CTS TIME: RE250.05.28 – 8:00 AM (Kamizuki Village – Landlord's Estate)
LOCATION: Landlord's House – Market District
The group gathered outside the inn, preparing to head to the Landlord's estate. The air was tense, the weight of their mission looming over them.
Kenshiro walked ahead, leading the way with Ryuji, Aiko, and Kai following closely behind.
A few steps behind them—
Sienna, Jasper, and Serena trailed along, their movements more relaxed but still watchful.
As they crossed the market, villagers began muttering among themselves.
"Those are the Hikarashi Shinobi…"
"And they have outsiders with them…"
"They're heading to the Landlord's house… do they plan to fight?"
Jasper ignored the whispers, his thoughts elsewhere.
Serena, however, couldn't hold back her excitement.
"Alright, so we just wipe them out, right?" she asked, tapping the hilt of Infernum.
"Jasper and I could finish the Daimyo's people instantly."
Kenshiro immediately shut it down.
"No." His tone was firm.
"This isn't our fight, and I don't want unnecessary bloodshed."
Serena huffed.
"But we'd be doing everyone a favor."
Kenshiro shook his head.
"If you interfere, this conflict will spiral into something else entirely."
He looked at Sienna.
"You came here to gather data. That's it. You're not here to start a war."
Then his gaze shifted to Serena and Jasper.
"If the situation worsens, you can fight—but do not use your swords."
Serena clicked her tongue but finally nodded.
"Fine, fine…"
Jasper nodded as well—but still refused to look at Sienna.
Sienna noticed immediately.
She turned to Jasper, about to ask him something—
But Jasper, without missing a beat, spoke to Ryuji instead.
Sienna's eye twitched.
Serena, watching the exchange, smirked.
"Oh, this is gonna be fun."
The group finally arrived at the Landlord's house, an old wooden estate surrounded by a stone wall.
Kenshiro knocked several times.
No answer.
Ryuji, impatient, stepped forward and shouted.
"Hey! Open up! We need to talk!"
Finally—
The door creaked open.
An old man stood there, weary and hesitant. His eyes were sunken, his posture slightly hunched.
"You're the Hikarashi shinobi…" he muttered, looking at each of them carefully.
Kenshiro nodded.
"We need to talk about the bridge."
The Landlord hesitated, but eventually, he let them in.
The inside of the house was quiet, almost empty.
Kenshiro got straight to the point.
"We've heard that Daimyo's men have taken control of the bridge. We need to know what's going on."
The old man sighed, rubbing his face.
"For two weeks… we have suffered. Daimyo's men have killed many people."
The room fell silent.
"We… can't do anything," the Landlord admitted, his voice filled with defeat.
Ryuji slammed his hands on the table.
"What do you mean you can't do anything?! You have an entire village of people! You can fight back!"
Kenshiro placed a hand on Ryuji's shoulder, calming him.
But then—
The old man's voice cracked.
"My daughter and her husband…"
The group went still.
The Landlord lowered his head.
"They went to the bridge. To negotiate."
His wrinkled hands trembled.
"They were killed."
A tear slipped down his cheek.
"My grandson… he's all I have left."
The weight of his words crushed the room.
Even Serena, who had been eager for battle, felt her stomach twist.
Jasper, who had been tense all morning, now looked away, gripping his arm.
Sienna exhaled softly.
"The situation is worse than we thought."
Kenshiro nodded grimly.
"We need to send a letter to Homurakage."
Aiko bit her lip.
"But we don't have time for that."
Serena and Jasper exchanged looks.
For the first time, they hesitated.
Fighting wasn't a problem.
But… killing?
That was different.
Jasper felt his chest tighten.
Sienna, sensing his discomfort, turned to him.
She was about to speak—
But Jasper immediately turned to Ryuji instead.
"So what's the plan, kid?"
Sienna's expression didn't change.
But Serena smirked.
"Oh, he's struggling. Good."
The Landlord sighed, his voice weak.
"I lost my daughter and son-in-law."
His hands clenched.
"Now my grandson is all I have left."
Outside, the faint sound of laughter echoed.
The Landlord smiled weakly.
"He's playing in the yard… I won't risk losing him, too."
Aiko, sensing the sorrow, turned to Kai.
"Hey, Kai, what do you—"
She froze.
Kai was gone.
Her stomach dropped.
"Wait… where's Kai?"
Kenshiro and everyone immediately looked around.
He was nowhere in sight.
The air shifted.
Something was wrong.
Very, very wrong.
