Chapter 85: Dazed by the Blade
"Jiraiya, let her go!"
Stelle's voice cut through the tense air as she strode toward him. With a casual flick of her wrist, a kunai sailed from her fingertips. A cold glint of steel flashed as it sliced cleanly through the neck of the girl on the left, severing her carotid artery.
The little girl had just been helped to her feet by Jiraiya. Her face, still cherubic and innocent, was alight with the pure, heartwarming smile of someone who had just been rescued.
"Thank you, big brother, I…"
Before she could finish her grateful whisper, a sudden, icy chill bit into her neck. The smile on her face froze, her eyes widening in disbelief. With an expression of utter shock, she collapsed backward.
A spray of warm blood splattered across Jiraiya's face. For a moment, the world seemed to slow to a crawl, replaying the horrific scene before his very eyes. He stood stunned, watching helplessly as the small body crumpled to the ground, his mind refusing to process what he had just witnessed.
But Stelle wasn't finished. She smoothly drew another kunai from her ninja tool pouch and lunged toward the girl on the right.
"What are you doing?!"
A tidal wave of uncontrollable rage crashed over Jiraiya, washing away all reason. He roared, launching himself forward and tackling Stelle to the ground with brutal force. His fingers wrapped around her throat, squeezing with punishing tightness.
"Why did you do that?!" he bellowed, his voice cracking with fury.
As mentioned before, Jiraiya was a man possessed by an extreme, almost suffocating sense of justice. He held a deep-seated belief that the world shouldn't be so chaotic, that people were meant to live in peace. In his future, this very ideal would drive him to wander the world in search of a vague and uncertain Child of Prophecy. It was this same compassion that led him to stay behind in the war-torn Land of Rain to care for Nagato and his friends, long before he knew the boy possessed the legendary Rinnegan. It was this heart that compelled him to take them on as his disciples, hoping to guide one of them to become the world's savior.
But in his youth, that sense of justice was far more volatile, far more direct.
All he knew in this moment was that an innocent little girl had just been murdered by Uchiha Kou. He had been holding her in his arms only seconds ago; he could still feel the phantom warmth of her small body against his, and now she was gone. The memory of Kou's previous attempts to kill innocents, which he had dismissed, now flooded back with damning clarity.
'Was this it?'he thought, his mind reeling.'Was it because Sarutobi-sensei wasn't here to watch her that she finally let her true nature show?'
Consumed by a white-hot rage, all he wanted was an explanation.
Stelle hit the ground hard, caught completely off guard. Jiraiya's grip was a vise on her throat, and for a moment, she couldn't break free. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound could escape. The crushing pressure forced physiological tears from the corners of her eyes, a proof of the sheer, unrestrained strength Jiraiya was using.
Yet even as she was being choked, her movements didn't stop. The kunai flew from her hand, its trajectory unerringly precise as it shot toward the second girl. It had been aimed for the carotid artery, but the target twisted at the last second, and the blade embedded itself in her shoulder instead.
The girl let out a piercing, miserable scream, collapsing and rolling on the ground in agony. To sow the seeds of discord, she hadn't just refrained from dodging; she had actively offered up her shoulder to the blow.
Jiraiya felt like he was losing his mind. He raised a fist, smashing it down toward Stelle's face. She tilted her head just enough, and his knuckles slammed into the wooden floor beside her, sending cracks spiderwebbing through the planks. He grabbed her by the collar, the rage in his chest a churning inferno.
"Stop it right now!"
Prejudice is a mountain in a man's heart. Sometimes you think you've climbed over it, but the moment trouble strikes, you find yourself right back at the foot of it, never having moved at all.
Stelle was feeling the weight of that mountain now. Because of the prejudice buried deep in his heart, the young Jiraiya chose to believe a complete stranger over his own comrade.
This was unacceptable. It was one thing if he didn't believe her, but to blindly trust an unknown enemy was a fatal flaw. It seemed a small lesson wasn't enough. She would have to give him one so unforgettable that he would never be so careless again.
Just then, the girl who had been writhing so theatrically on the floor saw her chance. Her hand shot out, grabbing a longsword hidden beneath a pile of straw. She sprang to her feet with explosive power and swung the blade fiercely at Jiraiya's exposed back.
