichi in agony and unwillingness.
Shinichi raised his hand with detached calm. Familiar Chakra hummed; a cerulean Rasengan spun to life in his palm.
Yamato's face changed. He stepped forward urgently. "Shinichi, wait! We need him alive —he's vital evidence—"
"Yamato-sensei."
Shinichi cut him off without turning.
"I'm simply eliminating foreign Ninja who infiltrated the Land of Fire and attacked Konoha Ninja."
Yamato's outstretched hand froze mid-air, the words of restraint strangled, the implication instantly clear.
Stopping the kill would admit the attackers were… If he didn't stop, then the ones who struck Shinichi tonight were "foreign invaders" —and Shinichi had merely been assaulted by "enemy Ninja"…
Yamato stared at Shinichi's murderous back and finally spoke, voice low, still trying to dissuade him.
"Shinichi, I understand how you feel. But hand him to the Village —the Third Hokage will uncover the truth and give you justice…"
Shinichi turned his head slowly and gave Yamato a single, flat glance.
That calm look struck like a Jutsu, robbing Yamato of speech in an instant.
No hope for "justice" shimmered in those eyes —only bottomless apathy, as if asking: if justice worked, how could tonight have happened at all?
Yamato's lips moved, but no words came. He lowered his raised hand and stood in silence.
Shinichi withdrew his gaze, heart gone cold.
'Justice? Spare me… Right now, I only want to kill!'
He voiced the thought inside.
'Besides, Third Hokage… you're already old.'
'What I've lost, I'll reclaim… myself.'
With that resolve, Shinichi ignored his teacher and walked straight to the half-conscious Tanuki Jonin, looking down at him.
"Thank you," Shinichi said, voice like frost. "You taught me that in the Ninja world, you can never relax for an instant."
He knelt slowly; the Rasengan in his right hand whined louder as it neared the mask.
"A moment ago you let your guard down and I crippled you. A moment later I relaxed and your comrades seized me." His eyes were blades of ice. "Lesson learned —never grow arrogant or rash."
The Jonin gurgled, eyes showing relief, as if welcoming the death approaching.
"As thanks… I'll send you on your way."
The words fell; Shinichi slammed his right hand down!
The Rasengan smashed square into the tanuki mask!
BOOM!!!
A sickening crunch and muffled blast rang out together.
The sturdy mask and the skull beneath shattered like a watermelon, warping under the violent force before exploding apart.
Red and white mingled with shards of bone and brain, scattering in the wild Chakra vortex.
The headless corpse twitched twice and lay still.
Shinichi straightened calmly, flicking filth from his fingers, face expressionless, eyes darker than the night.
He glanced at the silent Yamato, then toward Konoha Village.
"Let's go, Yamato-sensei. Our mission should be complete; time to report back."
Yamato nodded mutely, gave the headless body a complicated look, then another long gaze at Shinichi. Without a word he turned and walked toward Hozumi Village.
Shinichi followed. At the edge of the bloody battlefield he paused, glancing back one last time at the headless corpse.
Night wind stirred his raven hair, the suppressed murderous intent surfacing before he finally left.
As the two departed, a faint whisper rode the breeze:
"No further pursuit?!"
"Heh…"
"Danzo… you already deserve to die!"