***
The morning sun cast a warm glow over Kamizuki Village, the air filled with the distant chatter of merchants and the rhythmic clang of blacksmiths shaping steel. The scent of freshly baked bread and smoked fish wafted from the marketplace, blending into the crisp breeze.
In the landlord's yard, a small boy—no older than five or six—kicked a dusty, worn-out ball against the wooden fence, giggling softly to himself. His messy black hair stuck out in uneven tufts, and his simple brown kimono was a size too big, its sleeves dangling past his tiny hands.
Each kick sent the ball bouncing a little further. His laughter rang through the yard as he chased after it, enjoying his little game.
But then—
With a final kick, the ball bounced too hard. It shot past the open gate, rolling down the narrow dirt road leading toward the bridge.
The child froze.
His tiny hands clenched into fists as he hesitated, staring at the ball's path. His grandfather had strictly forbidden him from going near the bridge.
"Never go near it. Never."
But the ball was still rolling, disappearing into the distance.
His heartbeat quickened.
Would his grandfather be angry? Would he get scolded?
His small feet shuffled forward, hesitant at first.
Then—
A gust of wind carried the ball further.
And before he knew it—his feet were moving on their own.
His little legs carried him forward, step by step, past the edge of safety and into danger.
The bridge loomed ahead, stretching over the river like an ominous shadow. It was made of old stone and reinforced iron, its structure ancient yet intimidating. At the far end, a group of men lounged lazily beneath a large tattered flag bearing the Daimyo's crest.
There were eight or ten of them, all dressed in dark navy and black, their armor worn but sturdy. Their weapons—long swords, kunai, and spears—lay scattered around them, some resting against wooden crates, others half-buried in the dirt.
A few men were playing cards, laughing raucously as they threw their winnings onto a makeshift table. Others were drinking cheap rice wine, their movements slow and careless.
A shinobi sat sharpening his kunai, his fingers expertly running the whetstone against the blade. The metal gleamed under the sun, the edge still stained with dried blood from its last victim.
"Who do you think they'll send next?" one of the men grunted, taking a swig of his drink.
"Doesn't matter," another chuckled. "We'll cut them down like the rest."
Then—
A small noise.
A soft thump as a ball rolled onto the bridge.
It stopped right next to the shinobi sharpening his kunai.
The air shifted.
The man paused, his dark eyes narrowing as he looked down at the ball resting against his foot.
Then, slowly, his gaze lifted—locking onto the child.
The little boy stood at the entrance of the bridge, his feet frozen in place. His small chest rose and fell rapidly, his tiny hands clenched tightly into his kimono.
He had wanted to grab the ball and run back home.
But now—he couldn't move.
The shinobi smirked, twirling his kunai between his fingers.
"Oi, kid," he called out lazily. "That your ball?"
The boy swallowed hard but nodded.
The shinobi grinned, then nudged the ball forward just slightly with his boot.
"Then come take it."
The boy's heart pounded.
He took a single shaky step forward.
"Poor brat looks like he's gonna piss himself," one of the men chuckled.
Another yawned. "Tch. This is boring."
Then—
A different shinobi leaned forward, his grin widening.
"How about we make it fun?"
The others perked up, interested.
The first shinobi twirled his kunai once before gripping it properly.
"Let's see whose kunai hits him first."
Laughter erupted from the group.
"I'll go first," another man said, pulling out a wicked-looking blade. "Bet I can finish him in one throw."
The boy's breath hitched.
His legs refused to move.
His tiny hands trembled as he instinctively raised them to cover his face.
A sharp glint of steel flashed in the air.
And then—
The kunai flew straight at him.
The world slowed.
The boy squeezed his eyes shut, his tiny body bracing for pain.
But instead—
A sudden blur of movement.
A crack of impact.
And then—
Silence.
The boy hesitantly peeked through his fingers.
Someone stood in front of him.
A dark-haired figure, dressed in black, standing effortlessly with his hands in his pockets.
At his feet—
The kunai lay split in half, its broken blade embedded in the stone.
The air tensed.
One of the shinobi stood up sharply.
"Who the hell—?"
The figure slowly turned his head.
His crimson-red Yamigan eyes gleamed in the morning light.
It was Kai.
The men on the bridge went dead silent.
His presence alone was suffocating.
The wind howled through the bridge, sending dust and fallen leaves swirling around him.
Kai, unfazed, rolled his shoulders lazily.
Then, he spoke.
"That was a mistake."
The men instantly reached for their weapons.
"Kill him!"
But before they could move—
Kai vanished.
A single gust of wind—
And then blood spilled onto the bridge.