She was a power-type shinobi. The blade was a massive, heavy greatsword, the kind only wielded by those who relied on pure physical strength. The force of her leap was so great that it left deep cracks in the floorboards where her feet had been.
If that strike landed on the defenseless Jiraiya, it would surely cleave him in two.
With a surge of strength, Stelle shoved the irrational Jiraiya away, putting herself directly in the path of the descending blade. It all happened in an instant; the steel was already whistling down toward her head.
In that split second, Stelle's eyes flared crimson. Three tomoe spun rapidly within their scarlet depths, casting a powerful Genjutsu on the attacking shinobi.
The woman's movements faltered for a critical moment. It was just enough time for Stelle to twist her body, narrowly dodging the greatsword. She sprang back to her feet and, with a single fluid motion, thrust her own sword through the woman's throat.
But at that same moment, the first bandit—the one Jiraiya had failed to kill properly—found his opportunity. Leaping up from where he'd been playing dead, he brought his own blade down in a heavy, vicious slash aimed at Stelle.
The sickening sound of a blade biting deep into flesh rang out, followed by a short, muffled groan and then a man's terrified scream.
When Jiraiya scrambled to his feet and looked back, Stelle had already killed both bandits. The girl who had used the Transformation Technique had reverted to her true form—a shockingly strong and muscular woman.
He stared at the two corpses on the ground, his breath catching in his throat.
"Kou, you… are you okay?" he stammered.
Setting aside the horrifying fact that he had nearly gotten them killed over two "innocent children," he had just made two fatal mistakes. He had failed to see through a simple Transformation Technique, and his earlier attack on the male bandit had been sloppy. If he had been more ruthless, if he had struck a vital point… the man never would have had the chance to play dead, let alone launch a sneak attack.
If not for Kou's lightning-fast reactions, he would have been split in half.
Stelle didn't answer him. Her body swayed unsteadily. Her gaze dropped to the ground, and her eyes widened slightly. The female bandit's corpse was lined with Explosive Tags.
"Run!" she yelled, grabbing Jiraiya's arm and spinning to bolt.
They had barely cleared the doorway when a thunderous boom erupted from within the building. The massive explosion—clearly the work of more than one tag—obliterated half the house in a storm of fire and splintered wood.
The shockwave threw them both to the ground. Jiraiya glanced back at the smoldering ruins, his expression twisting into a mask of utter self-loathing.
He had been absolutely pathetic. A clown.
As the adrenaline faded, the lessons from the Ninja Academy raced through his mind. Small details he had ignored before—the way the "girls" were a little too calm, their positions a little too convenient—were now magnified into glaring red flags.
Jiraiya was drowning in a mixture of remorse and shame, unsure of what to do or say.
"Um… I… I'm sorry…"
He flexed his fingers and felt a strange stickiness on his palm. He must have gotten it on himself when he was holding Kou down. Inside the house, the overwhelming stench of blood had clogged his senses, but out here in the open air, the pungent, coppery scent was coming from the person right beside him. It was sharp. It was fresh.
Kou was injured.
Jiraiya flipped over and sat up abruptly.
With just one glance, he found her wound.
No, he didn't even have to look for it. The injury was too massive to miss.
His eyes locked onto Kou's right arm. Or rather, where her right arm should have been. It was gone, severed cleanly at the shoulder. Blood pumped from the gaping wound, staining her clothes and the ground beneath her a deep, horrifying crimson.
Jiraiya stared at the mangled stump, a raw, primal fear creeping into his eyes.
This was the price she had paid to save him.
Her right arm… was gone. His entire body began to tremble.
'What have I done?'
He had been deceived by the enemy. He had created an opening for them. He had forced his comrade to suffer an unimaginable injury just to save his worthless life.
Regret, remorse, and a soul-crushing guilt flooded his heart all at once. Jiraiya felt something inside him shatter. He scrambled back into the burning, collapsing house, his mind screaming at him to find Kou's arm. But the building was a wreck, and the explosion had blown the limb to pieces.
Seeing that there was nothing left to even pick up, Jiraiya could no longer hold it back. He collapsed to his knees, and a raw, broken sob tore from his throat.
"What should I do?" he cried, his voice thick with tears and despair. "It's gone. I can't find your arm."
In his panic, he had even forgotten that finding it would have been useless. An arm, once severed like that, could never be reattached.
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