In the following second, Hiruko acted without a moment's hesitation, plunging a powerful medicinal agent directly into Kurama Chiaki's heart.
Chiaki felt a surge of agonizing pain. The moment the needle pierced his heart, he lost all control. His vision went pitch black as if he were plummeting into an endless abyss. Paradoxically, despite his physical collapse, his mind became preternaturally active.
It was a bizarre sensation. Chiaki felt his body suspended in a state between reality and illusion—heavy, as if shackled by invisible chains, unable to move even a finger. Yet his brain surged with vitality, led by an unseen hand into a fantastical dreamscape.
The Kurama clan elder, sensing a familiar fluctuation of chakra, saw his eyes light up with a strange glint. This vibration was unmistakably Chiaki's spiritual energy. In his perception, Chiaki's dream, fueled by chakra, was expanding outward in a singular fashion, even beginning to influence the elder's own psyche.
This was the power of genjutsu. For Chiaki to exert such influence in an unconscious state was staggering. He had not yet awakened or studied this power, but once mastered, he would undoubtedly become one of the top illusionists in the shinobi world.
Hiruko also showed a flicker of surprise; he hadn't expected the boy to be able to interfere with his own mind. Suddenly, the experimental equipment began to emit ear-piercing alarms. Under the drug's influence, Chiaki was overdrawing his spiritual and chakra reserves, desperately trying to activate the dormant power within.
However, his physical strength was utterly unable to keep pace with his exploding spiritual energy. His body began to falter, clearly on the verge of collapse. Hiruko frowned, sighing inwardly: It seems this experiment is a failure after all.
He reached for another syringe and injected it into Chiaki's heart. When this new energy met the previous one, they merged into a neutralized, silent state, ceasing the pressure on Chiaki's body.
Hiruko shook his head, glanced at the Kurama elder, and set his schemes aside for the moment. He performed a sealing jutsu, severing the high-energy, out-of-control chakra within Chiaki.
"It failed," Hiruko said flatly.
The joy on the elder's face hadn't even fully faded before the situation took a nosedive, leaving him hollow with disappointment. He stared blankly at the motionless Chiaki, his eyes clouded with worry.
"What happened to my brother?" Beside him, Kurama Chiyuki lunged toward the bed, desperate to wake him.
Hiruko's hand shot out like cold iron, catching her by the neck and pulling her back. He barked, "If you don't want him to never wake up again, do not stimulate him. Let his spirit rest."
"What is his condition?" the elder asked, taking a deep breath and regaining his composure as he looked at the boy.
"We'll observe for a while. We need to understand exactly where it went wrong. Once the hidden dangers are cleared, he will wake up," Hiruko explained. "Don't worry, his spirit is very active. It's just that his chakra was too volatile and put too much pressure on his physical body. His life is not in danger."
Hearing this, Chiyuki remembered the clan head's instructions to be absolutely obedient to Lord Hiruko. She wanted to take her brother home, but her heart was filled with sudden regret. The now-calm elder nodded and bowed to Hiruko. "I leave him in your care."
Once the two left, silence returned to the room. Hiruko looked at Chiaki once more, musing: This physical vessel is simply too frail. Otherwise, with this ability alone, he could have dominated the shinobi world; its power would be no less than the Sharingan.
After the incident where Tsunade fled from Hiruko's house following a certain "bathroom encounter," she hadn't visited for dozens of days. But today, she returned. She informed Hiruko to be at his house early in three days' time, then left in a hurry.
That night, in the master bedroom of Hiruko's villa.
Chains coiled like snakes against Pakura's skin, accentuating the breathtaking tension of her waist. Her toes barely grazed the floor; every breath she took caused the metal to rattle, as if even the steel was responding to her shivering warmth.
Hiruko's fingertips traced the length of the chain slowly, as if stroking the edge of a drawn blade.
"Pakura of the Scorch Style..." His sigh drifted past the damp strands of hair behind her ear. "Now even your disciple, Maki, belongs to me."
Pakura turned her head away with a cold sneer, a bead of sweat rolling down her jaw and landing on his thumb as he moved closer. He chuckled, smearing the drop of sweat away with his fingertip.
"You can keep up the bravado," he whispered. His knee suddenly wedged into the gap between her legs, his boot pressing against her swaying heels. "But your body is much more honest than your mouth."
She threw her head back, the chains clattering loudly, only to send herself deeper into his shadow. Hiruko seized the opportunity to grip the back of her neck, his nose brushing against her pounding carotid artery.
"Guh! Kill me—" she rasped, biting her lower lip the moment he nipped at her earlobe.
As the taste of iron spread in her mouth, she heard him chuckle against her earring: "Why stopped the tough talk? Hmm?"
The chains suddenly pulled taut. When Pakura's knee drove toward his hip, he blocked it with his thigh as if he had expected it all along. In the muffled sound of friction, their mingled breaths scorched the dim air.
"What a pity..." He squeezed her waist, pulling her flush against him. "The way you struggle only makes me want to break you more."
"How about a bet?" He slowly unbuckled his glove. The metallic click sounded like a countdown. "Let's see if the next time you bite me... you'll have the heart to go through with it?"
"Pakura, you wouldn't want your little disciple Maki to get hurt, would you? Be a good girl and listen."
At the thought of the girl who idolized her, Pakura's body stiffened. Slowly, she began to relinquish her resistance. Hiruko, having already "tasted" Nonoyu, no longer held back. Now that the delectable dessert had softened, it was time to feast.
The muffled cries lasting through the night made Rin Nohara and Maki—who looked strikingly similar to her—uncomfortable in the next room. They buried themselves under their quilts like ostriches, hiding their heads but leaving their tails exposed.
The night passed without further words.
The sun rose high the next day.
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