The air around the bridge had shifted—thick with tension, charged with an invisible force that sent an unnatural chill crawling down the spines of the Daimyo's men.
Kai stood still, his head slightly lowered, his hands relaxed at his sides.
The shinobi before him sneered, gripping their blood-stained weapons.
"You really think you can take all of us, brat?" one of them scoffed, spinning his kunai effortlessly.
Another chuckled darkly. "You're just a kid with a fancy bloodline. We'll cut you down like the rest."
But Kai…
He wasn't listening.
His Yamigan flickered, then shifted.
The violet glow of his pupils darkened, and in each eye, a crescent-shaped black moon crossed his pupil—a transformation that made the shinobi take an uneasy step back.
The Eye of Darkness had awakened.
Kai lifted his gaze—cold, piercing, merciless.
And then he spoke.
"You're already dead."
The shinobi lunged.
Kai's Yamigan pulsed.
The world around him slowed.
His pupils contracted sharply as he saw it—every single enemy's next movement before it even happened.
The first shinobi—a kunai aimed for his throat.
The second—a downward slash from a long sword.
The third—paper bombs primed and ready to explode.
The rest—shuriken ready to tear through his body.
It was all too easy to read.
Kai vanished.
A rush of wind exploded outward from where he once stood, and before the first shinobi could even react—
Kai's foot connected with his jaw.
CRACK.
The shinobi flew back violently, his body crashing into a pile of wooden crates, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
The second shinobi swung his long sword down—
Kai sidestepped effortlessly, his body twisting like a shadow.
His fist shot forward.
A direct punch to the gut.
The shinobi let out a choked gasp, his knees buckling as blood spewed from his mouth.
Kai didn't stop.
He grabbed the man by the collar, spun, and hurled him into two of his allies, sending them all sprawling across the bridge.
The remaining shinobi quickly regrouped, their expressions no longer cocky.
Kai smirked, wiping a single drop of blood from his knuckles.
"Is that all?" he mocked.
The shinobi gritted their teeth.
"You little—!"
"Take him down!"
One of the shinobi threw a paper bomb, while another unleashed a barrage of shuriken.
Kai's hands flashed through signs.
"Fire Style – Ash Dragon Jutsu!"
He exhaled sharply, and from his mouth, a massive wave of thick black ash erupted outward, covering the entire battlefield in a dense, suffocating fog.
The shinobi coughed violently, their vision completely obscured.
Then—
BOOM!
Kai snapped his fingers—and the entire ash cloud ignited.
A massive explosion of fire engulfed several shinobi, their screams piercing the air as they were flung back, their armor burning.
Smoke curled into the sky.
Kai stepped forward, his crimson Yamigan glowing menacingly through the embers.
His breathing was heavier now.
His chakra was dropping fast.
But he wasn't done yet.
The remaining shinobi regrouped, now fully serious.
"This brat… he's not normal!"
"Shut up and kill him!"
They charged.
Swords gleamed. Kunai flew. Paper bombs detonated.
Kai's body twisted, dodging through the chaos with fluid precision.
One kunai sliced his cheek, drawing blood.
A blade grazed his shoulder, tearing fabric.
His chakra was fading fast.
"Damn it… this isn't enough."
Kai skidded back, his feet dragging against the bridge as he inhaled deeply.
"Fine," he muttered. "Let's see if you can handle this."
He formed one final hand sign.
"Fire Style – Dragon's Breath Jutsu!"
Kai unleashed a torrent of scorching flames, his chakra compressing the fire into a concentrated, spiraling inferno that swept across the battlefield.
The bridge trembled under the sheer heat.
The shinobi screamed, barely able to evade as the flames licked at their skin and armor.
The fire scorched the wooden planks, leaving deep blackened scars where it touched.
Kai staggered slightly, panting.
"I need to end this soon."
The remaining shinobi regrouped again, their bodies covered in burns, their breaths heavy.
But Kai…
He was reaching his limit.
"I used my Yamigan, Taijutsu, and two fire jutsu…"
"My chakra is dropping too fast."
His vision blurred for a second.
That second was enough.
WHAM!
A fist slammed into Kai's face, sending him stumbling back.
Pain exploded through his jaw.
Before he could recover—
A shinobi lunged, blade raised.
Kai barely blocked it with his kunai, but his arms shook under the pressure.
"Damn it… I'm not strong enough."
The shinobi pressed harder.
"You're finished!"
Kai's legs buckled.
His mind screamed at him—MOVE!
But his body…
It wasn't fast enough.
For the first time—
Kai felt like he might lose.